2014 Reverse Ring

After Labor Day and my running of the Ring, I had no plans to run the Reverse Ring. In fact, I had been pretty sure that if I didn't get into Hardrock, my entire winter and spring season would be devoted exclusively to cycling. However, about a week later someone said "Hey, you finished the Ring? So we'll see you at the Reverse Ring in February!" and I said "OK!". Huh.

I did the typical pack-up-the-night-before-and-then-get-up-ridiculously-early routine. The weather forecast was mild, with highs in the mid-60's on Saturday and mid-30's Saturday night.  I planned on wearing shorts and a T-shirt Saturday, and brought a couple of long-sleeve options for Saturday night. For shoes, I went with the combo that served me well at Hellgate - Smartwool socks, Body Glide, and my Salomon Speedcross 3 shoes.

Packing my drop bag and pack the night before

I managed to fall asleep around 9:30, a little later than I'd hoped for a 2:30AM wake-up call. Nevertheless, a nice cup of coffee and 5 hours of sleep had me feeling perky enough on the drive to the Signal Knob parking lot. I got there a little earlier than expected, despite stopping for gas and snacks, so I had plenty of time to re-check my pack and to carefully don my footwear.

Map G? Check. Ginger? Check. "Oh Shit" kit? Check. 2,000 calories worth of snacks? Check.

The small group of runners gathered around as Bur gave a quick pre-race briefing and snapped a photo of the 18 starters. The field of runners was about the same size as the field of volunteers! It's this kind of support that makes VHTRC such an amazing group. This crew of intrepid volunteers would provide much needed moral support, as well as vast amounts of delicious food (more on that later).

Grandmasters Bur and Q deliver the "Hello, Good Morning" talk

 As Quatro shouted out "20 seconds left!" I realized that I'd left my gloves in my car and that my hands were a bit chilly in the 39-degree air. I ran over to my car, unlocked it, grabbed my gloves, and ran back over to the starting line just in time to latch on to the back of the pack. We started off up the climb to Signal Knob in the pre-dawn darkness. My heart was racing thanks to my caffeinated and mildly sleep-deprived state, and I kept stopping to snap photos of the train of headlamps.

First of many stream crossings

Hiking up into the darkness

Dawn broke as we neared the top of Signal Knob, about 1,600 feet of straight climbing. It was a great sunrise, promising a day of beautiful weather to come. There was a little bit of crusty snow and ice on the ground, but nothing that posed a significant obstacle. Overall, this section was orders of magnitude easier going up at the beginning of the day than it was going down at the end of the Ring. Did those rocks get smaller? Because I barely noticed them! This descent at the end of the Ring is pure misery.

Dawn towards the summit of Signal Knob

Some really pretty alpineglow greeted us

Ernesto at the top of the hill

The next section of the Massanutten Mountain Trail is a few miles of steep descent on a fire road (muddy!) followed by some rolling flat-ish sections on a nice smooth dirt road. I settled in and tried to enjoy the easy jogging that this terrain provided while I still could.

The descent from Signal Knob

Orange-blazed dirt road near Powell's Fort

The first aid station was at Woodstock Tower, about 14 miles in to the run. 14 miles is a long way, but on fresh legs with blue skies, it didn't feel that long at all. In fact, it felt kind of like a warm-up, as I took time to adjust my pack, fiddle with my headlamp, and make some other adjustments to get ready for the adventure to come.

After the dirt road section comes a sharp right-hand turn up a steep hill. After you climb to the top of the hill, it's a long section of ridge running with some phenomenal views through the bare tree limbs. I knew I was getting close to the aid station when I came across the hang-glider launch ramp.

This familiar view of the Allegheny Plateau greeted me as I approached the first aid station at Woodstock Tower

An even more prominent sign of iminent aid-stationness was this:

I don't know where these banners came from; I've never seen them before, but they were a welcome sight every time I spotted one!

At Woodstock Tower, the volunteers were serving up some delicious chow. I took two chorizo, egg, and cheese soft tacos. I had seen a guy with a beard leaving the aid station when I came in, and asked if it was Danny, who had crushed the Ring last August. I was told that no, it wasn't Danny, but Alex, and he and Cam were just in front of me.

