The event started out well without much drama. It was -21 so I was glad to be moving and not standing around. A steady pace and 35 miles in I got to the first checkpoint. I was in good shape but spent too much time there. A few of us were traveling as a group, so it took us awhile to get our act together and get moving again. The checkpoint referred to as "Gateway" was the Gateway General store, which is a c-store located in the middle of nowhere along the highway. They have a computer there you can use and I teased a participant for spending too much time updating his Facebook status. Some used the time to dry off their clothes, some to sleep and some spent the time to chat a bit as you don't get to see too many others out on the trail.
As we sat around the table, one fellow who was pretty quiet was shivering. He said he was having a hard time warming up. After a half hour he was no better, so I went and got an EMT to check on him. They found that he was hypothermic and explained to him that they would need to get some blankets and a heater on him right away as his body was incapable of warming itself up. Not long after, I was walking around the store and came across another fellow in the same shape. EMT said he was hypothermic too. Soon he was under a blanket in front of a heater as well.
The checkpoint was a nice break from the grind on the trail. As it became clear that it was time to get going, you could see fear in some of the other competitors eyes as I looked around the store. You could tell they wanted to continue the race but leaving a safe, warm place to face an all-nighter at -20 with your only safety net a sleeping bag is a little scary. Soul searching time. I did no arm twisting but only asked if they were prepared and knowledgeable in using their equipment. The ones that weren't called it a day. A lot of people usually drop at Gateway.
Once back on the trail, it seemed like we had a hard time finding a good pace that everyone was happy with and we started to fracture. I did not want to see anyone left behind, so I brought up the rear. I could only go at this really slow pace for so long and I had to leave my companions on their own. I knew it was only a matter of time before they would drop and they did before reaching the half way point. At about 4:30 a.m. I became so tired that I could not stay awake. Kind of odd as I have been on my feet for a longer period many times and never had the sleep monster get me. Sleeping right on the trail is frowned upon and plowing into waist high snow is not fun. A snowmobile track just off the trail was the first viable opportunity for some sleep so I took it. My clothes were a bit wet from sweating and being I had a Gore Tex shell on, the inside of my jacket froze immediately when I stopped. I took that jacket off knowing I would not be able to put it back on. I had a spare, dry jacket in my sled. It is a down jacket that stuffs into it's own pocket that I use for a pillow. I slept for about an hour and was on my way again feeling somewhat renewed. After a couple miles down the trail, it was now daylight and a biker came up behind me as I was going downhill on a corner. I was right in his path. Being he was traveling much faster than I was, I had no time to react. He jackknifed his bike launching himself over his handlebars. He flew about 8 feet into some soft snow. I apologized profusely. He just said "No problem", got on his bike and pedaled away.
I reached the halfway point and would have to say all was well. I didn't get much rest but got my clothes dried, some food in my stomach and again was back on my way. I felt really good and was making good time. I caught up to my friend, Joe, just before a trail shelter at mile 83. He was just starting to get a bit delirious and was looking for a place to sleep. I told him there was a trail shelter a quarter mile ahead so we headed there together. It was about 7 p.m. when we got there. I sat down, ate something and we chatted while he set up his sleeping arrangement. He jumped in and I headed off.
I felt very strong and energized as I crossed the 85 mile mark where I had stopped the previous year. Shortly after that is a highway crossing where a pickup was parked. In it was a woman whose husband was patrolling the trails giving rides to Arrowhead people who were calling it a day. She was kind enough to be watching out for the safety of the competitors crossing the road and to be giving racers information about the upcoming section of the trail. She mentioned that there was a trail shelter ahead. I figured that I should get there at about 11 p.m. which would be a good time for me to sleep. She also mentioned that there was another shelter about 12 miles past the first one. I felt so good I thought maybe I should head for that one. It was -19 at the time, which kind of takes the fun out of jumping into a sleeping bag, plus when you stop moving you get cold really fast. Little did I know that only a few miles down the trail at around 8:30 p.m., I would begin struggling to maintain a decent pace and to stay awake. There was an Italian guy that I caught up to and tried to communicate with though it was futile. I don't know if he was incoherent or didn't speak any English. We were both staggering around on the trail trying our best to stay awake. Obviously, my focus now was to get to the closest trail shelter and get some sleep. 11 o'clock came and I wasn't there yet because my pace had slowed so much. Doing the math in my head, the finish line within 60 hours began to look like an impossibility. Either way, I had to rest. I made it to the trail shelter at midnight, set up my bivy and jumped in. I was warm, safe, resting and for the most part, still making good decisions. At least as far as my safety was concerned. It was at least -20 at this point. So there I was curled up in my bag safe and warm and just a little bit delirious. I was ready to be done. I was a bit concerned before I reached the shelter as I had been seeing alot of things that really weren't there. Mostly animals. I had slept for less than an hour when a snowmobiler came and woke me and asked if I was doing OK. I told him I was done and he started making arrangements to get me out of there and to safety. In my head, I did the math and had convinced myself that I could not make the finish within 60 hours so I might as well quit. My math was wrong. I think it was wrong because I wanted it to be wrong. I could have slept until 4 a.m. and still made it in time. I was down and out and made a wrong call. Not necessarily a bad call as I always would prefer to error on the side of conservancy. I got my snowmobile ride out of there and was still seeing things that weren't there when we pulled into the little town of Orr to meet up with a vehicle that would get me to the finish line hotel. We were waiting as the snowmobiler made one last pass down the trail to look for people and sure enough, he came back with another person who dropped out. It was about 3 a.m. now and the fellow that was picked up had made it about 108 miles. When he got in the SUV and we started chatting, he told me that he was 0 for 3 at Arrowhead and that was the way it would forever be. Too dangerous. Too difficult. Too much effort to not make it to the end. I got a sense from a lot of the people that have never finished in multiple tries that they want to finish it so they don't ever have to come back again. This fellow, after 3 attempts, vowed to never return. We'll see. I bet he'll be back next year.
As for me, the romance with Arrowhead is still there albeit a bad one. There were many times out on the trail I praised its beauty and said out loud, "What a treat". I felt very lucky to be where I was. For next year, I'm not sure if I should respect it or attack it. So far I have been pretty respectful and in my 2 attempts it has gotten the best of me. Do I come back on my 3rd attempt for revenge? Either way, I will be back. As far as my DNF, I've changed my mind a bit and am looking at it as a blessing. As my buddy Tim says, "Every run is a training run". I like learning. I don't mind failing. What I do mind is not trying. I have proven that though this event is extreme, I can participate in a safe manner. I will continue to learn, do what I can and take what the Arrowhead Trail will give me and maybe someday, it will be kind enough to let me cross the finish line.
"It is the greatest of all mistakes to do nothing because you can only do little - do what you can." -- Sydney Smith
