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The 2007 Can-Am 250 Race (page 3)
Leg 5: Allagash to Fort Kent
© 2007 Jaye Foucher We signed all the appropriate forms to checkout and then were off. As I started off down the trail out of Allagash it hit me: we were finishing this race. We were going to cross that finish line. I got goosebumps and started to get teary eyed. But I shook it off, reminding myself we still had 44 miles to go, and a lot can happen in 44 miles. And boy, can it! Snickers ran fine for the first hour or so, but then his gait changed and he started running strangely again and he stopped pulling. By this time I was seriously fighting falling asleep. I had forgotten to charge up my iPod at Allagash so I had no music to keep me awake. About 15 miles into the trip the trail joined up with the second half of the 60 mile race trail, which I was familiar with from the past 2 years. That trail winds through a very pretty wooded section, but I was too out of it to even enjoy what is usually a fun section. I tied the snubline around my left arm in case I fell off, and proceeded to keep dozing off and then jerking awake as the sled would hit a small bump. It's a miracle I didn't crash into a tree. I started seeing things in the woods that would then disappear as quickly as I saw them. Hallucinations. I can't even remember what they were now but I know I had them. I thought longingly of tying the team to a tree, getting my sleeping bag out and taking a short nap until sunrise. I decided if I got to the point where I actually came close to falling off the sled or hitting a tree I would have to do that. Meanwhile I tried to keep myself as awake as possible by occasionally stopping to take sips of coffee from my thermos, or eat an oreo, or go snack or pet the dogs. Finally the sky started to lighten and daylight came. After that I was fine and much more alert - amazing what daylight does for you! And very shortly after that, Snickers decided he was all done with running. I could see he was trying to sit down as the team was moving forward, and the minute I stopped the team he sat. I went up and patted him and he wagged his tail at me. "You're too tired to continue, aren't you buddy? Ok, you get a ride in the sled." Luckily, Snic is a VERY good rider in the sled. I put him in the sledbag and he curled right up on my spread out sleeping bag with a grateful look at me, as if to say, "Thanks Mom! I really needed a nap!" But after that the team just didn't have the energy left to pull both me and Snickers up every hill. So every time we came to a hill I had to walk. My legs were shaking with exhaustion still from the run from Maibec to Allagash, and yet now I faced walking up every hill for the next 20 miles. I knew we still had about that far to go to the finish line, and the last 10 miles were pretty hilly. Even on the flat sections the team slowed down to what felt like 3 or 4 miles an hour. It was an agonizingly slow and tiring run after that for me. By the time we hit the 9 miles to go sign I was beyond exhausted. I kept bursting into tears. Those last 9 miles seemed like such a hurdle to cross at that point. I knew we were travelling so slowly that 9 miles could take 3 to 4 hours and I wasn't sure I had 3 to 4 hours left of energy in me. I thought, "If I could scratch right now, I might actually be quite tempted." But thankfully there is no real way to scratch easily at that point without just camping out and waiting for someone to rescue you. And honestly, I'm not sure I really would have scratched if I did have the option. I could have camped out for 6 hours to get the dogs rested up again, then finished the race. I had plenty of time before the cutoff to do that. Instead I kept moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other, tears of exhaustion rolling down my face most of the time. All sorts of thoughts went through my head those last 9 miles. Why was I doing this to myself? Was I insane? Could I even push my body any further? Exactly how far can you push your body before it collapses? Sometimes I was in despair and would break down crying. Other times I would give myself a pep talk, "We are GOING to cross that finish line even if it means I COLLAPSE at the race marshall's feet!" 
Part of those last 9 miles involves going across these large open fields. The wind was brutal across those, and had completely obliterated the trail. So even though it was relatively flat or downhill, I still had to walk through knee deep snow because the dogs were having trouble pulling the sled with me on it. I had my hood parka up over my head, had my face away from the wind, but I could still feel those icy tentacles hitting my cheeks whenever I had to look to see where we were going. I wondered if I was getting frostbitten. I knew I was cold, and I knew my fingers were approaching numbness, but I was actually too tired to care or fully register the discomfort.
