Below are two great race reports from CATs that ran this year's Hellgate 100K race. The first report is from Sophie Speidel, who has run Hellgate an amazing nine times. The second is from first-time Hellgater Becca Weast.
Way to go ladies!!
Sophie Speidel
hu·brisˈ(h)yo͞obrəs/: extreme
pride and arrogance that ultimately brings about one's downfall; a
typical flaw in the personality of one who enjoys a powerful position; as a
result of which, she overestimates her capabilities to such an extent that she
loses contact with reality.
After
running the Hellgate 100K eight times with an average time of 15:07, and a PR on my
50th birthday in 2012 of 14:33, I was under the (false) impression that my
ninth Hellgate would be a no-brainer. I
thought that since the weather was
basically perfect with lows in the 30s, highs in the 50s, and clear skies, that
all I had to do was show up and run. I
thought that since my training had
been going really well, and that I had been feeling rested and recovered from
Masochist, that all I had to do was show up and run. And I
thought that since
this was my 12th year of ultrarunning and I had figured out my nutrition years
ago, that all I had to do was...you get the idea.
|
Sophie (2nd on R) at Hellgate pre-race dinner with "Dirt Chicks" Dana
Kracaw, Megan Hicks, Annie Plummer Stanley, and Bethany Patterson. |
But here's the thing about ultrarunning
in general and Hellgate in particular: Hubris will smack you down every time.
Gary Knipling and I had a conversation about hubris at the Barkley as we
watched some friends suffer it's consequences. And I thought of Gary once again
as it occurred to me at Mile 40 that I was in the throes of the grip of a huge,
epic bonk. Hubris had reared its ugly head and Hellgate smacked me down for
good measure.
What
happened? Well, I was cruising along feeling fine around mile 15 along a
gorgeous stretch of horse trail known as the Promise Land section
with Keith Knipling and defending women's champ Kathleen Kusick.
"Hmmmm...I must be running pretty well if I'm running near these
people." (Lesson 1: Don't get too cocky. Keith and Kathleen were just having a rough
patch and finished in 14:15).
The
headlamp that I had borrowed for Hellgate was blinking a warning that it was
time to switch out the battery, even though it was only 4 hours into the race.
(Lesson 2: For the love of God, don't mess with what works! Why I decided to
try a shiny trendy headlamp and no handheld instead of the trusty Petzl MYO XP
and a very bright handheld is beyond me!).
I
spent a lot of energy trying to navigate the technical sections in the dark,
and when I came Aid Station (AS) #4, I was so preoccupied with fixing the
lighting situation that I neglected to leave with my Perpetuem powder as
planned as well as extra Clif Bloks. (Lesson 3: Don't mess with your nutrition!
Get it dialed in and stick to it like glue).
As a
result, I started to lose energy descending into Jennings Creek (AS#5), and
despite eating lots of eggs on the ascent to Little Cove (AS #6), I continued the
makings of an epic bonk because I was without all my other nutrition (Lesson 4:
MANAGE YOUR RACE. This is probably the most important rule of ultrarunning.
When things start to unravel, figure it out, change it up. Instead of eating
whatever they had at the next aid station, I just took photos of the
sunrise).
I
knew I was in for a long day when I reached AS # 7 at Bearwallow
Gap around mile 40 and they didn't have the hamburgers they had made in years past; I had to
settle for a pancake. Not the end of the world, but when I mixed my Perp powder
from my drop bag into the water from the aid station, it tasted like soap. Ugh.
(Lesson 5: See Lesson 4). Needless to say, I didn't drink a drop for the next two hours.
|
Sunrise at Hellgate |
During the
last 15 miles, I spent refueling and chatting at the aid stations, taking
photos, texting my son (who was en route from Australia during the entire
race, so I was a wee bit distracted to say the least), and death marching to
the finish. Despite my low energy and bad attitude, I also enjoyed periods of
gratitude and joy as I remembered the many friends with whom I had had the
pleasure of running with in 2014, and in past years at Hellgate.
