I know the world’s greatest athlete. His name is Jeff King. He’s a sled dog racer and this year’s top musher. No, I’m not making a “close personal friend” claim, but I’m pleased to say we’ve met several times, talked, shared stories and swapped email. I consider him a friend. Jeff is fresh off a winning run of the 2006 Iditarod, the 34th annual running. His time over that seemingly impossible 1,112 mile course from Anchorage to Nome, Alaska, was nine days, 11 hours, 11 minutes and 56 seconds. Yes, they really do clock mushers down to the seconds. For a week after Jeff finished, Iditarod competitors continued to arrive at the Nome finish line, elated to have completed the grueling run. Jeff finished on March 15. Glenn Lockwood, the last of the finishers, arrived in Nome on March 21, “winner” of the 2006 Red Lantern, which symbolizes the end of the race. I know something of the Iditarod, but can’t really appreciate fully what it is to run the race. Jeff King has won that race four times, and this year set a new standard by being the oldest musher, at age 50, to win that grand daddy of sled dog races. I’ve witnessed winter’s cold in Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan – all states in which I’ve lived. And, a North Dakota winter in my teen years gave me a lifetime remembrance. Frostbite to the ears will remind you every subsequent year when the temperature starts to dip. You’ll know. But having lived in the northern tier of the “lower 48” cannot provide full insight into a race over tundra, through timber, across ice, in blizzard conditions of “white out,” or in blinding bright snow-reflected sun – all the while grasping a sled behind a dozen or more highly trained sled dogs. Jeff knows the course as intimately as anyone, whether its the 1,112-mile northern route taken in even-numbered years, or the 1,131-mile trek traveled in odd-numbered years – the pattern adopted over 34 years the race has now been held. Jeff knows also what 100 degrees Fahrenheit means when it encompasses a shift from 40 degrees above zero to 60 degrees below zero. His hands reveal the permanent damage done by Alaska frostbite. He knows what it means to have ice on a frozen river crumble beneath the runners of his sled. He knows the potential dangers Alaska wildlife offer, and he knows the games a brain can play when confronted with peculiar visual images and compounded by fatigue. He knows these things and more. He has crafted hardware and designed strategies that have led others to call him “innovator” and the “winningest musher.” Yet, he’s a humble champion. And he’s a devoted dog lover. Upon winning this year, Jeff remarked: “I arrived here (Nome) with a group of the finest sled dogs and dearest friends that ever graced this planet.” He compared his lead dog, Salem, to the undersized race horse champion Sea Biscuit. Iditarod dogs are cared for by their mushers and by a corps of veterinarians present at every checkpoint. The dogs are fed first and their beds prepared first. They are central to the event. Yet, it is with obvious affection that Jeff tends to his team – his friends. When Shirley and I first met Jeff at the University of Maine in 1994, we were surprised to see an Alaskan huskie sled dog and realize he was only a medium sized animal. We had both pretty much expected to see an animal like Buck, out of a Jack London novel. However, Jeff explained to us that you don’t need a big powerful dog. You want dogs that “love to run” and have “lots of heart.” Jeff will typically have about 90 such dogs at his kennels in Denali National Park. Jeff is now truly Alaskan, having moved there in 1975 as a young man seeking adventure. He worked in construction to support himself but became increasingly involved in sled dog racing. He devoted full time to training and racing in 1992, and he won his first Iditarod a year later. He has an impressive “top 10” finish total, especially since the entrants usually number around 80 mushers. His four victories were in 1993, 1996, 1998 and 2006. He is married to Donna Gates King, an artist and medical illustrator. They have three daughters. With typical grace, Jeff credits his family for helping with his success. A professional football player might receive a signing bonus in excess of lifetime earnings for the highest paid musher. Yet, as with other professionals, mushers can attract sponsors once they establish some name recognition. It was Jeff’s affiliation with Cabela’s that made it possible for us to see him most recently. He was at the grand opening activities in the new Rogers retail store last fall, and Shirley and I drove over to see him. I had a specific mission in mind when I first met Jeff. I was doing a good deal of outdoor writing and had been looking for the “perfect formula” for dressing for ice fishing. Jeff seemed a perfect subject. Who would know better how to dress for winter conditions than a sled dog racer, I mused. When I asked Jeff about dressing for frigid conditions, I did get a number of good tips, but mostly I got information about proper nutrition and conditioning. He explained clearly and in great detail the requirements for safely going about outdoor activity in harsh winter conditions. Two unexpected things were the result of that first meeting: 1) I came away with a different, but better, story; and 2) I acquired a new friend. Watch the television listings for April, as I believe the Outdoor Channel will be doing Iditarod specials. Also, you can gain lots of Iditarod information by simply searching “Iditarod” on the internet.
Clayton Diskerud, Buffalo and formerly Lake Augusta, is an emeritus professor of social science and criminal justice (for which he was program director.) He has taught a the University of Minnesota and Carthage College in Kenosha, Wis. He is an occasional contributor to the Advocate and a senior citizen who contributes to the Senior Views column.
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