Big dreams

Today I received a prize in the mail - a stainless steel mug that reads "Susitna 100 finisher" on it. Everyone who posted finishing times in the race wins the same. Since I've already plowed through all the Pepsi and Goldfish within chowing range, I thought I'd improvise on Kevin's request and make a self portrait of myself having my evening herbal in my "major award." Sorry, Kevin ... I can't sign it because I don't own any photo editing software. Plus, that's just an identity theft waiting to happen.

I look forward to putting this mug to good use this weekend when I kick back to watch the check-in times on the Iditarod Trail Invitational. This race makes the Susitna 100 look like a few turns down the Bunny Slope. I'd like to try it next year. I really mean that. With a little bike investment, a little more practice and a lot of workouts, it's not totally incomprehensible. By 2007, Geoff will be ready to take on the 350 miles to McGrath on foot anyway, so I sure as Susitna should be able to do it on a bike. Unless the trail conditions are bad ... how long is 350 miles at 2.5 mph?

As for this weekend, I'll be cheering on local rider Adam Bartlett, Alaska Magazine columnist Ned Rozell on skis, and my boy from back home - Eric Johnson of Utah on foot. In the long race, I'm watching out for Kathi Merchant of Chickaloon. She's a woman. She's Alaskan. And she's riding her bike to Nome. I am in awe.

I forgot to link this before, but I answered "20 questions" for Daniel of St. Louis. Daniel was kind. They're mostly softballs. But as for the Iditarod Invitational, which begins Saturday, I encourage all to join me, Tim, Old Bag and everyone else who has committed to kicking back with rich food, a warm hearth, and good vibes for those who are still out there, suffering toward wisps of glory in the endless snow.

Love and support

Date: Feb. 22
Mileage: 17.8
February mileage: 371.8
Temperature upon departure: 25

First "after the storm" ride today. I didn't ride much differently than I would have before Saturday - in fact, I rode a little harder because I was thrilled to see patches of bare pavement on Skyline Drive (although the majority of my ride was still atop packed ice.) I noticed I had a lot of lactic acid buildup in my legs early on - probably because my muscles are still fatigued. But some good, hard gulps of subfreezing air felt good (how I missed that air on Saturday. Really.)

One thing I didn't quite realize the extent of was the mayhem caused by the Susitna 100 Web site's failure to post my finishing time until several hours after I came in. I was back in Palmer, showered, fed and semi-rested before I called my mom - who by that time was semi-frantic. Later, I found out friends of mine in Utah had been watching my progress with some trepidation - enough put in phone calls to any race official whose number they could track down. Geoff's mom was worried. My co-workers were anxious. Even fellow bloggers Tim, Old Bag and Velocipete, who were making good on their promise to kick back with some snacks and a roaring fire and cheer me on, were posting notes of concern. And you know, that feels really good. It's nice to know that, if I was lying out on the tundra with my face in the snow, that there are people out there who would call on the search and rescue party.

When I set out on this journey, I had no idea such a great and extensive support network would rally behind me. Before the race, I received dozens of "good luck" e-mails, some from old acquaintances who I didn't think even knew I was living in Alaska. My boss greeted me upon my return with a huge basket of Pepsi, Goldfish and cereal. People from all over the world dropped in comments. Out on the trail, we may have to battle our inner demons alone, but the knowledge that others care is a powerful ammunition.

Speaking of, I never posted my "Ride all the way to the Susitna 100" fundraising results. With the help of more than 25 kind sponsors, I was able to raise $438, and ride more than 1200 "arctic" miles in the process. After I hit my original goal, the race entry fee, I still saw $213 in support - which means $107 for the Lance Armstrong Foundation, and the other $106 easily covered the cost of transportation and food (I even splurged on the turkey jerky.) Which means I did this entire race on the love and support of family, friends, cyclists and the blogging community at large. I don't even know how to begin to say thank you, but I'm open to suggestions.

Now what?

I went out for an easy 2.5-mile run today ... finally a cool down after two days laboring in a sleep-deprived haze. My knees are still a little sore. My legs are still covered in bruises from some of my tougher falls Saturday. I even still have remnants of blisters from the long trudge, but I the run definitely perked me up - helped me feel strong again. I think I'll be recovered from the Susitna 100 in no time. And now the sun stays up past 6 p.m. Twilight hangs on the horizon until 7. It may have been 25 degrees out as I jogged over the ice-slicked roads, but I felt like a season turned over. Winter ended for me out on that lonely trail. Sure, the wind and snow and subzero temps will probably haunt this place into April - but that doesn't seem to matter much. I threw myself into the bowels of subarctic winter so I'd no longer have to fear the cold. Now there's nowhere to go but Spring.

So now what do with myself? The cycling can only get better, really, because how can you do worse that ice biking? (unless Geoff's "stream cycling" ever crosses into the mainstream.) The roads today were as dry as I've ever seen them; the trails blissfully hardened by the thaw/refreeze. There's riding in me still, and I've started a quest that I'm not ready to stop. But where do I go from here? The Soggy Bottom 100? The Fireweed 200? The possibilities seem endless.

No. This isn't over.