Of course my blog site name is a knock off variation of the esteemed sled dog race, the Iditarod.
My love for and facination with endurance sled dog racing is strong. I have admiration for all
of those who make it possible-contestants past and current, organizers, volunteers. As an over the road truck driver I will not forget that freight used to be hauled by dog sled-they are an earlier form of the modern day truck driver. As I post the leaders have progressed to the
town and checkpoint of Ophir, AK. Ophir marks the point at which the mushers turn off onto the Southern route done on odd numbered years.

I have had the honor of meeting Mr. Reddington, father of the Iditarod. Furthermore the
race has inspired me to write a poem some time ago which I now share.

It's there, I can see it.
My fingers trace it's route.
I close my eyes, the trail comes alive,
I hear the dogs barking, I hear the mushers shout.

And I'm there, but for a brief piece of time.
Not in body, but in spirit and in kin.
I follow this adventure on my computer screen map
Oh God I wish I was there once again.

The red line represents a trail
Leading from Anchorage to Nome.
Over mountain passes, down river gorges
Through the land the Sourdough calls home.

It's a race that demands a commitment.
A good team, conditioned and ready to race
A deposit of grit and the will to finish
And a knowledge of what you will face.

It's a living commemorative of that race for life
Tis a tribute to great dogs and men
To those brave mushers who carried the serum to Nome
And possessed the will to win.

Tis the Iditarod, I pen these words about
A thousand mile race across the 49th state.
It beckons men and women to match wits with hardship
To finish the course and strive to be great.

So I humbly follow their advance
From the snug comfort of my den
In awe, envy and with great respect
I wonder-What makes them do this again.