Running with Champions , livre ebook

Running with Champions
A MIDLIFE JOURNEY ON THE IDITAROD TRAIL
Lisa Frederic
I would especially like to thank my dear champions: Tahoe, Lassen, Salem, Houston, Marco, Alto, Utah, Hardtack, Bismarck, Latte, Ice, Shuman, Potter, Coco, Shasta, Portland, and Reno .
Thank you, David, for tending the home fires; Donna and Jeff King, for taking me in; Tricia Brown, Sherry Simpson, Kurt Hellweg, Dan Kosla, Martha Bristow, Ronald Spatz, and Leslie Fields, for their kind encouragement and editing; and my dear neighbors in Village Islands for keeping the skiffs bailed and the bears away from the house while I ve been away .
Text 2006 by Lisa Frederic All photographs Lisa Frederic unless otherwise indicated. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Chapter 9, 300 Miles-in a Day or Two, is excerpted from litsite.alaska.edu .
Fifth printing 2011 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Frederic, Lisa, 1959-
Running with champions : a midlife journey on the Iditarod Trail / by Lisa Frederic. p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-0-88240-616-9 (softbound) 1. Frederic, Lisa, 1959- 2. Iditarod (Race) 3. Women mushers-Alaska-Kodiak-Biography 4. Mushers-Alaska-Kodiak- Biography. 5. Sled dog racing-Alaska. I. Title.
SF440.15.F72 2006
798.8 309798-dc22 2006006128
The Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race is a registered trademark of the Iditarod Trail Committee.
F RONT COVER PHOTO: Tom Walker. B ACK COVER PHOTO: Curt Door, Cabela s B ACK COVER INSET PHOTO: Jeff and Donna King

Alaska Northwest Books An imprint of Graphic Arts Books P. O. Box 56118 Portland, OR 97238-6118 (503) 254-5591
E DITOR: Tricia Brown C OVER D ESIGN: Elizabeth Watson I NTERIOR D ESIGN: Constance Bollen, CB Graphics C ARTOGRAPHY: Gray Mouse Graphics
P RAISE FOR R UNNING WITH C HAMPIONS
This is an inspiring story of a middle-aged woman who sets out to live her dream-pushing herself beyond her own physical and emotional limits-to achieve something she never thought possible. A great journey to follow.
-Gary Paulsen
If you wanted to run the 1,200 mile Iditarod with a crazed 850-pound team of sixteen huskies-then read Lisa Frederic s superb account of misadventures and success. She s forty, slightly built, a rookie completely new to the sport, but full of resolve. After a winter s apprentice with Iditarod Champ Jeff King, she runs the Iditarod-and reminds me that great adventures are more than just good planning.
-Joe Runyan, 1989 Iditarod Champion
I thoroughly enjoyed this vivid account of a spirited individual with a zest for life who managed to go from curious observer of the Iditarod to crossing under the burled arch in Nome herself in just a few short years. I have a hunch some unsuspecting reader of this book will one day make such a life journey of his or her own.
-Stan Hooley, Executive Director, Iditarod Trail Committee
For Lisa, the dogs were champions long before they won a race. Their journey, hers and the dogs, needed no trophy to celebrate success. This is a great story for anyone who dreams of doing it -no matter what It is. If I had a tail, I d be wagging it!
-Jeff King, winner of his fourth Iditarod, with Salem winning the coveted Golden Harness Award, 2006
Contents
Map
I NTRODUCTION
Learning Curves and a Long, Long Trail
C HAPTER 1
Not Exactly Bluegrass Country
C HAPTER 2
A Volunteer on the Iditarod Trail
C HAPTER 3
Good Coffee, but Short Coffee Breaks
C HAPTER 4
Bootie Duty and Other Chores
C HAPTER 5
Return to the Emerald Isle
C HAPTER 6
Back in the Dog Yard
C HAPTER 7
More than Gee and Haw
C HAPTER 8
The Puppies and I
C HAPTER 9
300 Miles-in a Day or Two
C HAPTER 10
Baby Blue Eyes
C HAPTER 11
Adrift
C HAPTER 12
The Christmas Bash
C HAPTER 13
Ten Dogs, Ten Times
C HAPTER 14
Still Just a Little Girl
C HAPTER 15
Finally-the Iditarod Start
C HAPTER 16
The Ring of Warnings
C HAPTER 17
An Iditarod Twist
C HAPTER 18
Chilling Advice
C HAPTER 19
Alone and Yet Not
C HAPTER 20
No, the Insane Part Isn t Over Yet
C HAPTER 21
A View from the Back
C HAPTER 22
Iditarod Pion
C HAPTER 23
Cold, Dark Trails to Ophir
C HAPTER 24
Takotna to Cripple-the Long Way
C HAPTER 25
Among the Best
C HAPTER 26
The Wonder of Fine Company
C HAPTER 27
Scent of the Sea
C HAPTER 28
Possibilities
C HAPTER 29
Wind
C HAPTER 30
Final Steps
E PILOGUE
Last Run
P OSTSCRIPT
About the Author

