Trip of a lifetime

HOUSTON -- When Sue and Rich Allen sold their house in Wasilla three years ago, they bought 40 acres of land off a dead end road in Houston. Then they turned around and built a precise replica of the log home they left behind. While their house may look the same, they drive a bit further to get to work now -- Sue teaches physical education at Wasilla High School, and Rich works in Palmer. Some people think their move north nonsense when they both work in the lower Valley, but Allen, a dog musher about to run her first Iditarod, sees it differently.

"We didn't like having to truck our dogs for their daily runs, so we started looking for land with access to good dog trails," she said. Allen said she reached a major milestone in mushing when she could run her dog team straight from their dog lot at No Snow Kennels.

Every time she gets ready to take off down the trail with her dog team, just for an instant, Allen said, she is terribly nervous. "I think to myself, 'I sure hope we make it out of here without hitting those trees'." She pointed to a narrow trail weaving through a thick stand of birch trees. "These dogs are so happy to be running, they just fly out of here."

But as soon as they head out, Allen said, the nervousness disappears. "It's gone. All the hard work, the fears, the frustrations, all gone. I'm happy, the dogs are happy, and I am reminded again why I am doing this."

The Iditarod is Allen's idea of the ultimate mushing experience. "Being out on the trail with my dogs for two weeks sounds excellent. I just had to try it," she said. "But it really is a selfish thing to do." Allen explained that preparing for the last great race has taken everything she's got. It has drained her emotions, depleted her finances, stolen her time.

Allen was an active hiker, biker and climber before she took up with sled dogs; she even made an attempt on Denali. She has been training for two years for this race, and has worked with experienced Iditarod mushers along the way. Surely she had a good idea of what to expect.

"It's not like I didn't know about the sacrifices going in," Allen said. "But there's a big difference between knowing something intellectually and knowing it through experience."

Before her first Iditarod starts, 44-year-old Allen said she will not run this race again.

As the race nears, Allen is understandably anxious; her journal reflects her fears. She looks critically at her dog team. With less than 10 days until the start, Allen learned one of her best leaders has bad feet and may not make the team. With her small kennel, she has few alternates to choose from. How she'll manage a strong, safe trip to Nome weighs heavily on her mind. Allen remains optimistic about running, but at the same time, she seems exhausted. Once her Iditarod pursuit is over, Allen plans to move back into middle distance mushing. "After I take a break," she said.

Besides the satisfaction of running her dogs, the support of family and friends helps Allen handle all the added stress. "I start to worry if I can make this trip, about the worst parts of the trail," she said. Then she stops to count all the people who are helping her in some way or another. "It's very humbling," she said. She is also moved by the support of school children from across the country, who write letters saying 'We're pulling for you' to do well during the race. "I guess there's no giving up now," she laughed, "even if I wanted to!"

A huge investment of time and money. Intense physical and emotional challenges. How will Allen measure if her trip was worth the struggle?

"I've heard it can be a bittersweet feeling to get to Front Street -- you're glad you made it to Nome, but also sorry to see the trip end. If I can feel just a little bit of that sadness…" Allen said. "I know it will be a great journey."

Cold, moonlit runs ticket to musher's peace

The following are three excerpts from Houston musher Sue Allen's training journal. Allen is preparing for her first Iditarod:

12/2: Finally a beautiful, cold (-18) moonlit run, no moose, no snowmachines, no other dog teams. I needed this nice run. I could actually set a hook since it was so cold. It was nice to have the peace to actually stop and hold my team.

12/5/03: Took both teams 35 miles today. I'm exhausted and my feet are killing me. First group was my A team. Good thing they know how to park because we sat for 25 minutes in the power line waiting for two stubborn moose to move. I wouldn't have been able to hold the other team. Rest of the run was awesome. Second team did great except that Bombey wouldn't pass Mikey's second team after they stopped. Guess I better put someone else up front till I find out who passes best.

12/22/03: Today, I woke up about 4:30 a.m. with the usual fear and knot in my stomach. Always worried about packing, being prepared, crashing, overflow, really cold temps. I got in the shower and prayed my heart out for God to take this anxiety and give me peace to take care of what I need to take care of. I also prayed that I was really supposed to be doing this race. I had a great day in Anchorage and stopped to get the mail on the way home. In the mail was a letter from Rich's brother. In it was a sponsorship check. Rich's entire family is sponsoring me in the memory of Rich's dad, Curtis. Curtis died in 1998. He loved Alaska. This was his family's way of making Curtis part of this adventure. This was another piece of reassurance I needed that I was supposed to do this and that I have to finish this for all the wonderful people who are supporting me.

This thing is so much bigger than me now.