On a February morning in 2006, the ground in the Kabetogama State Forest of northern Minnesota was frozen and dead, a chalky medium that squeaked when I walked from the car pushing my bike. The air was sharp, elemental and shrill, hurtful to breathe even through a mask.
It was predawn on the Arrowhead State Trail, a multi-use track that connects International Falls to the town of Tower more than 100 miles to the south. My hands ached from the cold, and my fingers went numb within minutes as I got on my bike to pedal into wilderness as desolate as the dark side of the moon.
The Arrowhead 135 Ultramarathon, Minnesota's most extreme endurance race, had just begun. One woman and 31 men set off with headlamps and bike lights ablaze in the still, silent woods outside International Falls.
"Keep spinning, warm the toes," a fellow racer shouted, his masked face frosty, his body thickly bundled in Gore-Tex and wool. "Can't wait for that sun to rise!" he said.
Neither could I. On the horizon, beyond the black arms and silhouettes of the forest, blue and gold light was seeping up to initiate Day 1 of the race.
As ultras go, the Arrowhead 135 is an odd event, more akin to an Alaskan sled-dog epic than a century bike ride or triathlon. The race, which kicks off its fourth annual trek Monday, requires competitors to combine athletic strength with survivalism, sending cyclists, trekkers and skiers solo and unsupported along the race's namesake 135-mile remote and rolling course.
The Ironman this is not. No one is in the woods to cheer. There are no water stops or hand-out energy gels. On the Arrowhead Trail, you haul all your own food and gear. You melt snow with fire to make water. You sleep, if need be, on the ground, a black sky above, stars pricking through, wolf prints in the woods out beyond your packed platform in the snow.
You are given 60 hours to complete the course via one chosen mode of transportation -- foot, ski or bicycle in the snow. You get a map at the start and follow a trail that fades in and out -- with forks and intersections mostly unmarked -- and a spinning compass needle as your sole guide.