Introduction

Learning Curves and a Long, Long Trail
The dogs were screaming to go; the leaders slamming into their harnesses, trying to free the sled from its earthly tethers. As we moved forward, volunteers gripped the towline, digging their heels into the snowy street in an attempt to control the team. As usual, the starting chute ran right down the middle of downtown Anchorage s Fourth Avenue, but it was still a surprise to see high-rises so close to my dog team.
Though many of the teams had already left, many more were still waiting their turn. The din of hundreds of barking dogs, echoing off the buildings, made a tremendous pitch that matched my nerves. My husband, David, joined me on the sled runners, but even his extra weight did little to faze the team. The dogs strained against their lines like leashed wildcats.
People bundled in their heaviest winter coats crowded the streets, their outfits softly filling any vacant spaces between them. They called out greetings, their mittens padding a muffled applause as each team, dragging a group of faithful volunteers, went rushing by. Like a rubber band pulled tighter and tighter, the tension amplified with each step closer to the starting line; photographers positioned for close-ups, and complete strangers adamantly waved. I could hear my name bandied about by the announcers: commercial fisher from Kodiak wild Alaskan salmon training dogs for three-time Iditarod champion Jeff King
This can t really be happening . Just five years ago, I knew nothing about this crazy world of dog mushing. It had all begun with a vacation that had gone awry. Going to Nome as a tourist had turned my life upside down. I looked down at the sled as if for the first time and felt vaguely puzzled seeing that the mittened hands gripping the handle bow were my own. What in the hell had I signed up for?
Denny, a veterinarian I knew from volunteer work with the Iditarod, leaned her face close to mine. Ignoring the bedlam that surrounded us, she calmly smiled and tucked in some hair that had escaped my fur hat.
It s going to be fine. You re going to do great, she said, and it was almost a whisper, but I heard her. The overhead speakers then exploded with numbers reverberating off the tall buildings. Suddenly I fully understood their significance.
Five four three two ONE! She s OFF! Lisa Frederic, the rookie from Kodiak, Alaska, is on her way to Nome!
CHAPTER 1
Not Exactly Bluegrass Country

My free fall into the world of sled dogs came quickly, and late in life. I had lived in Alaska for a long time, but had paid little attention to the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. I had read about the pioneers and the gold rushes, but in my twenties and thirties I was busy building a house and career on the island of Kodiak. Snow was not something I could count on; sled dogs were not a hot topic of conversation in my life on fishing boats.
I had come to Alaska looking for a summer job when I was twenty-one years old. There were plenty of other kids doing the same thing, working in canneries processing salmon and then king crab, most earning money for college or plane tickets to exotic countries. We lived in tents- illegally-at the edge of town. It rained almost constantly, not gently or softly, but in a roar and with great force.
The Kodiak Archipelago lies one hundred and fifty miles southwest of Anchorage, a cluster of craggy slate islands shaped by the violent storms of the Gulf of Alaska. Food was ridiculously expensive and every building in the town of Kodiak seemed to need a new coat of paint. Yet I loved the mountains rising sharply up from the sea, loved the long, black beaches edged by an ocean so cold and blue my eyes watered and my lungs hurt just looking at it. I loved the feeling of being on the edge of somewhere.
With the first stinging sleet, the summer crews fled and I meekly called my family in Kentucky to say I was staying. I had no clear plan, but had no desire to leave. By spring I had started fishing commercially, working on small boats and ignoring the pleas of my parents to come home and finish college. But the harbor was alive with people my age earning good money doing hard work. There was an addicting sense of community between the fishers and the environment that surrounded them.
I had come to Alaska with the usual dreams of log cabins and a winter wonderland, yet ended up living in a place I could rarely ski. When Libby Riddles and Susan Butcher were dominating the Iditarod in the eighties I was impressed, and yet I was already working in a man s world, so the gender issue was only vaguely interesting. It was obvious that Alaska was the place a person could strive to do what they wished-whatever their sex. It was just one of many reasons I had stayed.
I met David, who at twenty-nine had decided to escape a career as a research psychologist. For several years we bankrolled our travels around the world by gill-netting salmon in a remote bay on the west side of the island. While picking sockeye out of the nets, we dreamed up exciting itineraries: Belize, Nepal, Thailand, Antarctica.
It wasn t until 1997 that Nome landed on our destination list, and we decided to see the finish of the Iditarod. It seemed like a classy Alaskan thing to do, and we had extra airline miles. We made reservations to include Dav