Aaron's report. It sums up the toughness and magic that is Hellgate so very well, and explains why so many come back year after year after year.
Up until Hellgate 2019, I had only experienced worse conditions twice in my ultrarunning career. I remember these two situations very clearly as they are seared into my brain. The first was the "SMAR" or the Smoky Mountain Adventure Run. Horton used to host a yearly "fun run" around the beginning of January for added enjoyment (or added suffering). The Smokies, for those who aren't from the East Coast, is a beautiful and tough section of the AT in North Carolina, covering about 71 miles with only one road crossing. Only one chance for aid (or one chance to quit), if you are trying to run it all at once. It's tough and beautiful and gnarly no matter when you do it.The year I did it, there was a group of maybe 6 of us that ran the first 35-40 miles together during the day. It was snowy and cold, but pleasant. We met our awesome crew (George Wortley) at the single road crossing around dark. All but three chose to stop. It was just myself, Horton, and Jonathan Basham who stupidly and stubbornly decided to go on. I distinctly remember huddling forlornly in a bathroom at the trailhead watching the van drive away. None of us actually wanted to continue, I think, but there was no turning back. That night the trail basically meandered along a ridge for the entire 30-ish miles. There weren't big climbs or descents, but there was several inches of snow on the ground making it very hard to run. Being up on a ridge, there was a steady strong wind blowing the entire night chilling us to the bone. I'm guessing the wind chill was somewhere below zero. We couldn't really run, so we just walked trying to stay warm. Our water froze, and it was so cold that you didn't want to stop to take off your gloves to eat. I doubt any of us ate more than a few hundred calories all night. We made it, but I did end up with frostbite on my big toes and on my heels. Snow and ice had frozen to the back of my shoes without me even feeling it. Oh the stupidity of youth! To this day, that was the longest, coldest, worst night of my life, which I had the fortune to share with Horton and JB (Jonathan Basham). Both are finishers of Barkley and former and current record-holders of the Long Trail in Vermont.
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| Clark and I at Clingman's during the day when life was still good |
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| The 3 survivors at the finish. My face says it all! The second time was during the one-and-done Tuscarora stage race in 2003, another brain child of David Horton. 252 miles on the Tuscarora Trail to be run over six days. Since the race took place in March, we encountered tons of snow, which made for very long, slow days. The leaders had to post-hole through about a foot of snow, and people took turns leading since it was so physically draining. By day four most people were pretty much destroyed. That day had eerily similar weather to Hellgate this year-rainy and low 40's all day. Only 6 people finished that stage, and eventually went on to complete the entire stage race. I ran with Ryan Henry and John Hayward all day, and the old saying holds true. Misery does indeed love company. I remember borrowing gloves from runners each time someone would drop out for the day. I probably went through 6-7 pairs during the day, and was still freezing. Strangely, it was one of the most fun times I've ever had because of the company and the complete absurdity of what we were doing. It was both an absolute blast, as well as a completely miserable experience. It was one of those times where you just have to laugh and enjoy the insanity of it all, or you will break down and cry. I remember running through a section of trail where the leaves on the trees had a heavy layer of ice on them. The branches hung down so low we had to duck and squat our way through that section. It was craziness, and I have never been more proud of finishing a race to this day. |
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| Tuscarora 2003 during day 4 photo-John Hayward |
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| Icing after day 2 or 3 |
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| start of one of the days of Tuscarora. Lots of legends in this picture! |
Now back to Hellgate 2019. I wish I had known what was coming in 2020. I'm sure I would have cherished the opportunity to run an actual race with actual people during an actual event much more than I did at the time. I'd attempted Hellgate 6 times previously, with 5 finishes and one DNF (due to Hellgate eyes). I thought I knew what to expect, but this race in particular has a way of humbling you. All of my previous finishes would be what Horton refers to as "sissygates"-races with decent weather and conditions. I've run in cold years, but not THE cold year. I ran the hot year, but it wasn't that bad. I missed the ice year, the really cold year etc. All that to say I thought I knew Hellgate, but I was very, very wrong. Check out Sophie Speidel's excellent report from her 9th Hellgate finish to see what I mean http://shiningsultra.blogspot.com/2014/12/hellgate-2014-smackdown.html
I knew I wanted to run Hellgate again since the moment I finished it last
year in 2018. I had signed up that time at last minute on an impulsive FOMO whim, which is never a
good idea. From about mile one, my legs felt completely dead, and my heart was
never really in it. I ended up having a great time running almost the entire
race with Tim Spaulding, whom I had never met. We talked about all things
running, life, family etc., but I was pretty grumpy the whole time. I
just remember feeling so tired and lethargic the entire race, and was relieved
when I finished. Note to self-never run Hellgate three weeks after JFK. A hard
lesson that I think Michael Owen learned this year at Hellgate. It left a bad
taste in my mouth, mainly because I didn't give it my best. I never like doing
anything that way. So Hellgate was in my mind all year, and it was the one race
I was actually excited to run. I had only run a few 50Ks this year, the last
one being a small 50K in Pennsylvania in July. Pennsylvania does indeed "rock". So I signed up for the Stonemill
50-miler in early November as a good prep before Hellgate. The timing worked for life and family, and I
knew I needed a long run/race on my legs before Hellgate. I'd never run
Stonemill before, but I'd heard many good things about the race. It was exactly
what my mind and body needed. I felt surprisingly good the entire day, even with
all the darn running! It was a neat, low key, well-organized race which I'd recommend highly if you don't mind all the running. It also gave me five weeks in between to recover and get
some solid training in. I wouldn't say my training was great, but I got a few good weeks of training including several Jarmans long runs (3-4 times up and down). I think I had a 63-mile week with 8,500 feet of vert, and a 73-mile week with
about 6,000 feet of vert. My longest training run was only 20 miles (of
Jarmans), but I knew my legs would hold up. I have 20+ years of running on them
after all. I tapered starting two weeks out, caught a cold, and basically felt like an old, slow broken down runner. So typical taper stuff! I even cut out caffeine😭😭, which I never do. I LOVE my morning coffee, but Hellgate terrifies me more than most races. I wanted to give myself every little possible advantage. For anyone wondering, yes, I do think it was worth it. More about that later.
