Q: Mr. Roboto , McRib
PAX: Mr. Roboto, McRib
FNGs: None
COUNT: 2
TLDR: McRib and Mr. Roboto ran 34 miles of single-track trail in the RDU. It was “fun.” A type 1 fun that steadily turned into a type 2 fun as the day progressed.
Just for the record, and a point of comparison, downtown Durham and downtown Raleigh are only 25 miles apart.
44 other people with questionable decision making skills gathered in the haze of sunrise over Falls Lake, just east of Durham. Even after 3 official months of training that included several hundred miles, McRib and YHC were both still quite nervous. Some of the pax may already know that New Bern isn’t really known for its hills. But Roboto, you say, what about Hillcrest?! Or maybe even the Country Club Drive Hwy 70 Overpass? Yes, yes, we do have those. But how many times must one run those sections to properly prepare for the countless ups and downs found on the Mountains to Sea Trail? We didn’t know… and still might never know! And prior to this point, neither of us had yet run the distance we were going to attempt. Some might make the claim that the downhills should be fun, and they were… right up until they weren’t. They soon ranked up there with the uphills. More on that later.
An hour before us, and probably a few degrees cooler, the 50 and 100 mile races began in the dark. We were thankful our race started at 7 when we didn’t have to utilize a headlamp despite a number training runs that did include some sort of trail lighting requirements. The race began with about a mile of road. It was good because it allowed for the runners to get somewhat spaced out before we got to the single-track trail. There was still a cluster of us middle-of-the-pack runners for about the first 3 miles. We were happy to have someone else unofficially pacing us for a little bit; a group of about 3 women and one man, who appeared to have a fair amount of experience in these types of events, were moving steadily ahead of us and at just the right speed to keep us from passing. We chatted a bit and they were all really nice folks. The gentleman in the group was a fair bit older than us, was wearing a singlet, and had these trekking poles that would magically appear on the uphill sections and then just-as-magically disappear as the terrain evened out. Dude was just smooth as butter.
Eventually, that group got a little slower headed up a hill and one of them started walking slow enough (I say enough because there is often strategic walking or hiking in ultras during uphill segments to conserve energy that we also partook in from time to time) that we decided to go ahead and excuse ourselves around them. Aside from the occasional muddy patch where we slowed to tread lightly to keep our feet as dry as we could for as long as possible (I just know that guy from the pre-race meeting was cursing the whole time), for the next 10 miles or so, we were having a blast running like little kids jumping over creeks and rocks. Stories and jokes were shared. Like James Brown, we felt good.
The first Aid Station was at just short of 5 miles with a couple coolers to refill water and electrolytes. They had a few Snickers bars there, but it was really just set up as a water station at the turnaround point for the 10 mile race. This was followed by a 3ft wide boardwalk crossing a rather swampy portion of the lake. Story has it that in a previous year, a participant tried to take a video selfie and fell in, but it was a cool little section.
The second Aid Station was just after mile 10. I filled up on some electrolytes and I knew I was going to want some of those pickles and PBJ sandwiches when I came through on the way back. But at the time it was the beef jerky that stood out to me. I grabbed a few chunks, washed it down with a swig of water and stashed some in my shorts pocket for later. McRib was quick and preferred the gels. We were still really rolling here and wanted to keep it up and not get out of the groove.
We continued to find pockets of other people that we’d run with breifly and then eventually leave behind. Others would occasionally leave us behind too. It was about mile 12 that we started seeing some of the 50 and 100 milers making their way back on the out and back section that made up this 50k. They would eventually end up passing back through the start; our finish line was just another aid station for them as they continued further southeast. About 3 of every 5 greeted us with encouraging words and we’d return them. Others were too focused to pick up their heads but were still courteous as we passed each other. The trail was narrow so we often just stepped aside or ran a little off the trail to let them pass.
Being out on the trail just grinding gives your mind the opportunity to wander sometimes. Other times you just get lost in the process of putting one foot in front of the other, finding the right footing, rock and root hopping, and dodging tree trunks and branches. It was in the middle of being lost in the process when my mind wandered back to the jerky I had left in my pocket. Man did that sound good. Only problem was that I had run out of water and didn’t realize it until I had tried jamming the driest piece of beef ever down my gullet. Because I wanted to Leave No Trace, it was 10 minutes of chewing before I could swallow it down. Thank goodness we were just passing the air field and I knew from studying the course map that the next Aid Station was just around the corner.
That Aid Station turned out to be about 2 more miles away. I’ve had my share of cottonmouth before, but this took the cake. When that Aid Station finally did hit, life was good again. Cold water, chilled gels, PBJ sandwiches, bananas, and experience under my belt that said to let the jerky be.
We took just a little bit of time to eat and rest. During this time, the older gentleman with the singlet and magic trekking poles showed up again, just no longer with his lady friends. He quickly grabbed a water refill and some snacks and was off again in a puff of smoke and we never saw him again. Like a little forest leprechaun.
Up until and just past the turnaround, we were still crushing out 10-12 minute miles. But those miles quickly turned in to 13-14 minute miles. And those miles turned into 14-16 minute miles where we alternated walking and running. At one point we had popped out of the trail to a road crossing to see our 22 mile Aid Station maybe a hundred yards down the way. This was where I was going to get my pickle! The problem was though that the road didn’t connect. It was separated by a large gap of water and levee that the trail meandered another mile or more around before turning back towards the other side where it would come out again at the Aid Station. There were a couple of runners that skipped this station who we saw again at the finish but we savored a few moments of rest and pickles before we mustered up the resolve to keep going.
As we progressed, muscles we never even knew we had were hurting. Toes were stubbed. Knees were achy. The obstacles that we had bounded over on our way out were painful to step on as we made our way back in. We knew we’d eventually be walking the uphills, but it was surprising how difficult the downhills ended up being and we’d occasionally have stop and walk them too. The field was pretty spread out at this point but every now and then we’d still pass some folks. The last 4 miles we jostled with one last person until we finally overtook him. The last mile of trail to get us back to the road was miserable and dragged on forever. But THE ROAD! It finally came. And what felt like uphill on the way out oddly felt uphill on the way back in too. And holy crap did it feel like forever. One final turn revealed spectators at the finish area cheering the runners as they came down the stretch. I feel like their cheering actually relieved some of the pain in my legs. Where were they all in the previous 10 miles; really could have used some help then too! The actual finish line was, how ridiculous is this… up some steps! and onto the Community Building’s covered porch under which actually had the blow-up arch. We were greeted with wooden puck “medals.”
Post race McRib showed off his dancing calf muscles while laid out on the pavement. It was all I could do to just keep moving to stave off any cramping and stiffness. The only thing left to do was drive the 2.5 hours home and hope we could get out of the car when we got there.
It was a proper adventure. We encourage any and all who want to join should there be a next one.
