If you’ve ever said to yourself, “I’d love to run a trail marathon up and down a mountain in the dead of winter” then I have a race for you. It’s called the Pilot Mountain Payback, and you can expect your bum handed to you when you cross the finish line.
The course is a mixture of technical single track, rocky bridal trail, with a bit of roadway for good measure. There are six stream crossing, and just so you don’t get comfortable, calf-burning climbs and quad-busting descents (check out the elevation profile: 3,588′ gain and 3,584′ loss).
Well, because I tend not to consult common sense when choosing a race, I decided to sign up with a buddy of mine, John. Together we would conquer this little North Carolina hill.
Race Week
I was on my way back from a trip when I received an email from John with a photo of the forecast. Oh, looky there, snow. Whatever, forecasts change. Mid-week snow was out and sunshine was in. See! I told you. By Friday, snow was back in the picture as was sub-freezing temps. Doh! By race day the chance of snow dropped to 30% and the temps were predicted to be in the 30s. That’s more like it.
Race Day
Up at 5:45AM, I was out the door an hour later wearing shorts, two shirts, a winter hat, Vibram Bikilas, Zensah compression leg sleeves, and gloves. I picked up John and we headed to the start line. An hour of mingling, getting rid of “extra baggage”, and we were seconds from the…wait, was that the gun?
Forty yards down the trail, and we were already crossing/dodging our first stream. For serious, I’ve got 4+ hours to go and I’d rather not start off with wet feet. Mission accomplished. Next up, a ridiculously steep incline, followed by a straightaway, then a single downhill trail.
The plan was for John and I to stick together until we reached the summit and then we’d part ways. Still, John insisted on me leaving him earlier. Probably because I kept telling him not to walk, or take shorter walk breaks (or what he calls “being pushy”).
The first 5 miles weren’t that bad. Some hills, but nothing crazy. I’d even say they were pleasant. Once we passed the 5 mile aid station we hit the 2.25 stretch labeled as “Strenuous.” Holy F$%*! Strenuous was a misnomer. That bit of the marathon went straight up a rock-covered trail where every step was one step away from snapping my ankle. Needless to say, we walked/jogged the duration.
Thinking it couldn’t get worse, but knowing we hadn’t reached the summit yet, we made our way up another rocky section, followed by a dirt trail until we hit the stairs. Yes, stairs. Let me pause for a moment. If park service felt it necessary to put stairs on the side of the mountain it’s because the incline is so insane that walking up a flat surface is just not a good idea. Long story longer, we walked the stairs.
Eventually, we reached the aid station at mile 12.5 just before the summit, and after an hour and fifty-five minutes of climbing. We loaded up on fruit and cookies, grabbed a beverage, filled our bottles, and hit the trail to the loop around the knob.
Some 40 minutes later we lapped the summit and were on our way down. And by down I mean rock steps precariously placed at an outrageous decline causing my knees to shoot back into my legs with every step. BTW, I just grew my toenail back after losing it nine months earlier. It’s now holding back the blood caused by blunt force trauma on the “quad-busting descent.” RIP toenail.
At the bottom, we hooked back up with the dirt trail that took us to the stairs, rode it down for a little ways and then, after 2 hours and 49 minutes of running together, John and I parted ways.
The next aid station was at mile 17.5 at the campground parking lot. I grabbed some bananas and water, and refilled my Gatorade. Starting back up I could feel my legs asking for a break. Sorry legs, we have a race to finish. I would regret that decision later.
Around mile 19 (and I’m going off of what the runner package said because my Garmin 910 gave up on accuracy) I stopped back in at the aid station I hit up at mile 5 before the “strenuous” climb. All that was left now was a familiar trek back to the parking lot. Just one thing. My legs had just taken me up and down a mountain, and they were anything but happy. In fact, my left hamstring and glute were screaming. So every time I hit a hill, I walked the hill and massaged me bum.
With 40 minutes to go I passed a bearded dude. And every time my hamstring flared up, he passed me. And when I could get it under control, I passed him. The two of us continued to exchange positions, and eventually were met by “Texas”, a dude I had passed back at the summit. Together, the three of us pushed one another to the final road crossing which lead to our final mile.
All that was left was an easy downhill and two calf-deep stream crossings. After the second crossing, Texas took off like a rocket, followed by the bearded guy, and me.
Finally, after 4:41 I was done with the PMPB. Thirty minutes later, John joined me.
Final Thoughts
The PMPB was a brutal run. I knew going into the race that there was going to be a steep climb. I knew about the descent and the stream crossings. Still, it was a doosy.
My hat goes off to the race organizer and the volunteers. The aid stations were manned and stocked. The trails were very well marked. Everyone knew what was going on, and I couldn’t have imagined a better race.
So, if you’re dying to kill yourself for 4-5 hours then you need to register for the next Pilot Mountain Payback Marathon. Maybe I’ll see you there.