**side note** I wrote the previous paragraph almost a year ago. Reading it back now I can only laugh. I am in the middle of my taper now. I feel like an old, broken down runner, and I am trying to decide whether to give up my precious coffee for a week. I guess I should listen to my former self!
I'd started stalking the weather forecast the week or two before the race. Never a good idea! The weather is going to be whatever it will be. You can't control it or change it, so why worry? Still, I couldn't help checking it several times a day. It initially called for some light rain Friday night, with the possibility of snow overnight. Sweet! I love running in the falling snow! However, it became clear as the race got closer that it would be too warm for snow. Shoot! Instead it called for a steady rain lasting the entire night into Saturday morning. Aaaaaaand that is exactly what happened. The very conditions my friend Sophie has outright said she will NOT run in. I thought of her and that sentiment many times during the race when I was so miserably cold. When I finally just accepted that it would be wet and rainy, I was ok with it. The tougher the conditions, the better I usually do-so bring it! How silly and naïve of me...
This leads to the yearly dilemma that every Hellgate runner faces, shorts or tights. I hardly ever wear tights or capris in races. It has to be in the low 20's or colder before I'll consider tights. I had concerns this time, though, because of the rain. Running in the cold is one thing. Running in a steady cold rain for hours on end is quite another. In the few days leading up to the race I was leaning towards my capri tights, but I changed my mind at the last minute. The overnight temps weren't going to drop below 40 degrees, which meant upper 30's at the higher elevations. Even with the rain, I would rather get a little cold than overheated. I ended up wearing shorts, with a long sleeve shirt and my patagonia torrentshell rain jacket on top. For the most part that was the right decision, with a few almost fatal mistakes.
On Friday I picked my daughter up from school, dropped her off at home and headed to the pre-race dinner. This is usually when I begin questioning why in the world anyone would run Hellgate. It's Friday, and I'm tired after a long week. Instead of relaxing at home with my family, I'm driving several hours to eat dinner and stay up until midnight. Then I get to run 66 miles through the mountains...at night...in the cold...and rain. Sigh. Why don't I pick a more relaxing hobby?! Grumpily, I made it to the pre-race and checked in. I ate dinner, but skipped the pre-race briefing. I've heard it a million times before, and I really wanted to try to get some sleep before the start. I am a super light sleeper, and I don't think I've ever actually slept before Hellgate. Still, I wanted to try. I met my friend Megan Hardey and her husband sleeping in their truck in the parking lot. I climbed in the front, and proceeded to toss and turn for the next 90 minutes. I'm in awe and jealous of how easily some people can sleep. Megan was sacked out practically the whole time! At least I got to rest my eyes and body a little before the 40 minute drive to the start. Compared to my attitude before the race last year, I was actually excited to get this show on the road. Always a good sign! We drove to the start, and huddled in the truck until the very last minute since it was already drizzling/lightly raining. Promptly at 12:01am after a very poor rendition of the national anthem, we were off. I fell in almost immediately with Shannon Howell and Alissa Keith, and enjoyed chatting with them for the first few miles before they pulled away. I was wearing my rain jacket, but ripped it off after the first mile. I was so hot!!!Even with the rain, it wasn't that cold. I was perfectly comfortable in my long-sleeve and thin gloves. I tied my jacket around my waist, which made for an unexpected problem. I was wearing an ultraspire waist belt, which I had worn only once before on an easy (daytime) four-mile run the week before the race. I detest wearing anything on my head, and I was so annoyed with my Petzl Nao last year. The reactive lighting would respond to my own breathing and constantly change settings. I knew the rain would make a headlamp pretty worthless, so I figured it was worth the risk to try something new on race day. Anyway, I really liked the ultraspire light overall except for a few things. With my jacket tied around my waist, the sleeves would occasionally go in front of the light plunging me into sudden and unexpected darkness. I just had to keep tucking the sleeves into my shorts to keep them from flopping around. No big deal, really just a tad annoying. The other thing that I hadn't even thought of was that the light doesn't change directions when you turn your head. Duh, it's on your waist, not your head! I'm so used to a headlamp, that I would turn my head to see who was running next to me, or to see whether there was a turn on the trail; only to realize after a second or two that my light wasn't actually shining in that direction. In the future, I might carry a small handheld or something to shine around as needed. It wasn't a big deal, but my tired brain couldn't figure out what was going on. All that being said, I LOVED not wearing a headlamp. I'll definitely use the ultraspire light in the future!