I took off on the trail after thanking the volunteers. I wasn't really trying to chase anyone down or be in a hurry, as I'd only run twice (literally) since Hellgate more than two months earlier. I would be happy just to finish, with a goal time of under 24 hours.

I came across a tinfoil package laying on the trail, containing a still-warm breakfast taco. I picked it up and somehow found a place for it in my pack, which was already full almost to bursting with snacks. If I found the taco's owner, I'd return it to them; if not, I'd save it for my own enjoyment later on. Mwhahahaha.

A few minutes later, I caught up with Alex and Cam, who I'd run on-and-off with all the way to Camp Roosevelt. Turns out the taco belonged to Alex.

Somewhere on the ridge after Woodstock Tower with Alex

The views on this section of trail were quite good; we could see the ATV trail on the other side of the small valley, and could also see how saturated the ground looked at lower elevations. To get to the next aid station, we traversed over Waonaze Peak, whose name I would later spend several hours trying to pronounce to myself. The good company made the time fly by, and before I knew it we were at Edinburg Gap.

Sniper & Friends at Edinburg Gap, Aid No. 2, Mile 22

At Edinburg, I put on some sunscreen, ate some delicious grilled cheese, and ditched my gloves in my drop bag. On the way out, Quatro introduced me to something called Biscoff, which is a spreadable topping that's sort of like nutella (sweet) but even better! A couple of Oreos with big dollops of Biscoff on them later and I was out the proverbial door, trekking up the road with Alex. Cam was a few hundred feet ahead, stomping out big footprints in the wet road surface.

The next section of trail began the ascent up the notoriously rocky Short Mountain. The beginning part of this section has you traversing around the northern end of the ridge before you climb to the top, and is always sunny and warm. We caught up to Cam and were treated to an excellent view of the path which we had just traveled. Cam and I discussed how it felt to come this way during the Ring and see how much you had left to go. (answer: disheartening)

Looking back at Waonaze Peak on the right, and the 20-odd miles of ridgeline that we had just covered since dawn.

Short Mountain was over quickly and painlessly. Just like the section of trail between Signal Knob and the parking lot, this portion is much easier going when it's daylight and your legs are relatively fresh. At about 25 miles in, my legs weren't feeling super peppy, but they weren't nearly as exhausted as they were at this point in the Ring. Before we knew it, we popped out at Moreland Gap and were greeted by this cheery bunch:

Tom and Cohorts at Moreland Gap

I grabbed a turkey wrap to go, and set off on the trek across Kearn's Mountain. Cam and Alex had left the aid station a few moments ahead of me, so for this section I was largely on my own. Kearn's is always "interesting", but at just 6.2 miles, it's a 10k that you eventually realize is best to just grind out at the fastest walk/hike pace you can manage. At this point, my legs were not feeling their freshest - some tiredness was starting to set in. I took this picture to prove how much fun I was having.

Kearn's! Yay!

I caught up with Cam just before the next aid station at Crisman Hollow. We were jogging down the trail when we came across a spread of party favors - birthday hats and those little kazoo-whistles that have a paper tube attached to them. Several large signs informed us that this was Stephanie's birthday, and that said party favors were in service thereof. We each took a hat and a whistle, and jogged the last hundred yards or so to the aid station. When we popped out on the road, it just so happened that Stephanie was walking up. We wished her a happy birthday, and with Cam acting as the official conductor sang a robust Happy Birthday along with the aid station crew.

Cam and I decked out in party gear. Photo: Stephanie Wilson

After chowing down on some delicious chicken salad, and taking a couple of super tasty raisin/chocolate chip cookies to go, I set off down the flat path to the descent down waterfall. These few hundred meters were extraordinarily beautiful; it was about 3:00PM, the sunlight was just starting to get colorful, the sky was perfectly clear, and I was on a flat and smooth trail at the top of a mountain. 10 minutes later, I was applying the engine brakes as the trail dropped about 850 feet over 0.75 miles down Waterfall Mountain.

