Yesterday was my final hurrah for the racing season. I finished third in the 20-mile Valley Funale out in Two Rivers. There were seven of us in the 20-mile, 10-dog race. The trails were as hard as cement and extremely icy. When I wasn't squealing with delight as I skidded down the slippery trail, I was cursing the fracking ice and sharp corners. I also vowed several times to set my sled on fire as soon as I got back to the truck. I used my stout little toboggan sled, which is not flexible at all and I pretty much hate it now. (Instead of igniting it, I offered to sell it to another musher who was admiring it at the start.) Anyway, the dogs did really well as usual. Libby, her cojoin Paul Reuters and her visiting cousin Bill came out to cheer me on and Sam and pal Julie were there to handle for me. Um, let's see...anything else of significance to tell about the race? Uh, nope, don't think so. Oh yeah, I wiped out at the start and Libby got it on video. In my defense, a lot of people wiped out at the start. I mean, really, why the hell would the start chute include crossing two roads and going over snowbanks...with a fresh 10-dog team? I mean, come on. Anyway, I recovered from the fall within seconds and was actually impressed with myself. My wrist has rope burn on it and my knuckles are bloodied and raw, but other than that, I'm fine. Just a little stiff.
Will our mushing hero ever get out of a race start without falling again? Stay tuned. Actually, probably not.