Alrighty, folks. I was recently looking at a map of the Hellgate course to refresh my memory about how it goes. Then I realized that that was a terrible idea. I mean, after doing this race five times, the one thing you definitely don’t want to do is remember anything about it. But by the time I remembered that, it was too late. Yet the same desire that would make me say, “EWWW, taste this!” after drinking sour milk makes me want to share the memories. So here’s a handy little overview of Hellgate. (I should also note that Keith Knipling put together a far more high-tech overview of the 2007 race. Me, I use a highlighter and a map that I spread on my floor. Keith, he’s got heartrate data, GPS details and elevation profiles. How can I compete with that? I CAN’T, I TELL YOU! *sigh* So I just have to rely on my razor-sharp wit and boyish good looks to keep you interested in what I have to say.)

I’ll give you the full map immediately below. After that, I’ve broken it down, aid station to aid station. I’ll give you Horton’s description of each section, followed by the effluvia of my ruminations. In the map below, the race starts in the upper right, and follows the yellow highlighter generally toward the lower left. The start, finish and aid stations are marked with little red stars. The map I used for this little presentation is,

I originally put together this overview before the 2006 race. During subsequent years, I realized that there were some sections that I needed to update because I had remembered some details incorrectly. But most of all, I realized that this sort of overview could be only marginally useful. Hellgate, more than any other race I’ve done, has a character that changes drastically from year to year. I’m not just saying that some years it’s chillier than other years. I’m saying that from year to year, this is a completely different race. One year, a certain section of the course might be particularly difficult, and the next year, that same section might be… less notable.

So far, we’ve had,

• 2003 – The first year of the race, no one knew what to expect. The weather was cold, and there was a light fall of snow on the ground. The moon was full, and the sky was clear. With no leave on the trees, no clouds in the sky, and white snow on the ground, the moon lit up the trails like daylight. I turned on my flashlight for the more technical downhills, but I ran most of the way by the light of the moon. And the end of that first year, everyone knew we had been part of something special. And we were all amazed at just how difficult the race was.
• 2004 – The “warm year” was different, in that there was no moon. I was quite comfortable in shorts. When I finished, I wondered how I could have forgotten just how difficult the race was.
• 2005 – The “ice year” was just ridiculous. Several inches of snow fell early in the week. On friday, the temperature rose to the 60s, then fell at night to the 20s. Every road section was covered with glare ice, and every trail section had fluffy snow under a half-inch thick crust of ice. Staying upright was the name of the game. Just walking across the parking lot at Camp Bethel, from your car to race registration, was a harrowing experience. When I finished, I wondered how I could have forgotten just how difficult the race was.
• 2006 – The “cold year” (or “the year of the leaves”) was when we learned that eyeballs can, in fact, freeze. With temperatures around 12°F at Headforemost mountain, and strong head winds, things got ugly. Four people ended up with severely impaired vision when their corneas froze later in the race. (After thawing out, everyone’s vision returned to normal.) Further, due to a lack of recent rain, leaves piled up as high as a foot and a half deep on many parts of the course. With uneven trail and loose rocks underneath, the leaves made footing extremely difficult. When I finished, I wondered how I could have forgotten just how difficult the race was.
• 2007 – The “nice” year was probably as good as it gets. Most years, the 10 or 15 minutes before the race start, as we stand around in our Lycra® and our Polartec®, can be painfully cold. This year was rather nice. I was in shorts, and not particularly uncomfortable (which meant the temperature was in the upper 30s). There had been very little rain leading up to the race, so even the early creek crossing was a non-issue. There was a little bit of ice on some of the roads at higher elevations early in the race, and there were some deep leaves covering trails later in the course, but neither was as bad as previous years. We finally had a year when we could judge whether the race was difficult because of the weather of previous years, or because the course was just that hard. I’ll let you guess what the conclusion was. But I’ll give you a hint: about two seconds after I crossed the finish line, I was flat on the ground. Oh yeah, and when I finished, I wondered how I could have fotgotten just how difficult the race was. (Though I should mention that this year was a very special race for me. The full story is here.)

Are you picking up on the theme here?