If I spent much time here telling you about the training we have done so far this fall, I’m afraid you would likely flip the page. The weather has been warm, and the miles have been few. So, we have kept busy doing other things—replacing dog house roofs, trimming trails, and even moving a small building about 10 miles down the road so we can “upscale” our mushing shed.
Matt and I often have multiple projects going at once, and they are rarely simple. In early September, he told me about a shed he saw on Sell and Swap for cheap, which he claimed. “We just have to move it,” he said. We went over to work on it one afternoon and spent several hours jacking the corners. We had to return another day to continue jacking until, finally, we were able to move a trailer under the shed. The trailer was almost into position when one of the jacks gave way, and the shed came down with a “whoomph.” Good enough, though. Watching it teeter a little from behind, we drove the 10 miles from its old location to the new one, where it can serve a purpose: organizing mushing gear, and, ultimately, as a warming house.
This is the time of year when many races begin opening registration. The Beargrease usually holds a sign-up event, and this year it was a Fur-K run, walk, or even bike. You could bring a dog if you desired, and we did. Kendra, Sylvia, and I went down with two dogs—Major Tom and Kendra’s retired sled dog, Flight. We camped Friday night on the way down to Duluth, which Tom enjoyed greatly. He thought the tent was quite comfortable.
In Duluth, the Fur-K was on the Munger Trail by the base of Spirit Mountain. There were a number of dogs there, who all enjoyed sniffing each other and socializing. There were a few raised hackles, but, for the most part, everyone was quite congenial.
I was a little worried about Tom’s ability to get down the trail in a straight line. He was quite distracted—by, well, everything. He ambled around, sniffing the bushes, peeing on this and that, wrapping his leash around Sylvia and me, and pulling me to and fro. We were told the “race” was about to start, and everyone lined up. I hadn’t gone for a run in two months, so I didn’t plan on being too competitive here. But suddenly, the small crowd was moving, and Tom realized it was a race. He began to pull. He wanted to pass. We were sprinting down the paved trail, and I could hardly hang on. Sylvia was trying to keep up with me, and she couldn’t. I was trying to keep up with Tom, and I couldn’t.
“Mooommmy!” she cried. “Wait!”
“Walk with Kendra,” I told her. “I can’t slow down.”
Tom was on a mission. I had to wrap the leash around my waist just to hold him better. If I had been in better shape, we could have really done something, Tom and me. As we neared the halfway point, though, Tom began to realize how hot it was—or maybe he began to feel sorry for me. He started to stop and sniff the bushes again. We walked, we jogged. We were on an out-and-back course, so we found Sylvia and Kendra, and Sylvia turned to walk with me while Kendra continued to the halfway point. Needless to say, we all finished, and I could barely walk for three days afterward. But I’m signed up for another Beargrease Marathon, and Kendra will take on the 120.
In August, I was asked to present for a webinar series for mushers. The actual presentation would take place in October, and, of course, in August that seemed so far away—I said yes without thinking too much about it. But as October neared, my stress level increased. I was supposed to speak into the computer without any audience interaction for 30 whole minutes and act like an expert. I chose my own topic, which ended up being about training for hills in mid-distance racing. That someone thought I knew enough to speak about this was a confidence boost, but now I really had to come up with some good material.
In the end, my “live” audience was rather small, though I was assured that plenty of mushers would listen to the presentation at a later date. I was super relieved to have it done.
Now, we just wait—wait for temperatures to drop, and snow to fall. It’s the changing of seasons. Dogs are ready. I am ready.
