2021 North Star Bicycle Race: Event Recap

Words by Leah Gruhn (@leahgruhn), photos by Dylan Izquierdo and Aaron Ehlers (@aaronehlers)

The North Star Bicycle Race (NSBR) is an unsupported, single-stage 629.4-mile bikepacking road race in Minnesota. The fourth annual race was held in September 2021 on a route that stretches from downtown St. Paul northward to Duluth (the Zenith City located on Lake Superior), along the north shore of Lake Superior to the Canadian border (at Grand Portage, MN), then retracing the route back again. The course traverses from the core of a large city, through suburbs and remote forests, along the shoreline of the largest of the Great Lakes, and back again.

My name is Leah Gruhn, and I just completed the North Star Bicycle Race, setting a woman’s course record of 63 hours, 45 minutes. For years, I’ve watched and cheered as NSBR racers passed through my hometown of Duluth, MN. From all hours, my cowbell rang as the racers rode by, and I cherished the time taken by those who stopped to chat with a wayward fan, standing alone on the side of the road (that was me!).

The North Star Bicycle Race connects the most important places I’ve lived: the Twin Cities (Minneapolis and St. Paul), Duluth, and the beautiful north shore of Lake Superior. While this race has similarities to other multi-day bike-packing races I’d previously participated in (the Tour Divide, Heck Epic, and Iditarod Trail Invitational), this race was on my home turf. Unfortunately, without the pre-pandemic confidence of training and races, I questioned my ability to ride the full distance. Best case, I might surprise myself. Worst case, I could ride the 160 miles to Duluth and bail at Bent Paddle Brewery. Either way, I registered for this year’s race.

As the race got underway, a combination of unforeseen factors quickly changed my entire outlook. The majority of my training miles were spent riding gravel, and comparatively, the paved roads out of St. Paul felt as smooth as glass. Paired with recently installed aerobars and new slick tires, my normally sluggish gravel bike felt like a rocket. North of the city, a well-timed tailwind pushed me toward Duluth and my concerns began to fade.

By the time I reached Duluth, the realities of this race were becoming all too apparent. While the temperatures were warmer than years past, multiple early-September storm fronts brought pelting rain and lit up the evening with lightning and thunder. After passing the 200-mile mark on the first evening, exhaustion caught up to me and I stopped at Tettegouche State Park for a few hours of much needed sleep and the opportunity to dry out and warm up.

Up before sunrise, I was back on the road, but the weather was still not on my side. Multiple storm fronts continued to roll through the area, and I took shelter under an awning through the worst. Sunrise brought a break from the heaviest rain, and I raced toward the Canadian border.

In events like these, I find myself having to “eat like a seagull.” That’s to say: eating like a scavenger, whatever you can get, as much as you can find. My caloric consumption for this race was no exception. Primarily, I brought and ate as many apples as my stomach could handle, and washed them down with diluted apple juice from my Camelback. I had also done my homework before the race, noting each grocery store I was passing, with the open and closing times, and was able to pick up extra curry tofu wraps in Duluth, and an oversized tub of egg salad in Grand Marais.

As I reached the Canadian border, the wind and storms had supercharged the lake, with turquoise waves as large as eight feet crashing against the rocky shore, and with the sounds of the sea echoing off the pine-covered bluffs. I was at mile 315, the temperature was perfect, and I was turning around to head south toward St. Paul.

The selection of gear—what you bring and what you leave home—can make or break a race before it’s even begun. For shelter, I knew that hotels were few and far between, and the chance of finding one with vacancy when I needed it may be nonexistent. Instead, I brought a lightweight emergency bivy sack, inflatable mattress, and sleeping bag, knowing I had enough to stay dry and safe wherever I found myself. By the second night, I reached Gooseberry State Park where I found a corner of the Visitor Center, curled up, and grabbed another few hours of much-needed sleep.

On the final morning, everything seemed to fall into place. Passing back through Duluth, I heard the familiar sound of cowbells ringing, and realized that a handful of my closest friends were along the route. They had been watching my progress online and came out to the side of the road to cheer me on. The rest of the day zipped past as I climbed up the bluff from Duluth and continued the remaining 150 miles back to St. Paul.

I arrived back in St. Paul and found my husband, family, and close friends waiting to cheer me across the finish line. Race director Brian Rhea excitedly pointed out that I had beaten the previous women’s record by over 23 hours. It turns out that I surprised myself: setting the bar high for next year and finishing an epic ride that I will never forget.

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