Taking a few steps back first, I arrived in International Falls on Saturday, with the race starting on Monday morning. This gave me time to do some last minute shopping for the race, and then get over to the mandatory gear check and pre-race meeting on Sunday. That night, I spent a few hours in my hotel room stressing over gear, making some last minute decisions on exactly what to carry with me, and getting my sled all packed up and ready for the morning.

Bright and early Monday morning, all the racers were gathered at Kerry Park in International Falls, ready to embark on our 135 mile journey. The temp was about 22F, with a light breeze. Just about perfect, but I knew it would get warmer during the day once the sun came up. Just before 7AM, there are fireworks to celebrate, and then the race director shouts “release the hounds!” to send us all off down the trail.

I get so amped up and anxious before a race, I want the thing to just get started. After all the months of training, preparation, and planning, once the race actually starts all that stress and anxiety just melts away, and all there is left to do is run. All the hard work is done. The actual running of the race is the reward at the end of the long journey of getting to the starting line.

The first section is about 35 miles. Early on, everyone is bunched together pretty closely, and I talked to a number of different people as we took turns passing each other, settling into our own paces for the day. The trail is generally nice and firm, and the running is pretty easy. This first section is pretty flat, so if anything I have to force myself to slow down.

My wife joined me on this trip, although this race doesn’t allow for an actual “support” crew. She’s allowed to meet me at the checkpoints, which are certainly a mental pick-me-up, but she can’t actually provide me with any aid. There is a major road crossing around mile 18, where she met me to offer a quick cheer.

By this point, it’s mid-day and the temp has raised up into probably the low 30s. The trail is still nice and firm, but the jacket I have on is proving to be too heavy, and I feel like I’m getting overheated and sweating too much. In these winter ultras, you have to keep on top of your moisture management. If you get too hot and sweaty during the day, then that sweat will quickly cool you down when the temps drop at night. So I took a quick stop to take my jacket off, and throw on a thin quarter-zip shirt.

Before too much longer, I reached the first checkpoint at the Gateway General Store. I headed inside to warm up and get off my feet for a little while. One thing I like to do at winter ultras is to pack a smaller bag into my sled, that has everything I might want at the checkpoints, that I can easily grab and bring inside with me. This includes things like a change of shoes, extra socks, Body Glide, etc. For this race, I planned to change my socks at every checkpoint, and to change my shoes at the halfway point.

The race only provides water at this first checkpoint, but racers are free to buy whatever they want from the general store. So while the wonderful volunteers were refilling my water, I bought a cup of soup and a soda. I knew that I would be heading into the night pretty soon, so I figured it would be good to get some caffeine in me.

After just about an hour, I was headed out again. It was getting dark and the temp was already starting to drop, so I put my jacket back on, and pulled out my headlamp.

This next section turned out to be rough. The trail started to get a bit hillier, but nothing too terrible. More than anything, I got super tired. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so sleepy during an ultra before. I normally don’t sleep during these races, and will have maybe 30 minutes or so that I feel sleepy and have to fight through that, but this feeling just kept going on and on. At one point I stopped and took a caffeine pill. Later I stopped again and made myself a cup of instant coffee (I had one of my bottles filled with hot water back at the first checkpoint). None of that seemed to help. I started sleep walking pretty bad. At one point I suddenly found myself just standing in the middle of the trail, not moving. Several times I snapped out of it just as I was walking off the side of the trail into a snow bank.

Eventually I mostly snapped out of this funk, and by then I was getting pretty close to the 2nd checkpoint at mile 70, at Melgeorge’s Lodge. The race has a large cabin rented out, where they are making warm food, and there are some beds if you want to take a nap. Earlier in the night I was thinking I’d need to take a nap here, but of course by the time I actually got there (I think it was around 5AM), I was actually feeling pretty good, and I knew the sun coming up soon would help.

Here I had a cup of soup, a grilled cheese sandwich, and several cups of Coke. I also changed my socks and shoes as planned. I kept my socks off for most of the time I was there to let my feet dry out, but overall they were in pretty good shape so far. They also allow drop bags at this checkpoint (food only), so I grabbed that to restock my sled. After about an hour again, I was headed back out. It was still dark outside, but I knew the sun would start coming up in about another hour.

I was feeling awake and alert at this point, which was good, but this next section would turn out to be the most difficult of the entire race for me. First off, it’s the longest section between checkpoints (about 40 miles). It also warmed up a bunch during the day, and the snow was starting to get softer. To make matters worse, a trail groomer came through (twice – once in each direction), and just completely churned up the top couple inches of snow.

And then…came the hills. Lots of short, steep climbs that were difficult enough pulling the sled, made even harder by the mashed potato snow we were dealing with.

I started watching the elevation profile on my watch, counting the number of hills I had left until the 3rd and final checkpoint. Finally, I arrived at the Embark checkpoint at mile 110. This is a fairly no-frills checkpoint, with a large campfire burning and a heated canvas tent. No food but they did have several hot drink options. I headed inside the tent to sit down and get a good look at my feet. With how warm and churned up the snow was during the day, my feet had been wet for a considerable amount of time. I found that I had a few small blisters, but luckily nothing too concerning. I popped and drained them to relieve the pressure, and did my best to let me feet dry while I rested a bit.

I discovered that the shoes I had just changed into at the previous checkpoint were now wetter than the ones I had worn for the first 70 miles, so I decided to change back into those for the last section of the race. Once again, I stayed at this checkpoint for just about an hour before heading back out to face the final 25 miles. It was around 11PM, so I knew I would likely be in the dark the entire time. Before heading out, I made myself another instant coffee for a caffeine jolt. I could smell the finish line by this point, and I had no interest in taking a break to nap. I was told that there was really just one more big hill to climb shortly after leaving the checkpoint (affectionately named Wake ’em Up Hill), and then it was mostly flat to the finish.

