Hellgate Section I: Nightmare on Horton Street (midnight to dawn)

A bulbous near-full moon shone bright over the Blue Ridge Mountains of southwest Virginia. Aaron and I turned off our headlamp and climbed the long gravel road through the moonlight, glancing up at the magical starry sky. My husband Aaron is a legend who has finished all 21 Hellgate 100km++ ultramarathons, but tonight he was limping slowly on a bad ankle, which led to our surprise encounter atop Hellgate’s highest, coldest mountain. Aaron had promised Race Director David Horton he would finish and not break his streak, but he was in bad shape. “Is that how you greet me?” Aaron quipped after I vomited in the bushes. I was a mess too. Running long races makes me depleted and nauseated, but I can generally hold back barfs unless triggered by something, like the sight or mention of food or an encounter with a human that causes distress. I have a habit of puking when I encounter people on the trail I don’t like, which my friends find hilarious. Of course I like Aaron, but I didn’t like the state he was in.

After two “Sissygates” in 2021 and 2023 where everyone wore shorts in balmy weather, I finally got the “real” Hellgate experience this year, complete with frozen feet after the early stream crossing (Aaron’s tip #1: we slathered our feet in diaper creme this year to prevent blistering and it worked). Despite bundling up with tights, a long sleeve shirt, and a houdini jacket, my fingers still froze. So did my hydration pack’s bladder hose. (Aaron’s tip #2: Aaron told me (after the fact) to blow air into my hose during subfreezing conditions to remove the water from the hose and keep it from freezing.)

My frozen fingers voted to leave Aaron behind and keep running to maintain body heat, but getting to share some romantic moonlit miles with Aaron is a rare treat that I couldn’t pass up. We exchanged war stories (i.e., I complained loudly about trifles while Aaron silently suffered for real). Aaron expressed the right level of indignation at my story about the guy who hit everyone with his flailing poles during the crowded opening mile. I was even more pleased when Aaron agreed with my suggestion that poles be banned for the first mile. I enjoyed schmoozing too much to pay attention to my plummeting body temperature. My teeth were chattering so hard by the time we met our crew, Mike and Anthony, at the Floyd’s Fields aid station (Aaron’s tip #3: Mike wore a LED light vest at night aid stations so I could easily identify him in the darkness amid the glare of headlamps), I left early without eating anything, and never saw Aaron again.

For me, Hellgate is by far the longest, hardest race on my calendar and getting me to the finish at Camp Bethel is a group project. Aaron’s friend Matt crewed and paced my first two Hellgates. When Matt realized he’d be in Hawaii this year, I roped in my trail running friends Mike and Anthony. Mike and Anthony are new members of our Woodley Ultra Society (WUS) trail running group in DC, but they seemed up to the task because they (a) are unflappably zen; (b) have already seen me puke (I puked after Catherine’s Furnace 50km, during and after Highland Sky 40 miler, while pacing Trevor at Hardrock, and after the Richmond Marathon that we all ran together in November); and (c) are saints. On the other hand, Mike and Anthony are bachelors in their early 30s who had never seen a woman fall apart on their watch and wrestle with the question of whether to intervene or leave her alone. Matt was a father who’d “crewed” three childbirths.

I didn’t want Mike and Anthony to be deer in the headlights, so I tried to prep them. “When you first see me at Floyd’s Fields, mile 24, around 5am, don’t be scared if I look like a wet rag and puke at the first whiff of food. My fuel will be organized into three buckets: savory, sweet, and liquid. But don’t be surprised if I never touch most of it. Don’t offer me anything or mention any foods by name, because that will make me puke. Just give me what I ask for.”

When I first ran Hellgate in 2021, I was myself a deer in the headlights. Hellgate was Aaron’s show and I was a scared mouse who deferred to him on everything. I was crewed by Aaron’s friend, listened to Aaron’s music mix, used Aaron’s hydration pack, and followed Aaron’s food plan. This year, I asserted myself by bringing my own friends to crew (note of clarification: Matt is now also my friend, not just Aaron’s), picking my own menu (ramen was this year’s food winner), and making my own music mix that toggled between folk, classic rock, and 90s grunge. Because STP rock.

Hellgate Section II: Here Comes The Sun (dawn to pacers)

“Jenning’s Creek, the fifth aid station, will be my low point,” I had warned Mike and Anthony. “At my first Hellgate, I just sat there on a bucket and puked between my legs. But,” I chirped, “When dawn breaks on the next climb, and the sun’s rays begin to thaw my hands and face, I’ll become human again.”

Hellgaters sometimes can’t explain why they sign up for this insufferable race year after year, like rats that keep touching the electric fence and never learn, but one reason I do it is The Dawn. I still have 40-odd miles and plenty of challenges ahead, but light has triumphed over darkness and the frozen nightmare is behind me. I tolerate pain better when friendly faces beam smiles and beautiful vistas shine around each turn. At daybreak I turn on my music, and Smashing Pumpkins, Neil Young, and Andrew Bird lift my mood (and my pace) across the open grassy fire roads.

