Runner Ramblings

It is with a fair amount of gratitude that I sit at my computer and pen another runner ramble. Who would have guessed the uncertainly, turmoil, isolation and pain that became 2020? After we finished Mississippi, State #39 in Feb 2020, we went home, naive and excited about the next 5 runs on our calendar. Little did we know that within a few short weeks, the entire nation would be paralyzed by a novel virus that no one understood, or knew how to control. One by one, our races were either cancelled, turned virtual, or subjected to quarantine and travel restrictions. Delaware in April and Massachusetts in May were the first to fall. We were hopeful for Pennsylvania in July as COVID appeared to be waning, but a bum knee and travel restrictions took that off the calendar. Delaware had been pushed to September, but ultimately they were not able to get permitting and the race went virtual. Our last hope for 2020 was a small race along the White River in Arkansas in November, but with COVID raging, even though we felt we knew how to travel safely, it felt irresponsible to court the possibility of bringing the virus home to our families. So disappointed, we cancelled our plans and stayed home. All of this was a very minor backdrop to a pandemic that was stealing lives and livelihoods; shuttering industries, schools, and entertainment venues, and leaving people reeling with isolation, depression, suicide, abuse and hopelessness. It was a dark time for the nation and the world, for every conceivable reason.

Thanks to the tireless efforts of dedicated scientists, by December 2020 two COVID vaccines were approved and a light appeared at the end of a very long tunnel. At the time of this blog, more than 95.7 million doses have been administered in the U.S., with two million more being given every day. And while this pandemic is by no means over, little by little we are returning to our former lives, masked and socially distancing where appropriate, but optimistic for the future.

In early January, we started perusing websites for races to build out a revised 2021 calendar. With only 11 states left and many races still on hold because of COVID, it was not an easy task. Our goal is still to finish close to my 70th birthday in 2022. So when Melodie found the “Olde Girdled Grit”, a small trail run scheduled for Feb. 27th in Concord Township, OH, I didn’t flinch, nor do any additional research, but eagerly said “I’m in!” It was only later that we realized that Lake County, nestled along the shores of Lake Erie, has the highest snowfall in Ohio and the month with the most snow is February. When we started weather watching a couple of weeks prior to the race, all of this data became crystal clear. Although it caused some trepidation, cancelling was not in the cards. We were ready to run and travel again, snow, ice and freezing temperatures notwithstanding. We consulted our knowledgeable nieces and daughters for cold weather running advice, and put Amazon to work.

Melodie met me at Sky Harbor early Thursday morning and we flew together to Cleveland, OH. We didn’t have any other takers to accompany us on this trip, for reasons which are not a mystery. Biting, cold winds greeted us as we stepped out of the airport and boarded the shuttle to pick up our rental car. The “feels like” factor was consistently 8 to 10 degrees lower than the actual, so for us warm bloods from CA and AZ, 21 degrees was frigid.

The drive to our lodging at Comfort, Inn in Painesville was only 43 miles which went quickly and uneventfully. Although there was snow on the ground, the roads were clear. We checked into our hotel and went in search of some food, a pretty standard agenda. The roads in the area were very confusing, but we managed to find our way to a restaurant nearby that served decent food. The cold weather conditions couldn’t dim our delight to be together and traveling again.

Friday dawned windy and cold, just as predicted. We huddled in our hotel and worked at our respective jobs for a few hours, then headed out on foot in search of decent coffee and breakfast. It was evident that this is an area that gets a lot of snow.

One of the products that Bethany and Trish had recommended to us for snow running was YakTrax, an ice traction device that slips on your shoes and provides stability for running on snow and ice, much like chains on your tires. When Melodie and I talked a few days before the race, temperatures were warming and it looked like race day temps would be above freezing. Melodie was pretty sure we wouldn’t need them, so she was thinking about leaving hers home as we always have so much stuff to haul. I, on the other hand, thought we should probably bring them as we never know what we might encounter. Long story short, when we got here, we realized that we had followed each other’s advice. Melodie brought hers, and I left mine home. Classic sister stuff and fodder for a good laugh at ourselves.

After brunch, we headed to Second Sole in Mentor to pick up our race bibs and find out a bit more about race conditions and logistics. I was able to pick up another pair of YakTrak’s so that problem was solved, but the feedback on trail conditions was disconcerting.

One of our traditions with our states races is to spend one day sight-seeing and immersing ourselves in the culture of the area. We typically do our research prior to getting on the plane and have a plan. For whatever reason, this didn’t happen. Melodie did some googling on the fly and we discovered that the James A. Garfield National Historic Site was in Mentor. Neither of us knew much about him, so we headed over and toured the museum and did some reading on his life. James A. Garfield was our 20th president, inaugurated in March 1881, shot and mortally wounded on July 2 by a political fanatic, and died on Sept 19th. It was a tumultuous time in our country’s history and a reminder that political discord and controversy is not new. It was an educational hour and kept us out of the cold – so it was a win/win.