And the final
three miles always make me smile: a sweet downhill, the sun shining in my face,
the prospect of good food and friends at the finish line, and another Hellgate
finish. What could be better?
What
will Hellgate #10 bring? One thing I know for certain: hubris will not be
invited.
Becca Weast
I remember finding Hellgate in a shady corner of the
internet, back when I first moved to Virginia. I was hunting around for new and
exciting running challenges and I stumbled across David Horton’s extreme
ultrarunning page. Seeing the profiles of those races absolutely blew my mind
then, but it must have also planted a seed deep in the part of my brain that
likes pain and blisters. After some begging and name-dropping in my race
application, I found myself on the list of entrants for this year’s Hellgate
100K++.
This fall, I had run one other ultra - the Mountain
Masochist 50 miler – and I was very happy with how that day went. I saw the
payoff of solid training then, so I spent the lead-up to Hellgate tuning-up
my climbing muscles, doing some miles with friends, and feeling confident. Until
I got the flu.
This seems to be a common story this year (maybe it is every
year), but just a week from race day, I found myself horizontal on the couch
with a temp of 103, staring at the ceiling like it was about to share with me
all the secrets of the universe. I did not feel good, and I spent my ‘taper’
eating chicken soup and sleeping. Little by little I got healthy, but both my
muscles and my confidence still felt shaky as I listened to Horton’s pre-race
briefing (always a treat) and chatted with runners and crew in the hours before
the race. I tried not to think about it. There was no turning back, after all:
my spandex was on, my Nathan was packed, and before I knew it we were singing
the national anthem at a dark trailhead. Here we go!
The first miles were like the first miles of any ultra. The
fast kids go ahead, and everybody shakes out their legs and tries to find a
groove. I was antsy to get to the meat of the course, so I think I went out too
fast. This was probably not smart. Climbing up to AS #2 was beautiful and
surreal, just as I’d been told to expect. The little ant-trail of head lamps
coming up the road behind me, and stretching into the dark up ahead, made for a
welcome distraction. I had no idea where I was or for how long I’d been going
(I didn’t wear a watch of any kind), I just tried not to think of the frankly
absurd number of miles I had left to cover. Eventually I got to AS #2, paused
briefly to grab some calories, and then cleared out in a hurry. The climb up to
Camping Gap was unremarkable, although I did notice how much easier the trail
had seemed during daylight hours at the Terrapin Mountain 50K. In the dark,
with the leaves, it made me feel clumsy and awkward.
Heading out of Camping Gap (AS #3) on what I think is the
longest section of the course, I took stock. My legs felt ok, but my hip
flexors (which never give me trouble) were angry and one of my feet was
cramping. Not a great sign, but there was nothing to do but push on. Eventually
I fell into a rhythm with Marlin Yoder and about 6 other runners, and we stayed
clumped together like this until AS #4. This is the section of the trail that
overlaps with the Promise Land 50K course, and I was surprised at how familiar
it felt. Granted, it was at the time of night when it feels like it will be
dark FOREVER, and it felt like it was getting colder by the minute, so I don’t
know that I was having fun. But
there was something comforting about the familiarity of those hills. The meteor
shower was also a nice touch.
Aid Station #4 was COLD. This was the coldest that I felt
all day, while I shivered, perched on the driver’s seat of my boyfriend and
crew-man Stanley’s car, munching on banana pieces and shivering. I was
surprised when Jen Page, a Gaylordian and crew for another runner, told me that
it was already 5:30. Where had the night gone? It would be light soon! Eventually
I started off on the descent into breakfast. I was looking forward to
breakfast.
I really dislike technical downhill, especially in the dark,
and ESPECIALLY when my headlamp batteries are starting to go. I do not have too
many fond memories about this section, but the runners around me seemed pretty
happy. The sun came up and lifted my spirits, and by the time I’d had some
breakfast (soup and Mountain Dew) I felt pretty OK. I knew the next
two sections would include the infamous DEVIL TRAIL, so I took off with a vague
sense of foreboding. I locked in with a runner who was shooting to finish the
Beast series, and who seemed good-naturedly resigned to the suffering of the
day. AS#6 came and went without much fanfare, although I remember thinking that
it took FOREVER to get there. I believe this is the halfway mark of the course,
and I think I was relieved to be on the other side of it as soon as we rolled
out. I don’t remember much from that section, because I think my brain was on
autopilot. Run. Hike. Eat. Repeat.
