The original Hill Running Bitches Team regrouped with the original six PAX. The first year was March 2020, the night the country got locked down in what we thought was possibly the last relay race ever to be run before the world collapsed. Six guys in a van with an unknown virus lurking to take their life, but at least there would be less traffic on the roads due to the Governor’s Order, so there was that. In year two, Radar subbed for YHC due to injury and got lost. Then Short Sale came along and after Whoopee and YHC and ShortSale got lost, we called it a day and ate pizza and drank beer without finishing. Then last year Flintstone tagged along to replace Defib who didn’t have time to train. Defib came anyway and accompanied YHC on two of my three legs. (Get your mind out of the gutter)
This year we were all back together again. We had trouble securing the requisite white Hi-Top 15 passenger Sprinter van and settled for a well equipped Suburban. The joker at Enterprise tried to give me a Jeep. Then he tried to give me a Tahoe, but I ordered a Suburban and demanded the pearl white beauty in the lot. Breaker tagged along to be an extra driver. When I asked the guy what we needed to add Breaker he said he just needed Breaker’s license. YHC went out to pack the Suburban and Breaker came out to report that they wouldn’t add him because his license had expired in January. #hatetoseeit
YHC put in a Little Tree “New Car Smell” that gave Stroganoff a headache so we put it in the Glove box to soften the scent. It was very strong, but it would come in handy later.
At 1000 hours, we arrived at GSM International HQ and loaded up. The Suburban wasn’t as spacious as a Sprinter, but all in all it wasn’t too bad because we usually would only have four or five guys in it at a time. We arrived at the Waffle House in Hickory with plenty of time to spare. The Waffle House was hopping, as the two teams from F3 Omaha were inside, standing room only. We waited up the hill near a hotel when we spotted Cousin Eddie, otherwise known by his stage name, Race Director. We gathered round. Two teams from F3 Boone, two teams from F3 Omaha, one F3 Foothills team, and one from F3Greenwood, (home of the Iron Pax Challenge), and Team HRB from the Gashouse. This relay is usually sketchy and this one was no exception. The forecast was miserable with projected rain for the entire race, but we were fortunate that it hadn’t started yet and we were able to do a Pre-race COT and Name-O-Rama. Three FNG’s were there, with some poor guy being named “Gorilla Cookie”. (Google Sanford and Son and you will see the reference. How old are we that we knew that reference from 1972!)
The race would begin when the “pre-race” runner would have to eat a Waffle House “smothered and covered” and then run .7 miles to the LP Frans baseball stadium. Whoopee was our designated runner. The good news is Cousin Eddie came off the hip for all the required nutrition. We were a little disappointed that Kodak from F3 Boone didn’t bring his Banjo this year due to anticipated wet weather. At midnight, the pre-runners began eating their hash browns and the rest of Team HRB hustled to the truck and drove to the EZ, with YHC barely having enough time to whiz and turn on Strava before Whoopee came in hot, no doubt with a little indigestion. It was raining…a theme for the next 10 hours. (At some point, Eddie Rabbit’s “I Love a Rainy Night” came on and we immediately changed the song.)
YHC took off for leg one…a 7.3 miler around the airport. The rain was picking up but at least it wasn’t too cold. I got killed in the parking lot by a 24 year old, possibly Gorilla Cookie. I never saw him again. As the miles racked up, I caught up to a runner from Boone and we ran for a while. He is a school Principal at Harden Park Elementary in Boone. He warned me that he saw signs that had been paintballed, and not long after saying that a car drove by and within a few feet of us we heard the sound of compressed air. I think they shot and missed. The next time we saw headlights we ran behind a church, prepared to take it to the threat. Luckily we were marked safe the rest of the leg.
