Northstar Bicycle Race : Sept 2025
- Todd Hunter
- Sep 13
- 8 min read
Updated: Sep 14
The Race:
7am Weds start from Mississippi River in St. Paul.
22 riders signed up; 19 started; 14 (?) finished.
314 miles to Grand Portage Visitor Center/Rest Stop at Canadian Border; turn around and go back.
7th Place Finish at 52 h 13 min (time according to Coros)
My Stats:
Riding Time: 44 hr 32 min
Not Bike Time: 7 hr and 42 min
Sleeping: 2 hrs 34 minutes total
Tettegouche Nap: 15 min
Lutsen Fika Coffee Porch Nap: 20 min
Kadunce River Bivy: 80 min
Munger Return Nap 1: 15 min
Munger Return Nap 2: 8 min
Munger Return Nap 3: 8 min
Munger Return Nap 4: 8 min
Gas Station Pizza Meals: 4
Gas Station Sandwiches: At least 8
Race or Ride?
I'm still relatively inexperienced when it comes to racing bikes, but I've found myself at enough starting lines now to start to understand the difference, and the joy, of racing versus riding. Taking the train to Whitefish and riding for 18 days on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route is pure bliss. Not to say its easy. There is still bad weather, stress of navigating and resupply and finding water, fatigue, pain, etc. But riding is a state whose mindset allows for such a wide variety of responses to be possible. Take a left to check out a lake? Sure! Stop early because this camp spot looks amazing? Do it! Found a park with actual green grass and feel a nap is appropriate? Why not?! Want a rest day? Go for it. But racing is different. Not better. I wouldn't say I prefer one over the other.
When you line up with other racers, there is a bit of magic right there at the starting line. An energy that permeates the space, originating from the agreement that we are all going to tackle this experience and whatever it may bring, the good and bad, together. The bigger and more audacious the challenge the stronger the unspoken threads are. Like at a concert before the music starts, but our outfits are tighter and we have more snacks. Sharing things, experiences, with others seems rarer these days. I tend to be quiet at the start. I like to listen and feel. It reminds me of gearing up for a big climb in my younger days.
Some races you line up at the start and you know its going to be a ride. Like the Lutsen 39er last year. Didn't train. Just going to spin, finish, and enjoy. Still fun, but not a race. And some you line up for and know that this is going to be a race, because you did what you could and you know what you are ready to do. You're ready to put it all out there.
Mode Switch:
It was around mile 475, starting the climb out of the St. Louis River valley on the Munger that I knew it was time to switch modes. Miles 0 - 475 were all about riding right at the line of sustainable effort. The goal was to go as hard as possible without crossing the line of no return. Delicately dance just on the safe side, knowing that with a short rest and stretch you'd be set to go again for a few more hours.
At mile 475, with only 155 miles left (that sounds ridiculous right now), I decided to cross to the other side and start burning, because it's a race. I wanted to know what it'd be like to finish on empty, to say I didn't have anything else left. To push and dig hard and ignore the pain and find whatever was waiting on the other side of that line. We tell ourselves we need this and that and there is no way we could do x or y... but what if you tried, even if just for a little bit? Cross the line. Don't sleep. Just keep riding. Deal with whatever you find, maybe you'll be surprised by what's over there? We don't cross that line very often, if ever.
Recovering:
I finished physically wrecked and mentally depleted. See bullet points below for details. Finishing this writing about 40 hours post-race end, my knees and right ankle are still swollen, my hands and feet have permanent "fell asleep" tingles, and the healing on my tender, bruised nether regions has entered the annoyingly itchy stage. My stomach has calmed down from its Kwik-Trip chicken fueled labor strike, and my appetite is starting to return. I'm still walking down stairs one at a time, sideways, and getting down onto and up from the toilet is a very real challenge. I made myself mow the lawn yesterday, 24 hours after finishing, with the hope that moving a bit would help. It did, but I only finished half the yard with my little push mower. I don't have a sleep schedule at the moment, but my body sure does like to take naps.
I'm pretty stoked about it all. I'm recovering faster that I thought. I performed better than I thought I would given the training invested and the conditions dealt. It feels good, even with all the physical not feeling good things my body is managing right now, to know what you can only know by doing the thing.
Rememberings:
Before I forget things... so much happened that its already melting together.
NORTH:
Roll-Out: Chill, good vibes and energy. Humid, calm air. Wide variety of rigs and amounts of gear; some obviously not planning on sleeping out of doors. Stayed decently close for first 10 miles, slowly spreading as we came around Whitebear Lake.
Pine City Holiday was the last overlap with multiple riders for quite awhile; we all rolled on per our own flow; rode solo now till east Duluth.
Headwinds just enough there to be a pain; clear skies till rolling into the dense fog of Superior in Duluth.