The first few miles just meander on a non-technical trail with no real climbing. It's a good warm-up to settle down the early jitters. This is where I usually settle in and let everyone pass me. I hardly ever feel energetic and fast at the beginning of races, much less one that starts well past my normal bedtime. After three or so miles, we crossed a stream and began our first long climb of the night. This is one of my favorite sections of the race every single year. You run up the mountain for several miles on this long gravel road. It's not technical, and on a clear night you can turn your headlamp off and run by the moonlight. Sadly, we had clouds and rain; but I do love looking behind me and watching all the headlamps snake up the road. It's a very cool and surreal experience. After jogging and hiking up the road for several miles, we crossed over the Blue Ridge Parkway, and headed down an icky, technical trail for a bit. After that, it's pretty much a blur for me. The rain continued, and I ran pretty much by myself. I arrived at aid station 3, and proceeded to consume the best grilled cheese sandwiches I've ever had in my life. I ate probably 3-4 quarters before forcing myself to stop. I knew it was probably a bad idea to eat so many, but they were soooooo warm and gooey. Apparently I needed the calories.The next section from aid station 3 to aid station 4 is long. It's around 9 miles (8.8 according to Horton), and it usually feels endless to me. It comes roughly around 3am or so, when the mind is really wanting to just go to bed. I typically fight sleepiness in this section, but I felt surprisingly alert. Maybe it was the rain or the cold, but I wasn't even remotely sleepy. My stomach, however, was another matter. I'd felt bloated and gassy since the beginning of the race-uncomfortably so. I blame the pasta dinner, rolls, and cheesecake I ate at the pre-race dinner. It was pretty miserable and uncomfortable for most of the night, but eventually a pit stop in the woods in the wee hours of the morning ended the situation.
The rest of the night is pretty much a blur. The drizzly rain continued, and turned into a pretty steady rain throughout the night into the early morning hours. Even running with my jacket mostly unzipped, I wasn't that cold. That is, until my first fatal mistake. I'd been wearing the Ultraspire waist light for the first time. I bought it the week before the race, and only tried it once on a short run. It had worked fabulously most of the night until the batteries died. My light was just suddenly gone! I had just entered a section of woods after aid station 4 along with a few runners when it died. They ran on, and I was in sudden complete darkness. I had to stop completely to get my pack off and get my battery charger out of the back pocket. Getting my jacket off, then my pack and getting the charger hooked up took a few minutes. By the time I was ready to go, my hands were completely numb. I couldn't get my fingers to work enough to get my jacket zipped up or my pack straps clipped back together. My jacket had side vents which I had unzipped earlier when I'd gotten hot. I couldn't zip those back up either. My gloves were completely soaked and worthless once my hands got cold. I eventually got my pack on (not clasped together though), my jacket on but unzipped and took off trying to warm up. This section to Jenning's creek has a lot of downhill. I LOVE downhills, but not when I'm trying to get my heart rate up enough to get warm. I made it to Jennings Creek (aka the breakfast aid station) in decent shape though. I'd warmed up enough to stop shivering, and was so happy to get to the almost halfway point. I think I saw Becca Weast there and she gave me the skinny on what was happening in the race while she helped me get my jacket zipped up. I tried to eat as much as I could, but I also made my second almost-fatal mistake. I'd been carrying wool mittens in my pack the entire night without feeling the need to use them. Since it was almost daylight, I figured I wouldn't need them if I'd survived without them the whole night. So I put them in my drop bag like an idiot. I then began the long climb to little cove mountain. Usually you can power hike the several miles up the road to the top, and then cruise some easy miles down the other side. This year, however, the road had a layer of ice that was hard to see. You couldn't really tell what was just water and what was ice. I kept switching back and forth from running in the middle of the road where there was some dirt and grass, to then running along the side where I could grip the ground a little better. Inevitably though, one foot would slide sideways down into the ditch, and I'd have to scramble not to fall. This went on for the entire road section. It was impossible to run or hike quickly. In just a few minutes after leaving the aid station, I was shivering uncontrollably. I can say without question that I have never, ever been so cold in a race. I was so cold it physically hurt, and I would end up making this weird grunting sound every few seconds. It somehow was the only thing that my body could do to stop the shivering for a second, and made the aching ease for just a little bit. As I made my way up the road, I decided that I was going to drop. I was