I was able to run a little bit here and there during this section, but mostly it was just power hiking. That being said, I felt like I was able to keep a pretty good pace, especially considering I was 110+ miles into this race, and going on 40+ hours with no sleep. I kept a close eye on my pace on my watch, using it as a distraction, and a way to keep me focused and alert as I went into the 2nd night. I was excited when I passed 2 other people on foot during this last section, and I just tried to keep focused on maintaining a brisk pace, and really making good use of my trekking poles.

As these last miles ticked by, the lack of sleep was really starting to get to me. I didn’t feel sleepy in quite the same way I did that first night, but I knew I needed to do something to keep me alert and moving well. The hallucinations were also getting pretty bad – nothing really crazy, but just seeing lots of things on the side of the trail that ended up being snow piles and tree branches. I don’t normally listen to music much during these races, but I knew I needed something to occupy my mind. So I popped in one earbud (I like to keep the other ear open so I can still hear what’s going on around me), and started singing out loud to every song that came on. This actually worked really well for me – the sleepiness was wearing off, although the hallucinations were still in full force

I started doing some mental math, and realized that if I could keep up my current pace, I could finish in under 48 hours. The final cutoff for the race is 60 hours, so this number really didn’t mean anything in the big scheme of things, but it was something to keep me motivated and to keep my mind occupied.

Eventually, I could see the lights of Fortune Bay Casino, and I know that my long journey was almost over. There are a few final twists and turns in the trail, and you don’t get there quite as quickly as you think you will. My wife must have caught a glimpse of my light, because I heard her screaming before I saw the finish line myself. But then it was there, and I picked up the pace a bit, and jogged into the finish. I crossed the finish line 47 hours and 21 minutes after leaving the start back in International Falls. I was 14th out of 40 finishers on foot (out of 74 who started).

Everything about this race was great. The race directors, the volunteers, and the other racers were all fantastic. Even though I wasn’t a local, and came into this race not knowing anybody, it was easy to make friends on the trail, and people seemed excited to cheer on the guy from Alaska.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

After deciding to drop down to a single pole, the next decision was how to attach it to my sled. Previously, I just used rope running up the center of the pole, which is effective, but doesn’t do much for stability. Since I’d be losing the stability of the double pole setup, I wanted to do something different. I bought some stiff rubber tubing, cut it in half lengthwise, and used that to attach the pole to my sled, and to my belt. The tubing is stiff enough that it doesn’t allow the sled to flop around, but has enough give to act as a mini shock absorber.

Here’s the finished product:

So far this winter, I’ve been able to get in several good long runs pulling my sled. Many of them have been with friends pulling their sleds, who are training for Susitna as well. At least I’m not the only weirdo out there running around on the trails dragging a sled behind me! 

This summer, I’ve been doing as much climbing as possible to prepare myself for this race. Earlier this month, I did the Alyeska Climbathon, which is a timed race where you climb the Alyeska North Face trail as many times as you can in 10 hours. Each lap is around 2.25 miles up, with 2,200 feet of climbing. After reaching the top, you take the tram back down and start the next climb. I ended up completing 6 laps for just over 13,000 feet of climbing for the day.

Photo by Andy Romang

The weekend before that, I ran the Day at the Beach 24 hour race. I wanted to take it relatively easy, since it was only 4 weeks out from Bear. The race was from noon on Saturday to noon on Sunday, so around 1:00 AM Sunday morning when I started getting sleepy, I went and slept in my truck for about 5 hours. Considering the long break, and that it’s a really hilly course, I felt pretty good about getting in 66 miles, which was good enough for 3rd place.

Now that race week is upon me, I’m keeping my eyes firmly planted on the weather report for Friday and Saturday. Right now they’re calling for a high in the mid-to-upper 70s, with an overnight low in the low 40s or even high 30s. That high temp is a little warmer than I would like, although that will be nothing compared to the 100+ temps I faced when I DNF’d at Pine to Palm a few years ago.

If I can manage to survive through the heat of the day, the cold of the night, and all the relentless climbing in under 36 hours, I’ll be rewarded with one of these sweet babies:

Technically, this race offers 3 different belt buckles depending on finishing time (under 24 hours, 24-30 hours, 30-36 hours). I think that’s a pretty neat touch, but I know that this is going to be a very difficult race, and in all honesty I’ll just be happy to finish under the cutoff.

If you’re so inclined, I’m bib #311, and live tracking will be available on race day.

I feel much more confident going into the race this year, now having done it once before. With a long race like this in the winter, there are just so many different variables and things that can go wrong. I’ve already got my sled situation figured out, and I won’t have a camera crew following me this year, all I have to do is run 100 miles in the middle of the Alaskan winter – easy peasy!

I’ve had the good fortune lately to be able to do most of my long runs with a group, which has certainly helped. Two weekends ago, I ran a 30 miler pulling my sled in single digit temperatures, and was very thankful to have friends out there with me.

There have been many early mornings in the past weeks and months, preparing my body and mind for the many long miles that await me at Susitna.

I’m looking forward not only to the challenge of the race, but also to being “out there” for many hours with friends old and new. I’ve said it before, but especially up here with a relatively small ultra community, these races are a lot like a family reunion. I can’t wait to see everyone and spend some (or a lot of) time on the trail with them.