I tried to put myself in the headspace of a sled dog. Harness on. Little booties strapped to my feet.
My immediate memory turns towards the sharp, downwards pull of my college backpack. And occasionally running between classes. That’s the closest I get relating to sled dogs.
Still, I admire them. They trot happily… even after a week of little sleep, –50° weather, and flu. And when the dogs do sleep, they get little bales of straw to sleep on and a coat. That’s it. Coincidentally, that’s crazy.
I had 13 winter camping opportunities as a Boy Scout. And it only took three times before I realized it wasn’t going to be that fun. The unfortunate night I did sleep in -14°, I cried. … more than once.
Clearly, I don’t have life experience that simulates mushing. Luckily, I don’t need any to respect the sheer amount of time that mushers put into preparing for a 1,000-mile race. Covering the race has been a truly once-in-a-lifetime experience. Whether it’s out in a spotter vehicle chasing down Dallas Seavey, or interviewing frostbitten Ryan Redington under the Burled Arch, Iditarod has been an amazing way to interview even-more-amazing people.
Whether it’s the people who race or the people who come to watch, Iditarod’s energy will always be enough to keep this armchair musher at the edge of his seat.
