When five-time Iditarod finisher Jeff Deeter asked me how I got interested in the Iditarod, I blamed Winterdance, Gary Paulson’s 1994 book on his 17-day run to Nome. But really, it seems like at least a small awareness of the Iditarod was always around. Maybe that’s just what happens when you’re raised
PART I: The Arrival When I pulled into the designated parking spot for my campsite at Big Bend, I became immediately concerned it was, in fact, just a pile of rocks. I couldn’t see any semblance of a campsite from the car. The website said the sites weren’t level, sure, but
Driving toward Hayden Valley, legendary land of Yellowstone’s wildlife, I decided to temper my hope. I would, I thought, release my expectations. I wanted to see critters. That’s why I was awake before the sun, why I was already on the road by six something, but I knew better than
In the immediate aftermath of a loss, you may find that you wake without remembering. Maybe it hits you within seconds, maybe it takes whole minutes. Either way, grief will strike. It might hit you like a wayward wave, bowling you over, ripping the air from your lungs. Maybe it’s a
I was fresh off the loss of her, hadn’t made it more than 10 hours without a full-body cry and I was probably running from the devastating emptiness of a single-dog house. But, I was there, in Montana. Work sent me there, and I, being an opportunist, added an adventure to the
I spent the drive there pushing away the weight of it, singing with the windows down. It was day one of a five-day getaway and I was reveling in it, that good vibe sensation of free, open days spread out in front of me. I let it creep in as