On one of the last sections of open field I got so tired climbing a small hill behind the sled that I collapsed onto my knees and totally broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I honestly didn't feel I had the strength to even stand up any longer. My legs were wobbly. I was seeing gray or black dots in my vision at times. Most of my Gatorade had frozen in the below zero temps, despite having handwarmers taped to the sides, so I was squeezing what drops I could out of the frozen bottles but not getting a lot to drink. I wasn't too thirsty but worried I might be getting dehydrated anyway. "Get it together, Jaye." Ok, we're going to do this. I got back to my feet, got myself a little under control, and starting walking again. Just over the top of that rise I came to a Safety & Radio Checkpoint, the last one of the race. There was a sign there that said Finish Line 6 Miles. The S&R guy asked me how I was doing and I broke down sobbing again. He patted my back, gave me some encouragement, gave me a bottle of unfrozen water (Thank God!) and told me he would be following me on a snowmachine the rest of the way in. Things seemed to get easier then. I think knowing a rescue guy was not far behind me helped boost my spirits. Plus we were only 6 miles from the finish, not all that far, and somehow I think the dogs knew it too. They sped up just a little after that point, the trail got just slightly easier in spots, and there were some downhills where I could rest my legs. We still had some uphills to do and one field where the trail was blown over to struggle through, but the rest of the race actually went by quicker and before I knew it we came across the sign "Finish Line 1 Mile". Hmmm, would the S&R guy on the snowmobile think I was nuts if I hooked down the team here and went and kissed that sign?? Next thing I know we were at The Wall, the last big hill. I had to push the sled with Snickers in it up that hill because it was so steep, but knowing we were so close to the end gave me a little bit more energy. Even so, I had to stop halfway up The Wall to rest. 
Then we were on the ski slope, heading down towards the finish line. I could see the buildings and the parking lot. My legs were so shaky I felt like I could barely stand upright, but we were there. No more hills. I finally screamed the words to the dogs that I had been waiting 250 miles to say:
"LETS! GO! HOOOOOME!" The dogs broke into a lope. We came around the curve in the ski trail and the finish line was right there in front of us. I could hear people screaming and clapping, and frankly was shocked to see so many people there waiting for us. We pulled across the finish line, I squatted down to sink my snowhook, and I just couldn't get up again. I fell on my knees and knelt there, seriously contemplating kissing the ground in relief. Tenley came running over to hug me and said how proud she was - I think she was crying, and I know I was sobbing as I told her, "God, that was soooo hard." She probably thought I meant the whole race, but really I only meant the last 20 miles! I managed to stand up then and look around. I saw so many of my friends there that I didn't expect to see: Mike Ellis, who'd finished the race earlier and came back to watch me finish. Rhonda and Bob O'Hearn, who I thought would have been on their way home by then but stuck around a little longer for my finish. I know Kim and Christine were still there, though I don't think I noticed them at the finish line through my tears. I saw Bill Matott and his handlers standing there, and everything else is a blur now but I know there were others there that I knew. 
I went up and hugged my leaders: McKinley and Anthem, two of my stars on this race. I started to hug and kiss all the dogs in the team, but the race people wanted to do a bag check so I had to cut that short. We could barely convince Snic to get out of the sledbag so we could check my gear - he was quite comfortable sitting in there, looking around with his head poking out of the bag. He wasn't inclined to give up his soft and warm bed so Mike offered to carry him to the dogtruck for me.