Next sight-seeing stop was Headlands Beach State Park, heralded as one of the most popular beaches in the Lake County Area. Needless to say, it was not populated the day of our visit, albeit there were a few hardy Ohioans out enjoying the area. At this point, the wind had picked up, and the cold penetrated every joint and muscle of our bodies. Despite this, we walked out to the beach and took pictures. Our faces say it all.

We lasted about an hour, enough to get our 10,000 steps in and satisfy our need to say we’d done some sight-seeing. It was during this jaunt that we received the last email from the race director. He sent out a message to registered runners using words like….”Most horrible trail conditions we’ve ever seen. Much worse than last year. YakTrax and spikes can only do so much. The trail is solid ice and snow. Please come prepared to go slow”. We looked at each other and had a moment. Were we being foolish? Did we need to pull the rip cord? It almost sounded like the race director was trying to discourage people from showing up for the race. Our anxiety levels were high, but neither of us were ready to call it quits. We headed back to our hotel and ordered a pizza, all the while trying to manage our concerns about the conditions.

Race morning dawned much as predicted. Warmer temps and rain. The Olde Girdled Grit Trail Run boasted 4 distances; 50K, 18 miles, full marathon, and half marathon. The long distance runners started at 7:30, but the half didn’t start until 9:00 am. We ate our runners breakfast in our hotel room, and headed out to conquer the day. At this point, our goals were simple. Don’t freeze to death. Don’t fall. Finish upright.

We figured that many runners wouldn’t show up after the race director’s dire predictions of the day before. However, when we arrived, all the parking spots were full, and it appeared that all 193 registrants for the half marathon were there and ready to go. We learned later that the majority of the runners were locals. We were most likely the only west coasters in the bunch. The rain had started to taper off by race time and the temperature was around 40. Time to go out there and just do it.

The first two miles were on the road and straight uphill. Slow, but not bad. As we entered the park, there was a spot for runners to put on their YakTrax and then the fun began. The dynamic here was that even though temps were above freezing, sun could not easily enter the heavily wooded Lake Metroparks area. What that meant is the snow melted just enough to create a slick, icy surface on the trail. We started out very gingerly as we became acquainted with our life-savers, the trusty YakTrax. At one point, I even picked up a walking stick to keep from slipping.

Stairs, suspension bridges, steep ups and downs, this course had it all. After the first hour, we had only gone 4 miles. We looked at each other and wondered if we were going to be out here all day. But we kept going, there weren’t many alternatives. We were dressed appropriately, so being cold didn’t become a factor. We saw people out there with no YakTrax or spikes, slipping and sliding down the hills, and decided we weren’t too bad off. After mile 7, the terrain evened out a bit and we were able to pick up the pace. And at mile 10, we hit pavement once again for 1.5 miles, and my younger and faster sis took off like she had fire on her tail. The last 1.5 miles were again in the park, so back on went the YakTrax, and we gutted it out.

Finished at last. Upright and smiling. It took over an hour longer than a typical half marathon usually does, but we managed it without injury, frozen appendages, or loss of humor. There were 6 people in the female 60 – 69 age group in the race and we were 2nd. So not too bad, all things considered. I’m pretty sure the only person in the world that would do something like this with me is my little sis. We aren’t sure which one of us is to blame, so we just lock arms, and roll together. What an experience!

Exhausted but slightly euphoric that we survived, we headed back to our hotel room. Although the hotel’s hot tub and swimming pool were closed due to COVID restrictions, our room boasted a large, whirlpool jacuzzi. We donned our swimming suits and pampered our sore muscles for a bit, so grateful to be done.

After relaxing for a bit, we donned our matching sweatshirts, courtesy of OGG, and headed out to eat our last meal in Painesville, OH. Although this picture showcases clearly which one of us is younger, it still makes me happy to look at it.

We spent our last few hours researching our next races – some would call us certifiable. But one thing is for sure. We take nothing for granted. It’s been a rough 12 months, but we have much to be grateful for. The love and support of an incredible family, our continued good health despite the occasional hiccups, and the ability and desire to pursue our dreams.

Next up is Carderock, MD in April. I’ve put in a special request for warm weather, and flat, dry roads with the guy upstairs. If you’ve got a minute, you can add your request to mine.

2019 will be remembered as the year we put the pedal to the metal;   6 states in 10 months, driving our total to 38 states completed overall.  The goal we had set 16 years ago after limping across the finish line at Lake Tahoe was in our sights.   We identified, planned and calendared the remaining 12 states.  Anticipation tempted us to schedule a race every month and sprint to the finish line, but wisdom dictated that the steady, even pace that got us this far would take us to the end.