Cam caught up to me partway down Waterfall (he'd gone back to fill up his water at the aid station). When we got to the bottom, Alex caught up with us, and we all started the long trudge up Big Run. This is a pretty messy stretch of trail in good conditions, but with all the snowmelt it was literally like hiking up a creek. Luckily, it was a rocky creek, so I was able to keep my feet mostly dry in an effort to stave off the inevitable blisters.

Cam and I trudge up Big Run

 We continued on up to the intersection with the Scothorn Gap trail, then took a right turn at the intersection to go up and over Strickler Knob. In The Race (MMT 100), you would take a left here and follow the yellow-blazed Scothorn Gap trail back down to Crisman Hollow Road on your way to Gap Creek II aid station. I love understanding where I am in relation to where I've been before and where I'm going! It gives you a great sense of timing, which really helps break down the overall task into manageable chunks. Cam was a great help in this, as he knows the area backwards and forwards (get it?? ha!).

After cresting the ridge, the three of us dropped down the epoch-long descent through Duncan Hollow on the way to Camp Roosevelt.

Alex descending Duncan Hollow

My legs were starting to feel the "real" fatigue set in, and i found it difficult to keep up with Cam and Alex. The 5-mile long descent is gentle, but the trail surface was muddy and challenging to keep my feet dry. At the very bottom, there was a knee-deep stream crossing that didn't have an easy "keep your feet dry" option. Since Camp Roosevelt and a dry pair of shoes was just ahead, I decided to just forge ahead. Man, that water was brisk! But it felt good on my aching and sore feet.

Soon after that I reached the road.

Roose!!

Fire and chairs at Camp Roosevelt

I worked off my shoes and did a bit of quick damage assessment. The hot spots that I'd been feeling on my heels were small but legitimate blisters. I decided that they needed some fixing, and pulled out my blister kit to get them addressed. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that it really doesn't pay to develop calluses on your feet. All in all, my feet really were in pretty good condition. 46 miles through mud and extremely rocky technical terrain, and all I had to show for it were a couple of little pea-sized blisters? Considering how much of a catastrophe my feet were at this point in the Ring, 25 miles in, I considered myself fortunate.

I taped up my feet with some K-tape and put on fresh shoes and socks, then head out after partaking of the aid station bounty - hot chicken and rice soup (thanks Dave!) and Bur's masterful grilled cheese. After a short hike up the trail, I popped out at the scenic overlook on Edith gap. The setting sun was lighting the Shenandoah up like fireworks and I couldn't resist jogging over to take a photo.

Shenandoah mountains in the setting sun.

The next stretch was long, unforgiving, and mentally grueling. A moderate, runnable section of jeep trail lead into 15 miles of rocky ridgeline, where it wasn't possible on my tired legs to manage anything much faster than a trudging hike. In the dark by myself, it took about 6 hours to cover this stretch, with the wind chilling me rapidly if I stopped to tripod or sit down for a 30 second rest. I was thankful for the extra long sleeve and gloves that I'd picked up at Roosevelt.

Lots and lots of this

Every time I did stop, I'd turn off my headlamp and get a great view of the stars in the crystal clear sky. I tried to limit my rest breaks, telling myself that the miles wouldn't hike themselves. I broke down the 16 mile section into chunks, taking the first 8 miles mile-by-mile. The intersecting trails gave small indications of how far I'd come - "OK, just 1 mile till Kennedy Peak!".

I also kept on the backburner a mental log of how many miles to the finish - it was close enough that I could do that without being overwhelmed. "OK, 7 more miles to the aid, 15 to the finish".

After an interminably long time had passed, I finally made the sweeping left-hand turn that led down the side of the ridge towards Veech Gap. Near the bottom, the temperate ridgeline air gave way to a frigid and frosty microclimate. Finally through the trees I spotted a small light - it was a lantern that they'd hung up next to the aid station. Picking my way across one final creek, I shambled into Mario's camp and sat down next to a blessedly hot fire.

Grilled cheese roasting by an open fire...

