Klondike Start

Nolan's Horse "Hobart"

Lampshade my Grandmother made

Mikes polar fleece, Grandpas vest

Mallory's "Sam", the green baby.

Last week I grabbed the jackets I wear most everyday when I go for my walk. It got me thinking about the things I hold on to and the things that help me stay grounded. In 1996 I started walking, I walked everyday until I lost enough weight and then I started running. Like Forest Gump I started and I just kept running. Everyday for a decade, I ran. It didn't matter if it was raining, snowing, if I had the flu or someplace I had to go. I ran. I didn't miss one single day for 12 years. It became who I was. I read running magazines, I bought the latest shoes, I entered the local 5k, I ran to keep ahead of my thoughts. For 12 years everyday that the weather indicated I wore the vest I got from my Mom when my Grandpa died. He had been gone for over a decade by then but when I put the vest on. I could run. This vest meant alot to me. I loved and admired my Grandpa. When I put the vest on I felt stronger.

The lampshade you see was made by my Grandmother. I have owned this shade for three decades. It has been in every house I have lived in. It currently is on the desk where I am writing. This shade makes me feel stronger.

The gray polar fleece is Mikes. I have worn this polar fleece for 5 years. I have not washed it. It is a work fleece from the Humboldt-Toiyabe Forest, when I wear this fleece it makes me feel stronger.

The spring horse is Nolan's. It lives with Poppa and I. On Friday Nolan asked me if "Hobart" can stay here. I told him, "Hobart" will live here until Nolan says he can go. "Hobart" helps Nolan feel stronger.

The "green baby" is "Sam". He belongs to Mallory. We have many dolls here, roughly 10 she could choose from. She always chooses "Sam". "Sam" helps Mallory feel stronger.

Then there is this: Back when we were part of the dog sledding world there was a race in International Falls called "The Esslinger Classic". This race was for our family a vacation. Our good friends always came with us, alot of the family was there. Mike, my brother Steve and my sister-in-law Linda came to race. The thing about this race that set it apart from the others was the start. The organizers planned for a "Klondike start". In the world of dog racing, the start is a finely tuned part of the race. There is alot of strategy involved in the timing, the equipment, when to start harnessing, booties or no booties, how many handlers to help and getting to the chute on time. No one wants to miss their start time. There is time to plan what clothes you will wear,are your boots laced right, is your water and food ready, are the dogs lined up. You have the help of many to get things right.

In a Klondike Start, you are on your own.

All the mushers set up in a circle formation. You must lay out your sleeping bag, your boots must be off. The dogs if I remember right could be bootied, not harnessed. When the gun was fired, you must exit your sleeping bag, put on your boots, harness everyone of your barking, charging, dogs. Bring them up to the line by yourself, pull the line holding you to your rig and enter the fray of all the teams exiting the staging area. It was chaos. The noise level was deafening. People stood on the plowed snow mountains all around the staging area, cheering on their favorites. It was a race in it's purest form. The first one out had the edge. The first into a checkpoint was just that...the first. The first to cross the finish line. Won. To be good at this race you had to be able to tune out the crowd and focus. It was you and your team. Nothing else mattered. Mike was good at it. One of the first teams out of the chute.
Once Mike left the chute, he no longer cared about winning. It then became a race of scenery and beauty. Both of which this race had an abundance of. Mike was so proud of his Aunt Linda and her skill at racing, but when his Uncle Steve was on the trail, the race for Mike became complete. Just knowing that Steve was running the same miles, seeing the same creeks, the same trail crossings, the same logging equipment, the same stands of trees was enough. Mike always figured Steve was somewhere on the trail ahead of him. The second year we raced there, Steve's dogs were off their game. Somewhere, either in the start chute or out on the trail, Mike got ahead of Steve. Near the end of the race, one checkpoint left to go, Steve came in with a tired team and the thought he might say enough. He asked if anyone had seen Mike. We told him Mike had checked through and was ahead of him on the trail. Steve stood around the checkpoint, looked over his dogs, lit his pipe and rested. When we asked him what he was going to do, he said,"I'm gonna go chase the kid". They finished the race together. For Mike, that was better than a win.

This is what I know: Yesterday Marty and I got home late in the afternoon, we had been gone for 3 days. I hadn't checked messages, face book or email. When I did there was sad news for both of us. Marty's Uncle had died and my Aunt and Godmother had received a diagnosis of deep fear.
We live our lives like we can prepare for the starting line and maybe even the finish. We think we have the right clothes, our food and water are adequate. We have done our research, we believe we know the trail ahead, where our checkpoints are and where the finish line is. We think we have all the help we need to get to the start and carry through the race. The truth is...life is a "Klondike Start". Everyday you must exit your sleeping bag, jump into your boots, harness your own team and make split second decisions. You must tune out the crowd and focus. You must hang on to what makes you feel stronger.
My Aunt has a "team" of four. They will help her decide, when to race, when to take a break. They have knowledge of the trail ahead, they will help her "change out her runners" and keep her in the race. They will help her, tune out the crowd and focus.
The things I own in no way define me. The things I hold on to for courage do.
Tomorrow morning I will pull the gray polar fleece over my head. I will zip up the same green vest I have been wearing for 16 plus years. I will pat "Hobart" on the head when I walk across the basement and I will tell him Nolan will be back. I will tuck the covers around "Sam", until Mallory returns.

I am in my "Klondike Race", somehow Mike checked through and got ahead of me on the trail. I'm gonna rest awhile, stay focused and then I am going to "go and chase the kid".
In a "Klondike Race" you are on your own but you do have a team. Make it strong. Make it yours.

till next time.