Accommodating someone else’s slower gait is always painful for me, and the slow, choppy miles I shared with Aaron flared my chronic knee tendinitis. I stretch my legs on the grassy fire roads after Little Cove aid station because my knee tendons are screaming. It helps to run it off, but all the runners I pass probably think I’m cruising too fast with 50k still to go.

“I won’t see you at the sixth aid station, which isn’t crew accessible, but I’ll be in dire need of a burger at the seventh aid station, Bear Wallow (mile 42), where Mike can jump in to pace me. Expect me to be wrecked. The rocky trail between Little Cove and Bear Wallow has loose boulders hidden under leaf piles and winds around in endless loops that try my patience or, as Aaron puts it, really blows dead goat.”

“So I don’t need to talk the whole time?” Mike, our club’s foremost introvert, was concerned his pacing duties would require goods he couldn’t deliver.

“No,” I assured him. “I’ll be non-verbal by then. Your main job is to say kind, encouraging things to other runners we encounter on the course when I’m too sick to speak. It can be hard to know what to say when someone is obviously suffering and crawling along. You can’t just say Great job! or Looking good! or Almost there! You have to be positive without being obnoxious. It’s an art.”

Hellgate Section III: I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends (pacers to finish)

I looked like a kicked puppy when the Bear Wallow aid station had no burgers this year. The promise of a patty got me through the “Devil trail.” Anthony made ramen, but I accidentally packed “extra spicy.” My fueling plans kept whiffing. Mike, why does my Coke taste like shampoo? Mike took a swig and concluded the soap was not rinsed out during the last cleaning. I laughed deliriously. You boys are trying to poison me. I staggered into the 8th aid station, dangerously behind on my calories, only to learn that the Blue Ridge Parkway closed for ice on the road and the aid station had to be taken down. After so many food fails, I went full zombie in the Forever Section. All I could mutter was “No” whenever Anthony tried to get me to nibble something. Come on, Martha, one gummy bear….. I answered in the negative with another puke.

I realized after the fact that I went over my pacer Do’s and Don’ts in detail with Mike when we spent seven hours running together at Vicki’s Death March a couple weeks before Hellgate, but I never conveyed the same information to Anthony. A golden rule in ultras is that crew is always blameless and responsibility falls 100% on the runner to give explicit instructions. Writing out my personal Rules For Pacers might have been helpful:

Don’t: (1) Mention food (if I want something, I’ll ask for it); (2) Ask me questions; (3) Tell me my time/place/age group standing; (4) Say anything about mileage; (5) Wear a watch that beeps every mile; (6) Try to get me to run any faster.

Do: (1) Please say encouraging, kind words to runners we pass when I get too ill to speak; (2) Always stay behind me; even on the gravel road where we’re side by side, stay a half a step behind in case I need to veer to find the best line; (3) Feel free to tell good stories (unless I say blueberry, the code word for please stop talking), just don’t expect me to respond.

There tends to be an inverse relationship between a pacer’s ultramarathon experience and how easily they follow these guidelines. The only time I get into tiffs with pacers is when they start to assert themselves and give opinions, like when Sean egged me on to pass more women at the Frisco Half Marathon. I ground to a halt and wouldn’t take another step until he promised to stop. I’ve been racing since I was 14 and I know when to push and when to ease. It’s my body, and no one know my body’s quirks and contradictions as well as I do. My body often responds counterintuitively. To make knee pain better, I need to run faster. When I’m gagging on gels, I need a bacon cheeseburger. I guess it’s no surprise that one of my favorite pacers was Matt’s teenage son Andrew, who wasn’t even a runner (just a hiker). He brought no preconceptions as to how much I should eat or how fast I should go, wore no beeping gadgets, and had a zen-like knack for saying sweet, sensitive words of encouragement to runners we passed. We exchanged no words, and Andrew may have thought he was superfluous, but quite the contrary. People wonder how I finish Hellgate on few calories, but companionship is caffeine for extroverts. A few kind words from a Liberty University student (and an unexpected prayer to Jesus Christ) once transformed me from a puking mess to a surging gazelle at Horton’s other race, the Promise Land 50km++.

The final climb up the road from Day Creek is a death march. Getting passed by a bouncy woman running up the hill looking impossibly fresh shoved in an extra dagger. (Are you even allowed to run that climb?) But I always manage to summon 6:30-minute miles on the final descent, and when we reached the top of the climb Anthony wagered I had plenty of runway to pass her back. “Predictable chaos” is my Hellgate motto, and despite all the mayhem during the race, my finish time is always 15 hours, plus or minus, three times in a row. Only this year I got my puking out of the way in the Forever Section and, for the first time, did not puke on Horton’s finish line.