Mario's manned camp gave me respite and solace. He had everything a tired and cold runner could want and more - hot soup, grilled cheese, blonde brownies, even the incredibly luxurious stimulant of hot cocoa mixed with instant coffee. Usually this aid station is an unmanned water drop with a tent set up - I can't even imagine what it would be like to cover those 25 miles by yourself in the dark, without a human to talk to or something besides your own metabolism to warm you up. I probably would have curled up inside the tent and slept for an hour or two.

After profusely thanking Mario for hiking all the aid out there, I got up and set out on the last leg of the journey. This was definitely a "beware the chair" type scenario - I didn't want to get TOO warm and comfortable there by the fire.

It was cold enough when I left that I started jogging uphill just to warm up. I passed a group of people camped out and must have flashed enough perplexed looks in their direction with my headlamp that they shouted a greeting at me as I ran by.

The last 8 miles were neverending. I remembered from the Elizabeth Furnace 50k that the ridge ahead was not easy; it was going to be very rocky and technical with lots of short steep climbs and descents. I kept looking at my Garmin, knowing that if I could just keep a 20:00min/mile pace I had a good shot at coming in around the same time that I had for the Ring - 19:33. This was very much on my mind as I pushed through these last miles. However, some of the trail was very dangerous, and I slowed way down on these sections. Traversing a very narrow off-camber trail covered in ice above a precipitous drop-off in the dark by yourself at midnight? Yeah...

Once I got to the descent down Shawl Gap, I was very much smelling the barn. I started jogging, slowly at first but then faster and faster as I neared the bottom and the trail smoothed out. My headlamp ran out of batteries, I stopped and changed them as fast as I could.

I took a wrong turn at the bottom, heading down an abandoned carriage road. This became obvious when several massive blowdowns obstructed the trail. I hiked back up about 50 yards and got back on track. By the time I reached the old furnace, I was running as fast as my fatigued legs and blistered feet would let me; obsessively checking my pace and time. I was so close! I knew that once I crossed the road, I'd just have a short jog into the finish.

However, once I crossed the road, it turned out that my memory had betrayed me - I'd been picturing the short spur from the group camping area to the Signal Knob parking lot, which is about a 10th of a mile, not the spur trail from the Elizabeth's Furnace area to the Signal Knob parking lot, which is about 3/4 of a mile. At this point, my Garmin had died and I didn't have anything to obsess over, so I just put everything I had into power hiking up and over the small hill that presented itself, and then ran as fast as I could down the back. My legs felt fresh and strong, and the pain in my feet had been liberally doused in endorphins.

I made it to the parking lot running hard. I ran about 2/3 of the way across, only to hear Bur gently remind me that in order to officially finish, I would have to go back and follow the orange trail as it circumnavigated the parking lot to come out by the tent that was set up there. D'oh! I didn't mind the extra distance; compared to what I'd just done it was completely trivial. However, I knew I was really close to making that 19:33 time, so I sprinted back across the parking lot and through the trail around to the finish. I popped out of the woods, and was told that my time was 01:32 - one minute faster than my Ring time! I was ecstatic, and plunked right down in a chair that was sitting there. Someone put a nice warm horse blanket on me, and I was immediately fed all sorts of amazingly delicious things - chicken tortilla soup, hot chocolate with whipped cream and Kahlua, and a decadent chocolate chip cookie. Cam, who'd finished about an hour earlier, came over and congratulated me. After sitting there soaking up some calories for a while, I thanked everyone and hobbled off to my car to curl up and die for a little while.

View from my car in the Signal Knob parking lot after finishing

In my car, I turned the engine on and changed clothes, then slept fitfully hour-by-hour for a while. Every so often a runner would come by, and I'd open up my window and whistle at them. I felt a little bad for not getting out of my car to greet them at the finish, but I was so stiff that leaving the confines of my car would have been a herculean task. Around 5AM Quatro came over to give me my drop bag, and we chatted for a little bit. I sat and enjoyed the heater in my car for another hour or so, then dragged myself out when I saw Sniper and a few other runners come in. I went over to the tent and congratulated them (it was Steve Cooper and Charlie Joyce), and enjoyed some of the delicious breakfast that the chefs were offering up (chilaquiles, coffee, and white chocolate cherry scones, yum!).

