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The 2008 Beargrease Marathon Race - Part 2
I told the race volunteer that I had a second sled and that my handlers were probably still in the parking lot; did he have a radio to call over to the start line and ask my handlers to come bring me my sled and make sure they didn't take off? But no, he didn't have any radio communication with the starting line. He said, "We'll watch your team - run over and get your handlers."
© 2008 Jaye Foucher I didn't like the idea of leaving my team on the trail with strangers, even race volunteers, but having no other choice I took off running. Again, thanks to my asthma running didn't last very long before I was breathless and had to slow to a fast walk until I caught my breath again. I got to the musher parking lot, scooted around and over other teams preparing to go to the starting line, with what must have been a frantic and freaked out look on my face. By the time I reached the Nevahome trailer, which was parked a few spots behind my truck, I could see my dogtruck was gone. I snagged Kricket Ingerson to ask, "How long ago did my handlers leave?" She said they'd only left minutes before, but as soon as I asked the question I wondered what good the answer was going to do me. They were gone, and how was I going to get them back? I started to run back to my team, scanning the parking lot for anyone, anywhere, that I might know that might have an extra sled on their dogtruck roof. But all the mushers I knew were already gone or not at their trucks. Suddenly I had an idea, and ran back to the Nevahome trailer. I asked one of the handlers there if they had a cell phone and if I could borrow it. He willingly loaned me his cell phone and I used it to call my grandmother; just hours earlier I had given her Anastasia's cell phone number in case she wanted to check in on how I was doing. When she answered the phone I frantically explained what was going on: that my sled had broken at the start and my handlers had taken off and I needed her to call Anastasia and tell them to come back to the starting line with my other sled, and to tell them I was on the other side of the field. I had to repeat the message a few times to my grandmother, who was probably so worried over the tone of my voice that I doubted the message fully sunk in the first time. I assured her I was fine, that I just needed a new sled. 
After handing the phone back to its owner I started running back to my team, satisfied that I'd done all I could do for now. Eventually my grandmother would reach my handlers by phone, they'd come back, and all I had to do was wait. I felt as if I'd been gone from the dogs an interminable amount of time and was worried about how they were faring, but when I reached my team most were sitting or laying down calmly, enjoying pats and attention from the spectators around them.
While I was off making my phone call Al Stead had shown up to where my team was parked. After chatting with him and explaining the situation he got out his cell phone, called his wife Ann, and asked her if she could drive to Billy's Bar to try and locate my handlers and if that failed if she'd be willing to loan me a sled. Meanwhile I received the official word that I was cleared by the race judges to swap out my sled. Now all I needed was a sled... I stood by the team and watched as all the other racers went past me. Many shook their heads with a look of sympathy at me, and I could read on their faces that they thought my race was over. I jokingly stuck out my thumb as if hitching a ride as Jen Freking passed me, but as she went past she shook her head and said something about falling in the same spot, and held up her hand with a look of pain on her face. I realized she had injured her hand in that same location I'd broken my sled but I had no idea until later just how seriously she'd injured it. As Ward Wallin went by and saw what happened he stopped his team and held out one arm to give me a hug. I went and hugged him and he offered some words of encouragement, then he took off again. I thought that was the the sweetest thing, and the crowd around us apparantly agreed as they cheered and clapped in appreciation. By the time the last Marathon racer had gone past my handlers still hadn't shown up. But my GPS had - one of the race volunteers brought my lost GPS and necklines over to me, for which I was thoroughly grateful. The woman who was holding my leaders offered to loan me her cell phone, so I called my grandmother back to get Anastasia's number, then called Anastasia to find out where they were. They said they were about 5 or 10 minutes away at that point and I explained where I was. But before they could get there Ann Stead arrived with her Bernie Willis sled. I told her my handlers would be there within 10 minutes with my sled but she and Al said, "Just borrow this one and let's get you back on the trail. You can swap to your sled at Billy's Bar." 
With the help of both of them we moved over my sled bag, lines and snowhooks
to the new sled. Ann's last comment to me as I pulled the snowhook was a warning, "The
brake tips are kind of shot on this sled... you'll have to rely on the drag mat a lot."
As we took off I went to put one heel on the dragmat to slow the team down and fell to one knee. I thought, "Ann's probably watching this and thinking, 'Great, I loaned my expensive sled to someone who can't even drive one!'" Problem was that the drag mat on her sled was a lot narrower than the ones I have on my sleds, and it took me miles to get used to it. | |
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