But clearly I'm getting off topic here. The point is, as much as I can get into the people stories, it's the dogs that amaze me.
But I also imagine being there for what's surely an awesome, snowy, crazy-drunk celebration at the finish line in Nome, Alaska when, after 1,150 miles and 14 days of arctic winds, frozen paws, facial frostbite and sleep deprivation (yes, they sleep OUT IN THAT COLD!), the racers cross the finish line and finally take a rest. Oh, and they probably party their asses off. I mean, I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing Alaskans know how to get down, beer-drinking-wise.
So anyhoo, it's on my life-list. To scream from the bitterly cold sidelines, to hug one of those exhausted dogs, and then to drink 17 beers in a smokey tavern warmed by a real wood fireplace.
But for now, I'll be watching and reading, and maybe daydreaming just a little that this
(it's actually Melanie Gould, one of the amazing women that go out and, you know, sometimes win the "last great race on earth")