Post by Wiltz on Mar 1, 2007 10:22:35 GMT -5
Sorry it's kind of long. It is about former Hawkeye Matt Anderson who is participating in the Itidarod.
media.www.dailyiowan.com/media/storage/paper599/news/2007/03/01/Metro/Call-Of.The.Wild.Lures.ExWrestler-2750602.shtml
His odds aren't good.
You'd think the belligerent, starving, 1,100-pound cow moose that tried stomping former Hawkeye wrestler Matt Anderson and his dogs to death on a training run would have scared him off. Or maybe the minus-50 degrees, the possibility of plunging through flimsy stretches of ice, or getting blasted by blistering 50-60 mph winds might be of primary concern. How about the 1,150 miles and 10 days of sleep deprivation, which can lead to mind-numbing hallucinations?
Well, OK, obviously the idea of racing across a volatile sheet of ice in mind-boggling temperatures for a minimum of nine days doesn't sound like a fun-filled vacation. Throw in an infuriated animal whipping its hooves, trying to stomp you to death, or as Anderson remarked: "An 1,100-1,220 pound Tom Brands throwing haymakers" - a reference to first-year head Hawkeye wrestling coach - and the bleakness might just curve into the realm of foolishness.
Despite the flood of obstacles piling as high as any imaginable snowman, the inevitable battle is all part of the Iditarod's appeal for the former Hawkeye grappler. On Saturday, he will get behind the reins of his 16 Alaskan huskies, all of whom are competing for the first time in the sled race that usually takes between nine to 17 days, and takes them across some of the most barren, albeit beautiful, country in America.
The two-time NCAA championship qualifier understands the dangers of the 35th-annual Iditarod, and in true competitive form, he is actually looking forward to them. He says his devotion to the dogs and excelling in athletics has dominated every aspect of his life since he was a little boy.
"It comes down to being single-minded; shutting everything else out, right or wrong," said the Shenandoah, Iowa, native. "The determination, wherever it comes from, keeps me focused on Nome, Alaska. I think about it every second of every day."
Anderson attended Shenandoah High School in southwestern Iowa, where he whipped up a 172-4 record. The 26-year-old compiled a 78-43 record during his Hawkeye collegiate career from 1998-2003. But what some recall about him was his ability to wrestle with a torn ACL during his senior season. In his opinion, the five years he spent in the wrestling room instilled the grit that gives him a distinct advantage over the rest of the Iditarod field.
Jessman Smith, Anderson's teammate on the black-and-gold mats in Carver-Hawkeye, agrees. That's why he organized the sled team's fundraising campaign. Smith feels their time as Iowa wrestlers taught them to overcome fears - such as fear of fatigue after not eating a substantial meal for days and of performing in front of a raucous Big Ten crowd. He says once a person has overcome those kinds of anxieties, they are gone forever.
Still, even Anderson's biggest fan thinks he's a little kooky.
"I think you have to be completely crazy to do this," Smith said. "Who the hell marches out to Alaska with 16 dogs and only a little bit of food. It is stupid. I don't mean stupid, but most people would think it is suicide."
But the doubters don't faze Anderson; they simply keep his adversity-filled adrenaline swirling, and make him more eager to finish the race.
"He is so driven," Smith said. "He is just like Brands. He is completely intense and solely focused on one goal, and does everything in his power to accomplish that one goal. He puts his blinders on and goes."
The Tom Brands reference is apt, for while competing on the mat helped prepare Anderson for the physical and psychological aspect of his looming quest, it was the former assistant coach who loaned him books on mushing and ignited the Iditarod inferno to inspire him as a wrestler.
In March of 2001, the morning before the Big Ten championships, Anderson opened his locker to a collage of newspaper clippings about former Iditarod champion Doug Swingley. The odd thing about these clippings, though, was that the winning face peering at Anderson was his own. Brands had pasted Anderson's face over Swingley's.
Brands isn't surprised that Anderson is competing in the Iditarod because, he says, he knew Anderson as a bit of a wild man at Iowa.
"He's an adventurous man, and this is the ultimate adventure," said Brands, a former Hawkeye wrestler and the Iowa head coach. "I think it has always been in his imagination to do something like this, and he is making it a reality."
How he did it
Anderson took the Al-Can highway to Alaska on Feb. 23, and now, two days before the 10-second countdown to mush, his three years of preparation will come to fruition.
While he has run dogs for three years, he will be an Iditarod rookie. In fact, up until now, a 330-mile trek in the Canadian Challenge in Northern Saskatchewan is the longest race Anderson had participated in. The Iditarod is more than three times farther.
To make up for his inexperience, Anderson says, he will start conservatively and ease the dogs into the distance of the run. Unlike in wrestling, where explosion and getting "hyped up" are key, dog racing is about staying away from the early adrenaline rush and, instead, coolly flowing through the path.
