It’s the steady supply of hills, rocks, and creeks in the company of others that makes the Uwharrie Mountain Run special. On a cold, February day in the North Carolina woods, hundreds of runners and volunteers show up to experience miles of trails in the oldest mountain range in the US. Known as a “varsity race” due to its elevation gain (9,000 ft) and technical nature, the Uwharries beat me up. But there’s comfort in knowing that most people who run it get beat up, too. As the oldest female runner out there and my eighth time running the 20 miler, I should have known better. But if age and experience didn’t get me to the finish line, a piece of Michael Mahan pottery sure helped.
Runners are instructed to park at the Eldorado Outpost and board one of the yellow school buses ready to transport runners to the 8 am start line. I’m a fifth grader all over again as I climb those familiar bus steps and strategically find my seat. There’s a low hum of excited chatter as we bump along on narrowing roads, heading deeper into the Uwharrie forest until we reach our destination. At 7:45 am and in 30 degree weather, we are huddled closely around a blazing campfire, forming a tight human ring to harness the heat. We are scantily dressed in our favorite nylon and wool, trying not to waste too many calories by excessive shivering.
My hydration vest pockets are filled with my favorite energy foods since these long distance races are actually an eating contest with some running thrown in. There will be aid stations every 3 to 5 miles where enthusiastic volunteers serve up a full buffet from soup to nuts. I can nibble on my private stash of protein bars and sip on my electrolytes until I arrive at an aid station where I will consume foods that would not otherwise cross my lips. I grab a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a soft white dinner roll, Fritos for salt, and wash it all down with Mountain Dew for caffeine, sugar and fizz. The bubbles are good for settling the stomach from all the eating and jostling. Pickle juice is a great salt chaser after a cup of sweet Mountain Dew, so I sidle up to the corner of the table and graciously accept a shot before moving on.
I find power in running solo while also knowing I’m not alone. Somewhere out there in the Uwharries are hundreds of other runners sharing our common goal. My husband, Robert, is out there, as well as our friends Bill, Blush and Dave. Bill is a neonatal surgeon who told me before the race that his schedule has been crazier than ever. Blush (his trail name, and once you get a name, you forget their real one) will be on the red-eye to Las Vegas for a wine conference that night. And Dave, an accountant from Cleveland, travels the world running ultras. We push pause on a complex world to do a simple thing together.
Willow, Blush, Galoot, Tumbler, Bill (Cane), Lego and me (Tempo)
After nearly five hours, I’m approaching the finish line. I hear cow bells and shouts of encouragement, and as I cross the timing mat, I see my people, a bunch of salty, happy faces. We’d done this thing separately yet together, a shared experience of running through creeks, up and down mountains, over never ending ankle twisting rocks and withstanding calf cramps and quads on fire. After I cross the finish line, a friend hands me my prize, a hand-made ceramic mug, with a carefully painted scene of a little bird in a tree. I immediately fill it with a lukewarm, sodium-rich chicken noodle soup.
We can’t run these races without generous volunteers and friends like Bill, Blush and Dave. I cheered Bill across the finish line watching his face turn from relief to joy. Blush arrived earlier and was there to welcome me with much hooplah, and Dave and I cheered each other on as we high fived in the woods - me almost done and he halfway to completing his 40 miler. Robert crossed the finish line, the oldest male runner that day, with exuberance and pride. As I placed his prize in his hands, I noticed that his pottery had something uniquely different from mine, there were not just one but two birds in the trees. Each piece of Michael Mahan pottery, it turns out, is as distinct as the runners themselves.
I have eight weeks left to prepare for the Umstead 100. I just ran the Uwharrie 20. In two months, I have to do the same thing but five times in a row!
Okay, with a bit more training, I’ve got this.
Robert (Bongo) and me, happy to be done!
I'm running the Umstead100 Endurance Run, April 6-7 in Raleigh, NC while fundraising for Go Conscious Earth, whose mission is to empower the people of the Democratic Republic of Congo and Congo Basin Rainforest to protect their ancestral land upon which we all depend for survival. Please visit (and share!) my fundraising page GCE100 and make a donation for this critical cause. Also, please forward my collection of blogs to anyone who might be interested in learning more about my experience preparing for a very long race!
Thank you so much!
xo Anne
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