Selecting a race in North Dakota was challenging.   The weather is too harsh for running much of the year and race options are limited.   Fargo bubbled to the top as a friendly city offering a fall run on a flat course along the Red River, showcasing brilliant fall colors.   In addition, the travel was simple.   Fly Mesa to Fargo on Allegiant and drive 10 minutes to our AirBnB – with the exception of Melodie who had an extra leg from Oakland to Mesa.  After the travel marathons of Michigan and Maine, we were ready for easy.   And as an added bonus, all 5 sisters were able to make the trip which is always a special treat.

As usual, we had been weather watching and were alarmed to see the winter storm that blanketed the Midwest the week before the race.   Blizzard conditions followed by heavy rain and winds spread across the Dakotas and Minnesota and for a while we wondered if traveling would be wise.   Amazingly, as race weekend neared, the weather warmed up considerably and ended up being pretty close to perfect.  The biggest impact was the flooding which meant the entire race course had to be rerouted to avoid the Red River and knee-deep mud on the trails.

I picked up Melodie from Sky Harbor Thursday morning and we met our sisters at Mesa Gateway that afternoon to start our trip.  Allegiant Airlines does not have a lot of frills, but it gets us to these small towns where major airlines do not fly.

We arrived in Fargo without incident and checked into our AirBnB at 6:00 that evening.  This particular AirBnb was someone’s home and had a definite lived-in feeling, but it was large and accommodating with many amenities, including a hot tub, so we were happy.   In addition, the host was attentive and helpful, which is always a big plus.

Our host left us a detailed list of places to eat in Fargo, so we picked Porter Creek Hardwood Grill and headed out for a nice dinner.   We pretty much had the restaurant to ourselves.   Thursday night is quiet in Fargo, North Dakota.

Later that evening we wandered around looking for a grocery store but found that Fargo was a town where sidewalks roll up by 9:00 pm.   Better luck the next day.

Sight-seeing has become a big part of our 50 states journey, but we were warned that Fargo did not offer a lot in the way of major tourist attractions.  Fortunately for us, the company was so good that we would have enjoyed ourselves regardless, but we did some digging and found a local attraction that looked interesting.

We chose to visit the Heritage Hjemkomst Center located in Moorhead, Minnesota.  The center stands as a testament to Norwegian culture and heritage in the Red River Valley. The main exhibits are the Hjemkomst, a Viking long boat modeled after one excavated from a 9th Century ship burial, and a full-scale replica of an 11th Century Scandinavian wooden stave church.  The center also had several galleries for rotating exhibits.   At the time of our tour, the exhibit focused on World War I and local servicemen who served.   The pictures, stories, and artifacts were gripping and told a story we don’t hear often.

The Hjemkomst, which means “Homecoming” in Norwegian, is a full-scale replica of the Gokstad Viking ship that was discovered in Norway in 1880.  It began as the project of an injured schoolteacher and amateur shipwright, Robert Asp, who wanted to honor his Norwegian heritage by building a replica of the ship and sailing it from Duluth, Minnesota to Oslo, Norway.  We watched a short film that detailed the whole story and were amazed by the dedication of the family willing to do whatever was necessary to make Robert Asp’s dream a reality.  It took ten years of planning, building and training to accomplish their goal.

The finished ship features the horned head of a dragon which the crew named Igor.

This picture illustrates the sleeping conditions for the crew of 12.   They took turns sleeping during the three month voyage.

The center mast was 63 feet tall and supported a 30′ x 40′ main sail and a 10′ x 30′ top sail.

The other main attraction at the center was the Hopperstad Stave Church.   The church is an amazingly detailed full-scale replica of the stave church at Vik, Norway built 900 years ago.  This style of a wooden structure with post and lintel construction and a steep sloping roofline was popular in northern Europe during the Middle Ages.   This particular replica was built by Guy Paulson who wanted to use his 20+ years of woodcarving experience to pay homage to his heritage as the son of Norwegian immigrants.   In total, Paulson spent 5 1/2 years building the 72 ft tall replica and completing the incredibly detailed ornamental carvings.

Aside from the fascinating history lesson we received at the Hjemkomst Center, we spent the rest of the day picking up our packets, eating and driving around the city.   In retrospect I realized none of us took as many pictures as usual, but I chalk that up to the fact that we were all too much in the moment to remember.

Race morning typically means crawling out of bed at 5:30 am and gulping down a high calorie breakfast before you are even hungry.   This particular race, however, had a far more relaxed start than usual.  The Fargo Mini Marathon/10K/5K was unique in that the race start was actually inside the Fargo Civic Center.   Inside of standing around outside at 7:00 am shivering in our shoes and waiting in long porta potty lines, we got to wait inside a warm building with plenty of rest rooms and places to sit and relax while being entertained by a local musician playing old-time country western favorites.

