"Do you mind sharing information about the times you had to scratch?"
"do you have any more insight as to why the team refused to continue when at Golvin?"
Sure. It would be great if these stories had some sort of positive ending about how I learned something, but the truth is, I'm not sure I got anything out of these 'lessons' except heartbreak. There are greater tragedies in the world everyday. Still, it is very very hard to have your 'life's work' for an entire year disintegrate.
So - 2010 was my second year in Iditarod. I felt great and ready to race. We were just barely getting going in the race when things fell apart. We were just past Finger Lake - I've done training runs where we ran farther. We were traveling across some flat swampy areas. I felt a wierd crunching noise under my right foot. It felt just like when ice on a creek shifts and pops, except we were not crossing ice. I looked down and saw nothing, but a few pops later I saw a large crack in my runner, just in front of the caboose section.
While the dogs worked their way through the alternating swamps and forests I spent the next few minutes shifting all the heavy items from the back section of my sled into the main front bag. The back half of my sled was not anchored on the right side anymore, and it was sort of flapping around. It wasn't impossible to drive that way, but it wasn't going to get me too much farther. I managed to get down the steps in good shape, and then through some really tricky sidehill peppered with sticks and roots and stumps and holes on the way into Rainy Pass. And there I sat. A blizzard had blown in, so there was no way to get a spare sled to me. I thought maybe someone would need to scratch and loan me their sled, but by the time Zoya offered me her sled, I'd been there something like 18 hours. I was worried about driving a wild, rested team on an unfamiliar sled over Rainy Pass and down through Dalzell, some of the trickiest sections of the trail. Also, Zoya drives a tiny little sled and has tiny little equipment - her cooker, sleeping bag, and cooler all are about half the size of mine. So I didn't think I could fit my gear into her sled.
That sled was only 2 years old, so there was no reason to expect a problem. Chris at Black River Sleds sent to me new runners -he stands by his excellent sleds even if the problem is not his fault. Since then, I've put another 3 years and probably 10,000 miles on that sled (it's the one I'm still driving), and had not a single problem.
What was there to learn from this? I don't know. I'm not sure what I could have done differently.
2011 was maybe the best time I every had in Iditarod. It was a magic carpet ride. the dogs were incredibly strong and happy. I was aiming for a 1.4 run/rest ratio. That means we would run about 1.4 hours for every hour of rest. So if we ran 8 hours, we'd stop for about 5 3/4 hours. I stuck pretty close to that schedule all the way. We gradually worked our way up from middle of the pack towards the front. In Iditarod top mushers told me whatever I was doing, just keep doing it. In Unalakleet I told my mom I wasn't aiming for top-twenty, but I was pretty sure I could be in the top-thirty. By Koyuk my team was firing so hard and so full of energy that I thought maybe I'd even surprise myself. When I pulled into Elim the dogs were crazy - rolling around and playing. The vets said it was the strongest looking team they'd seen come through yet. Instead of resting 4 hours, I decided to give them 2. White Mountain, with a mandatory 8 hour rest, was only 44 miles away.
We left Elim in 20th place and the dogs pulled strongly over the brutal series of mountains for the first half of the run. I peddled and ran up all those hills, so I was feeling pretty shaky, but was making myself eat snacks and drink. We hit the sea ice on the other side of the hills, and the dogs took off at a gallop for Gollovin. We'd passed through lots of checkpoints - Finger Lake, Rainy Pass, Anvik, Eagle Island. I didn't think I'd have any problem. But just past the little village, the dogs ground down to a crawl, and then stopped. And there was not one thing I could do about it.
I pulled and coaxed and yelled and nagged and walked in front of them until I was hot and sweaty and starting to feel crappy. I always battle dizziness out on the trail - something to do with sleep deprivation. At this point I was really dizzy and staggering around, but still functional. I was also getting really bad leg cramps. It became obvious that we weren't going anywhere (with only 18 miles to go on flat trail, and with dogs that KNEW where we were and how close we were
). I pulled off booties, made myself eat and drink, and tried to rest. I was pretty cold, so I fllipped my sled over to make a wind break, changed into dry socks and got foot and handwarmers going. I crawled into my sleeping bag and figured I'd try again in a few hours. I was not in trouble, but I was pretty miserable.
A few teams passed me. Then Allen Moore came along and stopped and said why don't we just tie your guys on and get into White Mountain. With my leaders tied off behind his sled, we got up and got moving. The dogs were NOT tired - I rode the brake all the way in. And so we sat in White Mountain, and those dogs refused to leave. I tried after 8 hours. I tried to follow another team that was leading, I tried after 18 hours. I tried walking in front of them for 45 minutes. After 24 hours, they still refused to go. I was so frustrated it was unbelievable, but I didn't see any choice but to scratch.
In retrospect, maybe I should have just kept walking. I had loaded up my sled with food and fuel, so we could have camped three times on the way to Nome. I could have made those dogs sit in the snow until they felt like moving down the trail. But I was still feeling dizzy and cramping and I was disheartened and still sleep deprived. Even with the perspective of a few years and a functioning brain, I don't know if we would have made it, or if I would still be sitting out there.
I have pushed a team hard, and I know what they look like when they are fading and thinking they need to stop. I didn't see those signs with this team. Cutting rest at Elim was a reasonable choice, given how the dogs were acting. So what did I learn? I think I learned to run scared, to be too cautious, to stop and rest my team at the first sign of problems. I am trying to un-learn that now. Because finishing in the middle/back of the pack is frustrating. I put way too much into this, and I am way too competitive to feel good about that. Yep - I know - finishing is a huge accomplishment, I should be proud, etc etc. I am. But....
by fladogfan » Fri Apr 05, 2013 4:45 pm 
). Mom said something to this effect, "No, Karin wants to arrive in Nome on a dog sled".
