Hellgate 100K++ 2013

The Most Fun You Can Have Running 66.6 Miles In The Mountains

Backstory:

This was my first time running Hellgate, and I went into the race without many expectations or goals.  I was lucky to have crewed and paced my wonderful wife Alexis here last year, so I was somewhat familiar with the course.  And I trained all summer to run my first 100 miler which never happened, so I had logged a pretty good amount of mountainous long runs.  But, I haven't been focused since Grindstone was canceled, and MMTR was possibly the worst running experience of my life a few short weeks ago.  So I went into Hellgate 2013 in fairly good shape physically, but in a bit of a funk mentally.

So I didn't bother setting any time goals for the event, and instead decided to try to have a good day running.  Something that I heard at Western States this summer and has stuck with me is that it is better to just consider events of this magnitude "runs" and not "races".  Only the few elite runners at the top of the list are really racing.  

Another gem from Western States: "...we will all be measured on the same scale, we will test ourselves against the mountains."  This wasn't going to be about any other runner or anyone else's expectations of me.  It would simply be me vs the mountains.

Race Day (or night rather):

Some people think that Horton is being especially sadistic in starting Hellgate at midnight on Friday, but the genius of it is that we all have to run through the dark.  If the race started at 6 am, then the irritating fast guys would still finish in time for dinner and never even need a head lamp.  So really, Horton is being at least fair, but arguably even a little compassionate.  

We all got to the start line knowing that the weather forecast was bad.  The chance of rain and freezing rain hovering somewhere between imminent and completely unavoidable.  So we knew what we were in for, and we were there anyway.   I am extremely blessed to be part of the best running community in the world, and from that group of runners I was lucky enough to get the best crew ever assembled to help and guide me through this adventure.  

Alexis, Kevin Correll, and I were all running and being crewed by Blake, Kristen, and Jamie, who flawlessly managed to crew three runners all through the night, morning and into the afternoon.  Without the support of that fantastic crew, this race would have undoubtedly gone much differently than it did.  With the weather forecast and the oppressive course dominating all of our thoughts on Friday, this crew was weighed down with approximately 72 changes of clothes, lightweight jackets, heavy jackets, waterproof this and that, changes of shoes for all of us, 14 different kinds of soup, a camp stove, 712 gels in 19 different flavors, raisons, snickers bars, waffles, granola bars, and 3 different kinds of sodas, and not only were they expected to remember which runner wanted what and when, but they did such a perfect job that my only complaint is that I didn't get any Mac'n'Cheese at Day Creek.

So we took off into the dark forest with the support of our beloved friends, the knowledge of an approaching winter storm, and the legendary stories of this humbling course to keep us company into the night.  132 braves souls started at 12:01 am at the Hellgate terminus of the Glenwood horse trail, embarking as one on a journey that everyone must, in the end, complete on their own.

From the start I got seperated from Alexis and Kevin, but I found Charlie and Phil to run with for a while, through the woods and the first knee-deep-ice-cold creek crossing strategically located at mile 2.  We all started up the long climb to Petites Gap together, but drifted apart as we climbed the first 5 mile incline at our own pace.  Near the top Alexis and Kevin caught up with me, I was hiking and they were running up the hill like champs.  I pushed a little harder than I wanted to just to stay with them for the last mile of the climb, and to the second aid station at mile 8.

At Petites Gap, our crew had a table and stove set up and looked more like an aid station than the actual aid station did.  We all picked up our packs here, as we had all stolen Kevin's plan to start with just a handheld on that first climb.  (Genius)  As I was drinking down a hot cup of noodles and watching my comrades run away, I was amused to see other runners skipping the official aid station and approach our crew for support.  That is how awesome our crew was.  

So I left Petites Gap knowing exactly what was in front of me, and finding some comfort in the fact that I was familiar with this part of the course.  Technical downhill followed by smooth rolling singletrack, followed by 3 miles of steep gravel road.  Predictably I passed Kevin and Alexis cautiously picking their way through a nasty patch of rocky trail, and I was surprised to see Phil again so soon, considering that Phil likes to bomb a good downhill just as much as me.  I made good time on the singletrack section, and hit Hunting Creek Road at about 2:30 am, and that is when the weather started.