There’s a deceptive little piece of trail at the start of
the Devil trail section. You begin on jeep trail, and turn in to a narrow,
slanted trail that goes on for what I think was less than a mile before it
spits you back out onto another fire road. I remember coming out on the other
side of this trail and thinking “Wait, was that it? Is Horton just trolling us
all?” That didn’t last long. That devil trail was NASTY. Rocks, leaves, slanted
trail, technical downhill … the only positive about this section was that it
wasn’t dark while I was there. This section was rough. Eventually we got to the
lunch AS #7, where I got some much needed expert crewing from Stanley, Bob
Gaylord, and Michael Ludwig. Seriously, those dudes are wizards.
This next section, which I’ll call the ‘in and out’ section,
was the highlight of my day. I latched on to Bethany Williams and her pacer,
and we merrily ran just about this whole section. It just flew by! I felt
great! This section of trail, which many runners find repetitive and grating,
was exactly what I needed at this point in the race. You run along the contour
of the mountains, running in and down, then up and out, over and over again
(about 20 times, I think). The predictability of this made the running much
easier for me, but I can see how others can find it dull.
I came into Boblett’s
Gap (AS #8), ate ALL THE FOOD in preparation for the forever section, exchanged
pleasantries with the crew, and left. This is when the wheels started to come
off.
The effects of the pain I’d started having earlier in the
race were catching up with me and I soon found myself limping along, unable to
even run downhill. This precipitated the lowest point in my day, and it was a
hard crash from the high of the previous section. I watched everyone I’d been
running with all day breeze past me as I hobbled along, trying desperately not
to cry (I failed), telling myself to just keep moving forward. A pair of very
friendly runners stopped and offered me Tylenol which I gratefully took like
candy, and little by little I made my way through the forever section. Incidentally,
I think my preoccupation with my joint pain actually made this section go by
faster. The trail here seemed very runnable with lots of rolling ups and downs,
and I remember expecting it to go on for much longer than it did. The cars at
AS #9 were like a mirage to someone stranded in the desert. I
couldn’t actually believe I’d made it!
The final section is very much the epilogue to the race. The
hard work was over, and now I just had to work up and over the mountain. I
really enjoyed the hike up – the road is well maintained and level, and the
weather was stunning – but I was in such bad shape that I had to power-hike
down the back side. Reaching the 1-mile to go sign was a surreal moment,
because a part of me couldn’t believe that I was going to finish. It would be
over soon.
This final mile, just like the rest of the course, is beautiful. The
sun was just setting as I tottered through, and the road is lined with farms
and open fields with sloping lawns. It’s perfectly picturesque and serene, and
really made the efforts of the whole day sink in. I really was almost done.
|
Becca at the finish line! |
As I mentioned, I wasn’t wearing a watch. I had no idea what
my time would be. So when I turned the corner to the final stretch, I was
shocked to look up and see the clock still read 16 something. Then Stanley
yelled “you have 20 seconds” and I read the clock again. I had exactly 20
seconds to cross the finish, to still make it in under 17 hours. So, with my
grumpy face on, I sprinted my heart out and crossed the line at EXACTLY 17
hours. And promptly sat down. That was a wonderful feeling.
It can’t be said enough how expertly these
events are put on. I’m immensely grateful to David Horton and his army of
dedicated volunteers who make these fantastic events go off without a hitch. I
also owe a big shout-out to Sophie
Speidel, who served me all the Hellgate Kool-Aid and some absolutely
key early morning hill workouts, as well as all of the CAT and CRUT runners
with whom I’ve trained since last spring. With such a great group, the training
is almost more fun than race day (there’s definitely less suffering).
LOVE ALL
AROUND. EVERYONE IS AWESOME. Also, I think I’m still riding that post-race
endorphin high. Wheeeee! Until next time, folks!