"Those dogs feed off of any emotion you are feeling," he said. "I want them to relax and realize we have a long way to go. My approach is to stay mellow and keep the dogs mellow."
Anderson works a full-time job for the Federal Bureau of Land Management in Pindale, Wyo., in part to help pay for this expensive venture. The typical cost of running in "the last great race" is between $22,000 and $25,000 - including necessities such as dry dog food and dog booties. As Smith noted about the latter, "It's kind of like putting tires on your truck." Very expensive tires indeed; that's why Anderson will be chowing on mostly Tram Bars and Power Bars donated by sponsors.
The land-management major moved out to the "Equality State" specifically so he could race dogs on the expansive federally owned land. The Wyoming mountains and trails allow Anderson to run for hundreds of miles in each direction, whooshing from his front yard through the mountains straight up to Yellowstone National Park. He uses the extensive spread to train the 33 dogs in his kennel and to learn which of his furry companions will best facilitate him in the races.
Anderson says he takes aspects of Brands' coaching style and applies them to handling the dogs. He looks at his pups in much the same way Brands looks at his athletes - whether it's a K9 or a 20-year-old, the motivation tactics are strikingly similar.
"I coddle them at times, but there are some things I don't tolerate," Anderson said. "If it's a safety concern, then I am a hard-ass. If they are doing something detrimental to their health or the team's health, then I am more of a military sergeant. Other than that, I am somewhere between a dad and a coach.
"They need to have unbelievable trust in me for us to go that far."
Local perspective
Anderson is not the only Iowa native attempting the Iditarod in 2007, but he is the only one who attended the UI. Of the 83 competitors, 58 are either Alaskan natives or live in Alaska.
So what do some of the Iditarod veterans think the chances are of Anderson winning?
"He isn't gonna win this race," Jane Potts said with a chuckle. She has been the Iditarod race director since 1983 and a volunteer since 1975. "If he's training totally on his own, with nobody helping him, then I would have trouble seeing him finishing in the top 30."
Still, Anderson said he has exceeded previous winning times in his training, and he expects, ultimately, to win the race. But he understands this would be a first. Historically, rookies don't win. In fact, many don't even finish.
"Right now, not finishing is not an option," he said. "If I have to take a month to get to Nome, and I am on dirt, and the Yukon River is breaking up, and everyone else is gone?- I don't care. It is not in my vocabulary. I haven't even thought of not making it in to Nome."
media.www.dailyiowan.com/media/storage/paper599/news/2007/03/01/Metro/Call-Of.The.Wild.Lures.ExWrestler-2750602.shtml
His odds aren't good.
You'd think the belligerent, starving, 1,100-pound cow moose that tried stomping former Hawkeye wrestler Matt Anderson and his dogs to death on a training run would have scared him off. Or maybe the minus-50 degrees, the possibility of plunging through flimsy stretches of ice, or getting blasted by blistering 50-60 mph winds might be of primary concern. How about the 1,150 miles and 10 days of sleep deprivation, which can lead to mind-numbing hallucinations?
Well, OK, obviously the idea of racing across a volatile sheet of ice in mind-boggling temperatures for a minimum of nine days doesn't sound like a fun-filled vacation. Throw in an infuriated animal whipping its hooves, trying to stomp you to death, or as Anderson remarked: "An 1,100-1,220 pound Tom Brands throwing haymakers" - a reference to first-year head Hawkeye wrestling coach - and the bleakness might just curve into the realm of foolishness.
Despite the flood of obstacles piling as high as any imaginable snowman, the inevitable battle is all part of the Iditarod's appeal for the former Hawkeye grappler. On Saturday, he will get behind the reins of his 16 Alaskan huskies, all of whom are competing for the first time in the sled race that usually takes between nine to 17 days, and takes them across some of the most barren, albeit beautiful, country in America.
The two-time NCAA championship qualifier understands the dangers of the 35th-annual Iditarod, and in true competitive form, he is actually looking forward to them. He says his devotion to the dogs and excelling in athletics has dominated every aspect of his life since he was a little boy.
"It comes down to being single-minded; shutting everything else out, right or wrong," said the Shenandoah, Iowa, native. "The determination, wherever it comes from, keeps me focused on Nome, Alaska. I think about it every second of every day."
Anderson attended Shenandoah High School in southwestern Iowa, where he whipped up a 172-4 record. The 26-year-old compiled a 78-43 record during his Hawkeye collegiate career from 1998-2003. But what some recall about him was his ability to wrestle with a torn ACL during his senior season. In his opinion, the five years he spent in the wrestling room instilled the grit that gives him a distinct advantage over the rest of the Iditarod field.
