On top of the world

Editor's note: Lisa Paulos, 55, is a Dubuque native who has lived in Cedar Rapids since 1982. She finished the Arrowhead 135 on foot in 2012 in her second attempt. Last year she wasn't as fortunate, but finished again this year.

By Lisa Paulos, community contributor

INTERNATIONAL FALLS, Minn. - In the three years since finishing Arrowhead in 2012, I forgot how hard this race was.

When the debilitating cold temperatures are taken out of the equation, other difficult factors rise to the top. Who would guess the 'Icebox of the Nation” would yield low temperatures at plus-20 degrees and highs at 30 for three consecutive days in January?

Overdressing was the danger this year. Another variable in the mixed bag was sharing 131 of the 135 miles with my good friend, Laurie Tulchin.

While the race is the same as in 2012, the experience was not.

Race morning greeted us with almost three inches of new snow and pleasant temperatures. The footing was below average for us the entire race. The snow moved around under our feet and never firmed up. Off we went among 66 other competitors on foot, including a record 13 women.

The 'complaint department” is never open at Arrowhead 135.

Almost 11 hours and 36 miles later we arrived at Gateway Store, Check Point 1. It was dark. Eating, drinking, stocking up for the next 36 miles took us 45 minutes. Thank you Jim Glasgow. It was peaceful for several miles as we had the trail to ourselves.

There is a rhythm to foot travel in the snow. A high point was passing Sheep Ranch Road, where cold conditions forced us to quit last year. The hills and minimal stops kept us warm and comfortable. At 6:30 a.m., 14 hours and 36 miles after leaving Gateway, we saw signs and reflectors guiding us onto Elephant Lake. The halfway cabin at mile 72 was just a mile across the frozen lake. The flat ice with packed snow was easy traveling. As we rounded the curve we could see the cabins of MelGeroge's Resort and the small but recognizable figure of Jim Glasgow out on the ice.

We had less than three hours of luxury after checking into the race cabin. We ate, drank, restocked for the long 40 mile section ahead and 'rested” for an hour. We were officially out the door before noon.

We warmed up quickly on the first of countless hills. Daylight is a luxury and we enjoyed the beautiful scenery of snow covered trees and the occasional glimpse of where the trail was taking us. Some of the early hills were so long and steep we felt we were climbing to the top of the world. We continued on in high spirits, anticipating a little break before dark at Shelter 6, mile 86.

There is an Arrowhead truth when traveling on foot. With no mile markers along the trail, landmarks always are farther than you think. Consequently, it takes longer to reach them. I didn't feel tired, but at one point I was startled when my peripheral vision thought it saw a black monkey moving in a nearby tree.

It was well after dark when we passed Shelter 6. We got headlamps out and rearranged food for the night earlier along the trail. Shelter 7 was 12 miles ahead at mile 98. The hills were nearly constant. We had our pick between short and steep, long and steeper or ridiculously long and straight up with no end in sight.

We forged on together unless I lagged behind on the uphills. Riding the skis on my kick sled when it looked safe allowed me to catch up to Laurie on some of the downhills. I was tiring. It began to snow. There was no way to know if it was a quick shower or if inches would blanket us.

Shelter 7 was a haven for me in 2012. There is a long bench built into the wall where I knew we could rest for a few minutes off the trail. Closing my eyes and laying down for even 15 minutes was my primary focus. Finally we saw red blinking lights ahead and knew we made it to the shelter. There were two people bivying just off the trail. There were a couple pulks and at least one bike resting in the snow. As we approached the shelter, we saw a guy in his sleeping bag spread out on the entire bench. Do you think he moved an inch to accommodate us? No. And he wasn't even sleeping, he was checking his phone.

Laurie and I sat next to each other on the bench for the briefest time, then got up. I used the outhouse. At least no one was sleeping in there.

It must have been around 1:30 a.m. when we continued on. Our beacon 12 miles ahead was the mostly outdoor, minimally stocked SkiPulk Check Point 3. I was getting very tired. With the slow footing and hills, hills and hills, I knew we were traveling at less than 3 miles per hour. We were together alone, with an occasional person passing us.

Hours passed. SkiPulk is located in a low area on the trail. As long as we kept going up and down we were there. Perhaps it did not exist. I had to rest somewhere or I would not finish. I was so tired. We were among other racers on foot now and everyone voiced frustration with finding the check point.