After a couple of steps on the road I heard the rain in the trees, and then I felt it on my face.  This was much earlier than any of the forecasts had called for, this was going to be a miserable night.  But then the gods of the lonely mountain runners smiled on us, and the rain turned to sleet.  Delightful little ice pellets that bounced right off of me without even leaving a damp spot on my clothes.  There was hope in this, and I was in the market for hope, so I took this as a good sign.

The climb up to Camping Gap and Aid Station 3 was a long slow endeavor.  I hiked alone in the dark with the sleet pelting me, but I hiked steady and I made it to the top.  I greeted the Aid Station workers cheerily, but they didn't seem to be enjoying the weather or the cold windy spot that is Camping Gap, so I tried harder to spread my good cheer, making jokes about a the weather while eating everything I could.  Brenton Sweyers was working at this Aid Station, and it is always nice to see someone you know.  He encouraged me on and said that he would see me at Little Cove.

The next section of the course is what we call "the grassy road", because basically that's what it is.  A long grassy service road that rides just under the ridge line of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the ever-windy side.  I believe this road is about 6 miles long, but there have been times when it felt like 20.  It is non-stop rolling up and down, short little hills that break your momentum, your rhythm, and your spirit.  But this night was different.  About a quarter of mile from camping gap the sleet turned to snow, and then the snow got heavy, and then the night became surreal.

There were times when the snow was falling so hard that you couldn't see more than six feet in front of you.  After about a mile of this it began sticking to the ground and accumulating fast.  I was able to turn my headlamp to the red-light feature and just follow the footprints of runners in front of me.  I passed four or five people on the grassy road, and none of them seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was.  I felt like a little kid playing in the woods.  This wasn't a race to me, it was an adventure, and I decided to make it a grand one.

By the time I started the technical single track decent to Overstreet Falls Aid Station, the snow was already at least three inches deep.  I was having a marvelous time when I hit the Aid Station, and I chatted with the volunteers about the snow while I waited for a fresh grilled cheese sandwich to come off the grill.  A runner I had passed on the downhill caught up to me here and we left hiking up the next hill together, sandwich in hand.

We hiked up the mile and a half to where the Aid Station would have been if the Parkway hadn't been closed, and I left him as I passed Floyd's Field and started into parts unknown.  The next two sections of the course were a complete mystery to me, but I knew about the Aid Stations from crewing last year.  

The trail to Jennings Creek was mostly downhill, punctuated with semi-frozen bogs that tried to steal your shoes in the murky icy mud.  I ran through these frequent swamps with wild abandon knowing that I was going to change my shoes and socks at the next Aid Station.  It was fun.  In a childish, splashing in the puddles kind of way.

I got to Jennings Creek a little ahead of schedule and surprised my crew and Horton a little bit.  It was after 6 am when I got there, so I greeted everyone good-morning, Blake filled my pack and I ate scrambled eggs and pancakes while I changed my shoes and socks.  I felt bad for Kristen and Jamie who looked so tired and cold.  I gathered up my gear, and headed off towards Little Cove, and a couple of big climbs.

The first of these climbs is a steep gravel road, and on this hill all the precipitation stopped and a thick fog settled in.  The fog was do dense that I turned off my headlamp completely, and just followed the road hoping I didn't miss a turn somewhere.  I guess the sun came up somewhere in this area, but all I can say for certain is that the sky lightened.  After the initial climb there was a long downhill road section that I found myself resenting because I knew that the next Aid Station was on the top of a big hill.  But after the downhill, and a little bit of rolling single track, I found the bottom of that big hill I had to climb.

Waiting at the bottom of the hill, since crews weren't allowed at Little Cove this year, was my crew and another, just there to cheer people on.  It was nice to see them, but I had to keep moving up, up and away.  At the top of that climb was Little Cove Aid Station, supposedly the halfway point of the race.  Brenton was there and we talked about the time splits, it was 8:05 am when I arrived and Horton said you should double your time from there, so I figured that I was looking at a 16 hour finish.  

