"Pay attention to your nerves; if you feel nervous, it's a sign that a Very Big Thing is unfolding. Be nervous for how good that thing can be."
-Alexi Pappas from Bravey
The other week I was handling for Anna's race, the Knik 100. We weren't planning on running this race, we were subbing for someone else. 100 miles isn't too big of a deal for us anymore, but in our beginning years, a 100-mile race would've felt as intense as a 500-mile race. We aren't as vetted as the families that have been racing for generations, but we have done enough races to know what is expected of us: how much food, how to pack our sleds, how long it takes for us to get the dogs ready, etc. Getting ready was not only easy but muscle memory. Anna is the musher and I am the handler.
A handler's duty is to make sure the musher gets to the starting line on time, confidently, and with little stress that you, as the handler, cause. Easy. This is our third year as a duo like this.
After I got Anna to the start line I went back to the truck to pack things up before heading into town while she was galavanting through the wilds of Alaska for a few hours. When loading the last of our totes it really hit me: I am a musher this year. I am our Iditarod musher this year. That is uncomfy. That makes me nervous.
It's a good nervousness as Alexi Pappas references in her writing. I know it's good, but it doesn't always feel good. I know that I am supposed to be here running dogs in Alaska. I know that I am supposed to continue to represent the underrepresented in frigid outdoor spaces. I hold all of these things and more all at once these days, standing on the shoulders of those who came before me: Matthew Henson, Becca Moore, and Newton Marshall. But some days the actual feeling appears as doubt, questioning, crankiness, and the overall desire to sleep all day and not train. The nervousness is good. A cousin to anxiety, it takes a bit to know each of them and what to do with them together and separately.
Here's what I do so far:
get out of bed
eat good food
choose one thing to do that will get me at least a millimeter closer to the Iditarod starting line (train dogs, social media, finances, cut meat for future dog meals for hours, groom trail, research)
work on my relationship with Anna - we are in this together and we are determined to not let mushing determine the outcome of our relationship.
soak in our beautiful life here - play with the yard dogs, be outside during the few hours of daylight
get plenty of sleep when I can
A handler is essentially a musher in training in a lot of ways. I have a lot to learn yet and have already learned so much this season. On to more training days, food prep and packing, spreadsheets, and getting closer and closer to this Very Big Thing.
Thank you to everyone who popped on this journey with me. It's funny to think about my throughline in the outdoors: starting as a hiker, turned backpacker, turned thru-hiker, then winter thru-hiker, turned winter expedition skijorer, and now turned musher.
You never know where your yes will bring you.
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