And we were off.   The temperature at race start was 42, but since we didn’t have to freeze to death before starting, it actually felt energizing.  Even though the race course had undergone massive last-minute changes to avoid mud and water, it still followed beautiful paved roads and trails with fall colors in abundance.   And it was flat!   After Tennessee, New Hampshire, Michigan and Maine, we were ready for a race without hills, and this one filled that bill admirably.    Linda and Melodie both provided some great pictures of the course.   Thank goodness for sisters who stop and smell the roses!

It was one of those races where everything just went right.   Cool, crisp temperatures, flat course, no nagging pains equal great race times.  That doesn’t always happen, so we savor the moment when it does.  By the time we finished, the temperature had crawled to the high 50’s which is as perfect for running as you can get.  It was so fun to have all 5 of us there, laughing and celebrating together.

Traditions are pretty entrenched by state race #38, so it’s no secret what we did next.  Hot tub, showers, and then the nicest restaurant we could find in the area.   We drove to Moorhead, Minnesota again and ate at a place called Ironwood Grill.   The food was absolutely delicious which topped off the day nicely.   We got a tip that it was our waiter’s birthday, so we spilled a little of our celebration on to him.

We spent the evening watching the movie POMS together.   Although billed as a comedy, it also had a serious message that resonated with this 62+ crew;   it is never too late to follow your dreams and everyone counts!   It was a great way to end the day.

Sunday was a travel day, but as the only flight out of Fargo did not leave until 8:10 pm, we had some hours to fill.   We completed the requisite housekeeping chores, packed our bags and were ready to go around noon.   Someone dared me to climb into a tree swing meant for small children, so of course I did.   It was a slightly foolish, precarious act, but the entertainment value was high.   Thank goodness I didn’t break the branch.

Earlier in the trip, I had challenged each of my sisters to come up with something they wanted to do.   The Hjemkomst Center was somewhat of a collective decision, but Melodie also wanted to visit the Roger Maris Museum and Colleen wanted to shop.  Surprise, anyone? It just so happens that the museum was in Fargo’s one and only mall – the West Acres Regional Shopping Center, so that is where we headed.

Shopping doesn’t last long for some of us, but we did enjoy the Roger Maris Museum.  We wandered through the exhibits and watched a film of his life.   He was a humble man who just wanted to play baseball and help his team.   He did not relish the spotlight.

We spent a couple of hours at a local sports bar watching the Seahawks lose miserably to the Ravens, and then it was time to head for the airport.   As trips go, the logistics on this one were as smooth and easy as any trip we’ve ever done.   The drive to the airport took 10 minutes, our flight left right on time, and in two short hours we were home.

Our delightful weekend didn’t end there.  Melodie decided to stay over an extra day in Mesa to see the rest of the family in the area.   We had breakfast with Rosaleen, Bethany, Tony, Paola and little Maddy, then Melodie and I went hiking for a few hours.

That evening, all the AZ family met at Colleen’s for more visiting and eating.   You’d think we would get tired of talking, but we never do.   The topics are as endless and varied as the opinions.   We are so blessed to have family that we also count as friends.  Sharing our thoughts, ideas, passions and goals is our favorite thing to do.

And so Fargo, ND State #38 is in the books.   We are taking a short hiatus and will not be doing another states race until Feb 2020.   We’re a little worried about such a long break, but God willing, we’ll be back at it next year with the bit in our teeth, and the finish line in our sights;  traveling, laughing and running together.

‘Til next time.

Next up, Greenville, MS.

As part of our commitment to only run races that promise unique and beautiful experiences, we scheduled Maine just 4 short weeks after Michigan.   We had been told that Blueberry Cove 13.1 was the race to run in Maine, so we ignored the loaded schedule and put it on the master plan for August 2019.

The travel required to visit the St George Peninsula in Midcoast Maine was convoluted and long.   Midcoast Maine is pretty much as far east as you can go and still stay in the United States.  Google maps show 3,279 miles from Oakland to Port Clyde for Melodie and 2,806 miles from Mesa to Port Clyde for Colleen, Kathy, and me.   However, never let it be said that we let a little thing like travel challenges deter us.   We put on our planning hats and figured out the most economical and survivable way to make the trip.   We decided to fly into Boston on the red eye, stay in Danvers for a few hours sleep, and then drive 175 miles up the Atlantic Coast on Friday to the little fishing village of Port Clyde where we were staying.    This approach would add an extra day to our typical 4 day trip, but it would give us a chance to see some additional country as well as split up the long hours of air and road travel.