After hanging out for a bit chatting, I dragged myself back to my car for the drive home. It was a very challenging and rewarding experience. The volunteers were amazing, the camaraderie on the trail was great, the weather was perfect, and the Massanutten Trail as usual was wild, beautiful, and rugged. It was definitely a little easier than the Ring, but by no means would I call this an "easy" run. I hadn't planned on running the Ring again, but after this... I might need to reconsider!

2013 Hellgate 100K++

My Hellgate experience this year began with much checking of forecasts, packing, and re-checking of forecasts. With temps expected to be between high 20's and mid to upper 30's, and some type of precipitation forecast, determining the exact weather seemed to be like nailing a block of jello to the wall; it just wouldn't stick. With that in mind, I decided to go loaded for bear in the gear department, with several clothing options depending on how things turned out.

I had really been hoping it would snow the whole time, but come the Thursday before the race, it seemed it wouldn't be so. I went to REI and bought, in addition to a massive stash of sports food, a Marmot Precip hooded rainjacket. I'd had my eye on this lightweight jacket for almost a year as part of my gear list for the not-to-be CTR bikepacking race, and chose it over the almost-equally-awesome-but-slightly-more-expensive Patagonia Torrentshell because I like the way the Precip jacket's hood stows better than the way the Patagonia's did. It's the little things I guess. I call particular attention to this last-minute purchase because it turned out to be an extremely essential part of my kit, and because I cannot praise this jacket's good qualities nearly enough. It kept me warm and dry through 16 hours of snow, sleet, freezing rain, and finally a 6 hour stint of good-old-fashioned cold liquid precipitation. At least it did until my metabolism slowed to a crawl... but I'll get to that later.

The Gear Pile

It all fit into these two duffels - sleeping and recovery gear in the left duffel, drop bag is the right duffel

I arrived at Camp Bethel just in time for the pre-race briefing, which included an overview of the course, some recommendations for crew, assigning rides to runners, and some extremely biased raffle drawings. It was great to see a ton of friends and familiar faces - unlike MMTR, this race briefing felt very intimate and, well, SPECIAL.

Horton checks the weather forecast one final time

Charlie goes over the Map of the Course with some folks.

After the briefing, I got changed in my car, brushed my teeth, and closed my eyes for a few minutes before getting up for the Great Hellgate Caravan. I had elected to wear the following items:

• Salomon Crossmax 3 shoes with light Smartwool socks and plenty of Bodyglide (this worked out amazingly well, no blisters despite getting the feet wet within the first 3 miles and staying wet the rest of the race)
• CWX knicker tights with Under Armour base layer jockey shorts. (I would have been OK w/ longer tights but I don't own any)
•  A light base layer T, with this year's MMTR Patagonia finisher's shirt, and the Marmot Precip tucked into my pack (this would come on and stay on as soon as the precipitation started to fall)
• Brooks softshell mitts with various liner gloves
• Thin beanie cap with a Buff twisted into a secondary beanie over it. Later on I added a Headsweats visor, which really helped keep the rain out of my eyes.

I got a ride with Mike Dunlop (2 years in a row! Mike is the Man!).

Blearily pulling into the Hellgate Creek trailhead parking area.

I sat in the nice warm car for as long as possible, only hopping out briefly to deliver my drop bag and to check in with Horton. When the crowd started to move off towards the starting "line", I emerged and shivered my way down with them.

The crow at the start

Getting ready

Say your prayers, folks... and we were off at 12:01AM. I took it really easy for the first few miles, remembering how I went out too hard at Masochist and how much I regretted it during the last portion of that race. We got our feet wet at the big stream crossing around 3 miles in; last year I was able to keep my feet dry but there was no avoiding it this year. Luckily, my wool socks kept my feet warm, event though they stayed wet for the remainder of the race.

I breezed through the first aid station, not even stopping. I was carrying a small aid station's worth of food, water, and medical supplies in my pack, so stopping at the first aid was not a point of concern. The massive climb from right after aid one up to aid 2 is one of my favorite sections of the race. Even though the sky was blotted out by thick cloud cover, you could still see a trail of headlamps above and below you as runners seemingly ascended into the sky on the wide gravel road. I turned my headlamp off and enjoyed the ambiance for a while.

