At the end of January, I’ll be running the Arrowhead 135 in upstate Minnesota. I’ve been interested in running this race for probably 6-7 years now, but while my kids were younger, the logistics were more difficult (especially since the race starts on a Monday, which basically means I have to take the whole week off, once you factor in travel time). This year, I was finally able to make it happen, so I applied back in September and was excited to be accepted!
The Arrowhead 135 is considered one of the 50 toughest races in the world. It starts in International Falls, MN, which is basically on the border with Canada. It is one of the coldest parts of the U.S., with temps during the race regularly dipping to -40F and colder. As the name of the race implies, it is 135 miles, and there are only 3 checkpoints, so it is largely self-supported. There is a pretty generous 60 hour cutoff, but that could still prove difficult, depending on what the weather and trail conditions are like. Historically, there is only a 46% finish rate for those attempting the Arrowhead 135 on foot, and I certainly plan to be one of them. I may not be particularly fast, but I am stubborn 🙂
Similar to the Susitna 100, which I have run multiple times, I will be dragging a sled with all my supplies and required gear for the race. The list of required gear for Arrowhead is pretty similar to Susitna, with one notable addition being a stove and pot (presumably to melt snow if you run out of water between checkpoints).
This has been an interesting winter in Alaska so far. We had a decent dump of snow early on, but then in early December it warmed up into the 40s and rained a bunch, so now we’re left with barely a dusting of snow in many places, along with lots of ice. This has made it tricky to get in much training with my sled, but considering the number of times I’ve run Susitna, I’m not too concerned about that. I’ve just been trying to focus on getting in lots of miles, as well as complimenting that with strength training, something that I’ve been doing regularly this training block for the first time. This will be my longest race yet, so I want to be sure I’m ready. I DNF’d the Denali 135 this past summer (I stopped around 100k with bad Achilles pain), and I certainly don’t want a repeat of that.
I’m super excited to finally get to run this race. Besides the experience of the race itself, it’s hard not to get excited about a finisher award as awesome as this!
I recently had the pleasure of being a guest on the Golden Hour Adventures podcast, where we talked mostly about winter ultrarunning. One of the hosts, Justin, is a fellow Alaskan ultrarunner from Fairbanks, best known for his Instagram persona @running_in_stache. We had somewhat known each other before, but we first officially met back in March at the White Mountains 100, which we both were running. We hadn’t made plans to run together, but around mile 30 we found ourselves running around the same pace and ended up sticking together for the rest of the race. It was fun to catch up and talk about winter running, including my sled setup.
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything here. I’ve often felt like I don’t have anything “interesting” enough to write about, but I’ve been feeling the pull to write lately, so I figured I would at least start with some of the more interesting adventures I’ve been on recently. I’m going to start filing these under Adventure Reports, and we’ll see how well that works to scratch my writing itch.
Anyways, this ended up being one of those runs, where you head out expecting it to be maybe 5-6 hours in the mountains, but then turns into 8+ hours. I hesitate to say that we were ever lost per se, because I always knew where we were in at least a general sense, but much bush whacking and route finding was involved.
This adventure started at the Glen Alps trailhead with my friends Jess and Angie. The plan was to head back past Williwaw Lakes, climb through a mountain pass where we could drop down behind Long Lake, and then run out that valley up and over Near Point, where we could then meet up with the Middle Fork trail to take us back to Glen Alps. How does that saying go about the best laid plans?
The valley heading back to Williwaw Lakes.
The trail back to Williwaw Lakes is always a fun run. We had a particularly rainy summer, so the trail was quite wet and muddy in spots. By the time you get back to the lakes, the trail starts to meander more and is less defined and more difficult to follow. There are also several water crossings from multiple creeks converging and running into the lakes.
One of many water crossings that we’ll encounter on this route.
As we began to climb on the backside of the lakes, we passed several other smaller lakes, which I believe are still considered part of the collective “Williwaw Lakes”. I’m not entirely sure on that, but they were not labelled with individual names on any of the maps that I looked at.
Another of the “Williwaw Lakes”? With Mount Williwaw in the background.
As we approached the top of the pass, we passed a herd of mountain goats that kept an eye on us, but overall didn’t seemed too concerned about our presence there. Then at the top of the pass, we were faced with a decision on how to get down. The obvious route was a very steep downhill that looked a bit sketchy, but luckily we found another trail that took a more roundabout route of getting down to Long Lake.
These mountain goats eyeballed us as we climbed past, but were otherwise unimpressed with us.At the top of the pass, assessing our options for getting down. It’s hard to tell from this wide angle photo, but the route down on the left is extremely steep.
Once we made it down, the trail follows a rocky shoreline along Long Lake. This made for somewhat slow going, as the trail switched between being somewhat runnable, and slowly picking a route through larger rocks.
Most of the shoreline along Long Lake is rocky and makes for slow-going.
After we passed the lake is when things started to really get interesting. It’s clear that this area is not super well trafficked, as the trail kept getting less and less defined, even suddenly disappearing at time, only to pick up again a few hundred feet later. At this point we were essentially just following loosely defined game trails. We started making comparisons about the subtle differences of what constitutes a “hint” versus a “whisp” of a trail.
One section was particularly difficult to navigate, where we kept criss-crossing a creek and repeatedly lost the trail. There were several times where we thought we could see a trail on the other side of the creek, so we crossed only to find no trail. I also had the Gaia app on my phone, but where it showed the trail being didn’t match up to reality. You can see on the map below where we crossed back and forth several times, and even had to backtrack after giving up on a “whisp” of a trail that disappeared on us.
Route finding is fun!Here’s the creek we crossed multiple times trying to find our way. The fog rolling in certainly didn’t help with visibility.