I moseyed ahead where I saw Cousin Eddie parked at an interchange. I waited until I got right in front of his headlights where I stopped running, turned to his truck, and gave the Degeneration X crotch chop to show my appreciation for all his race director efforts. I came into the EZ and handed off the imaginary wrist bracelet to BB who took off and ran to Tater Hole, the original starting line for Mortimer 2020. Then Defib, then Stroganoff, then Whoopee. It was raining throughout but to keep the fun, we had placed over/under bets on A. How many times Stroganoff would pee (9 was the bet); and B. How many deuces Breaker Breaker would have (see Slaw’s backblast…does a Breaker poop in the woods?)
Whoopee and Defib took the over on Stroganoff at 1 Million dollars and Whoopee also took the over on Breaker Breaker for another million.
The routes were mostly familiar as we moseyed through Sawmills and Hibriten Mountain, making our way to the Eye of Sauren in downtown Lenoir. Then it was time to get super sketchy and mosey through the hollers to Adako. We made a team decision this year that we wouldn’t be the six and would bend the rules by leaving the EZ’s early so we wouldn’t have to lock the gate at Howard’s Knob. Plus, having two runners on the course meant more room in the Suburban.
When we got to Hard and Flossie Park in Adako, YHC wasn’t prepared when Breaker came in early and had to leave without any preparation time. Apparently the guys wandered around the park and found a porta-jon oasis on the backside of the shelter and put it to good use after I left. Whoopee later called this the Porta Jon from God.
On leg 8, YHC had the IT band go crazy in the first 200 yards only had ten miles to go and was more limping than running. As the van passed me by I decided to text them to stand by at the entrance to Brown Mountain Beech Road so I could assess whether to continue or not. As I started mile 3 and turned onto Brown Mountain Beech Road, there was no van waiting for me. It was pouring rain. The river was rushing. It was dark. I looked back at my wet phone and saw “Message not delivered” so I tried again. “My IT band on my left knee is jacked up”. No luck. HTFU as they say. Only six and half more miles. Because daylight savings hadn’t happened yet, the longer I ran the more I could see and the more grateful I was to be alone in this area. It was beautiful and one of the draws of the race. By the time a van rolled by and asked me if I was good, I said, “I’m good” and they drove off. Only five more miles to go.
When I got to the EZ, I was surprised to see Defib there. I figured he would be balls deep on Yellow Buck Trail, formerly known as leg 8. He had run with a search and rescue guy from Boone earlier who said trying to cross Wilson Creek would be too dangerous even for the Mortimer, so we skipped that leg and drove to the start of leg 10. Defib then informed me that he just got my text about having a jacked up leg! Defib and Stroganoff decided to run leg 10 together. Running in pairs is underated!
We anticipated having a coffee bar at leg 10 but it wasn’t there so we ate some of Mrs. Breaker’s now famous bacon egg and cheese biscuits and drove up the backside of Grandfather, pitying Stroganoff and Defib on that massive 5-mile hill. We arrived in Linville and hit the Citgo for some coffee. Whoopee said he was buying but when he got to the counter, the clerk who looked like she was somewhere between 13 and 30 years old said the coffee was free. She came out from behind the counter and started to brew two fresh pots! Winner winner chicken dinner…or was it? The bathroom door was located immediately to the right beside the coffee bar and Breaker Breaker had gone in the bathroom with bad intentions immediately upon entering the store. Whoopee and I were standing there, watching the coffee brew when we noticed that the bathroom door had a sign on it that said it didn’t lock, and we thought about pushing it open and turd burgling to embarrass Breaker. We laughed a lot at the thought, but mere moments later, this would be no laughing matter. Just as I had coffee cup in hand, eagerly awaiting to pour the first cup, Breaker appeared from the bathroom and the swinging of the door wafted air in what could only be described as toxic, staining my nostrils and flagging the coffee bar and the immediate vicinity. We stood there in shock, overcome with fumes. As Breaker quickly made his way to the back of the store to hide, Whoopee looked like he was getting ready to attempt to enter the bathroom. I looked at him and tried to dissuade him (shieldlock) but not no avail. Whoopee had a look of determination and opened the door and got about midway in the threshhold but the stench overwhelmed even this experienced physician and he quickly retreated, only to waft another vicious dose of poison air into my already burned nose hairs, launching airborne disease all over my fresh cup and the entire coffee bar once more. I staggered to the parking lot and returned to the van, dazed.
