Running of the Reindeer

March 10, 2015

Over 500 loads of snow were trucked in to downtown Anchorage to prepare for the Ceremonial Start of the 2015 Iditarod and the Running of the Reindeer – two long-awaited and eagerly anticipated events of Fur Rendezvous, the largest winter festival in North America. It's uncommon for Anchorage to have a drought of snow in the winter months, but these past few months have proven especially difficult for dog mushers and other winter athletes who usually revel in the winter climate this time of year. Regardless, from February 27 to March 8, thousands of Alaskans and visitors from around the world converged on downtown Anchorage for a sight to behold: eager and energetic sled dogs, Alaskan celebrity sightings, and more fur hats than you can count.

I spontaneously flew on a mileage ticket to Anchorage for this year's festivities. March 7 was an unseasonably warm March day with no snow despite earlier weather reports of 6+ inches of new snow accumulation. Bright and warm sun rays came out during the Iditarod Ceremonial Start, and the scent of reindeer sausage wafted all around. Super friendly folks and loud laughter was around every corner, and there was a real spirit in the air - the spirit of the best of Alaska.

I registered for the infamous Running of the Reindeer, which is sort of a play on Spain’s Running of the Bulls, but less intense or fatal. Then I donned the same St. Pauli's Girl dress I wore to welcome my friend, James Volek, across Nome's Iditarod finish line in 2013. This year's running event brought back bittersweet memories. The last time I ran with reindeer in 2012, I was about 60 pounds heavier and had zero cardiovascular endurance. This year? I literally ran with reindeer and was toward the front of the pack in the "Gals Herd." Once finished, I then got such a runner's high (first time ever, by the way) that I snuck into the "Groups Herd" and ran a second time! Addictive, I tell ya.

Mucho thanks to my friends, Cyndi and Michael, for rolling out the red carpet and being such terrific hosts. You know it’s been an epic weekend when friends in Bama say they've spotted you on the local FOX News channel.

"Running of the Reindeer" photos below courtesy of Michael Oliver. Thanks for capturing the moment, Michael!

Introducing an Alaskan Champion...

September 14, 2014

I recently had the honor of introducing Martin Buser to a large group of folks visiting Alaska. Martin is a four time Iditarod champion, and he recently presented "You're Only As Fast As Your Slowest Dog: Elevating the Entire Team for Maximum Performance" during a keynote address in Juneau. Click the video below to learn more about the 1925 serum run to Nome and how it led to the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race - the toughest race on Earth.

Not to rub it in Texas’ face, but we ARE the largest state. To put it in perspective, if Alaska were placed on top of the continental United States, it would stretch from northern Minnesota down through Texas, from the Pacific Ocean off the coast of California and all the way over to Savannah, Georgia.

We’re not just a huge state, but we’re a young state. Let me tell you a story. Just 89 years ago, while New York City was becoming the largest city in the world, we were facing an epidemic up here in Alaska.

Diphtheria began to spread – and the only doctor in Nome didn’t have enough antitoxin to go around. He sent an urgent telegram alerting Juneau and Washington, D.C.. 300,000 units of antitoxin were located in Anchorage, but Anchorage is over a 1,000 miles from Nome.

By this time, the port near Nome was icebound and inaccessible by steamship. So I know what you’re thinking, “Why couldn’t they just fly in the antitoxin to Nome?” Well, keep in mind there were only three vintage biplanes operating in Alaska in 1925. They had open cockpits and water-cooled engines – and we can all agree that -50 degrees temp and water don’t mix.

So they resorted to a form of transportation that had proven successful for centuries – they used dog mushers instead of pilots; they used sled dogs instead of trains.

And so began one of the most famous events in the history of Alaska – the 1925 serum race to Nome. They packed a 20 pound cylinder of serum and handed off to twenty mushers and more than 100 dogs. These teams relayed the package all the way to Nome along the historic Iditarod Trail. This was a race in the truest sense of the word – a race against time and a race to save lives.

To honor this life-saving highway and the history of dog mushing, the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race was organized in 1973. As today’s keynote speaker can attest, it is considered the Toughest Race on Earth.