We eventually found our way back to a “real” trail, and then started our climb up the backside of Near Point. This was much better known territory, and felt like the end of our route finding, but we were still in for one last surprise. I know of 2 routes down Near Point, one that is quite steep and another that’s more gradual (and technically a 3rd, but that one goes to a different trailhead in the wrong direction). Since we were all feeling pretty tired at that point, I thought the more gradual descent would be the better choice. I’ve taken that route in years past, but apparently it isn’t well travelled anymore. It wasn’t too long before we found the trail horribly overgrown and quickly disappearing on us again. Before we knew it, we were in thick alders that made any travel difficult. It got so bad at one point, that all we could do was laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. We even joked about how humiliating it would be if we had to call for rescue so close to a trailhead.
Luckily, this time my Gaia app came to the rescue, and I was able to use it to help navigate us over to the steeper (but well used!) trail. It was so nice to actually be able to run again. At this point we were pretty physically and mentally exhausted, so as we approached the Prospect Heights trailhead, I called my son to come bail us out early – it sure is nice having a teenager that can drive!
This may not have been quite the adventure we planned or expected, but it’s the adventure we got, and sometimes those are the ones that create the best memories. I told Jess and Angie that I very much appreciate their friendship, and that they’re willing to go on adventures like this with me, and still talk to me the next day 🙂
Here’s the full map of our route, starting from Glen Alps and ending at Prospect Heights. We covered 20 miles with around 3,800 feet of climbing. Download the GPX.
Coming up this weekend will be my 5th year running the Susitna 100. After shortening the race to 50 miles last year due to COVID, it will be great to be back to the full course this year – although COVID is still complicating things, closing one of the primary checkpoints, and causing a large section of the race to be re-routed.
As usual, the week or so leading up to a race I turn into an amateur meteorologist, closely watching what the weather is doing. Suffice it to say, this is the not the forecast you want to see leading up to your race:
This year is shaping up to be a repeat of the 2019 sufferfest. One thing I’ll do differently this year is bring my Neos overboots (the experience of 2019 is what prompted me to get them in the first place). I’ll also bring poles, which will be useful with the amount of hiking I’ll likely be doing. I would think about bringing snowshoes, but since I haven’t trained with them, I think they would just slow me down too much.
I have made one big change to my sled setup this year. In the past I’ve always used a rigid pole to connect my belt to the sled, mainly to keep the sled from running into me. Recently, I was running with some friends who are all veterans of the 350 mile Iditarod Trail Invitational, and they swore by using a slack line instead, for several reasons. With a rigid pole, your hips really get pushed around with the weight of the sled, which can really start to cause back pain as you get further into the race. For a race like Susitna that is relatively flat, there really aren’t too many places where you have to worry about the sled running into you. You just have to be aware of those, and grab onto the line and “walk” your sled down the hill.
The top black section of my slack line is a bungee that’s meant for tying a boat to a dock, to give the whole setup some elasticity, and then just some regular rope to give me a total length of about 6 feet.
The biggest game changer for me is the ability to just turn around and get into my sled without having to completely undo my belt. Especially when it’s really cold, it gets increasingly difficult to do anything that requires fine motor skills like messing with my belt, or zipping/unzipping a jacket. There are times when I’ll go longer than I should getting into my sled for things like food, water, or extra layers of clothes, simply because I don’t want to deal with the hassle, or have my hands get even colder than they already are. I’ve done several long runs with this new setup, and I’m a big fan.
Considering the likelihood of lots of snow and poor trail conditions, this week I’m working on mentally preparing myself for a long slog out there. I’m gathering lots of my favorite trails snacks, and loading up my iPod with plenty of good music and podcasts to help pass the hours.
Much like the rest of the world, I’ve had my life turned upside down for nearly the past 2 years due to the COVID-19 pandemic. My running has had its’ ups and downs during that time, and I’ve been racing less since so many races have been cancelled.
More recently, races have been coming back, and it’s been nice to get at least a small sense of “normal” again. I’ve been running more consistently, and am very excited for some upcoming winter races. My eyes may have been bigger than my stomach, but it’s sure going to be fun giving it a go!
Iditasport 100
First up is the Iditasport 100 in mid-January. I’m excited and a bit nervous for this one. This is a new race for me, and will be on mostly new terrain. Some of the early miles will be on the same trails or at least same general area as the Susitna 100, but then the rest of it will be all new for me. Lots of time spent on the Yentna River, with checkpoints at several lodges along the way (which has always been one of my favorite parts of Susitna). The 100 miler finishes up at Skwentna Roadhouse in the middle of Alaskan wilderness, and the race entry fee includes a plane ride back to Anchorage.
My biggest concern with this race is that it has the potential to be very cold. I know several people that ran it back in 2019 when it was around -40 F at the start! I’ve ran in as cold as about -30 before and managed to keep myself warm, so I should be good, but it still gives me a little cause for concern.
Susitna 100
Next up is the Susitna 100 in mid-February. After shortening the race to 50 miles last year (or as they called it, a “Half Hundred”), the race is back in full form this year. This is easily one of my favorite races of the year, and this will be my fifth time running it. The race directors are some of the nicest people I know, and just the whole community around this race is what makes it so special to me. I always say it’s like a family reunion coming back to this race every year.
White Mountains 100
Finally, we have the White Mountain 100 in late March up in Fairbanks. I’ve run this race before in 2019, and was supposed to run it again in 2020, but it was one of the very first races to get cancelled due to COVID. I really enjoyed this race, the course was beautiful and had a lot more variety than Susitna. This is another one that has the potential to be REALLY cold.
Three 100 milers in three months – am I crazy?! Stay tuned to find out 😉