Intersected with Ross and Leah G (separately yet unknowingly togther) in Canal Park. Ross tried to keep up along lakewalk on rented scooter... hilarious.
Connected with Ross and Christian at Holiday where the lakewalk ended; 10 min pizza and Gatorade load up; fellow riders passed by.
Scenic Hwy to Two Harbors at sunset, interspersed with dense fog hiding the lake as the world went dark. Kwik Trip in TH found 3 others all bundling up with extra layers.
Right knee starting to hurt.
Rolling north; fog becoming dense and wet; can't wear glasses; eyes bugging out.
Tried 15 min nap in warmth of Tettegouche Visitors center = not great.
Slept hard for 15 min on bench under covered porch of Fika Coffee in Lutsen around 2 or 3 am ish?
Race leader passed me going other way (back!) just before Cascade River = insane!
Eventually made it to Grand Marais, lost track of other riders when stopped at Tettegouche; new rider joined me on descent in GM after bivying at Cutface creek for awhile to warm up; going fast!
5ish miles out of GM decided that the benefit of forward progress in the cold and wet was less than the value of getting some sleep in the bivy. Found flat grassy spot where Kadunce River met the lake, laid out the bivy, got in with everything but helmet still on, set alarm for 80 min, and passed out fast.
Rolling again at 6 am ish. Still misting, but as sun brightened the sky fog started to rise.
Shortly passed by rider who hotelled in GM. Was expecting to see many riders passing me as they headed back from turn-around because they passed me while sleeping... only saw one till Grand Portage casino... was I not dead last like I thought? Wasn't allowing myself to check the tracker.
Mt. Josephine is a jerk. Passed 2 riders heading up while I raced down backside.
Made it to border; 15 min to stretch, eat, refill liquids. Quiet. Chill. Warm inside.
SOUTH
9am-ish turn around.
Slight tailwind plus clearing views made for improving spirits.
Flying south; hating traffic on narrow shoulders; loving tailwind and views. Not loving right Achilles pain.
Mental ranting about the engineer who designed the Gitchee-Gummi trail with 7% grades... not family friendly. And not 400 mile-tired legs friendly.
Keeping the stops short and functional to make the most of the tailwinds and daylight - darkness found me on the scenic hwy between Two Harbors and Duluth. Passed a fancy jeep that lost control and rolled itself... whoopsies.
Found Darcy, Christian, and Fam waiting just past Holiday on eastside. Spirits high. Wove through Duluth, found Kurt walking dog by Bent Paddle. Spirits higher. Tailwinds strong.
10pm stock-up at Kwik-Trip just before getting onto Munger- extra drink and food given late night roll down the quiet Munger. Enter the chicken sandwich that killed me. Why was it so squishy?
Slow roll up and out of Duluth on Munger. Forced myself to eat 2nd sandwich (weird waffle egg sausage thing) at the top while pedaling. Gross.
Stomach starts to turn on me. Knee and Achillies not good.
Decide to look at tracker... big gap behind me, closing on riders in front of me...
Conclusion = ignore pain and rock the tailwind, because you're racing and its only 140 more miles... (will regret this choice later).
Dialed in with music for the first time, flying through the dark... feeling the mental fog set in.
Trying to close the gap between me and rider stopped in Hinkley.
Took an 8 min nap on a bench = recharged for an hour.
Headlights dying. Swapping a good one while the other charges from battery bank.
Tried another 8 min nap... got freaked out by crazy animal sounds = nope! Back on bike and riding.
Made it to Hinkley just after 4am; other rider moving. Stretched, forced myself to drink energy coffee drink I'd been carrying from Duluth... stomach not happy about that but head liked the caffeine.
Rolled out of Hinkley at 4:30, enjoyed the quiet road shoulder.
Can't eat. Want to vomit.
Make it to Rush City at sunrise, 8 min nap on pavement in front of service station = too many people to actually sleep.
As sun rises wind picks up with the traffic as the quality of the shoulder plummets. Raging a little bit at the cars that refuse to move over...
Starting to crash hard. Regretting the long hard push through the night in attempt to "race".
Can't eat. Maybe should make myself throw up?
Finally make it to paved trail in North Branch and off busy roads.
Wind is being an ever-increasing jerk in my face.
So tired I just lay down in middle of the trail, hoping another trial user doesn't find me a call 911... 8 min hard nap and onwards.
Winds whipping. I never want to ride the Forest Lake to Hugo section again.
Takes forever to get through city; sun is strong, wind meets me at every turn it seems, and new hills seem to have grown since rolling this section at the start of the race.
Best thing ever hopping onto Gateway Trail and escaping the wind and finding a water refill.
Finally get to downhill of the finish.
Met by 2 riders at the end. Best, most perfect, appropriate finish ever.
Chill and wait for bestest friend ever Mark to come pick me up so I don't have to ride out of the Mississippi River valley to his house and my car.
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