It's not too often you get snow in central North Carolina. Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill will sometimes see a sprinkling of ice, but it's still enough of a novelty to warrant panic-stricken surges to Harris Teeter. We North Carolinians suffer through the indignities of winter weather - sleet and freezing rain and lack of infrastructure and jeers from our northern neighbors - but the reality is the conditions really aren't ideal. Half an inch of solid ice and a dusting of snow? No, really. You try running in it.
The Krispy Kreme Challenge is a famous (infamous?) road running race in Raleigh. Now in its twelfth year, it is organized by NC State students with a certain disposition for, uhh, gastrointestinal distress.
If you were tuned into the news last week, you may have heard that the Federal Trade Commission slapped Lumosity - the company known for its "brain training games" - a hefty fine. We look at why, and, if those brain games don't work, what does?
Last week someone told me he didn't understand why anyone who doesn't run a sub 7:00 minute mile even bothers to run in a race. Granted, he was talking about his own lack of motivation to run versus other forms of exercise and he didn't know I race or my mile times, but all the same that's not the first time I've heard that sentiment expressed. You have no hope of winning, so why do you even bother racing?
Every once in a while, I do a crazy thing where I run around hoping to get a shiny medal at a finish line. It's part of what I do. This time, I decided to add some more meaning to my race.
I had lived in North Carolina for 15 years and I’d never been to the Outer Banks, so I decided running the Outer Banks Half Marathon in November 2014 would be an excellent excuse to explore. I recruited some friends to drive with McCrae and me to Manteo, and we piled into our compact SUV and headed east.
As much as the trail beckons, most of the time I can't go traipsing through the woods. I have a day job and bills and some responsibilities (though I try to keep those to a minimum). However, none of these curb my urge to explore, and suppressing my need for Nature just makes me more restless. And so when I'm unbearably restless, I run.
