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!
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 😉
I recently completed my 3rd Susitna 100. This year was truly epic and unforgettable. In the days leading up to the race, the forecast was calling for anywhere between 8-12″ of snow to fall during the race, and we knew we were likely in for a long haul.
The race started out innocently enough, around 10 degrees on hard packed trails. We were beginning to think that we might luck out with better weather than expected. Oh what fools we were! Almost immediately, the snow began to fall, and continued pretty steadily for the remainder of the race. Still, we started out in good spirits, laughing and joking as we slowly began to spread out in the early miles.
All smiles in the early miles! Photo by Andy Romang.
I started out with my cousin Sarah, but by around mile 20, she was starting to fall behind, and waved me ahead to go on without her. I pulled into the first checkpoint, Pt. Mackenzie, 22 miles into the race, still feeling pretty good. I refilled my water, quickly downed a Dr. Pepper, and grabbed a paper cup full of M&Ms to take with me. I saw Sarah one last time, as she arrived at the checkpoint just as I was leaving.
Pt. Mackenzie checkpointNext stop, Flathorn Lake!
I was still running pretty well along the next section, 12 miles to Flathorn Lake. Somewhere around mile 30, I caught up to a group of friends – Martin, Stephen, and Jacob. Martin and Stephen have both completed this race several times, but this was not only Jacob’s first time at this race, it was his first 100 miler. They were moving pretty well at this point, so I decided to tag along with them to be around some friendly faces and conversation. The snow had lightened up, and the trails were still in pretty good shape.
On our way to Flathorn Lake
We managed to pull into the checkpoint at Flathorn Lake (mile 34) while there was still daylight, which was a good sign that we were making decent time. The thing I always look forward to the most at this checkpoint is the homemade spaghetti. I got myself a big bowl of that, a slice of garlic bread, and found a comfortable seat near the heater. It was a pretty full house inside the cabin, but it was still early enough on in the race, that everyone was still in pretty good spirits.
Always a fun time at Flathorn Lake!Warming up and filling our bellies at Flathorn Lake
After filling our bellies and warming up a bit, we headed back out towards our next checkpoint, 17 miles away. It quickly started getting dark, and the trail was becoming softer. We crossed the infamous Dismal Swamp, which actually ended up being one of the least dismal parts of this section. The temperature was rising, the snow was getting deeper and softer, and our speed was rapidly declining.
Proof that I didn’t hallucinate this in the middle of the night!
At long last, we finally reached 5 Star Tent, which is basically just a 12×12 canvas tent setup in the middle of a frozen swamp. They had it well lit up, so we could see it for quite a ways away. Our friend Jane was volunteering at this checkpoint, so it was nice to see another familiar face in the middle of the night, roughly halfway into our race. At this point in the race, there was already quite a bit of carnage happening. When we got there, the tent was full of mostly bikers, and it was pretty much standing room only for us. We got some warm soup and coffee, and left again pretty quickly into the night. Even in that relatively short period of time, there was already a decent layer of snow built up on our sleds.
The world famous 5 Star Tent!Standing room only!
We started making our way towards Eagle Quest, our next checkpoint another 15 miles away. This is when our progress really slowed, as the snow continued to fall at a quickening pace. I had a slight sled malfunction a few miles from our next checkpoint, when the carabiner used to connect the pole from my sled to my waist belt ripped the loop it was connected to. After a brief moment of panic, I was able to reattach it to another loop rather quickly and continue on my way. Soon enough, we could see the lights of the next checkpoint. This is the really big checkpoint to look forward to during this race. Eagle Quest is a lodge and restaurant, so you can go in and order a warm meal. After 63 miles of eating mostly frozen food from my sled, this is a welcome change. The race also rents out several of their cabins, so you can even lay down in a warm, comfortable place for a nap if you’re so inclined.
After parking our sleds, we went inside and found ourselves a table in the restaurant. I ordered biscuits and gravy with a coffee, and boy did that hit the spot. We also used this time to take care of our feet, giving them a chance to dry out as we ate, and then put on fresh socks. I also changed into a new pair of shoes that I hauled in my sled. Especially with my size 14 feet, a spare pair of shoes is a decent amount of extra weight to carry for 100 miles, but in my mind it is well worth the tradeoff. We also took some time to lay out and stretch on the heated floor they have downstairs. Since this is one of the few places on the course that you can actually drive to, both Jacob and Martin’s significant others met us there in the middle of the night. That was another great opportunity to see some friendly, familiar faces.
