It’s a big deal to step up from the 100-mile races I’ve done in the past to the 380-mile Beargrease marathon, and it’s on my mind all the time. Here’s a rundown of my worst fears about the race:
1. I won’t be able to control 14 dogs.
One time last year, I ran 12 dogs with the sled and I survived. Other than that, I’ve never ran more than 10, and I’ve never raced with more than eight. It has been my experience that eight race-ready, in-their-prime dogs have plenty of power. Ten has been doable when we have a solid snow base and wide trails. Fourteen just seems unfathomable.
But what is there to fear? They are 14 of my best pals. Individually, I enjoy spending time with each one of them. But as a group, attached to a gangline in front of the sled, they are like some kind of untested machine. A mob of wild beasts. A locomotive train hurtling down the trail.
When I started mushing, I learned there are two cardinal rules: Never put your hand in a dog fight, and never let go of the sled.
My worst fear about 14 dogs is that I won’t steer the sled around some corner correctly, and I’ll tip over and, while hanging on to the handlebar screaming “Whoa!,” getting snow and ice burns along my side, I’ll see some rock or stump headed straight for my head and be forced to let go lest my head become a brake (yes, this has happened). And then the team will be a loose cannon, running down the trail until who-knows-what stops them.
2 . I will be personally too sore/fatigued/delusional/in utter pain to keep racing.
There have been a number of runs this fall where my hands have gone completely numb, or my feet have become so sore standing on the runners that I can barely stand up. The moaning and groaning about aches and pains is substantial, and this, after a mere three to four hours on the ATV or the dog sled.
And then there’s the fatigue. When I don’t sleep 8-9 hours each night, I am downright lousy company. I feel like a walking zombie really until the next night when I catch up.
One late night running dogs, Matt and I were switching off every 20 miles of running, and I was waiting in the truck for him to show up with the team. I just couldn’t stay awake. I nodded off, over and over. By the time he showed up, I had that Finland checkpoint feeling. At Finland, you are 75 miles into the race, you get to sleep for a few hours, and then your handler wakes you up, usually around 5 a.m., throws you some coffee, attaches you to the sled and shoves you off into the night. OK, it’s not exactly like that, but almost, and that’s what’s going to need to happen to keep me going.
3. My biggest fear is that the race won’t ever start.
We have been working toward the Beargrease marathon for several years. Most of our dogs were mothered by two dogs we bought in 2011. At that time we made a plan to have two litters of puppies that would get us to the Beargrease marathon in 2014. Well, it took us an extra year to make the goal, but we’re pretty darn close as long as the race starts. In the past 10 years, the Beargrease has been canceled twice and rescheduled at least once. To train so hard and long for something that gets canceled before it starts would be devastating.
Though I fear the moment I have to stand on the sled behind 14 dogs, I am ready to cling to the sled. And frankly, I can’t wait. If I hold on tight enough and don’t get too cold, tired or sore, and the dogs don’t get too warm, cold, tired or sore, then you’ll see all of us crossing the finish three days later.
Please remember that there will be live-tracking of mushers during the race, available through the Beargrease website at www.beargrease.com. In addition, my husband and race handler, Matt, plans to update our Mush Lake Racing Facebook page throughout the race with stories, video, pictures and more. “Like” us to follow me and the dogs on Jan. 24.