seriously worried about getting hypothermic. I couldn't use my hands at all.My brain was foggy. Eating and drinking was out of the question, and life plain sucked at that moment. After what seemed like hours, I made it to Little Cove mountain, and what was supposed to be an aid station. It was basically just a few people, a truck, some water and maybe some soup? I found out later that the aid station crew had wrecked their car trying to drive up the icy road. Megan Hardey's husband, Ryan, along with Helen McDermott and a few other brave souls managed to make it there to help out. Without question, Helen and Ryan saved my race. I hobbled in like a zombie mumbling incoherently through numb lips. Helen quickly stripped off my jacket, shirt, and gloves; and gave me her shirt, dollar store gloves, and a gloriously warm hat.I looked ridiculous, but they instantly made me feel better. Ryan shoved something warm at me, broth or hot chocolate or something. He also gave me a pair of handwarmers. Ryan, I cannot tell you how amazing those were. Thank you! I was reborn at that aid station. I looked like a homeless person, but I knew I could keep going.
As I left on my way to Bearwallow, I could feel myself coming back to life as my body temperature rose. I was able to eat again, my limbs weren't numb, and the rain had FINALLY stopped. The skies cleared, and it was an absolutely beautiful morning in the mountains. How quickly things can change! As I ran, I kept feeling better and better. I was able to get some food down. My energy levels came back up, and I started to run. I mean really run. Have you ever had that moment in a race where your legs feel like you haven't run at all? That feeling of looking up and the sky just seems more blue and clear than ever before? I'm sure it can all be traced back to calories, but I felt like I had come out of a fog. Feeling this good later in a race has only happened to me twice, and both times have been at Hellgate. Maybe that's why I keep coming back-to recapture that feeling. Whatever the reason, I made it through the devil trail (it didn't seem bad at all), and into bearwallow absolutely giddy. I had actually enjoyed the devil trail! The one and only positive about all of the rain was that the leaves on the devil trail were pretty packed down. No knee high leaves covering jagged rocks this year!
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| crossing the stream right before you hit the bearwallow aid station |
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| Coming into the mud pit that was bearwallow photo:Becca Weast |
I waved excited to all the friendly faces as I came into the aid station, ate some more food and went on my way! You have about a third of the race left, and I didn't want to lose the momentum I had gained. I really enjoyed the next section, and I normally find it a tad boring. You climb up onto a ridge and stay up on the ridge for quite a while. The clouds had settled into the valley below, and it was just so beautiful. This is why I do what I do. I truly love being out there and experiencing nature as the miles go by. I even stopped to take a quick picture with my phone.
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| So pretty! |
I had my music going, and was in my groove as the miles seemed to fly by. I know I caught a bunch of people between Bearwallow and the finish, which is always a mental boost. I made it to the forever section, which leads to the final aid station. The year before this section had been a death march for me. I walked a lot of it, but it was so much fun this year. I caught Liz Anjos right before the aid station, who was running her first ultra. I was so impressed with her running in such miserable conditions for her first long race. She absolutely killed it! That put me in third for women coming into the last aid station, and I was told that second place wasn't too far ahead. The final 6 miles of the race is basically 3 miles up a gravel road, followed by 3 miles down to the finish. I remember just putting my head down and running up the hill as much as I could. I'd walk for maybe 10-20 seconds to catch my breath, then start jogging again. I caught 2nd place on the climb I think? I had no idea how far ahead first was, but my goal really was to try to squeak in under 14 hours. I figured first place was probably too far ahead to even try to catch. That last downhill is usually just as painful as the uphill. The quads are screaming, and the miles seem to creep by even when you think you are running pretty fast. I made it to the final mile or so on a paved country road leading back to Camp Bethel. I looked back a few times to make sure no one was catching up to me, and relaxed my pace when I realized I wouldn't make it under 14 hours. I crossed the finish line in 14:05-not my best time nor my worst. It was however, probably the hardest of my 6 Hellgate finishes, and one that I am very pleased with. I wish I could bottle the energy and enthusiasm I felt during the last 20 or so miles of the race. I'd pay good money for that! Now with Hellgate 2020 looming, I hope I can enjoy myself once again even during the inevitable suffering.
And as Aaron Swartzbard said-"When I finished, I wondered how I could have forgotten just how difficult the race was".