By the time we headed back out onto the trail, we had spent just over 2 hours at Eagle Quest. Knowing what conditions awaited us back out there, this long rest was a necessary luxury. Again, our sleds were covered by a decent layer of snow that had fallen while we rested. This also meant that the trail was well covered in fresh snow. Our next destination was Cow Lake, 17 miles away. The first 7 miles was part of the out-and-back section, so we got an opportunity to see where people were at behind us. The farther and farther along we got, the longer people’s faces grew. Most of them would end up dropping at Eagle Quest.
Finally, we reached a set of signs indicating it was time to make a sharp left to turn off the main trail towards Cow Lake. Unfortunately, it had probably been 5-6 hours since anyone had been on that section of trail, and there was easily 8-10 inches of snow accumulation. The next 10 miles were by far the hardest of the entire race. Luckily the 4 of us were still together, and we took turns breaking trail. At a few points, we couldn’t even see the trail, and had to just look ahead for the next trail marker and point ourselves towards that. The final approach to Cow Lake was a bit different this year, and the last couple of miles seemed to drag on and take forever. There was a very hilly section, followed by a long slog across Red Shirt Lake, until we finally arrived at Cow Lake. My friend Kristine was volunteering at this checkpoint, and when I got there I gave her a huge hug and told her I’d never been so happy to see her. That 17 mile section from Eagle Quest to Cow Lake took us 8 1/2 hours.
Preparing to break trail for the next 10 miles
The snow keeps falling, and it gets harder and harder to follow the trail.
Steve’s Hill – that guy is a real jerk!
We finally made it!
After that long slog, we were both physically and mentally defeated at this point. Martin was ready to call it quits and drop, but we managed to talk him out of it. We ended up staying at Cow Lake for almost another 2 hours, resting, eating, and drying our feet as best we could. When we left Cow Lake just after 5PM, we knew that we would soon be heading into our 2nd night of the race. There was a biker from Columbia we met while at the checkpoint, and he headed out with us for company. He has raced in bike races all over the world, but nothing like this before on a fat bike. He had been pushing his bike for many hours already, and we still had 20 miles to go to the finish.
(Trying to) dry clothes at Cow Lake.
The next 10 miles to the final checkpoint were relatively uneventful. The trail was still soft and slow, and we were all pretty worn out at this point. But we were all determined to finish this thing, so we put our heads down and marched into the night. 5 1/2 hours later, we arrived at the final checkpoint at mile 90.
Part of me would have loved to blow through this final checkpoint, just wanting to be done. But I also knew that we needed some rest and refueling for the final push. At the pace we’d been moving, we still had several more hours ahead of us. The 5 of us piled into the small tent, and sat down with some soup and coffee.
After a little more than an hour, we headed back out just after midnight. Luckily, this last section is more frequently traveled by snow machine and dog sled, so the trail was much more packed than what we had become used to travelling on. The biker from Columbia hopped on his bike and quickly pulled away from us, never to be seen again. A skier we passed on the last section passed us by as well, now that she was able to ski normally again. Most of this section is a blur to me at this point. We were all so tired, having not had any meaningful sleep the entire race. Still, we kept moving forward with our shared goal.
With the improved trail conditions, the last 10 miles took us “only” 3 hours and 40 minutes. Almost 43 hours after we started, we crossed the finish line together in 42:42, a 4-way tie for fourth place. That was by far my slowest and hardest-fought 100 mile finish. The race directors said it was the worst weather the race has ever had. Out of 36 runners who started the race, only 10 finished. I’m proud to be one of them. And I couldn’t be happier to have spent so many hours on the trail with 3 great friends, and to have shared that finish together.
Still smiling almost 43 hours later!
I ran 100 miles through a snow storm and all I got was this stupid belt buckle!
Living it up at the after party. Photo by Andy Romang.