We boarded our flights on schedule Thursday afternoon with the plan to meet in Nashville and go together from there.   It was an extra treat to have Kathy and Colleen along as neither of them had been able to travel much in 2019.

The Mesa contingent arrived in Nashville with plenty of time to make the Boston flight, but Melodie’s flight was delayed by 30 minutes and she already had a tight connection.    We had some anxious moments wondering if she would be able to get off her crowded plane in time, but she literally came running up as we were boarding the plane.    Traveling seems to provide a lot of these types of moments.   It keeps us young, at least that’s the plan.

We arrived in Boston as scheduled at 1:00 am in the morning.    You would never know it was the middle of the night by the level of activity in this airport.   We caught the shuttle for our rental car, loaded up and drove 25 miles to our hotel in Danvers.   We were again challenged to find anywhere to eat so ended up paying premium dollars for a snack at the hotel.   Between the 3 hour time change and the fact that it was 2:00 am, it was hard to know if we were hungry or tired, but it seemed like a good idea to proceed on the premise that we were both.

We gave ourselves permission to sleep in the next morning, but of course, it didn’t happen.  Our clocks were too mixed up for that.   We left the hotel around 9:00 am,  found a great little brunch spot, then proceeded up the coast for our 175 mile drive.

It was an unseasonably cool, overcast day for August in New Hampshire and Maine, but the beaches were still full of people intent on enjoying the last few days of summer.   We stopped and took pictures in several spots, but since most of the state parks required $15 to park, we mostly enjoyed the countryside via car on US Coastal Highway 1A.

We arrived at our lodging, dubbed the Salt and Fir Farmhouse, around 5:00 pm Friday evening.   The farmhouse was very old with that disjointed feel you get from a home that has had multiple add-ons.  Attempts had been made to remodel and update it, but it was impossible to disguise the fact that it was a very old farmhouse with no insulation, a sloping, creaky floor, low slanted ceilings upstairs, dingy outdated appliances, and lots of bugs.   The beds seemed comfortable, however, and there was a certain charm to it overall, so we focused on that and the beautiful view across the road.

One thing we discovered early on is that there was no such thing as cell service in Port Clyde, Maine, population 229, unless you happen to have US Cellular.   The farmhouse had wi-fi, but once you were in the car, you were on your own until you got into the larger towns of Rockland and Rockport.    We learned to download addresses before heading out, otherwise getting lost was a certainty.

We drove down to Port Clyde Harbor that evening in search of a place to eat.   Port Clyde is a sleepy town unless it’s Friday night in August and you happen to be hungry.   Every place we checked had waiting times of well over an hour.  And no one took reservations because voila, you’d need a phone to do that.  We finally just waited it out at a restaurant called The Black Harpoon.   Once we were seated and served, the food was delicious and the service friendly.   An additional treat was the lovely sunset as we walked back to our car.

Our plans for Saturday included an Educational Eco Sailing Tour on the Schooner Heron, sailing out of Rockport Harbor, about 33 miles north of Port Clyde.   On our way, we stopped at a place called 47 West for breakfast and coffee.  New England eating establishments are unique in that they all look like homes rather than a typical café, pub, or restaurant.   It made them a bit difficult to identify.   We will remember this one for the lovely circular hand-carved wooden staircase and the amazing coffee.

The 65′ Schooner Heron was built by Captain Twigg and his wife Bonnie, both of them 100 ton USCG licensed captains, having sailed extensively in the Gulf of Maine, trans-Atlantic and the Caribbean. They have been doing tours from Rockport Harbor for more than 20 years and doing charters in the Caribbean the last 13 years.  They built the Heron in 18 months to the 1928 plans of the famous yacht designer John G Alden.  The family has sailed HERON over 100,000 sea miles since launching her in 2003.

There was a fairly gusty northwesterly wind that morning so Captain Twigg was initially concerned about a rough ride, but once we were out in the bay, he did go ahead and “unfurl” the sails.   I even got to help a little.   This particular tour was an “Educational Eco Tour” where in addition to sailing, we learned about lobstering, the historic Indian Island Lighthouse, Rockport Harbor’s working waterfront, and the story of Rockport’s famous Andre, the seal.    

Lobstering is the backbone of life in Maine.  Maine lobstermen supply 90% of the lobsters consumed in the United States.  In 2018, Maine lobstermen brought more than 119 millions pounds of the state’s signature seafood ashore.   We learned that every licensed lobsterman has a color for his buoy so he can recognize his traps.   Solid colors have long been taken, so current buoys are multi-colored and come in myriads of designs.   Lobster season typically runs from June to December, but some intrepid lobstermen will fish all year long.   It can take years to get a lobster license and a lobsterman must serve two years as a sternmaster before he can have his own boat.   The industry is largely self-regulated.

