Running in the Outer Banks of North Carolina this is the prevailing question to be answered for the remainder of what-could-be-considered a lengthy summer season. Last week I was away again on another work assignment that required an attention and presence from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday to Friday. So as you probably have determined, I spent those days running between 2:30 a.m. and 5:30 a.m. Which is 99% accurate as once again (like in the post Seven Days) there was an opportunity to add eight miles on Thursday evening. But even having gone out six days straight I still needed 22 on Saturday to reach the 100-mile mark in week 37. But a huge advantage (maybe not, you decide) was anticipating a wide open Saturday to do it.
My trained body woke up alarm-free at 2:30 a.m. It was ready and willing to get started; however, a wanting-to-sleep healthy mind sent it back to bed until two hours past sunrise. And then the run got started. The early miles (on the docks in a boating community named Pirates Cove) were an inviting treat with gorgeous views peering over marsh grass into the wide open Roanoke Sound, and the typical blended audibles of coastal insects provided stimulating background music that was for the most part a synchronous symphony. While watching local birds of various species scoot and perch in different locations to scan the water's surface for a snack, my legs below plodded forward rather happily. After about four miles we then found our way over the Washington Baum Bridge and continued to the Outer Banks Fishing Pier. Two Gatorades later I ran up to Jennette's Pier and then crossed onto the beach for approximately five miles to Nags Head Fishing Pier. By this point the heat of the sun was torching my mind and body but I still continued forward. "Run, walk, run, walk. Just keep moving forward until you have reached the distance," I kept telling myself. And in the meantime drew on flashbacks from several running movies. Perhaps the most significant being Gabriel Flores in the Badwater Ultra, "If I am dying, don't let me quit. In an hour I could be flying." And so I painfully moved forward. At Nags Head Fishing Pier I returned to the beach road and went about another quarter-mile before turning around to head back to Jennette's. Still following my typical method of running on as much soft surface as possible, I worked my way through intermittent grass strips dividing the road and paved path. But the heat was so unbearable I had to stop at Old Nags Head Cafe when seeing a sign that read Smoothies. While waiting at the bar inside for a strawberry smoothie that was to be blended in the kitchen, being the only patron sitting at the bar before noon on a Saturday morning, I didn't see a problem with laying my head down on it and trying to go into a state of complete rest. Albeit for only about five minutes, it was a decent recharge with just the typical background chatter of families eating breakfast. Then within seconds after the ice-cold smoothie arrived, I returned to the path heading to the planned finish destination, "Jennette's Pier, only four miles to go." The smoothie was outstanding as the cold sugars supported a few kicks here and there but at the same time the environment was relentless; I was stuck in a fiery furnace that finished preheating and had no set point beyond that.
When reaching the pier I retired to a shaded bench. And it was while in a completely relaxed and drained space protected from the direct sun that I finally then seriously contemplated the question, "When are you going to run the rest of this summer? Before dawn or after sunrise, or both?" Or more simply put, "With a headlamp or in the heat?"