By finishing top women’s master but outside the top-10, I pulled off the rare feat of getting a pacer and a puff jacket. Hellgate has an unusual rule that top-10 men and top-10 women can’t have pacers, so one of Anthony and Mike’s biggest concerns was that their participation might cost me a puff jacket. I assured them if I had to choose between puffs and pacers, I’d go with pacers. For a short-distance runner like me with a bad stomach, the choice is really between pacers or DNF.

Aaron’s 17 hour 34 minute finish time (26 minutes under the 18-hour cut-off) was the slowest of his 22 finishes by far, more an hour slower than even his worst Lyme disease year, but he preserved his streak, which is all that counts. Fellow streaker Darin cut it even closer and finished with a mere 90 seconds to spare. Ultimately, the Hellgate story of the year went to my friend Laney, who finally finished Hellgate under the cut-off on her fifth try, after coming in just 2 minutes over the time limit two years ago.

Anyone following the trends of 2024 should not be surprised that three WUS women — Nora, Keavy, and I — took home Patagonia puff jackets for top-ten or top-masters finishes. WUS women are making a comeback, thanks to Barry’s Friday morning trail runs (Barry also ran Hellgate this year, his second finish) and a new-and-improved generation of WUS gentlemen, of which my crew Mike and Anthony are standard bearers.

When I first ran Hellgate in 2021, only top-5 women got puff jackets (I finished 7th and missed out). I didn’t object; I accepted Aaron’s explanation that this was fair because women are such a small fraction of the Hellgate field compared to men. A higher percentage of female competitors already got prizes (1 out of 6) compared to men (1 out of 12). Equal prizes would make this imbalance worse. However, one could also reason, if we want prizes to be proportional to the size of the group and not have groups where it’s easier to get a prize than others, you’d have to take almost all the prizes away from the old guys, where there is sometimes only one or two competitors. Good luck with that! After some lively debate among the Hellgate race committee, the policy did change in 2022, and women and men now get equal prizes at Hellgate. Fortunately, each year, the field of women at Hellgate is getting larger and faster (the top-10 women all ran under 14 hours this year), meaning over time the question of prizes and gender will become less relevant. For now, I’m enjoying my puffy.

Nothing beats a good trilogy (Lord of the Rings, the original Star Wars), and my third Hellgate felt like a good series finale. My first Hellgate in 2021, was an act of desperation during a hellish pandemic year when I was willing to try anything to beat the blues, even Aaron’s crazy ice race. My second Hellgate in 2023 proved I’d actually come around to love Aaron’s wacky tradition and appreciate David Horton. To understand the significance of my thirds Hellgate, you need to know the dynamic between me and Aaron. It’s not always easy being married to everyone’s golden boy. Nothing symbolized our relationship more than the Yom Kippur dinner at Aaron’s parent’s spotless apartment in Rosslyn. My father, in typical Nelson style, drank too much, ranted contrarian politics, fell, broke a lamp, and spilled blood from his head across their marble floor. It took three Hellgates for me to stop being ashamed of my puking, Nelson-hot-mess style of ultrarunning and invite friends along for the view. (Although I’ll never stop worrying that Mike and Anthony were scarred.)

In one significant way, I was less of a hot mess this year. For the first time, I stopped puking enough to enjoy the post-race party (I just did just one small puke in the bushes outside Camp Bethel while waiting many hours for Aaron to finish). We even hit a diner on the way home for dinner (whereas last year I spent the ride home puking in the back of Matt’s van). Being present for the post-party is a big deal. Hellgate’s cast of characters is what brings me back each year — not just the runners, but the longtime volunteers and crew (and of course Horton) who pour their souls into this race. Hellgate is a profound experience that I return to not because I enjoy suffering, but because the challenges I fight through and the friends I make along the way shape me more as a person than the shorter, easier races I win. I woke up the morning after the race and squealed in bed to Aaron I want to do it again!

Just as we thought WUS was past its prime and getting old and slow, 2024 saw a revival of youthful energy, thanks the arrival of new regulars like Will, plus a crop of new speedy women (thanks, Barry!). The explosion of new energy spurred Jaret and WHT to revive the WUS donut run, Trevor and Keith to eke through Hardrock, and Martha to somehow muster another sub-3 marathon. Not dead yet. We even made new WUS shirts, 3rd edition, although the slogan “The faces may change but the bar remains” has not aged well. Cleveland Park Bar and Grill may be moving down the block next year, following a change of landlord, and WUS may need to survive another big shakeup. But in the immortal words of Bryan Powell (“Jesus, you guys are still doing that Tuesday run?), WUS has a staying power that defies the winds of change and the elbows of Sebastian. Blue skies ahead in 2025. The WUS baby boom is finally over, our 20-year WuSiversay is on the horizon (2026), and a little cross-pollination with road runners may bring a dash more speed into Tuesday nights (don’t give me that look, Old Guard, some of our best WuSsies were snagged from DC road running groups).