We learned that Penobscot Bay spreads 40 miles long and 15 miles wide and is graced by more than 200 islands before it dumps into the Gulf of Maine.   Unfortunately, we didn’t see any wildlife on this tour as it was a bit too windy.   On the plus side, it was an enjoyable couple of hours, we learned a lot, and no one got seasick.

A bit of rough water…

Indian Island Lighthouse

Heading back

After the tour was concluded, we headed back to Port Clyde and stopped for lunch on the harbor at a spot called the DipNet.   Despite their unusual name, they served a delicious lunch.   To whet your appetite, they kept a bathtub full of live, wiggly lobsters right out front.

After lunch, we walked through the Wyeth Art Gallery located on the top floor of the Port Clyde General Store.   Port Clyde was the summer painting grounds for 95 years for three generations of Wyeths.  Andrew Wyeth’s son, Jamie Wyeth, still lives there and continues to paint at the age of 73.    Although none of us lay claim to being art experts, we enjoyed viewing the paintings and learning more about the famous Wyeth family.

Next stop was Blueberry Cove Camp, home to the UMaine 4H Camp & Learning Center and the location of our race start.   All proceeds from the Blueberry Cove 13.1 Half Marathon go directly each year to supporting the camp by providing funds for children who otherwise could not afford it.   This year, we were told that $25,000 was raised for this worthy cause.  Because of this, the race had very little fluff.   The race director greeted us with a smile and bare feet as we entered the camp that afternoon.   White boards with hand-written race instructions and cloth bibs were a first for us.   There were no timing chips, no t-shirts, no handouts, no bling – just friendly people, a beautiful location and a great cause.

After collecting our unique bibs and getting race instructions for the morning, we headed back to the farmhouse, stopping at Tenants Harbor to grab a few more pictures.   The countryside was quintessential New England with quiet coves, gentle hills, and homes dotting the landscape.

For dinner that evening, we chose Luke’s, a spot close to the house and reputed to serve good food while not being quite as busy.     Unfortunately, we decided there was a reason for that.   The service was almost nonexistent and the food was mediocre with few choices besides lobster.   We made do, but had no plans to go back.

Race morning dawned cool and pleasant.   The forecast had been for sunny and 60’s and that’s what we had – perfect running weather.  Colleen and Kathy made logistics simple by dropping us off at the race start and taking care of details like parking.   The camp had a very laid-back, personal feel which made it easy to relax and enjoy the moment.    There were no electronic mats, just homemade signs with the signature buoys attached.

And here’s our race director, still barefoot, calling out the signal to start.

The race course was on back country rural roads in and around Tenants Harbor, winding along roads with views of the ocean crashing against the beaches and rocky shorelines, with houses dotting the landscape here and there.   Not much of the course was flat, we did a lot of running up and down hills which always adds an element of challenge, but the course was beautiful.   Even the mosquitos didn’t trouble us.  We ran by Marshall Point Lighthouse, best known as the turnaround place from the movie “Forrest Gump”.

We ran out of steam a little at the end, but overall both of us had a great race.   We don’t take much for granted these days and feel blessed to be able to run.  Melodie came in first, looking like the professional she is, with yours truly following shortly after.

One of our traditions is to treat ourselves to a really special meal after a race.   We felt like we had exhausted most of the local spots in Port Clyde, so we drove to Rockland and had lunch at an amazing place called Archer’s on the Pier.   We sat outside and enjoyed beautiful views, delightful food, perfect weather and the world’s most congenial company.

After lunch, we decided to go back and visit the Marshall Point Lighthouse and Museum. The lighthouse features a walking bridge which brings you to the light station with lovely views of Penobscot Bay on one side and the St George river on the other.   There is a small, quaint museum with interesting displays and history of Port Clyde.   The museum also showcases a touching memorial to lost fisherman as well as a board displaying the colored buoys assigned to current local lobstermen in the area.    It was a fun spot to visit, despite the wind that had picked up.

We returned to the farmhouse for a little R & R prior to tomorrow’s travel marathon.   This group is a working crew so computers were pulled out and a little work got done.  Later that night, we drove into Camden and had dinner at a little pizza spot.   Both Tenants Harbor and Port Clyde were small fishing villages where boats outnumbered cars and restaurants could be counted on one hand, but Camden was a regular town, population 5,254, with more typical small town amenities and lots more eating choices.

Monday morning we got up, packed our bags, completed the exit list required by our host, and were on the road by 9:30.   We knew we were facing 200 miles of driving and 7 to 8 hours of flying, so wanted to get a good start on the day.    We drove for a couple hours before stopping at a small mid-Maine town called Damariscotta for brunch.   All of these little towns were chock full of colorful history.   This particular town sat  on the Damariscotta river and was home to a thriving oyster business.

