Cold too hot to handle

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This year’s Hellgate was the least enjoyable of the seven I have now completed. It was my slowest time but I am also glad to have completed it. The race director describes this event as ‘special’ and there is definitely something about it that makes it stand out. Over the years the trip to Virginia has built a number of traditions; the Thursday evening departure from Connecticut and overnight in Hamburg, PA. Breakfast and then a brief ‘pilgrimage’ to Cabela’s before heading south once more. Pre-dinner greetings with people you haven’t seen for 12 months and the main pre-race briefing. That too follows a similar pattern; there might be aid stations at the published locations, they might be manned by volunteers, they might have the snacks and supplies you expect, the weather will be unpredictable, the course is at least 100 kilometers and your eye balls may freeze during the night. At 11:00 pm a frantic convoy proceeds through the darkness to the start, if you were nervous before the journey, your legs will be wobbling even more by its end. Once at the start time moves quickly, final registration, the national anthem, a pray and GO![singlepic=5357,280,200,,right]

In previous years I have loved the feeling of excitement up to this point, but over the past week I had been travelling for work and succumbed to my second cold of the winter. I felt tired and an offer of a hot toddy with somewhere warm to rest would have been difficult to refuse. But I haven’t missed this race since it was created and I hoped that somehow I’d be able to maintain that record and headed out into the night dosed up on Tylenol and sore throat lozenges.  There is always a burst of pace from runners you know you’ll see again later as they struggle on depleted energy reserves, so I try to find a steady rhythm at a pace I feel able to maintain. But in the cold night air I struggle for breath and soon a trickle of people passing me seems like a torrent, before too long the darkness closes in and I am running alone. The first section contains a creek crossing but wet weather during the week meant that your feet were damp long before that. From aid station 1, you have a dirt road that climbs steadily to the next stop. The climb is usually entirely run able, but not this year and I knew even more that I was in for a long night.[singlepic=5358,280,200,,left]

The conditions weren’t the coldest I have experienced but the on the higher elevations it was certainly cool enough. I managed to come across a few runners but each time I passed them they seemed to recovery sufficiently to overtake shortly afterwards. I focused on just keeping going at a pace that also kept me warm.  At the first station that Guthrie was able to reach, I got news of ET’s progress. It sounded like his early pace might be too quick and I hoped he would be able to hold thing together. I chuckled whenever I came across a landmark where I recalled him curse in frustration last year when we ran together, and wondered if he was venting at the same places this time around! For the rest of the time, I tried not to think of anything except to keep progressing t wards the next aid and after that, the next one.

Besides some packed snow as we skirted around the base of Headforemost Mountain, and an icy section just before you reached its summit, the trail was generally free from frost. We’d been told the leaves that usually provide a deep covering over the rocks were ‘better than previous years’, but it didn’t feel like it. They may not have been as deep, but they still covered plenty of obstacles to tax tired legs. I passed some bear hunters heading out with their dogs and radio tracking equipment and heard train horns sounding somewhere in the distance, a reminder from previous years that the finish was getting closer. [singlepic=5364,280,200,,right] The route though has two deceptive sections that feel much longer than perhaps they are. Sections 6 and 8 always kick your butt; they twist and turn constantly on a predominantly single track trail that heads either up or down, never flat! But the end always comes, you just have to persevere and it is amazing how quickly a feeling of desolation can fade with a cup of tepid soup and freeze dried PB&J. The final leg, just 3 miles up and 3 miles down to the finish is a grind, but you also feel a sense of relief and accomplishment because the end is now so near. A mile out from the line Guth had run out to meet me and we ran in together, it had been a relatively low key event for her as well. She pretty much has the route between stops ingrained in memory, even if the weather causes last minute detours and my need for previsions from her this year had been minimal. Of greater significance was the motivation she provided each time we met.

Completing an ultra is never a certainty. El Toro mentioned a few weeks before the race he hoped for a top 5 finish this year. It was a brave claim to make and an impressive one to achieve. Loopy was understandable disappointed not to make the cut at Headforemost, but should draw comfort that she tried and there is always next year. Spuds is over half way to claiming a 5 time finisher award and was pumped to improve on last year’s time. But I’ll leave their stories for them to tell. Once showered, we made it about 90 minutes up the highway to another tradition. The Best Weston at Staunton provides small rubber ducks in the bathroom of their guest rooms. I have quite a collection of them now!

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To see more pictures, click here.

Click here, to see the race results.