I. Scorecard. How many of last year’s predictions came true in 2024? Red is correct guesses.

1. Mass WUS gathering at Hardrock in July.
2. Donut Run is revived. (But Martha probably has to organize it.)
3. Return of McNulty.
4. Clarification: Return of McNulty after dog-friendly outdoor seating becomes available in front of CPBG’s years-in-the-making pedestrian sidewalk.
5. WUS DC United Field Trip led by HKJ.
6. Another WUS tries Ride N Tie.
7. Prize to whichever WUS comes across Martha riding a horse through Rock Creek Park first.

II. 2024 Awards

Best race performances, male

Best race performances, female

Best performance, overall: Take On Me: Bjorn (BRR)

Best race debut, male: Anthony, marathon

Best race debut, female: Nora, ride n tie

Most improved, male: Mike, 9 minute PR at Beer Mile

Most improved, female: Martha, training for a marathon

Best surprise ringer: Amanda, Beer Mile

WuSsies of the Year: Jaret and WHT, for reviving the Donut Run

Best triumphant return: Aaron, finishing a 100 miler for the first time in a decade

Best WUS blast from the past: Matt W birthday WUS

Best performance, locking it up: Jaret

Worst performance, looking a gift horse in the mouth: Mike, start of Richmond Marathon

WUS arrivals: Will, Nora, Keavy, Barry, Theo, Orin, Io and Callisto, Georgia’s new baby

WUS departures: Nick, HKJ, Leda, Zelig

Best new CPBG pizza: burrata

Worst WUS news: the bar is closing in late 2024/early 2025

Best WUS news: the bar is reopening above Fat Pete’s

Best WUS bromance: Sean and Keith (always)

Best WUS fight: Martha and Seb, over which way North is

Worst race rip-off: Morocco 50k, for charging $400 and providing no snacks at aid stations

Worst race experience: Ironstone 100k

Best race experience: Iron Mountain Ride N Tie

Best new WUS real estate: Chamonix

Worst performance, trying to drop out of a race: Keith, Hardrock

Best performance, masking his desire to drop out of a race: Trevor, Hardrock

Best performance, segment records on Rock Creek Park hills: Poppy the white pony

Best performance, Bjorn care: (tie) Chelsea (Catherine’s Furnace) and Keavy’s brother (Breck summer camp)

Worst performance, convincing VHTRC to change SiP to 9am at Pierce Mill: Martha

Best performance, playing off a WUS fall: Heather

Worst performance, playing off a WUS fall: Adam

III: Predictions for 2025:

1. Mass WUS gathering at Hellbender
2. An epic WUS adventure involving HKJ
3. A WUS wedding
4. WUS women make a comeback (after their demands are met).
5. Keith makes a WUS comeback (no comment on whether #4 and #5 are related)
6. Seb finally earns a “real” WUS award by completing his first 100km race (thanks to a phenomenal pacing job by Guy).
7. New WUS house
8. A group of intrepid WuSsies complete a burro race. (And Aaron buys Martha a “Will Run 4 Ass” shirt.)
9. Another WUS tries ride n tie
10. Nora becomes the new occupant of the Bannockburn party house
11. A record number of WuSsies attend Mike’s DC rave (but only the early bird 4pm version)
12. Someone from the Monday night Pacer’s Run joins WUS (once Martha is offered as tribute)
13. A Pacers ringer gives Puff a run for his money at the 2024 WUS beer mile
14. Puff Magic runs a sub-20 hour hundred.
15. Aaron runs his 25th consecutive Boston Marathon in April.
16. Martha celebrates Aaron’s achievement a week later by throwing a Beer Mile party he doesn’t want in his backyard. In the spirit of “we all make sacrifices,” Martha invites all the WuSsies, even the hot sauce thieves. Because in 2025, everyone gets a shot at redemption.

“Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.” – Chili Davis.

Going skydiving would’ve been easier…..

Aaron! My eyes widened. I pinched a strand of hair and dashed into the kitchen. Look!

Aaron flashed the alarmed look of someone who had just been overrun by squirrels. What am I looking at?

It’s gray! I cradled the curled specimen of hair in my palm and offered it to him like a child. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

Aaron stammered, aware of the landmines hidden beneath any conversation that touches on a woman’s looks. Wise beyond his years, he said nothing.

I knew that in my 40s I would hit middle age, go through menopause, turn gray, and lose my speed. But that didn’t mean I was ready for it. I now understood why men panic-buy sports cars in their 40s. Anything to stop the downward skid. But my mid-life crisis package would not include convertibles, motorcycles, skydives, or breast implants. I stared in the mirror and realized there was only one way to turn back the clock. It was time to lace up and run another sub-3 hour marathon.