We arrived at the Boston airport with plenty of time to return our rental car, grab something to eat, and get on the 6:00 pm flight.    We had a 5 hour flight to Denver and from there, we split up and took the final flights to our respective homes.   Gratefully, there was no travel drama this round, just long flights and tired bodies before arriving home at 11:00 pm, PDT.

Long, complicated travel, small villages with no cell service, and an old farmhouse full of bugs were just blips in another awesome state running trip.    We are so blessed to have the experiences that travel brings, the opportunity to learn, and the chance to spend time together.   It’s hard to believe we have completed 37 of these trips;   22 of them have been in the last 4 years since I started blogging.   Even though we have established some traditions and patterns, every trip is unique and full of new things to learn and experience. We treasure each and every moment – those that are the same, and those that are different.

Next up, Fargo, North Dakota, state #38, where the total travel time will be much less!

I’ve often wondered if we would grow weary with running the 50 states, particularly as we age and schedule those states where travel is expensive, convoluted and long.  However, when my alarm went off at 3:45 am on Thursday morning, I found myself just as excited as ever to board a plane and head off for our next running adventure.   My supportive husband hauled me out to the airport for a 5:45 am departure, I checked in with Melodie to make sure we were both on schedule, and the journey for New Hampshire, State #35 began.

We do a ton of research to pick the race to run in each state.   So much gets factored into the equation; weather, time of year, location, course, race organization and travel logistics.   It’s a bit like putting an intricate puzzle together and trusting you have all the right pieces.   We selected Big Lake Half Marathon in Alton Bay, New Hampshire based on rave reviews from former participants.  The Big Lake Half offers runners a scenic course along winding country roads around beautiful Lake Winnipesaukee.   This “lollipop” loop course promises to provide spectacular, unending views of forests, quaint cottages, and the White Mountains..   Even though travel would be challenging and long, it looked like the right New Hampshire race for us.

Melodie and I met in Midway, Chicago without incident, barring a minor backup at the gate, and caught our next connection to Manchester.   A thunderstorm was brewing as we took off, so we were grateful to leave Chicago behind us.  We arrived in Manchester on schedule, picked up our rental car, and headed out for Alton Bay around 5:00 pm.

New Hampshire was beautiful, just as expected, which made for a pleasant drive.   We only had 50 miles to drive but much of it was over winding, potholed country roads so the going was slow.  We arrived in Alton Bay around 6:15 pm and as always, the first item on our agenda was finding somewhere to eat.   Alton Bay is a very small town with only 1,500 year-around residents, so our expectations were low.   Google Search gave a 4 star rating to Ackerly’s Grill and Galley so we decided to give it a try.

Despite the fact that the restaurant looked like a garage and smelled like the dock, the food was unexpectedly delicious.   Everything was fresh, well-prepared and delightfully presented.  We’ve never had much luck with our first restaurant in a new town, so this was definitely a win.

After dinner, we headed upriver to the Bay Side Inn, our home away from home for the next 3 days.   The early evening drive provided exquisite views of the water and the sunset.   Such a serene and peaceful spot – you could feel yourself relaxing.

The Bay Side Inn is a B & B established in 1953 and operated by the original family.  The proprietor was friendly and gracious, but the rooms were outdated and seriously lacking in amenities.  No closet, microwave, refrigerator or coffee pot to be found and a bathroom so small you were thankful not to be a large person.  In addition, the heater came with full sound effects.   Every time it came on, it roared and rumbled so loudly that you were looking for ear plugs.

However, it was very obvious that people don’t stay at the Bay Side Inn for the amenities.  It was all about location.   Our room literally sat on the edge of the lake with a bay window providing unending views of the water.    When you wake up to a scene like this, it is much easier to forget the roaring heater and the lack of a coffee pot.

The inn did provide a continental breakfast which consisted of orange juice, pastries, and coffee.   However, we are admittedly food and coffee snobs so headed upriver to find a spot that would offer both a healthy breakfast and good coffee.   We stopped in Meredith on Weirs Bay at a spot called the Waterfall Café.   Although the food wasn’t particularly special, the drive was interesting and allowed us to see more of the countryside.

After breakfast, we headed back down to Alton Bay to check out the race start.   Packet pickup would take place in the morning before the race started so we wanted to make sure we had the logistics worked out.   We wandered around a bit, snapping photos.  Everything was so green and beautiful, and water seemed to be everywhere.

Because the season doesn’t officially start on Lake Winnipesaukee until Memorial Weekend, many of the typical tourists attractions like tours and cruises were not open yet.   We reviewed our options and decided to check out Mt Major, one of the more popular hikes in the area.   The trailhead was just up the road from Bay Side Inn, so that made it additionally attractive.   We reviewed the map and decided a 3.2 mile hike with a 1,150 ft elevation gain was appropriate for a pre-race day activity.

