Back in the 70’s when I was a long and lanky grade school kid growing up in Indianapolis, I always dreaded my Catholic school’s yearly talent show. The first audition posters plastering the school hallways made me shudder with fear and loathing. I not only lacked a talent of any variety but I was also alarmingly uncoordinated. And to top it off I was a bit of a nerd. At my school, the talent show could make or break your reputation.
Somehow over the years, I conveniently blocked out all of the talent shows I ever entered. That was until last week when I was sitting in the front row of the Hyatt Regency Century Plaza Ballroom in Los Angeles, California, waiting for my turn to perform in an international talent contest for people who do school visits.
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My two-month road trip is halfway over. Just one more month of traveling to schools and libraries all over Indiana, Ohio, South Dakota, and Wyoming giving talks about dog mushing and the Iditarod Sled Dog Race. Then I head back to Montana to devote my summer to finishing my first children’s book.
After running the Iditarod, you would think my heroes would be the “big name” mushers that actually win the race. Maybe Martin Buser or Doug Swingley or Rick Swenson. Yes, I admire these mushers for their achievements in the sport, but my first two years as an Iditarod competitor has taught me to look beyond the obvious and famous role models. My inspirations are a little closer to home.
