Brr-rr! The new cold war.

For half a century, International Falls, Minn., has billed itself by the trademarked moniker "Icebox of the Nation." Each year, the town of 6,703 people on the Canadian border celebrates its status as coldest spot in the contiguous U.S. with a festival and "Freeze Yer Gizzard Blizzard Run," billed as the country's coldest 10K. (The mercury dipped to minus 28 during 1987's race.) But International Falls has competition. Roland Fowler, 64, of Embarrass, Minn., 120 miles away, has lobbied meteorologists for years on behalf of his hamlet of 640 people. "There's no way International Falls can keep up with us," he says. On Feb. 8, 1982, Embarrass unofficially hit 52 below. Three years ago, the National Weather Service said Embarrass's temperature readings would be counted as official. Bragging rights and tourism aside, some folks don't get this cold war. "They're both cold," says Paul Kocin, a Weather Channel meteorologist. "What difference does it make if it's minus 35 one place and minus 40 not far away?"