Feet shuffled uneasily in the soft grass, and a gentle morning breeze scattered nervous chatter as several hundred runners formed up at the starting line. A hush fell over the crowd as the moment arrived. Muscles tensed, and then exploded in burst of energy as the mass of bodies quickly surged forward, eating up ground, and then . . . stopped running.

What on earth was going on here?

The answer is that it was the Equinox Marathon that was going on, and those first one hundred yards tell you al that you really need to know about the race. Standing in a field on the grounds of the University of Alaska in Fairbanks, runners look ahead from the starting line towards an imposing hill, looming in front of them like a wall. All but the strongest or most foolish of them realize that, for perhaps the first time in their running lives, they would be reduced to walking during the very first mile of a marathon. It’s a humbling moment, and it reveals a basic truth about the Equinox Marathon: a runner cannot impose his or her will on a race such as this; a runner can only do what the race will allow.
If that kind of race is not to your liking, you can better spend your time reading elsewhere. But if you’re the kind of runner who grins when you see the word “challenging” in a race course description, then stick around. You’re gonna like this one.

AN ALASKAN PRIMER

Some races seem ordinary and indistinguishable from any other, but others are unique, and inseparable from their location; they draw their character from the ground they cover. Few of us could imagine a Boston Marathon without a Heartbreak Hill, for example, or a New York City Marathon without a Verrazano Bridge race start. Never was this concept more true than at the Equinox. To really know the race, you have to know Alaska; to know one is to know the other, so that’s where we’ll start.

For those of us in the “Lower 48,” Alaska is perhaps as much of a concept as it is a place. In any crowded room, you’d be unlikely to find anyone who’s even been there. Most of us get our information about Alaska from watching nature shows about bears plucking salmon from some swollen river, or from articles detaining the debate over the merits of drilling for oil in the pristine Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. The real place is far more difficult to comprehend. It’s a truly vast area – at 587,874 square miles, it is fully one third the size of the continuous United States, but it is populated by only about 670,000 people, which all together would not even constitute a city in the Lower 48. First populated about 40,000 years ago by peoples from Asia crossing the ice bridge spanning the Bering Strait, it was “re-discovered” in the 18th century by the Russians, who established an Alaskan fur trade which thrived until the European wars of the 1860s. That conflict soured the business and prompted Russia to offer to sell its North American wilderness to the United States. The bargain was struck in 1867 at a price of about 2 cents an acre, although many observers ridiculed the deal as Seward’s Folly, after the Secretary of State who signed off on it. Seward had the last laugh, though, as the territory was discovered to be a bonanza of valuable natural resources. Whaling was the first industry to change the face of Alaska, but when gold was discovered in the territory in 1880, the public perception of Alaska would change forever.

The area that came to be known as Fairbanks is located roughly in the dead-center of the state. It had been already been occupied for thousands of years by native peoples when, in 1901, a fellow named E.T. Barnette steamed up the Tanana River with a 130-tons of goods. When the river became too shallow to pass, Barnette talked the boat captain into following the Chena River. When that, too, became too shallow, the Captain dumped Barnette on the shore with his wife and stock of goods. Barnette stuck it out, though, and was rewarded when gold was discovered the following year just 12 miles north of his camp. A boomtown quickly sprung up around Mr. Barnette, who became the first mayor of the town when it was incorporated in 1903. Barnette named his town Fairbanks, after the senator from Indiana who went on to become Teddy Roosevelt’s Vice-President. By 1908, Fairbanks had 18,000 residents, but the future wasn’t as rosy as it appeared. The cold permafrost didn’t give up its gold willingly, and miners had to build fired to heat the ground sufficiently to dig. Eventually, prospectors moved on to easier hunting grounds, and by 1920, Fairbanks’ population had shrunk to 1,000 people.

Fairbanks was not through, however. A few years later, the new railroads brought in big mining companies with more efficient excavation methods, and this second gold rush brought more lasting growth to the city. World War II also brought change, in the form of permanent military bases and new infrastructure built after the Japanese attacked the Attu and Aleutian Islands. After oil was discovered in Prudhoe Bay in the Arctic Ocean in 1968, the construction of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline brought another economic boom to the city, but this one was relatively short-lived. By the mid-1980s, Fairbanks was again in a slump. You just can’t seem to keep this old gal down, however. In the 1990s, the city rebounded with a surge in the tourist trade and resurgent gold mining, and that economic surge is still being felt today.

OK, SO YOU’VE MADE IT TO FAIRBANKS. NOW WHAT?

To be honest, Fairbanks these days is the kind of place most people would really call a city, since only some 30,000 people live in it, not counting the moose that are known to casually wander through. Just getting there is itself something of a challenge. Most would-be racers must first negotiate a series of long flights, layovers, and sprints through various airports as they make their way first to Anchorage, and then finally up to Fairbanks.

