Minnesota ultramarathoner hikes her way to Iditarod glory

No dogs? No matter.

A Minnesotan following a famous sled dog path was the first woman to arrive on foot Saturday night in the human-powered version of the race across interior Alaska.

Pulling a sled packed with 55 pounds of gear, Kari Gibbons hiked into Nome after a little more than 27 days navigating the Alaska wilderness to win the Iditarod Trail Invitational 1000.

Similar in format to January's Arrowhead 135 between International Falls and Tower, Minn., participants compete by foot, ski or bicycle on the route made famous by mushers and their teams.

"I'm definitely still processing the last day and the finish," Gibbons, 45, said Monday afternoon. "To finish it is just so surreal. Like it happened to somebody else."

Her race began Feb. 23 at Knik Lake, north of Anchorage. Across disciplines, 104 racers overall set out in the 1,000-miler and a 350-mile race; 92 finished.

Gibbons finished in 27 days, six hours and 42 minutes. She arrived with Petr Ineman, who was second among men on foot. They connected and walked the last 400 miles or so together.

Gibbons is the fourth woman to finish the race on foot faster than the 30-day cutoff. Another Minnesotan — and a close friend of Gibbons — was the third: Faye Norby, 43, was the first woman in last year's "ITI 1000."

Loreen Hewitt of Pennsylvania set the women's mark in 2014 in 26 days, six hours and 59 minutes.

Intense weather. Gear malfunctions. Illness. All can rear up, said Norby, of Plymouth. "Any number of things can go wrong in the 27 days you are out there."

She said Gibbons, with whom she has raced, perseveres with experience, training and "a really positive attitude."

"When things pop up, she deals with them and moves on," Norby added. "She, more than anyone I know, enjoys her time on the trail. Just really wholeheartedly being out there even on the days where it not enjoyable."

Gibbons said one of the toughest moments was hiking through "The Burn," a notorious 35-mile section of burned trees and snags left after the state's worst wildfire in 1978.

"I was floored at how difficult it was," she said.

She also recalled enduring bracing "blow holes" — intense side wind moving through the mountains toward the Bering Sea — for hours at a stretch. Gibbons occasionally sought shelter in one of the trail's old safety cabins.

The ultramarathoner said experiencing extremes at the Arrowhead 135 and Tuscobia 160 in northern Wisconsin primed her for such challenges. "Those races prep you to decide and act quickly."

Gibbons, though, didn't sound like someone who'd kept her head down and grinded. She framed her epic experience as a meditative, empowering journey that deepened as she piled up the days and miles.

She took delight in the play of the night sky, intense sunsets and overnights burrowed in her sleeping bag, good to minus 40.

"It was so incredibly freeing to be outside the time and the doings and the tasks at home," Gibbons said. "I was silently walking and witnessing the trail. The only confinement was me."