So, there’s this race coming to Nome in a few weeks. Have you heard?
I jest. I’ve been hearing about the Iditarod Sled Dog Race since before I knew anything else about what my life here would be like, actually. It definitely came up during my interviews, back when I was trying to piece together some idea of what life in Nome would be like. And again during my two weeks of training, when I vaguely recall standing, dazed, in front of a sound board and hearing, “You won’t really need to do that until Iditarod, though.” At the time, it was a relief; one less thing to remember that day. After all, my August-self thought, I have six months to figure out what that button does!
Iditarod became a mythical deadline in my mind. Before the race I would proceed as a work-in-progress, making mistakes and learning and forgetting and relearning. After the race I would assumably have mastered all the buttons, pots, inputs, outputs, and functions my life at KNOM could require. I would understand sled dog racing, and snow machine racing, too, just for kicks. Live reporting on a sporting event? None of the words in that sentence would scare me.
Ah, the innocence of youth.
In the radio world, you’re always planning ahead, so Iditarod programming started simmering about a month ago. With increasing intensity, I’ve been reading articles about routes and restarts, and researching what qualifies as a ‘sled dog.’ There are so many questions to answer, and each answer spawns two new questions. It’s my very own hydra, growing new heads everywhere I look.
Today one of the other volunteers asked me to record something for her. “Just say this and fill in the name of any famous musher except Jeff King,” she said. My mind went blank.
“I don’t know any of their names!” I shrieked. (Okay, I wasn’t really that dramatic out loud. Only in my mind.) For the record, I did recognize all the names Jenn listed off for me. But now I’m adding “forget famous musher’s name while interviewing him/her at the finish line” to my list of terrifying possibilities.
Most of the time, I’m not really that scared. I have learned a lot in the past six months. I trust the full-time staff completely to teach me what I need to know and help me when I get lost or get things wrong. And they, in turn, remind me that volunteers learn how to do this every year.
The job description still sounds a little scary, but you know, I used to be pretty terrified every time I spoke into a live microphone. If I learn nothing else from this year, it’s that people are capable of a lot more than we usually give them the time or the chance to prove.