Jessman Smith, Anderson's teammate on the black-and-gold mats in Carver-Hawkeye, agrees. That's why he organized the sled team's fundraising campaign. Smith feels their time as Iowa wrestlers taught them to overcome fears - such as fear of fatigue after not eating a substantial meal for days and of performing in front of a raucous Big Ten crowd. He says once a person has overcome those kinds of anxieties, they are gone forever.
Still, even Anderson's biggest fan thinks he's a little kooky.
"I think you have to be completely crazy to do this," Smith said. "Who the hell marches out to Alaska with 16 dogs and only a little bit of food. It is stupid. I don't mean stupid, but most people would think it is suicide."
But the doubters don't faze Anderson; they simply keep his adversity-filled adrenaline swirling, and make him more eager to finish the race.
"He is so driven," Smith said. "He is just like Brands. He is completely intense and solely focused on one goal, and does everything in his power to accomplish that one goal. He puts his blinders on and goes."
The Tom Brands reference is apt, for while competing on the mat helped prepare Anderson for the physical and psychological aspect of his looming quest, it was the former assistant coach who loaned him books on mushing and ignited the Iditarod inferno to inspire him as a wrestler.
In March of 2001, the morning before the Big Ten championships, Anderson opened his locker to a collage of newspaper clippings about former Iditarod champion Doug Swingley. The odd thing about these clippings, though, was that the winning face peering at Anderson was his own. Brands had pasted Anderson's face over Swingley's.
Brands isn't surprised that Anderson is competing in the Iditarod because, he says, he knew Anderson as a bit of a wild man at Iowa.
"He's an adventurous man, and this is the ultimate adventure," said Brands, a former Hawkeye wrestler and the Iowa head coach. "I think it has always been in his imagination to do something like this, and he is making it a reality."
How he did it
Anderson took the Al-Can highway to Alaska on Feb. 23, and now, two days before the 10-second countdown to mush, his three years of preparation will come to fruition.
While he has run dogs for three years, he will be an Iditarod rookie. In fact, up until now, a 330-mile trek in the Canadian Challenge in Northern Saskatchewan is the longest race Anderson had participated in. The Iditarod is more than three times farther.
To make up for his inexperience, Anderson says, he will start conservatively and ease the dogs into the distance of the run. Unlike in wrestling, where explosion and getting "hyped up" are key, dog racing is about staying away from the early adrenaline rush and, instead, coolly flowing through the path.
"Those dogs feed off of any emotion you are feeling," he said. "I want them to relax and realize we have a long way to go. My approach is to stay mellow and keep the dogs mellow."
Anderson works a full-time job for the Federal Bureau of Land Management in Pindale, Wyo., in part to help pay for this expensive venture. The typical cost of running in "the last great race" is between $22,000 and $25,000 - including necessities such as dry dog food and dog booties. As Smith noted about the latter, "It's kind of like putting tires on your truck." Very expensive tires indeed; that's why Anderson will be chowing on mostly Tram Bars and Power Bars donated by sponsors.
The land-management major moved out to the "Equality State" specifically so he could race dogs on the expansive federally owned land. The Wyoming mountains and trails allow Anderson to run for hundreds of miles in each direction, whooshing from his front yard through the mountains straight up to Yellowstone National Park. He uses the extensive spread to train the 33 dogs in his kennel and to learn which of his furry companions will best facilitate him in the races.
Anderson says he takes aspects of Brands' coaching style and applies them to handling the dogs. He looks at his pups in much the same way Brands looks at his athletes - whether it's a K9 or a 20-year-old, the motivation tactics are strikingly similar.
"I coddle them at times, but there are some things I don't tolerate," Anderson said. "If it's a safety concern, then I am a hard-ass. If they are doing something detrimental to their health or the team's health, then I am more of a military sergeant. Other than that, I am somewhere between a dad and a coach.
"They need to have unbelievable trust in me for us to go that far."
Local perspective
Anderson is not the only Iowa native attempting the Iditarod in 2007, but he is the only one who attended the UI. Of the 83 competitors, 58 are either Alaskan natives or live in Alaska.
So what do some of the Iditarod veterans think the chances are of Anderson winning?
"He isn't gonna win this race," Jane Potts said with a chuckle. She has been the Iditarod race director since 1983 and a volunteer since 1975. "If he's training totally on his own, with nobody helping him, then I would have trouble seeing him finishing in the top 30."
Still, Anderson said he has exceeded previous winning times in his training, and he expects, ultimately, to win the race. But he understands this would be a first. Historically, rookies don't win. In fact, many don't even finish.
"Right now, not finishing is not an option," he said. "If I have to take a month to get to Nome, and I am on dirt, and the Yukon River is breaking up, and everyone else is gone?- I don't care. It is not in my vocabulary. I haven't even thought of not making it in to Nome."
