Running Fourth (and the Third, too)

Tuesday (the 3rd) was our first full day in Rockland, and it was an odd little day. I went for an early morning run of about six miles, and then I got ready for the day. Since Mer was still getting ready, I took the car to a garage, where they very kindly looked at it within the hour. The car had been making a metallic sound when in motion, and it had gotten worse on the trip into Maine. I was afraid it might be a ball joint since my normal mechanic has been keeping his eye on one of them, so I wanted it checked out immediately. It turned out to be that we had badly worn front brakes, and the garage said they would replace them and it would take a couple of hours.

So, I walked back to the house and met up with the now-ready-to-go Mer, who wanted to walk downtown. We wandered along the water, and stopped briefly at the St. George’s Valley River Trust building for some maps, and then on the other end of town, we stopped in at the Lighthouse Museum so Mer could pick up a brochure on kayaking, something I had always wanted to try. Since we were near the south end of the main street area, we walked over to the nearby garage, where the car was ready. It was not a cheap repair ($350), but it let me rest easier about all of the driving we would be doing over vacation.

We drove back to the house, where we met up with Carleton. Carleton had offered to take us out to lunch at the swanky seaside Samoset Resort. We love eating on the patio there, since it is beautiful and in the shade, so we were very pleased to eat there. Carleton drove us over (it is only about two miles), and we had a wonderful lunch looking at the ocean and talking with each other. It was a pretty perfect lunch.

After lunch, we went back to the house, where we picked up our own car. Following one of the maps we had picked up, Mer directed me to drive to nearby South Thomaston, where we pulled off the road to see the tidal marsh that is there. It is very large, and quite pretty, although there are no paths in the marsh to wander on, since it is a tidal marsh and any path would be flooded on a regualr basis.

We then drove on to the small village of Tenants Harbor. We walked down to the small harbor, and then walked up to the tiny library to ask for directions to the cemetery, which is what we wanted to see. Touring cemeteries is maybe a bit creepy, but especially near the coast and near mountains, cemeteries always seem to be in very pretty places. I also comfort myself since I would want people to enjoy the park-like atmosphere of any cemetery I might be buried in, as long as they were respectful. Anyway, we walked the mile or so to the cemetery, and it was pretty. Again, as seems to be the case with old Maine cemeteries, all of the people buried there either died very young (before forty) or died very old (older than eighty-five), even in the early 1900s. There was a small point of land in the cemetery that had a small bench that overlooked the harbor, and we sat there for awhile before heading back to the car.

The last stop of the day was in the town of Thomaston. Mer had a map for the St. Geroge’s River “river walk” which took you through the town, highlighting historical areas of the town as they pertained to its shipping past. We started at the site of the old Maine State Prison, which was torn down in 2002, and is now a large, open field and park. The old prison site has a commanding view of the river, and was a great place to start the walk. Thomaston has about thirty signs up throughout the town that point out historical buildings or events, so we stopped whenever we came across one of these.

The walk took us along the prison site, and then along back streets of the town, where we had never been before. The houses were very beautiful, and some, that used to belong to successful captains, were quite large. The walk curved us back through the neighborhoods back to the river and the small harbor. There we bumped into a lady who was a member of the historical society, and who very kindly told us about some of the history of shipbuilding and the harbor and the town. From the harbor, the walk returned us to the prison field and to our car, and so we headed home.

Wednesday was the Fourth of July, and I had hoped to be in Rockland for the Fourth so I could run in the nearby Thomaston Firecracker 5k race. Mer’s cousin’s husband, Jon, was also running in it, so Carleton was pretty excited to see us both run.

The day was not too warm, but it was humid, and it sprinkled a bit. I got in line to sign up for the race, and then realized I was in the women’s line, so I switched over. Jon was a few spots ahead. The volunteer-run race ran out of bibs from a larger-than-expected turnout, so they gave me a number on a piece of paper. That was fine, as long as it could hold up through the race, which it did.The race had a kids’ fun run at 8:00, and we started more or less on time at 8:30.

I was hopeful for this race. Although it was humid, I was only a month or so removed from running a full marathon. The course was hilly, but I had been doing hill training recently, so that was good. Also, I had run a half-marathon last fall at under seven minutes/mile, so my goal was to be under twenty-one minutes for the race. I started out with a very strong pace, and quickly found myself near the front. I passed a few people and settled into a slot where the man ahead of me was too far ahead to catch, but I was also determined not to be passed. I did walk for a few seconds at the turnaround, where I grabbed some water, but I did not give up my spot in the race. I had to keep talking myself through the hills, but I finished with a strong pace, and to my delight, I came in 6th out of 188 runners, with a personal-best (post-college, since I do not know what I ran in college or high school) time of 19:34, or a 6:19/mile pace. I beat my old best time by one second, but given the hills on the course, I was really happy.