The race covers over 1,000 miles of the roughest, most beautiful terrain Mother Nature has to offer. Imagine jagged mountain ranges, frozen rivers, dense forests, desolate tundra, and a windswept coastline. But this doesn’t happen in the summer. Because that would be too easy. This race happens in the dead of winter. In below zero temps and long hours of darkness.

You know, sometimes I get this wild idea that I should run the Iditarod, but then it occurs to me I don’t actually own any dogs and I like to be warm. So instead, I fly out to Nome each March and volunteer at the Finish Line. And I can tell you, it doesn’t matter if you’re watching the first musher or the last musher complete their race – there is so much electricity in the air and we’re all there together – celebrating the best teams in Alaska.

Give me a show of hands if you’ve ever worked in a team.

Okay, then you’re bound to benefit from this morning’s keynote speaker.

He entered his first Iditarod in 1980, and has run every race since 1986. In thirty Iditarods, he has won the event four times. His fastest finish time was 8 days, 22 hours, 46 minutes, and 2 seconds.

More importantly, he was awarded the coveted Leonhard Seppala Humanitarian Award an unprecedented five times for his outstanding care of his dog team. That’s kinda like getting “Boss of the Year” at your agency not once, but five times.

So now on to the Man of the Hour, the man who’s love of his team has taken him the distance of twice around the world at the Earth’s equator – the man who has accomplished SO MUCH while on the back of a wooden sled with sixteen of his best friends – I give you Iditarod champion, Martin Buser!

IDITAROD WEEK: Arm Wrestling Competition

April 23, 2013

When in Rome, do as the Romans. When in Nome, do as the locals!

The Arm Wrestling Competition at the Breakers Bar during Iditarod week is a mainstay event and a definite must-see. The back of the bar is jam packed with arm wrestling hopefuls, dog mushers, locals, visitors, and plenty of Iditarod fans.

Some of my friends and I were contestants, and four of us took home either first, second, or third place in different weight divisions. This was my first time arm wrestling in a competition - and it definitely won't be my last. It was so much fun that I'm already training for next year!

IDITAROD WEEK: Snowmachine Trip to Safety Checkpoint

April 11, 2013

The last checkpoint on the Iditarod Trail before the Finish Line in Nome is Safety. During my Iditarod week-long vacation, some friends and I decided to load up the snowmachines and make the 22 mile trek to Safety.

It was a sunny blue sky day with temperatures hovering above zero. It didn't seem that cold. I mean, Nome was definitely colder than Alabama, but certainly not as cold as, say, Antarctica. Or so I thought. Once we got going on the snowmachines and were driving 40 mph against the wind, I realized I had never been so cold in my life.

I thought I was prepared for the elements. I was wearing silk base layer pants and shirt, fleece bodysuit, two sweaters, yoga pants, snow pants, two pairs of knee-high wool socks, Sorel snow boots, down parka, windbreaker, balaclava head covering, snowmachine helmet, Etip gloves, mountaineering mitts with handwarmer packets, and my qiviut nachaq. Y'all, to say it was not enough is an understatement. When we made it to Cape Nome, the wind was blowing 30 mph - and it was beyond unbearable. At this point, I started wondering if I would make it all the way to Safety - or if I would ever be warm again.

Along the trail, we passed dog team after dog team, all on their way to Nome. My crew and I pulled over each time to shoot videos and photos. After all, it's not everyday you have the opportunity to cheer on Iditarod teams while they're on the last leg of the Last Great Race on Earth.

At one moment, I jumped off the snowmachine and positioned myself to get a shot of a visibly exhausted musher before his team led him out of frame. In my frenzy to shoot an epic video, I removed my glove to better angle my camera. I mean, who has time for pesky gloves when you're busy capturing the moment of man vs. nature? Within seconds, my hand turned red, and my skin was starting to freeze before my very eyes. I'll never pull a stunt like that again. But I think the video below was a good tradeoff.

All smiles as we prep for the expedition.

Taking a short break on the frozen Bering Sea.

My crew and I were so eager - downright desperate actually - for the special warmth and hospitality found only at the Safety Roadhouse. The building was packed with checkpoint gear, happy fans, convos around the woodstove, and charming bathroom signs like "Go Make Yellow Snow."

The trip to Safety was by far the best experience of my entire Iditarod vacation and one of the more memorable moments of my life. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat - even with the frost nipped hands and nose.