Rain At Last

What a wonderful sound it was to hear rain on the roof all Monday night!  A gentle, sustained rain, just the kind we needed.  Tuesday it cleared off for the day, but then today a second wave came through, off and on, gently at times but at other times absolutely pouring.  And there is more rain (or snow!) coming Sunday and into next week.  It seems as if the great weather patterns which determine our daily weather, the jet streams and the high- and low-pressure areas, are finally converging into a period of prolonged rain and snow.

I had one of those perfect runs this morning, getting started a little after 9:00 a.m. before the rain came.  The streets were still wet from Monday, the temperatures warm, and after a mile, I decided there was no reason not to run fast.  So I turned in a 9:38 mile, and then a third mile pulling hills as hard as I could.  Might as well make a hard day as hard as I can, I thought, especially since most of the stiffness from these nagging injuries seems to be at bay for now.  I glanced at the sky and thought, it still isn't raining, why not go an extra mile?  I did, and finished up sore quads but that wonderful feeling of having done one's best.  I stretched, got in the car, and almost immediately it started to rain, and rain pretty hard.  Perfect timing!

I only hope that this same rain is also drenching the Great Smoky Mountains, where it is so badly needed.  14,000 evacuated from Gatlinburg, four dead, and many building damaged.  Douse those flames, O Lord!  For the same devastation could so easily happen here. 

"Drip down, O heavens, from above, 

And let the clouds pour down righteousness; 

Let the earth open up and salvation bear fruit, 

And righteousness spring up with it. 

I, the LORD, have created it."  

Isaiah 45:8

Thanksgiving

Running was easier this week because cool northerly winds kept most of the smoke from wildfires out of Town.  So Monday I was able to run six miles, mostly with Fred - he was doing some road intervals and I arrived just in time to join him - and today I ran six miles, mostly with Vicki.  Running with friends makes the journey easier, a little maxim that applies to more than just running.

And just in time for Thanksgiving, the weather forecast is suggesting a 30% chance of showers.  Wouldn't that be a cause for genuine thankfulness, if it actually materialized overnight?  Our parched land is so thirsty that even a few drops would be welcome. There is a better chance next Tuesday, and we patiently watch the progress of low pressure systems making their way across the nation, hoping that the moisture will not dissipate before it arrives as it has so frequently this month.

Tomorrow is a time for giving thanks, and despite this being a year of great loss - the death of Martha's Dad, other losses close and hard to bear, and perhaps even the loss of progressive government in these dark, parched times - we continue to remain hopeful and to give thanks.  Martha read about a wonderful idea this year:  a "gourd of gratitude" in the center of our table, a pumpkin on which we wrote all the things for which we are thankful.  "Rain" found its way on our little gourd, and "friends," and "running" (since this blog is ostensibly about running, after all), and so much more that we quickly ran out of room.

That's how it should always be, after all.  There should be so much thankfulness in our hearts that it overflows, so that there is not room enough for it all to fit, on little pumpkins or in little blogs.

Wildfires Surrounding Us

My friend Anthony took this photo of Germany Valley, clear as it should be in November on top, and under it the current view obscured by smoke from all of the wildfires surrounding us.

These are indeed frightening times!  We have just elected a completely unqualified and truly disturbing man as President of this nation.  And each day the long drought continues, as if it echoes the drought of reason and civility in our times.  It has not rained in a very long time, and the leaves are like tinder, crinkled and completely dry, waiting for the arsonist's match.  Because that is who has been causing the many fires all around us:  an arsonist, spotted here and there lighting these many wildfires.  Yesterday he tried to burn the mighty Bob Padgett Poplar Tree in Horse Cove, but fortunately they were able to put the fire out.  Who would do such a thing? 

We owe our firefighters a debt of gratitude as they have struggled to contain fires in Cliffside, Whitewater Falls, Lake Lure, and Warwoman Dell only 10 miles or so from our house, in rugged terrain.  The smoke blows over the mountains and it is hard to tell where it is coming from - one day it will be clear down here in Clear Creek and smoky in Highlands, and the other day just the opposite.  Running and hiking are risky in this unhealthy air, so we wait for relatively smoke-free air and get on the road when we can.  Last week I drove out to Zachary Hospital to get in a short run because it was so thick in Town.  On the satellite map it is truly a shocking sight.

So we continue to pray for rain, and for reason, and for the good that we have to believe lies in most of our hearts despite the hatred, racism, and bigotry.