I also thought I might win my age group, but Mer warned me that the guy who came in fifth looked to be an older runner. We were sticking around for brunch at the Thomaston Cafe anyway, so Mer and I hung out to see the awards ceremony. They had a leader board, and to my great delight, my name was on it for my age group (forty to forty-nine years old). They were just about to hand out awards when someone came up and took my name down and put up the name of the forty-seven-year-old man who had come in fifth. Easy come, easy go.

Jon had done quite well in the race as well, coming in in the top quarter of all runners. We joined Jon and his wife Tracy and their two small children, along with Carleton and his great-grandson Logan, for brunch at the Thomaston Cafe, which was mobbed. It took a long while to get a seat, which was when Mer and I were waiting to see if I won my age group in the race. We did finally get seated, and ordered. I expect the staff was frazzled, as my hot chocolate was tepid at best, and Tracy’s pancakes were not cooked all the way through. Usually the Cafe has excellent food, so I wrote it off to the hectic morning.

We finished breakfast just in time to go claim seats for the parade. We sat with a huge group of people on some lawn on the side of the road. It appeared the houses on the main road allowed it, and that was very good of the owners. Carleton had brought some chairs, so he and Tracy and Mer were all able to sit, while Jon took the older of the two kids to see if she could catch some candy that was thrown from some floats.

The parade got off to an uneven start. The parade started with the Thomaston fire department, and that was great; however, they got ahead of the next group of people, who were dressed as Civil War-era soldiers who stopped every hundred yards or so to fire their rifles, and then reload. After they passed by, the rest of the parade flowed well. There were a couple of bands playing from flatbed trucks, some cheerleaders, lots of political marchers and floats, and a few beauty pageant winners, and the parade ended with the fire departments from all the small towns around Thomaston. It was a nice little parade, and a good way to spend the Fourth.

After the parade, I went home and showered and then took a nap. Since I was in charge for the day, I decided to head up Route 1 and see what could be seen. We drove for almost an hour north when we came around a corner and saw a sign for the Penobscot River Narrows Bridge. I was very excited. My brother Shannon had told me about visiting the bridge, and I had wanted to see it since that time. We came around another corner and had a great full view of the bridge, and it really is an amazing design. We stopped and took pictures, and then drove on so that we could go up in the observation tower.

The observation tower is part of a larger park that includes Maine’s non-gold-containing Fort Knox, and the fort was open to tour with the admission to the tower. That was unexpected and quite welcome. We started with the bridge to make sure we had the leisure to take our time. The new bridge across the narrows replaced the still-standing older bridge next to it. The old bridge had been inspected in the early 2000s and was found to be corroded past repairing. So, a new bridge was designed and built in just forty months, with the new bridge being built from both sides of the river and meeting in the middle. That was pretty cool. The new bridge’s cables are housed in tubes so the cables can be replaced individually as needed, and they are even experimenting with cables made from carbon fiber. The whole cable system is kept under pressure from nitrogen gas so that the engineers can tell immediately if an individual tube has been breached by the weather.

The observation tower is in one of the two towers that hold up the bridge, and is 420 feet above the river. It is the only bridge observatory in the United States. Mer and I made our way to the elevator, which takes you up to near the top. To get to the real observation tower you had to climb two flights of stairs in order to clear the elevator shaft. It is quite a view, and since I am scared of heights, I fluctuated from being scarred to being uncomfortable and back again. I sat down on the floor at Mer’s suggestion, and that helped, but I was still only able to stay up there for a few minutes. Mer stayed a bit longer, and then joined me on the ground, where we talked with a volunteer about the bridge.

Having seen the bridge, I was very pleased to turn my exploring attentions to the fort. The fort highly recommended flashlights, which I took to be an excellent sign. Happily, I carry four in Mer’s car, and two of them still worked. The fort is just open for people to explore, and I’m guessing there were only about twenty people in the whole place, so we had much of the fort to ourselves.

It was really cool. There are long hallways at the front of the fort that are dim and have no access except at the ends. There are still rooms for canon, and the roof was built for canon as well, and the roof is reached by a spiral staircase. There are tunnels that lead to the outer defenses, and there are still a few canon in place for educational purposes. Plus, the fort has a wonderful view of the Penobscot River. The fort was never quite finished and never used, but it is still a great place to explore. We spent a couple of hours there, closing the place out.

At that point, since we still had over an hour drive ahead of us, I decided to go back home. We stopped back in Rockland to pick up supper at the Rockland Cafe, where we also picked up our first Maine whoopie pies, a dessert that I grew up on.

It was a very good start to the Maine vacation!

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