A Proper SnowGate

 

Another year, another finish with these guys. (PC: Kristen Chang)

I never wrote a race report for 2024, which is downright shameful. So I figured I better knock this one out before I get too far into 2026.

TRIGGER WARNING: The only photos are at the very beginning and very end. You're gonna have to try to ... deep breaths ... read multiple paragraphs without interruption.

Since a finish at Hellgate is all but guaranteed every year, I've begun to test out new ways to "enhance" the Hellgate experience.

• Making the 700mile drive from St Louis has failed to elicit any sort of impediment to my awesomeness.
• Nor has catching COVID the week of the race.
• Or, injuring myself at Big's (every damn time).
• A few years ago, catching a day-of flight to Roanoke and connecting through Charlotte had me arriving well after dark, but, again, no negative race-day effects.
• In fact, only running in the 24 Hour World Championships half-way around the world 6 days before Hellgate has proven an insurmountable barrier to success (my finishing time was acceptable in 2023 but only good enough for 12th place, ending my Consecutive Top 10s streak at 7).

So this year I bet on American Airlines to come through for me and throw a curveball that'd strike me right in the nuts. AA nearly delivered with a multi-hour flight delay that had me arriving at Camp Bethel after the pre-race meeting had already begun -- door to door travel time being nearly equal to driving).

I prayed to the Running Gods for a proper Hellgate with snow and bitter cold. 5-7 days out, an early forecast produced absurd estimates of subzero temps with howling winds on the peaks.

But then these awesome forecasts were reduced to much more manageable temps of just below freezing down into the teens. Luckily, a couple blasts of snow blanketed the mountains, shutting down the Blue Ridge Parkway, and making some aid station access roads impossible to transit. 2 aid stations disappeared, and 3 others had to be moved. It was to be a snowy Hellgate with "modified" aid. Hell yeah!

Saddled with uncertainty and indecision caused by the cold-but-not-frigid temps, I elected to run in a long sleeve and a Houdini, and then cram an "emergency puffy" in my pack, just in case. Which was a stupid decision because that lump of fabric just sat in there, overheating my back and feeling awkward. I would eventually discard it when I reached my drop bag a billion hours later. I'm an idiot.

We got up and running with a faster than normal pace, and an immediate breakaway of at least a dozen runners ahead of us. So, begging for carnage was the only way to secure a Top Finisher Puffy ™ this go around. Jordan took off after about 5 miles, like usual. Old Man Andersen and I hung out with the rest of the riff-raff looking to crack the Top 10.

The gravel road climbs up Pettite's and Camping were as slip-slidey as I've ever experienced at Hellgate, and they definitely slowed everyone down. The rocky downhill section between Pettite's and Camping was muted by the snow, but it didn't make things any faster. We arrived at the new "Lower" Camping Gap aid station and stocked up for the 18mile unaided stretch all the way to Jennings Creek. Climbing Camping, I just put my head down and focused on making sure each footfall was well placed, and before I knew it, our group arrived at the non-existent "Upper" Camping Gap aid station -- 40 minutes of slow climbing, gone in the blink of a cold, watery eye. Our arrival time … extremely pedestrian. The snow and ice were adding about a minute and a half per mile. And then came a 10 mile trudge through 6 inches of snow. Downhill and flat sections, slowed by shuffling through the snow; Uphill sections, slowed from slipping and wobbling on fresh trodden snow that would form into mini moguls.

By the time we reached Camping Gap, my gut had soured. Just an odd, sore, achy feeling like I had the flu and should probably go make friends with a toilet for a good chunk of time. I fell back from the group, "relieved" myself, then patiently worked my way back by the Overstreet descent. At the bottom of Overstreet Falls, I took a moment to slow down and eat a delicious coffee cake, and John took off ahead of me with Josh Thomas and the rest of our merry little crew. Then, it was time to give chase.