We loaded back up and drove back to the post office, when JJ said he wanted to go to the store. We drove back, joking that the only way to go back into the store was to wear the “Little Trees” new car smell air scent on our upper lip like a mustache to mask the stench.
When Defib and Stroganoff returned from crushing leg 10, they wanted to go the store so we returned a third time. I refilled my coffee cup with hesitation. I held my breath and took the long way around the store to the coffee pot to minimize whatever residual fog was left in the air. I exited the store with a fresh flagged cup and exhaled quickly. Basically drinking that stuff was my own personal Vietnam, a Misogi of sorts. Whoopee renamed Breaker Breaker and started calling him “Broken Broken”. I think this bathroom break won Whoopee and Defib 1 million each based on their bet so maybe it was worth it? Apparently it takes a lot out of a man to give his best shot in a public restroom like that.
At this point, we had heard the song “Heard it in a love song”, and Breaker, JJ and YHC talked about how we all thought it said, “Purdy little love song”. Whoopee had his turn in the bathroom and returned to the van and said, “I always thought this song was ‘Purdy little love song’”
We got a good laugh and launched him on his way up leg 11.
We launched JJ on the long six miler downhill run to the little country church. An F3 Pax pulled up behind us and a woman got out of the car and started running leg 12. The guy said his team had some injuries so he summoned his wife to run the next two legs!!! She was going to run leg 12 and 13, the famous PILOT RIDGE ROAD! The inspiration for the Mortimer to begin with. Apparently she is an ultra runner and when we passed her twice on leg 12 and leg 13, she looked the part.
We launched Breaker on leg 13, JJ returned, we launched Stroganoff on 14, and sent off Defib from Trout Lake on 15. (As I was recalculating Defib’s mileage and elevation, YHC noticed that the elevation was 3333’. The same elevation as Kidd Brewer Stadium) It was at this point a Sprinter van was pulling out of the parking lot and we were all standing around shooting the breeze. We heard a banging on a window and looked an a PAX from some unknown region, maybe Omaha, had his bare ass against the side window for a well executed Moon. He was slapping his hands at the same time to draw our attention. It has been years since we have been properly mooned. #MeToo
Whoopee left on leg 16 at App Ski Mountain to run to the church in Boone. It was at this point that Stroganoff had been sitting on 9 urinations and the 10th would mean Whoopee and Defib would win on the over. Stroganoff tried to discretely make it to the woods, but was captured on a trail cam after relieving himself for the tenth time in a mere 14 ½ hours. One Million Dollars! (Defib did say the number would be 19)
JJ ran leg 17 on the run across App State’s Campus, and then YHC left early from the baseball field to run the glory leg of Howard’s Knob and eventually touching the rock. Breaker ran the last thirty yards with me #HIM and I was rewarded with a cold IPA immediately per tradition. It was awesome. We took some team photos, did COT, said a prayer, got our picture with Cousin Eddie, and took off for supper at the Ale House. We moseyed back to GSM via the car wash in Boone.
Other than missing two pair of earbuds along the way, there were no casualties. Whoopee wants to rename our team to “Race Committee is an asshole” but we will see about that. Most guys have been uncertain about doing this race again, but by Monday, Defib gave me the HC and I think the others are on board. I think we will be back again next year for Mortimer 6 if there is such a thing. An off the books race like no other. My hats off to Team HRB for being willing to train, support, and encourage one another basically year-round since March of 2020. TEAM HRB4L!
Runner 1 22.5 miles +2377 elevation
Runner 2 15 miles +2014 elevation
Runner 3 18.9 +3333 elevation
Runner 4 19.3 miles +2889
Runner 5 12.1 miles +1429 elevation
Runner 6 18.44 miles +1404 elevation
