Waiting at the Finish Line.

     If you saw any pictures I posted last week, you already know that the Iditarod dog sled race happened, and that I was pretty thrilled about it. I have been aware of Iditarod since I was a child, but I never could have imagined while watching the Balto movie that I would ever get to witness this historic race in person.
     Sometimes when you look forward to something for a long time, as I have looked forward to this ever since I learned I would be coming to Nome, that thing can turn out to be a dissapointment if it doesn't quite meet your expectations. I am happy to report that was not the case with Iditarod. It was everything I hoped for, and now that I know what it's like, I'm already looking forward to next year.
     One of my favorite things about it was how close the public can get to the action. About 15 minutes before a musher is expected to arrive, a siren goes of that can be heard throughout the town. People (mostly tourists and me) gather at the finish line to greet them. After the first few mushers are in, the crowds start to decrease and it's pretty easy to get a spot right at the front. Getting to be mere feet from the dogs and their mushers, and to later get to meet many of them, was better than anything I imagined.
     It goes without saying that churches don't send missionaries to paradise, and Nome certainly has it's share of problems. I get so worried sometimes that if I post to many pictures or talk to much about things that are fun, people will lose sight of the reason I am here, or think that I somehow cheated the system and am enjoying a 2 year vacation sponsored by the Methodist church. Although that's not true at all, I briefly considered taking a critical look at how the bars being open until 3AM during Iditarod week affects the community, but it would have been halfhearted. The truth is, that just added a few more hours to a problem that already existed here, and will continue to exist long after every musher has gone back home. And honestly, Iditarod was a great experience, and sometimes it feels good to just share a fun experience I had without trying to find a deeper meaning in it. But even as I write those words, I realize that I did find a deep meaning in my first Iditarod, completely by accident.
      It's nice to be there to see the end of someone else's race, to have no responsibility other than to cheer them on and enjoy the moment. It's even nicer to be reminded that in order to inspire other people, I need to have people (and dogs) that inspire me. I've never been an avid sports fan before, but in the Iditarod, I have discovered something to be a fan of, and some athletes to be inspired by. I'm still so excited that I got to experience part of the "last great race on earth", and I'm ready to gather with the tourists in subzero temperatures once again next year, to wait at the finish line and be inspired.