Describing what it’s like to be in downtown Fairbanks could be a tricky business, since, during the course of a year, temperatures can vary from minus 60 degrees to 90 degrees or more, and daylight varies from about 4 to virtually 24 hours. The Equinox is traditionally run in mid-September, however, and this is a particularly good time to be in Fairbanks, as the weather is usually 40 to 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Even so, it would not be unprecedented to encounter snow upon arrival for the race. Nevertheless, magic is literally in the air in Fairbanks in September, due to the aurora borealis, a natural phenomenon more commonly known as the northern lights. Caused by the interplay of solar wind and the Earth’s magnetic field, the northern lights fill the late summer Alaskan night with neon ribbons and curtains of red, green, and blue. Once seen, it can never be forgotten.

Most travelers journey to Alaska not for the sky, however, but for the land, and for a runner this is the greatest attraction and source of concern. Despite the encroachment of development and modern technology, Fairbanks is still defined by it’s topography. This statement is dramatically made by the 600-mile long Alaska Range, stretching out on the horizon. The crown jewel in this mountain chain is Mount McKinley, called Denali, meaning “the High One,” by the native Athabascan people and most Alaskans. Standing at 20,320 feet -- almost 4 miles high -- McKinley is the tallest peak in North America, with a greater height from base to summit than even Mt. Everest. It is so massive that it actually generates its own weather patterns, apart from the surrounding landscape.
Like children who learn their manners from their parents, the city of Fairbanks takes its cue from Denali, and undulates with wild abandon. It is a sprawling city, dominated by a modest downtown area, and by the University of Alaska campus. Local lodging is modest, consisting mostly of standard motel chains, but for those intrepid runners who want to stay someplace with a little more local flavor, the best bet is Billie’s Backpackers Hostel (www.AlaskaHostel.com; AKBillie@aol.com; (907) 479-2034), at 2895 Mack Boulevard. Close-by to the University and the race start, Billie’s is a brightly colored house with dorm lodging, where you can borrow a bicycle to tour the surrounding area, swap stories with Billie and the house guests, or walk up the street to a restaurant, an ice cream shop, or a local bookstore. At $25 per night, it’s a steal, as long as you don’t mind sharing room with other travelers.

Borrowing a bicycle might prove to be the most attractive feature of Billie’s since the Equinox’s packet pick-up is at the pasta feed at the Pump House Restaurant, several miles distant on Chena Pump Road. Once there, runners can buy gear at the modest little expo, consisting of a couple of tables and clothing racks, and then feast on the all-you-can-eat pasta and salad dinner, the proceeds of which benefit the local group that organizes the race, Running Club North. For out-of-towners, it’s a good opportunity watch the Chena River roll by as they mine the returning race veterans for tips on running the race. After all, it only takes a quick glance at the course elevation chart printed on the long-sleeve technical shirt to confirm that all those runners who collect the finisher’s award will have earned it the hard way. But more on that soon enough.

Touring Fairbanks is easy enough, and won’t really take very long. It’s a good idea to start off at the visitor’s center by Griffin Park, along the banks of the Chena River, for maps, sightseeing ideas, and the latest predictions for sighting the aurora borealis. September is actually the off season for visiting Fairbanks, but that won’t make spending a little time looking around any less rewarding. Go see Pioneer Park, where historic Alaskan log cabins have been moved to a 44-acre theme park for preservation. It might sound a tad on the cheesy side, but give it a chance; it’s worth checking out.

A more impressive sight, and certainly on the must-see list, is the Museum of the North on the University of Alaska campus. The university itself was created in 1917 by the territorial legislature, and the museum has only recently been expanded with a bold architectural design that evokes images alpine ridges and glaciers in its soaring and curving white façade. Inside you’ll find fascinating exhibits on the various regions of Alaska, including the state’s largest gold display, an extensive collection of Native art and artifacts, and “the Blue Babe,” a mummified, 36,000-year-old bison. From the lobby windows, you’ll be treated to a breathtaking view of the Alaskan Range mountains. If you step outside and walk a bit on campus, you can stop by the student sundries shop to stock up on UAF t-shirts for friends and family back home, and then you can walk over to the UAF Patty Center Gym, to see where you’ll be gathering for the race on Saturday morning. After all, you did come to Alaska to run a race, didn’t you?

TIME FOR THE CHALLENGE

The Equinox Marathon. Among those who calculate such things, it’s easily on the list of the top ten toughest marathons in the United States. Some claim that it owns the number two spot on the list, right behind the Pikes Peak Marathon, but wherever it is on the list, and whatever races you might have run before, you can expect something different in Alaska. Remember: this is the city which also hosts the Beat Beethoven 5k in April, in which runners race around the UAF campus as the strains of Beethoven’s 5th symphony fill the air. Those runners who manage to cross the finish line before the music stops win free tickets to a proper performance of the Fairbanks Symphony or Arctic Chamber Orchestra later in the year. As I say, nothing here is as it is back home.