My friends, especially Mike, were truly wonderful here: helping me get my dogteam back to the truck, unharnessing, unbooting, getting the gear back in the truck. Honestly I don't remember too much at all about what happened after the finish, or who was helping other than Mike (so if I owe anyone thanks, let me know!) All I did was snack the dogs, take off one harness, put the dogs in their boxes for a much needed nap, and secure the sled to the roof. Coming into the finish line I was thinking I didn't know where I'd find the energy to pack everything up and take care of the dogs by myself, and in the end I had so much help I barely had to do anything. After Thoughts Looking back, I know now that although the dogs were tired on that last leg of the race they were still going pretty strong all the way to the end, as best they could while pulling both me and one of their teammates. Photos from the finish line show them still standing and alert and happy while I did the bag check. Obviously I was the weak link those last 20 miles, not them. I was surprised to discover we had finished only about 1/2 hour later than I thought we would when I left Allagash. That last leg felt like it took 10-12 hours, but it really didn't. The race was tough. It was tougher than anything I've done before, tougher than I imagined it would be in ways. I never knew I could push my body to those limits. And yet, it was one of the most awesome things I've ever done and I'll be back next year to do it again. Up until those last 20 miles I was having so much fun out there! I am so incredibly proud of what the dogs accomplished. McKinley and Anthem really blew me away as leaders on this race, particularly McKinley. Magik did a wonderful job in lead as well, as she always does - she has been one of my main leaders all season and I knew she'd be instrumental in getting us through this race. Weyekin stayed happy and cheery and made it all the way to the end with a big doggie smile on her face (ok, I'll admit, that dog is always smiling!). She's one hell of a worker and probably has the sunniest attitude on the team. Dawson had a tough time with the warm temps the first few days and I thought for sure I'd be dropping him by Rocky Brook, but he toughed it out to the end. Snowy and Maja: those little girls kept digging in all the way to the finish. Snic gave 200% until he just couldn't do it any longer. He's such an amazing dog. I'm only sorry I didn't recognize how tired he was and left him behind at Allagash so he didn't have to go any further. I'll do better next year buddy, I promise! Jackson and Tristan did their best and I know those two are going all the way to the finish line with me in future years. I truly missed their pulling power after we left them in Rocky Brook. And then there's Matsi. Matsi is a yearling who I never imagined I would even race this year because he seemed so timid at the start of the season. But the more we ran during the fall, the more confident he got. When I had to drop so many dogs just prior to the Eagle Lake 100 with minor foot injuries I decided to try Matsi on the race team to see how he'd do. He came through that race strong and never once looked stressed by the whole race atmosphere. So then he made the Greenville race team. And he did so well there that I decided I'd take him on the 250. Of the entire team that made it to the finish line, only one dog never, ever in 250 miles had a slack tugline for even a second. That dog was Matsi. Thank You's This race wouldn't have been possible for me this year without the help of many friends and family. Big thanks to Mike Ellis again, for all your advice and support this season, for the encouragement in the checkpoints, and for helping me after the race. Big thanks also go to Bob and Rhonda, for loaning me the sled and bag and taking care of my dropped dogs and for sticking around to watch me finish... that really meant a lot! Big thanks to Tenley and Wayne for being my host family for both Eagle Lake 100 and again for this race. And Tenley, I can't thank you enough for giving me so much encouragement and advice this year on running the race. The whole time I was out on that race I knew you were at Can-Am Central keeping track of my progress and cheering me on. It was almost like having a cheering squad on my sled with me, if that makes any sense, and it really kept me going at times! Same goes for Kim & Kelly - I knew you were at home and probably glued to the computer tracking me on the race, and it was almost like you were there with me. I kept thinking along the way of how proud you would be of the dogs on my team that you bred or helped whelped, and I couldn't wait to tell you how they did afterwards. You sold me my first real sleddog a little over 5 years ago and have been not only my best friends but mentors to me ever since. To ALL my friends who sat glued to their computers throughout the race, tracking my progress...thank you for supporting us and cheering us on! Thanks to everyone who loaned or gave me gear for this race: Kim & Kelly, Gail, Derek, my Dad and stepmom, Ann & George. If I've forgotten anyone here, feel free to correct me and I'll add you in! Thanks to Kim & Kelly and Corina for taking care of the dogs I left behind while I was away at the race. Knowing people I fully trusted were taking care of the dogs at home meant peace of mind for me on the race. Thanks to Mike and Sue Ellis and to Bob Joy and Bill Matott for letting me stay at your camps this season while training for the race. Thanks to Donna Finner for all the booty making lessons (wow, that sounds bad, doesn't it?) and for the serger which allowed me to make booties about 4x faster! Thank you, Karen R., for all the advice you've given me about distance racing, gear, injuries, etc. this past year as I led up to this moment. And most especially I am thankful to you for the wonderful TOUGH dogs I have that come from your lines. A HUGE thanks to my family for supporting me no matter what crazy things I decide to do in life! I knew you'd be checking the race website from time to time to see where I was but had no idea you were all glued to your computers nonstop throughout the entire race. I can't tell you how touched I was afterwards to find that out, and by all you did to help me celebrate this accomplishment. And extra thanks to my brother Dave, who gave me a much needed pep talk two weeks before the race when I was melting down from stress. Last but not least, and the biggest thanks of all: to my beautiful, wonderful, hard working sledkids who helped me fulfill a dream. I am truly amazed that we did it, and proud of them beyond words. May we have many more adventures together like this one....  THE TEAM: McKinley, Magik, Maja, Tristan, Snickers, Snowy, Weyekin, Jackson, Anthem, Matsi, Dawson « Previous Page More Race Photos » | |
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