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                                                                                Rene’ de la Varre701 Emory DriveChapel Hill, NC 27517Tel: 919 929 6168e-mail: fitteryou@hotmail.comAugust 4, 2007 pix provided by request From Mountains to Sand Dunes – Two Classic Marathons in One State.  I’ve run marathons from Loch Ness, Scotland to Myrtle Beach, SC., but I’ve never run two dramatically different courses in the same state. From Grandfather Mountain in the Smokies to the sand dunes of the Outer Banks, I’m writing about the state of North Carolina! The 40th annual Grandfather Mountain Marathon took place on July 13, 2007. This was my second time running it, but unlike last year when it was hot enough to run in a loin cloth, this year the weather was runner perfect – overcast, little humidity, with temperatures in the 70’s. Since my family wasn’t with me, I skipped the hotel in favor of my Sealy’s Posturepedic Lexus which I conveniently parked two minutes away from the start line. I had no excuse to be late.                I rolled out of the backseat at four-thirty a.m. to unwind myself from the awkward position I had slept in. I stretched out under millions of stars and a brilliant moonlight while eating slabs of salty salmon, tins of dry tuna fish, and Trail Mix, washed down with a quart of Powerade. At daybreak cars rapidly filtered into the parking lot beside Kidd Brewer Stadium, atop the sprawling campus of Appalachian State. At seven a.m. the gun sounded and I was off, and the first thing I did was ditch my awkward waist pack which refused to stay on. One mile later I realized I had forgotten my one-way bus ticket back to the start, but it was too late to go back, besides if I wanted to, I could always run back after the race. I ran holding my digital camera which by mile twenty felt like a twenty pound dumb bell. After leaving Boone, the course turned into a sequence of evenly proportioned, monstrous hills with adequate aid stations. The long descents made the ascents that much harder, so I shuffled slowly downhill, conserving energy for the ascents, which many people walked (cheating) as I coasted by.     The course continued on Rte.321 and 221 after which we passed under the bridge of the Blue Ridge Parkway, and began the nine mile stretch of winding uphill curves. The monotony was tempered by great views of trees, and more trees for hundreds of miles in every direction, while closer to us, families cheered along the roadside. At one point I ran with some guy from Raleigh and during our conversation I mentioned how annoyed I got when we passed certain mini-vans blasting the Rocky Theme, or Eye of the Tiger from their stereo. “Geez, can’t these people play some real music!” He became unusually silent for about five minutes, until we approached  a woman and her two kids running towards us screaming, “Dad, we love you;” Go dad go!” Cute, I thought, until I passed their van and heard the inspiring lines . . . “Gonna fly now… flying high now…,” I felt like an ass, so I quickly picked up my pace. I never did see him again. By mile twenty-one my fish and trail mix breakfast had worn off, and I was starved. Fortunately the last aid station had food, so I wasted little time gobbling handfuls of pretzels and chocolate chip cookies. Totally recharged, I continued a steady pace for the next five miles. On the last bend was a large billboard GRANDFATHER MOUNTAIN, with an arrow pointing around the bend. I was there! This was the first time in three years that I ran a pain-free marathon, as I swaggered across the finish line with a time of 4:55:19. At my age (not telling) I run for personal competition and the camaraderie. I don’t even wear a watch, but I do wear a compass since half the time I lose track of which direction I’m going in. Over the horizon I could hear the grunting of good ole southern boys dressed in kilts while they tossed the caber, and the sounds of bagpipers sucking wind. I stopped at a few of the tents which served traditional Scottish fare: haggis, fish and chips and lager. Later on I had to beg the driver to let me on because I didn’t have my ticket. “Are you going to make me run back,” I said. “No, just get in the freakin bus!” We had climbed a total of 1, 119 feet to an elevation of 4,279 in total, making this marathon one of the most challenging and beautiful courses in America. Added to the spectacle of the Scottish Highland Games, this event makes for a great family weekend.                                                             The Outer Banks Marathon In stark contrast to the rugged hills of Grandfather, the windswept dunes of the outer Banks make this marathon a cakewalk. The communities of Kitty Hawk, Nags Head, and Kill Devils Hill hosted the first annual marathon in November, 2006. On that day my battle was not hills, but torrential downpours, with rain as large as hailstones.  The course began at Kitty Hawk on the edge of the Albemarle Sound, where I started off running along the seaside, while passing an occasional heron or egret watching the race from the sea oats. Most people in this friendly neighborhood rose at the crack of dawn to cheer, and offer drinks and candy in their night gowns or boxer shorts. There was a brisk wind and trickle of rain as I ran along a wooded trail which led to the sixty foot tall Wright Brothers Monument. This is where the adventure begins! What a thrill it was running along the original four flight paths the Wright Brothers used; they had selected this area after months and months of reviewing flight data from the National Weather Center. Although they came from Ohio, Kitty Hawk was where they took off, so of course both states of Ohio and North Carolina continue to fight over the slogan First In Flight. The exposed open grounds have rebuilt hangars where they stayed, alongside the one remaining sand dune from where they took off in 1903. When you see a passing plane overhead, and compare it to what the Wright brothers took off in, you really appreciate how far we’ve come.  At mile nine I entered Nags Head Wood Nature Preserve – a lush, seaside forest, with a portion for off-road running. In a marathon it’s usually all roads, so this trail segment greatly enhanced an already creative course. After ascending the trail, views of the largest sand dune on the east coast appear. The sloping sand dunes of Jockey’s Ridge rise up to seventy-eight feet where kids roll, ski, and dive down the hills, while hang gliders take off from the summits. As I approached the long stretch of highway, I was being used as target practice for the hailstones which ruthlessly pelted me. It eventually taped off into a simple down-pour. I really didn’t mind at all, since braving the elements is a reason I run in the first place. Bright sunny days I can do without; bring on the rain and snow and I could run forever. I’ve always been intrigued by the name Kill Devils Hill. I found out that the peculiar name was attributed to a wealthy planter who upon tasting the local rum commented, “It was powerful enough to kill the devil.” As I approached the thirty-five foot tall Pirates Cove Bridge, through fogged lenses I could barely make out Roanoke Island on the other side and the little boats below.    Once over the bridge the remainder of the course is flat and easy. I ran through the lively village of Manteo with its festive atmosphere – clowns, cheerleading squads, and live bands. In all I think it took me four and half hours to finish, and   although I was water logged and wounded, the hardest part of this marathon was the four hour drive home. SOURCES OF INFO:www.obxmarathon.org  - Sunday, November 11, 2007Registration fee: $75.00Limit: 2,500 runners Grandfather Mountain Marathon -  www.hopefortomorrow.org; July, 2008