The little white dots are headlamps!

This runner yo-yo'd me a couple times; I decided to snap a shot of the pool of light created by her flashlight.

 I cruised into aid 2 feeling pretty good. I'd tackled the big climb by alternating spurts of jogging and walking, trying to conserve energy while moving at a decent pace up the gently-graded hill. However, upon leaving aid 2 and dropping into the first moderately rocky section of the race, I noticed some twinging in my left shin - a familiar agitation of the tibular anterior tendon (the thing that flexes your foot up and down). Ruh roh. It was way too early in the race for things to get real, so I altered my stride a little, slowed down some more, and that seemed to make the minor pain go away.

The next section of the journey dropped us out onto a very familiar intersection, the one near the bottom of the climb to Camping Gap. This place, where the singletrack descent plops you out onto a dirt road, is also featured in Terrapin Mountain (and possibly Promise Land, I can't remember). I caught up with Mike at this point, and tagged along with him for a while.

Mike does the death march through the haunted forest

 At this point, around 2AM, we started to get some sputtering precipitation. I left my raincoat off for most of it, as it was frozen precip and was not getting me wet. However, after a while I noticed that the little flakes were morphing into little drops; the Marmot Precip jacket came on and stayed on for the rest of the race.

Snow!

We trudged on up to Camping Gap. For some reason, this climb seemed to take much longer than it does during Terrapin... Maybe because it's at 3AM?

At any rate, I reached the Camping Gap aid station, got some snacks, and made moves in the general direction of Aid 4. I was still feeling decent at this point, keeping a nice slow pace and trying not to irritate the tendon in my left leg.

Night time!

Aid 4 had been moved a little bit due to the Blue Ridge Parkway being closed, which led to a bit of mental gymnastics to figure out how far I had to go in that segment. It came a little sooner than it normally would have, but the section between AS3 and AS4 was still long and pretty tough. When i finally arrived, I took some very welcome hot broth and a few more snacks.

Happy faces at Aid 4!

After leaving aid 4, I eventually reached the Blue Ridge Parkway. It had been snowing steadily for some time now, and there were about 2-4 inches of fluffy white stuff on the ground. This made everything super scenic! I had left my clear-lensed glasses in my drop bag, because the forecast had implied that the precipitation wouldn't start until almost daybreak, so I kept getting snow in my eyes. I switched from my headlamp to my flashlight, which helped me see better (a trick I learned in the fog on top of Bird Knob at MMT earlier in the year). Having the light not coming from directly above your eyes can really help you see!

I caught up with a few folks trudging up the snow after crossing the BRP.

I shambled my way down to the Jennings Creek aid station (AS5), where my drop bag was waiting for me. At this point (around 28 miles) my legs were starting to feel tired, but the long downhill leading into this aid station was a gently sloped one, so I was able to make decent time and feel OK. After learning an expensive digestion lesson at this aid station last year, I avoided the temptation to eat the heavier greasier breakfast food and instead opted for lighter fare in the form of pancakes (yum!) and more broth (mana).

My drop bag! Boy was I glad to see this little guy.

I grabbed a visor from my drop bag, ditched my headlamp (finally!) and grabbed a few more bars and gels. I left the massive collection of extra clothes and spare pair of shoes alone; despite having had wet feet for the past 6 hours or so, my feet were not in any pain - not even a hot spot! This shoe / sock / lube combination was working out really well for me.

The fire - NOT FOR RUNNERS (at least that's what I forced myself to think).

I left the aid station at a moderately paced power walk. My shin felt fine on the uphills, it was really only on the downhill sections that it began to throb. This next section had a lot of gravel road, and what felt like a lot of uphill. However, dawn had finally come, and the snow had stopped, so there was a cessation in the mental beatdown.

Following the Runner in Red up the hill coming out of Jennings Creek

Visor up, hood down! Brain levels at 50% zombie.

Trails!