Transition

We awoke to a strong wind this morning, heralding a transition to a new season.  We could hear it sifting through the crack of the bedroom windows, and something loud clattered sharply on a roof somewhere (I could find no damage on our property, and wondered about our neighbor's metal roof). 
I sat on the deck to drink my coffee, and the wind was making that deep, low whining sound all around that it often makes in this valley.  Leaves were swirling down from the tall tulip poplar out front, and suddenly a small maple leaf fell into my coffee - a little orange tea-bag that I carefully removed.  High clouds were moving briskly west to east, and the treetops were swaying wildly back and forth.  The world seemed to be spinning wildly into another season.

What a change from only two days ago!  Those maples next to the Presbyterian Church on Fifth Street are now completely stripped of leaves. 

I walked up to the top of Sunset Rocks again today, hoping to avoid the snarl of traffic in Town, only to find myself being passed along the road by three or four cars, Lexus and Cadillac SUVs.  I stepped reluctantly out of the way, but when I reached the top I excused the traffic; coming down form the rocks I encountered a tiny, tiny little hiker, perhaps only 9 or 10 months old, an elder on each side of him more or less floating him over the rocks, laughing and enjoying perhaps his very first hike.  It was a great day to be outdoors, whether walking or driving.

The view from the top was especially beautiful - the turbulent sky off to the west, the side that we properly call "Sunset."

The other side, "Sunrise," is not as well-known and is sometimes overlooked.  Horse Cove seemed quiet and peaceful, its green fields far from the bustle of downtown Highlands - two sides of a coin.

And so we transition from October to November, and I dig on the laundry-room shelf for my gloves and warmer shirt in preparation for tomorrow's run when the temperatures is predicted to drop from the unseasonably 70s and even 80s of this week to a sharp 34 degrees.  I am ready for it.

Fall Color

After a late start, the Fall color is finally reaching Highlands, creeping up the sides of the mountains from greens into yellows into reds.  It has been unusually warm - the warmest October I remember since living here - and there has only been one light frost so far in Town (last Wednesday).   We are also in a drought, which at the ower elevations is making leaves turn brown and simply drop off early.  But up here on the Highlands Plateau there is spectacular color here and there - the maples on Fifth Street are stunning, and the burning bush on Smallwood Avenue is a hedge of fire.

"Beautiful day," visitors will say as we pass them on morning runs.  I told someone the other day, "Absolutely!  We wait all year for conditions like these!"  A breeze springs up and suddenly there is a shower of golden leaves coming down all around.  Bright, clear blue sky for days and days.  Surely there is no better season for running than this, or for simply walking as I did this afternoon, up Sunset Rocks.  The color is just at its peak now, and it won't last long.

Autumn Breeze

Martha has run this early-October race in the Tallulah Gorge twice, if I remember correctly, but I had never run it before today.  I always seemed to be nearing the end of a marathon training program this time of year, with a 20-mile run the day before, and remember standing at the finish line taking her photo and feeling a little rueful not to be enjoying what she described as the most beautiful course she has ever run.  But there will be no marathon this year, and it was a fine day, leaves just starting to turn, temperatures in the low 70s and a little cloud cover, too - just perfect conditions.  The setting is indeed gorgeous, and the course follows the shore of Tallulah Lake and then a paved Greenway through the woods.

These days I am running according to that aging runner's dictum, "The older I get, the faster I was."  Slowed by the uneven path and its branches under the pavement, I ran a minute or so slower than expected (but still faster than my last race) and more importantly I felt strong all the way through the 5 kilometers, a first this year, I think.  It is indeed a good feeling to improve after an injury, to feel strength returning, as I have recorded in the pages of this blog.

While I passed a few younger runners (always a satisfying experience at my age!), I could not catch several others, including an amazing little boy who had no legs - no legs! - who was propelling himself forward by swinging rhythmically side by side on a little three-wheeled platform, pushed up the hills by his Dad who was running with him - truly incredible!  And as I neared the finish, I heard the sound of runners coming up behind me on both sides, left and right, and although I held on gamely I could not fend off two younger runners catching me at the line.  Martha took this classic photo:

"We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven;

That which we are, we are." - Tennyson

A New Season

Fall officially arrived at 10:21 Thursday morning, and it is beginning to look like it in Highlands.  The tips of those maple trees next to the Presbyterian Church on Fifth Street look like brushes whose tips have been dipped in crimson paint and are standing on end. 

The Joe Pye weed is nodding along the road, the jewel weed is flecking the woods with gold, and the burning bush has begun to blaze.

It is beginning to feel like it, too, cool enough in my chair on the deck this morning to see the steam rise in wisps from my coffee cup.  It is surely the best time of year for running, which is why so many races are held here in the South during these coming months.  We are eyeing some of them, starting with the Autumn Breeze 5-K on October 2.  And who knows what more?  It is a new season.