What the map didn’t tell us was that most of the elevation gain was in the last push to the top and would take us straight up a rock face.

As you can see, I was not dressed appropriately for hiking.

This picture says it all.

However, mountains were meant to be climbed, and these Swiss girls, while they may have gray hair and a wrinkle or two, were not to be deterred.   We scrambled and clawed our way to the top and took a moment to celebrate life and the incredible view.   Reality was the pesky mosquitos and the knowledge that what went up must come down.   We chatted with some locals who recommended a different route down.   It was a mile longer but would avoid going down that rock face.  All that was required was the ability to locate and follow the yellow and blue dots.   Done.  We made it back to the parking lot 2 hours later, glad to have experienced the hike and equally glad to be off the mountain.

Dinner that night was pizza and salad at a local pizza spot.  Again, we found the food amazingly delicious.   These New Englanders understand good food.

We set our alarm for 5:30 the next morning.   The race started at 8:00, but since we had to drive a few miles, pick up our packets, and walk to the start, we wanted to give ourselves plenty of time.   We had the usual dilemma of deciding what to wear.   Skies were blue with no rain on the horizon, but the temperature was hovering just below 50 with a bit of a breeze.  We settled on capris and checked our jackets which turned out to be just the right combination.

It was a morning for the ages. Nature’s color palette was absolutely breathtaking.

And off we went.   The course was as spectacular as billed, with enough hills to keep it interesting, but not too challenging.    We both had good races and hence didn’t stop to take as many pictures as usual, but the race lived up to everything promised.   Well organized with unending views of everything that makes New Hampshire beautiful.

This sign is always a welcomed sight.

But even when the course is beautiful, 13.1 miles is a long ways to run, so we are always glad to be done.   We grabbed the requisite post-race photos and hopped the shuttle back to our room to stretch, roll and clean up.

I talk a lot about food on these blogs, but the reality is that one of the ways you really experience an area and its unique culture is by checking out the spots where locals eat.   Melodie found this restaurant called the Barn & Grille that looked intriguing for a post-race food celebration.   It literally looked like someone had converted a barn on the side of their house into an eating establishment.   The ambiance was very backwoods but felt authentic.  The place was packed with people dressed like lumberjacks and clearly enjoying themselves, and yes, the food was delicious.

New Hampshire’s state motto

We headed back to our room with the knowledge that we would need to be on the road by 3:30 am the next morning.  The only affordable flight left Manchester at 6:05 am which meant we were in for a long day.    Little did we know at this point what our travel day had in store for us.

We arrived in Manchester without incident, returned our rental car, and headed to the airport to check in.   As we were standing in the TSA Precheck Line, Melodie received a text on her phone from Southwest telling her that her flight from Chicago to Oakland had been cancelled.  It was hard to believe they would cancel a flight after people had already checked in, but that is what happened.   When Melodie talked to the agent at the Manchester gate, she was told the Oakland flight had been cancelled for maintenance.   She was put on a flight from Chicago that would route her through Detroit and Denver, increasing her travel time by 3.5 hours.   Not an exciting alternative.   At Chicago, she checked with the gate agent again and this time they found a flight going through San Diego/San Jose that would get her in at 1:30 pm which felt slightly more acceptable even with the long drive home.   She switched to this flight and at this point we said goodbye.

Chicago Midway Airport was insane, as you can imagine.   With severe storms sweeping the Midwest, flights were being delayed or grounded and people were frantic to find flights that would get them home.   We both managed to board our planes, but 30 minutes later we were still sitting on the tarmac.   Air Traffic Control was requiring pilots to file new flight plans that would route them around the strong headwinds.   My flight to Phoenix finally was allowed to take off, but it was a bumpy, long ordeal.   We were kept in our seats the whole time and the flight took an hour longer than usual.   I was never so glad to feel wheels on the ground.   Melodie’s story was much worse.  Her flight was kept on the tarmac for two hours before taking off.   And once they did get airborne, they were rerouted to avoid storms so by the time she finally landed in San Jose, she had been in that airplane for 9 hrs.   Added to that, she had the drive back to Oakland which took another hour.   All told, her travel day from Alton to Oakland was 18 hours.   It was the kind of day that made you grateful for the uneventful travel days, and very glad to be alive, safe, on the ground and done.

Even with that jarring ending, it was a trip to remember.   It was such a delightful location and a great race, and we always have so much fun together.   We don’t take much for granted anymore, and every race experienced and completed is a blessing.

Next up, Grand Island Trail Run in Munising, Michigan.   Can’t wait.