There were just a few problems. One, I was already 43 years old, well into the Masters runner category where the wheels come off. Two, I was a mom, with limited time to train or perform self-care. Three, my last sub-3 marathon was 8 years ago at the DC Rock n Roll Marathon in March 2016, where I paced my friend Trevor to his first sub-3 hour finish, and also went on to win the race myself.

Shortly after, I got married and welcomed my son Bjorn, and then my marathon times floated above 3 hours for the first time in 13 years. I was more than dismayed, I was in existential crisis, realizing after decades of getting stronger and faster, I was now in decline. My friend Sean welcomed me as the newest member of the “old and slow” club.

Now I know how Greg Lemond felt at the beginning of the EPO era in cycling…..

The arrival of carbon-plated “super-shoes” at the 2020 Tokyo Olympics poured salt on the wound. Just as my speed was fading, everyone else was buying it for $250. Nearly everyone at the 2021 Boston Marathon wore the Nike Vaporfly. The sudden change in pace of people around me threw off my race instincts and seeded more self-doubt. “Cheater shoes” Aaron called them, referring to their enhanced biomechanics. When Aaron finally bit the bullet and bought super-shoes this year, the advantage was pretty dramatic: about 15 seconds per mile, which adds up to a 6-to-7 minute bonus in a marathon. That would have been enough to turn my 3:04 Boston Marathon from 2021 into a sub-3 performance. But I wouldn’t have counted it.

Super-shoes meant I could no longer compete with other road runners on even footing, so I took an 18-month sabbatical from the marathon to focus on trails. I ran Hellgate a second time, I recruited Nora to ride-n-tie, and I learned to mountain bike on single-track in West Virginia. I revived the WUS Tuesday night trail run, which had stopped during the COVID-19 pandemic, and joined a new Friday morning women trail running group organized by Barry (who is not a woman, but appears to attract them in droves, for reasons that are still up for discussion). For the ultimate summer trail adventure, I headed out to Silverton, Colorado, to pace Trevor at Hardrock in what would be my first VHTRC trip without Aaron.

“Teamwork Makes the Dream Work!” – Aaron Schwartzbard

I took away a couple lessons from Hardrock:

1. Trevor is blessed by the gods. (Translation: If I want to run a sub-3 marathon, it would help to have some magic Trevor fairy dust along.)
2. You can do impossible things as long as you have the right crew. (Translation: We might need more people than just me and Trevor.)
3. I can survive without Aaron. (Translation: But someone should be prepared to take me to the hospital.)

I struck a deal with Trevor: if I paced him at Hardrock in July, he would train with me for a fall marathon and pace me to a sub-3 finish. We settled on the Richmond Marathon in November, which I’d never run before but where Trevor set his PR (2:53) in 2016. My training plan would be simple: five long runs during September and October sprinkled with a weekly dose of light speed work. With four children under the age of 6, Trevor would train with me when he could.

Two other Wussies, Mike and Anthony, also signed up for Coach Aaron’s Richmond Marathon training plan. Katie and Steve joined the party too and Barry’s FOMO got so bad he almost reversed his vow never to run another marathon again.

No sooner than we began training in September and Trevor was downed by illness (four kids is TOO MANY kids). But Mike and Anthony stepped up and I never had to run a long run alone. We were the Breakfast Club of marathon training: Anthony was the pot-smoking hippie, Trevor was the Mr Perfect prep school golfer, Anthony’s friend Duy was the fun gay Asian (which was not in Breakfast Club, to the detriment of the movie), and Mike was the quiet guy in the corner who was silently trolling everyone.

For the first time since grad school, marathon training was fun again. The guys laughed at my stories, followed my routes, and kept a spirited but conversational pace. One evening in October, Mike completed my marathon training by taking me out clubbing until 3AM on U Street. After all, running a sub-3 hour marathon meant learning how to be 27 again.

By the end of October, Coach Aaron certified that my 5 long road runs of at least 16 miles, sprinkled with a couple track workouts, counted as “training.” This may not sound like much, but given my history of never training for marathons, this was a victory in and of itself. Aaron spent years trying to convince my younger self that my marathon PR of 2:55 was soft and with the slimmest amount of training I could break 2:50, but I was honestly scared of training. I knew too many women over the years who lost their periods, under-ate, over-trained, and damaged their bodies. Self-preservation was my game. But by age 43 (and with some good therapy), I was finally getting past these mental blocks.

