Touching down in Whitehorse was a strange feeling. Not quite a homecoming. I felt a little empty-handed being here without Rich, or my babies. But I definitely teared up seeing the familiar landscape from my airplane seat. Grey mountain, my neighbourhood, the downtown buildings. My old 'hood.
I've been really busy since arriving, with race briefings, interviews, media events, but I absolutely carved out time to go watch the start of the Yukon Quest sled-dog race. It was cold, cold enough that everyone was dressed like I was: beaver mitts, Canadian Goose down jackets (the hefty ones, not the kind Toronto hipsters wear), giant boots. There was so much exhaust from our collective exhales, that a fog floated over the start line.
Another quick meeting, some yoga in my hotel room to stretch out my hips after that flight (cannot promote Air North enough- they fed me hot meals, snacks, and provided Yukon magazines and newspapers for free!), and then off to load up on supplies because tomorrow, we hit the trail.
It's not getting any warmer out there. I can't wait for the race to start tomorrow. After getting to know some of the athletes, I am very aware and humbled by their motivations, and commitment to give the race a go, -40 or colder.