Poteat to risk new lease on life in Rotary Club's Zombie Run

“Your heart,” he said, “is in great shape. Don’t worry about what happened. Go out and live your life.”

A few days before my 69th birthday, I was blessed with a new lease on life, and, by golly, I mean to take advantage of it.

***

About the only parts of my body that reveal I used to be a marathon runner are the big toenails on each foot.

Due to my rather foolish decision to wear a pair of recently-purchased running shoes that were not nearly broken in enough for the 1999 Kiawah Island Marathon, they still look thick and yellow and gnarly.

They looked a lot worse at the end of that 26.2-mile effort nearly 25 years ago.

Between 1998 and 2005, I completed six marathons, thanks mainly to the support of my family and the help of my friends.

My first was in Columbia, S.C., mid-February 1998. A cold and gray and dreary Saturday morning, with rain most definitely on the way.

A good bit of the marathon course wends its way through the pine forests of Fort Jackson and then past the barracks of young Army recruits. All of those young men and women took the time to cheer us runners as we passed, a gesture of kindness and support I will never forget.

In both December of 1998 and December of 1999, I completed the Kiawah Island Marathon. There I twice learned the lesson that 26.2 miles of unvarying flat ground are harder on the feet and legs than a mixture of hills and flat.

In January of 2000, I completed the now defunct Charlotte Peace Marathon, which began on the campus of Davidson College and ended on the campus of Queens University.

The temperature, under a layer of dark, gray clouds, was in the low 20s when we started. It barely budged over the next four hours. And, on the Queens campus with the finish line in sight, the snowflakes began to fall.

Heavily.

I think it was early March before I thawed out.

October of 2000 found me running the 25th Annual Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, D.C. In honor of the marathon celebrating a quarter of a century, 25,000 runners were permitted.

To begin a race as one of an army of 25,000 runners is an honor I will never forget, and I will also always remember the pleasure of running past the Lincoln Memorial, the White House, and the Capitol before finishing at the foot of Marine Corps Memorial.

Nearly a quarter of a century later, I still wear with pride the heavy, long-sleeved T-shirt I received at the finish line.

My final marathon marked my preparing to turn 50 — the Grandfather Mountain Marathon back in 2005.

The course begins by circling the track of the football stadium at App State, follows U.S. 321 to the Blue Ridge Parkway, stays on the Parkway for several miles before transitioning to an unpaved road, and then turning onto U.S. 221.

I was well prepared for my first five marathons; I was not prepared for Grandfather.

I had done my training runs primarily on the Forest Service road that runs from Brown Mountain Beach to Mortimer and then on to Edgemont. Scenic that road is; hilly it is not.

Kidd Brewer Stadium’s elevation is roughly 3,300 feet. MacRae Meadows, where the marathon ends, is right at 5,000 feet. That is a climb, a climb for which I was not prepared.

The Grandfather Mountain Marathon ends on the track at the center of the Highland Games. While still out on U.S. 221, a couple of miles from the finish, I first heard the bagpipes playing.

I tried to focus on that sound as it grew sharper, closer, clearer. Nearly five hours had passed since I left the App State campus. I was spent, exhausted, running on fumes.

And yet somehow, I staggered around that track as the bagpipes played and the mountain sun shone, and my wife and daughters clapped and cheered.

***

Although my marathoning ended some 19 years ago, I continued to run 5K and 10K races regularly up until the autumn of 2018. And then, for some reason, I simply stopped.

I don't know why. But I know that it is time to start again.

Running is, without question, a great boon to physical fitness. Done regularly, it can improve heart and lung function as well as lower both blood pressure and blood sugar levels.

But there is another component to running — call it emotional or elevate it to spiritual — which makes me want to become a runner again.

When a run is going well, when your heart and lungs are working in perfect tandem with your feet and legs, when the music coming through your earbuds is in harmony with your heart, the feeling you experience is absolute euphoria.

You feel as if you can not only run forever but live forever as well.

That feeling is worth climbing out of bed at 5 a.m. and sleepily pulling on your running clothes. That feeling is worth the pounding out of lonely miles in the pre-dawn darkness. That feeling is worth whatever sacrifice or struggle is necessary.

***

The Morganton Rotary Club is launching a new autumnal 5K on the morning of Saturday, Oct. 12 — the Zombie Run. Apparently, the race, to be held at the Morganton Greenway, will involve runners being chased by brain-eating zombies.

Not too worried about that. At my age, a starving zombie would be treated to no more than a light snack were he to pry open my cranium. More worrisome is the potential for hot temperatures by the 11 a.m. start time.

Hot or cold, sun or shower, I’m looking forward to my first race in more than six years.

After all, I have a new lease on life, and I plan to enjoy it.