I assume no one from Dojo reads my blog

Aaron and I are in many way opposites. He’s an introvert, I’m an extrovert. He’s methodical, I’m whimsical. He’s vegetarian, I’m a carnivore. He trains diligently for marathons, while I do one confidence-boosting long run (at least 13 miles) a couple weeks before the race and declare myself fit to go. But we actually align quite a bit on our philosophy about how one should train for a marathon, if one chose to do so. Like telling poor Anthony not to run every day at his expected marathon pace (6:30) on the same stretch of Beach Drive until he was so bored and burned out that he swore off marathons forever. Here we spell out the “Marthon” Cardinal Rules for Marathon Training:

(a) Long runs should be a comfortable clip, neither excessively slow nor fast, maybe 60-90 seconds slower than expected race pace. You should be able to converse comfortably. If you’re feeling good towards the end it’s okay to pick up the pace for the last 4-5 miles, just don’t do anything that is going to require more than a day or two recovery. Because later in the week….

(b) You should do a session of speed work. Nothing arduous. You don’t need to do mile repeats. The purpose is to improve running economy and improve your biomechanics and efficiency of stride. If you’re having difficulty getting the right body conformation during these pick-ups, you might need to include some plyometrics (see instructional videos on YouTube). I typically do not wear a watch or record my runs, but for Anthony’s sake I began to wear one and post my activities on Strava, so he could see that light speed work could be as simple as three or four 800m repeats.

(c) The long run and the speed work are the two pillars of your training week that give you the most benefit. Focus on nailing those two days, and the other days are just recovery and endurance building. Fine to mix in some trail runs on those days. If you need to party, do that any night of the week EXCEPT the two important nights before the long run and speed work.

(d) Try not to lose weight during marathon training. Do not diet during marathon training. It may be tempting to believe that you’ll be faster if you can shed a couple pounds, but I’m afraid that ship has sailed by the time marathon training begins. Your body cannot handle the load of marathon training without complete fueling.

(e) You’re going to need super-shoes if you want to compete against others for prizes/BQs/OTs. If you’re going to wear super-shoes in the race, make sure you do at least one long run in them prior to race day.

(f) Train to run easy faster, not hard longer. You may notice killer times posted from training sessions on Strava are not necessarily predictive of performance on race day. Many marathoners take a training approach that focuses on running hard for longer. If they can run their desired marathon pace (say 6:30) for 12 miles, they try to extend the distance they can maintain that hard effort from 12 to 15 to 18 to 20 miles. This may seem logical and sequential, but no one can run at threshold for 26 miles, even the pros. Instead, train to run easy faster. Rather than building strength, build economy. Unfortunately, social media rewards impressive workouts more than running effortlessly. This is one way that the social media age can steer people in the wrong direction. One reason I generally don’t record my training on Strava is because to an outside eye my training would be very unimpressive. Even though marmots try very hard not to fall into the trap of comparing themselves to others and feeling inferior, social media sometimes makes that difficult.

(g) Haine’s Point is where marathon dreams go to die. Many marathoners swear by flat, fast training loops. But Aaron and I design hilly routes through Arlington and Georgetown to build strength. Your pace on a hilly course will look unimpressive on Strava, but you’ll find you have more strength in the final miles of the marathon where you need it most.

(h) Just to leave no rock unturned for Anthony doing his first road race, we also spelled out the 5 rules of marathon water stations. First, when you grab your dixie cup, pinch it at the top to avoid spillage. Second, do not drink yet! Take a couple strides into the middle of the road before slowing to drink. Otherwise you risk getting trampled by the madhouse of runners darting in and out to grab cups. Third, toss your cup to the opposite side of the road from the water station to avoid oncoming runners. Fourth, do not try to keep your pacing group intact during the water stations. Don’t worry if everyone goes their own way, just be patient and regroup after the water station.

Trevor is mortal

While Aaron and I focused on guiding the rookie Anthony, Trevor slipped through the cracks. Trevor is not a marathon rookie; his PR is 2:53. Trevor is a WUS legend for winning every beer mile (in about 7 minutes on a non-traditional course) and miraculously finishing Hardrock last summer on no training. No one ever has to worry about Trevor. But he hadn’t done a marathon in a while. Lesson one: even the magically charmed T-Puff is human. Lesson two: you can pull yourself out of a hole in an ultra, but there is less margin for mistakes in a marathon. Trevor managed to pull off the double whammy of destroying his legs without building much endurance by pacing the 3:15 group at Marine Corps three weeks before Richmond. Questioning whether he could still manage sub-3 pace at Richmond, Trevor panic-bought super-shoes. With Aaron as shopping guide, Anthony and Mike followed suit. Trevor immediately noticed the bounce. I strongly supported everyone else’s decisions to buy super-shoes, while reasoning that I could not. I had to prove that, despite being in my 40s, despite being a mom, I could still go toe-to-toe with my 27-year-old self.

For my future self, it’s worth mentioning that my legs felt cruddy in the weeks leading up to the marathon. I barely finished the NIH 5k, a casual run at work, because my legs were shot after helping Trevor pace 20 miles of MCM (I knew better than to do the full 26.2). Plus, I was fighting the bug going around our house and the November election had me down. But I hope my future self takes note not to freak out the next time my body feels drained going into race day. “Race magic,” Aaron promised me.