'We've been looking for it for 8 miles.”

At 6:15 a.m., we glimpsed the first blinking red lights, then saw flames from the bonfire and smelled the burning wood. The atmosphere was eerie. It was not even close to sunrise, so the only light was from headlamps, red blinking lights and the flickering shadows from the fire. The trail was a narrow mash of footprints in slushy snow and ice.

Hot water was in high demand, the excess spilling everywhere. I toted a bag of dehydrated mashed potato and a pat of butter for this moment. I planned to make the potatoes in the bag, melt the butter and refuel myself for the remaining 25 miles. There were powdered cocoa packets that sounded delicious. I had neither, I don't know why. I had a bit of Laurie's Stove Top Stuffing and drank some water. I unzipped the non-traditional Teepee and went inside. I laid down on one of the carpets and shut my eyes. Laurie knew I needed at least 15 minutes to rest.

In less than one minute, we heard our friend Larry Sandhaas's voice. He had bivied for four hours on the trail and he was going to 'haul ass” to the finish. I figured Laurie would go with him and I will finish on my own a little later. She didn't, and I took that as my cue to get up and get going. I filled an empty plastic Coke bottle with more Coke and threw three generic store-bought chocolate chip cookies in my food box. Our friend Bonnie pulled into SkiPulk shortly after us. She was suffering with a shoulder injury and was uncertain of her plans.

At least it was nearing daybreak when we checked out of SkiPulk at 7:07 a.m. In two miles, there was the last huge up and downhill, then we would be on the final mind-numbing, endless, monotonous, slightly uphill 25 miles through pine trees, swampland and scrubby bushes and grass with no signs of life except crossing the occasional road to nowhere.

At an optimistic 3 mph, we would cross the finish Line at Fortune Bay Casino near Tower, Minn., around 4 p.m.

We continued, one foot in front of the other for hours. Occasionally someone would pass us. We're not fast walkers and kept to our pace. Recreational snow mobilers would pass us from time to time. Any sign of life was welcome. We saw no wildlife during the race except one small mouse moving through the deep snow and a bird or two.

High points of the event are diminished by this final stretch. It's so boring and long, endless to the tired mind and feet. We looked at my maps and figured we were about five miles from the finish. Our spirits were high until snow maching volunteer Todd Gabrielson told us we actually were 8.6 miles from the finish. Laurie would have none of that. We started running. It was our only recourse to get finished sooner.

The trail was slightly uphill and straight. Ahead we could see the horizon meet the trail. We ran and walked. A bit later, Todd passed us again alerting us to fellow racer Joy Parker ahead. Laurie pulled away from me and I could see her stop and talk with Joy, then continue on. Minutes later I stopped. Joy was at an impasse, four miles from the finish. She was experiencing breathing problems that began during the night. She was disconnected from her nearby pulk and had most of her emergency clothing on. She said she could not walk.

Joy is my Arrowhead friend with two attempts and no finishes to her credit. She is capable, but had bad luck the two years she entered. Rule No. 4 states racers can help other racers. No one else was around. There was time. I put her pulk harness on myself, told her to sit on her gear and we set off toward the finish line.

It was slow going, but we were heading in the right direction. After a mile, I was running out of energy. I called Todd. Three more miles didn't seem possible. He approached us on his snow machine. He and Joy talked. She started walking slowly, aided by her trekking poles. I continued to push my sled and pull her pulk. I put on all the clothes I had. I wasn't producing any heat with this low energy expenditure.

I thought of Laurie crossing the finish line and was happy for her. Because of her relentless push to keep us both moving, I arrived at just the right time to help Joy. Who knew? I was thrilled when Joy said she could walk a little faster. We crossed the road onto the Fortune Bay property and had 1 1/2 miles to the finish. It seemed to take forever. We saw a grooming machine, orange snow fence, buildings and finally the glow over the last hill of the finish line.

There were lots of people outside and everyone was really happy. I felt neither inconvenienced or detained during the final four miles. It was a pleasure to help Joy feel the relief and accomplishment of finishing the Arrowhead 135.

'We're Arrowhead sisters now,” she said.

There is a saying 'it is in giving that we receive” that sums up the miles I spent with Laurie Tulchin, Todd Gabrielson and Joy Parker. Each of us on both sides as the race unfolded.