The next section contains an infamous trail known as "the devil's trail" and Brenton said that it took him 2 hours to run it last year.  So that was my goal, 2 hours.  Brenton also told me that the first part was gently rolling and runnable so I ran it even though my legs wanted to walk some of the hills.  I ran for a long ways before I found a hill worthy of taking a hiking break.  I like hiking breaks.  Then the trail narrowed and became slightly technical and began to descend and wind in and out, but nothing that I wasn't accustomed to having spent a good part of my summer on the AT.  So when I got to the next Aid Station at Bearwallow I had to give Horton a hard time about how "sissy" the "devil's trail" was.  

It was sleeting again, but my crew was there with hot food and encouragement, and in addition to that, half of the runners I know seemed to be there cheering and spectating.  I got some news about the front runners, and some news about Alexis and Kevin, and then they kicked me out and made me run again.

The rest of the course I had run the year before with Alexis, but I didn't remember it all that well.  The first trail was much more uphill than I recalled, and it was hard to run for long without hiking.  But after a mile or so the trail became rolling instead of steadily climbing and I was able to run pretty well all the way to the Aid Station at Boblet's Gap.  This was the last time I would see my crew until the finish, but they were right on time, arriving a few minutes before me.  I didn't need much so they just helped me get some hot food from the Aid Station table, and gave me some more news about some other runners out there.

Leaving Boblet's Gap and heading towards the Aid Station at Day Creek is known as the "forever section", supposedly only 6.6 miles long, but in actuality it is more like 8 or 9, and feels like 12 at that point in the day.  I met a runner in the woods who was also running his first Hellgate, and struggling a little, and I think I ruined his day when I corrected his pacer on the distance to the next Aid Station.  He said that he was sure we were within a mile of the Aid Station because his watch said that he had run 5.5 miles since they left Boblet's Gap.  When I told him that it was in fact the "forever section" and that the posted mileage was a vicious lie on the part of the Race Director and that we probably had another 3 miles to go, I thought he was going to quit right then and there.  It was mostly downhill from that point, and I ran pretty well for that point in the race, and that last Horton Mile took me 32 minutes to cover.

I got to Day Creek Aid Station and Sam and Steve were there because they were crewing our buddy Charlie, and they helped me get in and out and moving up the last hill of the day.  When I left Day Creek it was no longer raining, sleeting, or snowing, for the first time all race.  By the time I climbed up to Black Horse Gap the fog was so thick that I kept seeing people who weren't really there moving around in front of me.  On no less than six occasions I was positive that people were coming towards me out of the fog, only to turn into small pine trees or stumps as I got close enough.  

Then I reached the top.  I had 3 miles of downhill service road left and I was done.  The fog thinned out fast on this side of the mountain, but the first mile or two were somewhat technical and I ended up kicking a rock pretty hard and almost falling on my face.  Possibly because I was tired and possibly because I was running harder than I had all race, but this was the one and only time I kicked anything during Hellgate.  I still ended up losing a toenail the next day.

The last mile of Hellgate is flat smooth road that turns to asphalt as you turn into Camp Bethel and approach the finish line.  Somewhere on the final decent it had begun to rain but I didn't really notice it until I was nearing the finish and it looked completely deserted.  But Horton came out to meet me, and it was over, and I was happy, and I had fun.

I finished in 13 hours and 50 minutes, 19th overall.

Post Race Thoughts:

Something happened out there in those mountains, and I found something that I have been missing for a while.  I run because I like to run.  I have fun.  I run in the mountains and the woods and not on the roads and sidewalks, because I am looking for an adventure.  An escape.  I have never raced well, and that is because I am just not a racer.  I'm just a runner.  And that is enough.

Some adventures have to be shared, and Hellgate is a great Adventure and I hope that everyone who wants to try it gets a chance to try it sometime.  Hellgate may not be easy, but there is fun to be had out there every time you run into the mountains and forests.  And when we forget that, then we forget why we run.

Crews and Volunteers make events like this possible for average runners like me, there may be a handful of people who could run that course unsupported, but I'm not one of them.  Thank you so much to everyone who helped me and every other runner out there.  I know that it is my turn to give back, and I will be crewing and volunteering a lot more in the coming year.

I want to thank Dr. David Horton for not only creating such a wonderfully inspiring event, but also for being such a motivation to so many of us in this running community.


-Todd