At the non-existent Headforemost aid station, I checked my watch and was amazed that I was nearly 40 minutes slower than a Sissygate time, in the span of 25 miles. After I crested and began the long descent into Jennings, I had another … moment of relief. Multiple runners flew by. For all I knew, I was in 20th place at that point and John was 10 minutes up, well on his way to a decisive victory.

At that point, I began my multi-hour focused effort to catch back up, desperately hoping every headlamp in the distance was John's. I was always on the verge of catching him. That is, until I realized it was just somebody else.

From here on out, the snow became much less problematic and the only real concern was proper footing on the slick dirt road sections. So all in all, my pace worked its way back up to typical Sissygate speed as I clicked off miles to Jennings, Little Cove, and Bearwallow, constantly catching non-Johns along the way and being greeted by Horton at each aid station with a "Andersen's right there, go catch him!"

Surprisingly, I left Bearwallow in 9th, with 10th hot on my tail. The ins-and-outs of the Pretty Trail had a decent amount of uphill snow accumulation, which slowed things down a good bit. And then, around 1.5miles from the proper Bobblet's aid station location, I stumbled upon Jordan, cheerfully having a rough go of it. Like a jerk, he refused to keep up with me, and made me continue my chase, alone.

Eventually, after 6 hours, I caught up to John at the new "Lower" Bobblet's by the entrance to the Forever Section trails. With 7th place firmly in hand, it was now time for modified party pace all the way to the finish. After 3 years of trying (I would use the word "waiting", as it implies a level of inaction aptly descriptive of John's ever-declining abilities), John was finally going to nab his coveted 10th Top 10. We ambled our way through the Forever Section, chatting and most certainly not over-exerting ourselves. Then, after Day Creek, at the base of the final climb up to Blackhorse Gap, we looked back and saw nobody. Time for a celebratory climb and descent!

At the top, there was still no one to be seen behind us. We gallivanted down towards Camp Bethel at Old Man Andersen Pace. I agreed, somewhat begrudgingly, not so secretly wishing we'd go just a hair closer to my desired breakneck final descent pace. At the gate, we made the turn onto the road and then, with a bit more than a mile to go, I turned back to see a runner, clear as day, with a big ole race bib on his torso, steamrolling towards us as we were party-pacing it at something near an 8 minute mile.

"It's time to pick up the pace. We've got company!"

John's old, belabored muscles finally started firing and we increased our speed. All the while, I will heartily admit to holding back, afraid of breaking poor, sad, old John. At the entrance to Camp Bethel, we took a sneak peek and saw no one. We pushed on to the finishing chute, side by side, Horton greeting us with a "no, no, No!" as we crossed the line in a celebratory tie.

John finally earned his 10th Top 10, and I was there to celebrate with him in exactly the manner I had hoped for -- a Gentleman's Tie (and the knowledge that I could have crushed him at any point in the final 12 miles had I merely wished to do so … though, it is worth noting that John made the painful observation it took me 6 hours to catch back up with him; if I am that much better, then why'd it take me so damn long?!).

As John continues to express a desire to gracefully step away from the starting line at Hellgate, I'm not sure of how many more shared adventures are left. For all I know, this may very well be the last time we line up together at 12:01am on the 2nd Saturday in December, and spend hours and hours sharing miles, before attempting to crush the other. If this is to be the last time, I couldn't have written up a better ending to a decade of the Andersen-Roberts Rivalry.

Jordan eventually rolled into camp in 10th place and, upon finishing, cheekily proclaimed this was his "eleventh *straight* Top 10". Another adventure in the books for the Three Amigos. Since 2016, there've been 100 Top 10 Male finishes and the three of us have a whopping 27 of them.

Hellgate number 11 in the books. And on to next year for an attempt at my own 10th Top 10.

Looking on to the next batch of idiots … it appears that Bobby Lee and Josh Thomas have each quickly racked up 4 top finishes. I'm looking forward to seeing them continue to pile on the puffies, too. Sadly, I don't have a good sense of the top marks for the Ladies Top 10 (formerly Top 5), as I am apparently both lazy and sexist.

Me and some of my Virginia Hellgate Family.