First run in 1963, the Equinox Marathon was originally popular with hikers, drawing over 1,000 trekkers in the late 1960s. Over the years, interest in hiking the course has waned, and today it is mostly a marathon for runners, who can only hope not to become hikers during the course of the race. The race begins at an elevation of 500 feet, but runners will climb up to 2,300 feet before they’re through, covering several major ascents and descents along the way. The course record is 2:41:20 for men and 3:18:16 for women, but don’t let those fast times deceive you; would-be runners are warned to add a half-hour to their flat-land marathon time to get an idea of what they could expect to do in Fairbanks. Don’t let that deter you from doing the Equinox Marathon, though; runners posting reviews on the www.Marathonguide.com website rate the race 5 out of 5 stars for it’s course and organization. So go to Fairbanks, but just don’t expect to get a PR.

Perhaps because of the relatively remote location of the race, as well as its difficulty, the Equinox Marathon attracts a small field; there are usually no more than 350 people participating in the full marathon. But if you’ve only run the big marathons, like Chicago or New York, don’t worry; you won’t be lonely. Although most runners are locals, many of the states in the Lower 48 are also represented. In recent years, there have even been runners from Japan and Germany. And though there will be no huge cheering crowds lining the course, runners can count on the enthusiastic support of the volunteers manning the 8 support stations.

On race morning, late-comers can pick up their numbers in the UAF Patty Center Gym between 6 and 7 a.m., where all the runners will eventually gather to avoid the chill morning air and to receive last minute instructions from the race director. A three-part marathon relay is also a big part of race day, and it’s worth sticking around to hear their often hilarious names called out as the 60 or so relay teams pick up their bibs. Immediately afterwards, all runners head out to the adjacent field and await the 8 a.m. race start.

And then it’s the short sprint to the UAF sledding and ski hill, and with it, the first bit of walking. After that humbling start, the course settles down a little bit as runners follow a scenic loop around the university along heavily wooded running paths and ski trails, carpeted with fallen birch leaves. Runners continue past the university’s musk ox farm, where researchers study this unique arctic animal. Don’t let the gently rolling hills lull you into a sense of complacency, though, because up ahead is the big challenge; an ascent of Estes Dome.
After emerging from the woods, runners begin their climb at mile 9. For the next 4 miles they scale 1,800 feet, but are finally rewarded – weather permitting – with spectacular views of Denali and the Alaskan Range stretching out majestically before them. Savvy runners pull cameras out of their fanny pack at the 2,300 foot summit of Estes Dome and ask one of the volunteers to memorialize their accomplishment with a photo.

The euphoria of conquering the Dome is short lived, though, as the race continues along a difficult out-and-back route across hilltops and valleys to the turnaround at mile 14.9. On this stretch, runners must make their way along a rollercoaster dirt road, and then head up onto a narrow trail. Eventually, they find the turnaround, consisting of two volunteers manning a table. Not a particularly impressive sight, but still a very welcome one to the weary runners.
After retracing their steps back to the Dome, runners can grab some cookies and drinks from the aid station there before veering off the road and down The Chute, a short but precipitous quad-burning descent along a fire break. After that, it’s back into the woods. The final nine miles of the course is a trek through the forest, with some road running, as runners descend 1,200 feet on their way back to the UAF campus. But just as runners are lulled into a sense of complacency with the gentle trails along this final stretch, the Equinox marathon throws in one final, brutal challenge: a step hill to climb and descend in the final mile. Somehow, it seems fitting.

After such an epic journey, runners might feel that they’re entitled to pass through a triumphant Roman arch, but instead, the actual finish line consists of a single roped-off chute set in a field, manned by a few volunteers, and surrounded by a dozen or so well-wishers. Stranger still is the reward for conquering the Equinox Marathon; instead of a gaudy medal or plaque, all runners and hikers who complete the course within 10 hours are handed a small triangular patch, on which is embroidered “Equinox Marathon, 26 mi 385 yds, Running Club North.” As runners graze at the snacks set out on the folding tables just past the finish line, runners quickly recognize that modest though the award may be, it might also be one of the most highly prized possessions a marathoner can own.
The full Equinox Marathon experience doesn’t end after crossing the finish line, though. After enjoying a well-earned shower in the Patty Center, and then heading off for a rest, runners can return for the awards ceremony and results booklet distribution, which is held later that evening in the University Community Presbyterian Church Fellowship Hall. The informal, Alaskan sense of community is on full display, as the Running Club North provides the pizza, and everyone is expected to help out with the potluck dessert. In addition to the usual overall and age group awards, the club also presents the Equinox Award, which is given to the person who has demonstrated sportsmanship, enthusiasm, and the spirit of the running community. This feels like a fitting end to a race that doesn’t provide a lot of the frills found in the more famous marathons of the Lower 48, but which leaves all participants with a fuller appreciation of the spirit of the marathon.