Driving down to Richmond with Trevor, my biggest fear was that my stomach would ruin the weekend for everyone. With Aaron home with Bjorn and Trevor jetting back to his brood right after the race, all I had was Mike or Anthony to whisk me to a hospital for an IV after the race (something I did routinely when I was younger, although less as I’ve learned how to better manage my illness).

Trevor assured me Mike and Anthony were up to the task. WUS goes through boom-and-bust cycles as crops of young runners arrive and depart, temporarily joining the old guard of regulars, but our new crop of youngsters was a good one, as evidenced by high attendance at beer miles and bucket brigades.

The sun was shining when we arrived in Richmond, and I was charmed by everything, from Anthony’s quirky AirBnB “castle” to outdoor packet pickup at the Richmond Roadway (way better than ugly convention centers), to the perfect fall weather and easy-to-navigate city. I knew the running gods were smiling on us when Anthony announced that his Pacers running group friends had a hotel room blocks from the race start, where on race morning we could stash our clothes and defile their bathrooms. No shivering outside in port-o-potty lines this time!

The new dot on the plot is satisfying, not just because I met my goal and reversed the downward skid of middle age, but because I had to grow so much to get there. Sean is still a little frightened by this new marmot who trains. I’m a little frightened myself. Not Aaron, though, who’s been waiting for this version for a long time.

The Donut Run 2024 will be a day that lives in infamy.

Or maybe just tummy-achey.

It is a day where we may not remember who won, but we will recall who didn’t lose.

This wasn’t about Anthony winning the Full WUS with a dozen donuts in 48:13. Nor was it about Nora triumphing as our top female finisher in the Baby WUS 3 donut competition. Or even Zach taking first place in the Half WUS category of six donuts. It was not even about Barry finishing both first and DFL in the male Baby WUS category. 

In fact, it should be the story of how Oron despite having lived in this area for more than two decades managed to get lost on the way to DuPont Circle.

Yet it isn’t.

This is the story of a runner with a big heart, but a small stomach.

That is right. Michael Bonfatto now goes down in WUS history not because he finished last by 41 minutes. And it is not because it took him 1:34:43 to complete the course, which is just under six miles. Nor was it because he was one of the first to arrive in DuPont Circle but the last to leave.

It was because Michael defeated those Krispy Kreme donuts one tiny morsel at a time. How long did it take Michael? Bjorn sang the Star Spangled Banner at least five times. We saw the women’s running club enter and leave Dupont Circle at least three times. Even the rats got tired of waiting and moved on to the trash cans rather than wait to see if Mike lost part of the donuts.

Yet despite the pressure, Michael never buckled.

He picked up each donut one at a time. There would be no donut smashing with our champ. He would not try it Joey Chestnut style by soaking the donut in water in his mouth before swallowing. Instead, he gave us the full grandma. He would pull off a dainty bite about the size of the fingernail on your thumb. He would then chew it repeatedly before taking a rest. Then he grabbed another bite and another rest. The entire time his left leg bounced up and done like he was having a spasm. 

This truly was watching the tortoise lose to the hare. Or maybe it was like watching paint dry. In either case, Michael was impervious to pressure or suggestions. This athlete had a strategy and nothing was going to shake him from it. That White House Tom called at one point to say that everyone else had finished was irrelevant. Michael just kept going.

After what seemed like an eternity, what had been a box filled with four remaining donuts was now a box filled with three remaining donuts.

Michael kept going.

He was the Little Engine that Could. (Is that even a children’s book that anyone reads anymore?) He was Rocky making his way slowly up the stone stairs in Philadelphia. He was the Bad News Bears actually winning the championship. 

What he wasn’t was Joey Chestnut.

That didn’t matter. The darker it got outside, the slower he ate each bit. Yet eat each bite he did.

Around the same time the first two buckets of Loose Cannon were being drunk, the perseverance paid off. Michael had conquered those donuts. There was not a single bit left. All he had to do now was run less than two miles up Connecticut Avenue to the bar. While the volunteer crew of Bjorn, Lisa, Martha, JLD, Sebastian, Guy, and myself rushed to the Metro to get to the beer, we wondered what would happen to our fearless competitor. Could he make it over the hill or would those donuts sideline him for the evening into whatever bushes he could find?

The mood on the sidewalk in front of Cleveland Park Bar & Grill was tense. It may have been because the other competitors were still unsure if mixing beer and donuts made sense. Yet it was more likely concern over whether Michael could make it. Within minutes of the arrival of the volunteers, however, the impossible happened. Michael not only made it to the bar, but he opened a beer.

There was a new course record of 1:34:43 that might never be broken.

Congratulations to all the competitors. Thank you to Bjorn for his musical entertainment. And to White House Tom for being my partner in crime in making this event happen as well as for buying beer at the end. And to our volunteers including Lisa, Martha and JLD.