I arrived at AS6 feeling pretty beat up; I took a few Aleve and a 5-hour energy to deal with the growing agony in my left shin and to try to perk up my waning energy levels. This seemed to work, and I zipped along through many miles, passing a few people. Towards the end of this section, the rain started. Nevertheless, I was feeling great, and rolled into AS7 in good shape. My drop bag was waiting for me again here, and I re-loaded my on-the-trail food cache that I was carrying with me in my pack.

Aid Station 7- Bearwallow Gap

At this point things start to kind of run together in my memory. I know that my leg hurt; my right knee also started to lock up. The rain became constant, a steady soaking thing that combined with the temperatures in the mid-30's to make for some pretty miserable (read: epic) conditions. Thanks to my rain jacket (which remained waterproof through it all!) and my nice wicking underlayers, I managed to stay warm coming into the second-to-last aid station. I'd been sitting about 30-45 minutes ahead of the cutoffs at most of the aid stations, but with my caffeine-and-painkiller induced blitz, I'd somehow managed to gather enough time that I was more like 60-90 minutes ahead of the cutoffs.

I came into Aid Station 8 moving; slowly, but making progress. Unlike last year, where at this aid station I was barely able to take a bite of any food, this year I relished the opportunity to chow down on some hot food. I ate a quesadilla, which the chef generously offered to stuff with pulled pork, and washed it down (literally) with some hot black coffee. Warmed by the food, I set off mentally prepared to spend an eternity getting to the next aid station.

Aid 8 - Under the Bridge!

I remembered this next section between aid 8 and aid 9 clearly from last year - a long downhill on a gravel road, followed by three singletrack mini-mountains (a climb followed by a descent), followed by an interminable flat section. Last year I was able to truck it down the gravel road, but this year my legs were in such bad shape that I had to stop and walk (downhill!!) occasionally to relieve the pain. On the three mini-mountains, the uphills were fine but the downhills were concertos of mincing tiny-steps; luckily nobody was around to see how much of a sissy I was being. The rain was continuing, causing the singletrack trail to puddle up with cold water and mud.

For some reason the last aid station came quite a bit sooner than I was expecting, which is always a welcome surprise. They didn't have any hot food, but two runners who had blown past me on the last section of trail turned around and, lo and behold, it was Mike and Joe!! Hurrah! Misery loves company, and the three of us charged up the last 2-1/2 mile climb in good cheer. Said good cheer deteriorated gradually over the 45 minutes of the climb, until near the stop we were death-marching together in silence.

Friends make death-marching a little more tolerable!

At the top of the hill, I told Mike and Joe to go on without me - the best I could manage on the downhill at this point was a truly pathetic shuffle-hobble, and they could move better than I could. They left and I continued on in some pretty heavy discomfort. The last 4 miles of the race took forever, with several runners passing my. Because my legs hurt too much to let me run, my body temperature dropped. Towards the end, I gave up even trying to run and just walked... and shivered. After taking a phenomenally long time to cover the last couple miles on the smooth gravel road descent, I finally limped my way into Camp Bethel. As I rounded the final corner approaching the finish line, Jeff came cruising by and cajoled me into running into the finish ("Horton will never stop giving you hell if you walk it in!!"). Thanks Jeff!

After stumbling into the lodge, I semi-deliriously accepted my finisher award and socks from Clark, and then went into the bunk room, dumped my wet stuff, and sat down for a few minutes, shivering and shell-shocked. After a few minutes of whimpering and generally feeling sorry for myself, I managed to pull it together enough to take a lukewarm shower, and then curled up in my sleeping bag for the 45 minutes it took me to stop shivering and to feel warm again. After, I got out of bed and ate a sandwich, shooting the breeze with a few folks before going back to bed for some real sleep.

Did I do better than last year? Yes; time-wise, I beat last year by about 50 minutes. Could I have done better? Yes; I think if I hadn't gone so hard after taking the anti-inflammatories, I wouldn't have been so miserable in the last few miles and could have hung on a little better. Should I have run that 50k fat-ass in between MMTR and Hellgate? Probably not; I am pretty confident that little local club race is a good part of the reason why things got way too real too quick.  Am I happy that I ran Hellgate again? Absolutely; I will do it again in a second if the Race Committee deems me worthy.