Full Results thanks to White House Tom:

Last Name	First Name	Declared Donuts	Arrived Dupont	Donuts Eaten	Finish Time	Placing
Jodrey	Nora	Baby (3)	25m 31s	3	42m 42s	1st Female Baby
Baylor	Keavy	Baby (3)	24m 46s	3	43m 40s	2nd Female Baby
Hauptman	Barry	Geezer (3)	28m 40s	3	47m 31s	1st Male Geezer
Gan	Oron	Baby (3)	N/A	0	1h 10m 4s	Super Lost Award
Weinberger	Zach	Half (6)	24m 21s	6	47m 18s	1st Male 6’er
Adams	Will	Half (6)	26m 37s	6	47m 30s	2nd Male 6’er
Wolosik	Antony	Full (12)	25m 30s	12	48m 13s	1st Male Dirty Dozen
Christensen	Garrett	Full (12)	25m 27s	12	49m 4s	2nd Male Dirty Dozen
Rasmussen	Adam	Full (12)	23m 57s	12	51m 32s	3rd Male Dirty Dozen
Hasty	Andy	Full (12)	24m 52s	12	53m 25s	4th Male Dirty Dozen
Bonfatto	Michael	Full (12)	25m 30s	12	1h 34m 43s	Record Longest Donut Transition Time EVER!

Cheers,

Jaret

Best performance, finishing the toughest 100 mile footrace in the world on no training: Trevor and Keith

Best runner bio: Keith

Best performance, stepping up last minute to pace Keith after a Krogers nose dive and turn his race around: Heather and Barry

Hardrock course record, f-bombs, grunts, and farts: Keith

Hardrock course record, coughs: PJ

Biggest delta, Actual ability to complete Hardrock minus Perceived ability to complete Hardrock: Keith

Best pre-race boot camp: Keith and Sean in Frisco

Best bromance: Keith and Sean

Best Hardrock romantic moment fail: Engineer Mountain summit (Martha and Trevor)

Best mid-race pick-me-up: “Keith, I swear, if you finish this race we’ll give you another solo week in Frisco with Sean.” (Martha)

Best performance, pacing Hardrock climbs a week before neck surgery, with a back brace and a hacking cough: PJ

Best performance, crew leadership: Ellen

Best race vehicle: Pajellen van

Worst road: A different crew vehicle

Second worst vehicle fail: PJ and Ellen stuck in Kansas for 3 days

Stupidest argument at Hardrock: whether Martha should call Ellen’s dog “Annie” (winner: Martha)

Longest argument at Hardrock: whether Martha should sell her road bike (winner: PJ)

Best wildlife cameo: moose

Best performance, stuffing his pie hole: Trevor (secret to finishing Hardrock without training)

Second best pacer code word: “next slide,” which was used when someone slipped into the topic of US politics

Hardrock course record, saying the word “puke” or any derivation thereof: Martha

Best performance, passing for a Silverton local: Anthony

Best hype man: Anthony https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v77j9mAuHpE&t=162s

Best post-race snooze, Anthony

Best silver lining of being too trashed to post-race snooze: Martha and Trevor getting to see ex-VHTRCer Jackie Fritsch finish her first Hardrock during the Golden Hour with less than 10 minutes to spare (Jackie also saved Anthony’s ass earlier that week “soft-Rocking” over Virginius pass with all of his backpacking gear)

Best performance, surprise WUS appearance: Vishal (3rd WUS Hardrock finisher in 2024)

Best riddle: 10 time Hardrock finisher Robert (“Mongo”) Andrulis somehow remembering Aaron Schwartzbard’s birthday

Best performance, spotting WUS cameos on the Hardrock live feed: Aaron

Best performance, spotting good rocks: PJ

Ranking of Wussies from most to least inspired to run Hardrock after the 2024 experience: 

Anthony and PJ (tie): Would give left pinky toe

Heather: Yes, but might need some Valium for the scree fields and deadly drop-offs

Barry: Yes, but might need some testosterone

Martha/Ellen/Tracy (tie): No way in hell

Legends of WUS Hardrock Trivia

Which WUS has the fastest Hardrock finish?

Joe Clapper (31 hrs)

Which WUS has the most Hardrock finishes?

Tie, Keith and Julian Jamison (5)

Which WUS slipped just under the Hardrock 48 hour cut-off during the Golden Hour?

Doug Sullian (47 hrs)

Which WUS has the second-fastest Hardrock finish?

Garret Christensen (34 hrs)

Who is the only female WUS to finish Hardrock?

Kerry Owens

Which WUS finally finished Hardrock this year after entering the lottery 14 times?

Vishal Sahni

How many WUSsies have finished Hardrock?

9: Keith, Sean, Joe, Kerry, Doug, Julian, Trevor, Garret, Vishal