Running a dog team in western Alaska demands that you respect your
surroundings and deal with your fears. Even on the best of days, you
don't know what's going to happen, much less when you head out at -30F
or into a ground storm. You have to deal with it as it comes. There
are no cop-outs, no excuses - once you pull the hook, there is no way
out but the trail home. It's real life right now, and a mistake or poor
judgment could cost you dearly. But in exchange, you get to spend
endless hours in the wilderness, traveling through spectacular country,
experiencing the full, raw beauty of winter: the golden hue of weak
December light turning the mountains pink, the northern lights sharing
an impromptu dance, or a herd of musk oxen holding their ground on the
trail.

And the real bonus is the dogs themselves. They are filled with
exuberance, an enthusiasm for each moment of life, and a sense of
honesty about them that is impossible not to admire. I've raised most
of my 18-dog team from pups, being present at their birth and building
a connection of love and trust as they've grown and developed.
We're bonded through work, caring and mutual trust... at any given
moment one of my tough, wild lead dogs may be lounging on the living
room floor or wrestling with the puppies on the frozen river behind the
house.

It makes for a hectic lifestyle as I work full-time. However, at
midnight when I fall into bed exhausted, having just spent the last 5+
hours (after work) traveling 40 miles into the backcountry under the
stars, totally focused and fully alive, I know I wouldn't want it any
other way.

I am not that different from anyone else. I was raised in small town
Michigan, attended a state college (Michigan State University), and
explored different options for what I could do with a bachelor's
degree in Anthropology. Not a lot, it turns out. After a few years of
interesting, but dead-end jobs, I returned to school to pursue a
master's degree in International Health. To fulfill an internship
requirement for the program, I found myself in Nome, Alaska. I had
never dreamed of living in Alaska, of raising a dog team, or tying
myself so closely to the land. I had always enjoyed going out on small
adventures, much like many people, but was never fanatic about it.
When I arrived here, I realized I had never felt so fully alive. Every
day brings with it some challenge, large or small. Perhaps it is as
simple as fixing the bindings on my snowshoes so that I can travel the
half-mile to the road, where my truck is parked, as part of my commute
to work. It may be something more exotic, such as figuring out how to
get my 12-dog dog team passed a group of 5 musk ox refusing to yield
the trail, as they snort their warnings and paw at the ground.
Regardless of what it is, every day is full and vibrant. I have
discovered that even the simple things in life have value. While that
is true everywhere, living in such an extreme environment has brought
that fact to life for me. And interestingly, I discovered that value
in my daily life and the aliveness that comes with that was what I had
been searching for in all the backpack traveling I did in my 20's,
the books I've devoured, the education I've pursued. Jack London
put it well when he wrote:

I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark
should burn out in a brilliant blaze
than it should be stifled by dry rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor,
every atom of me in magnificent glow,
than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The proper function of man is
to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days in trying
to prolong them. I shall use my time.

Ultimately, I see this point as one more step in my journey. I hope
that what I am learning now, the experiences I am having, will allow me
to give back something of meaning to some small piece of the world.
Although it is wonderful to feel fully alive, today, now, that impacts
only me. I want to get to the point, either through experience, skills
- something - where I am able to give back to the world and
hopefully to make a real difference. To be able to do that has always
been my biggest dream.

I have been selected to participate in Serum Run 25, departing Nenana,
Alaska on February 18, 2007. The annual Serum Run is a commemoration
of the original dog team relay that carried diphtheria serum to Nome in
1925, rescuing the isolated town from an impending deadly outbreak of
disease. The commemorative run travels the same trail as the original
trip and we will be staying overnight in each of the 14 villages and 4
cabins along the route. In total we will travel almost 800 miles, from
Nenana to Nome, at a pace of 30 - 60 miles a day. I will be running
my dog team home, to Nome, an idea that is very appealing to me.

This is a long awaited opportunity for me to experience "life on the
trail", so to speak, and to live a piece of history. I will travel
the route of those same rugged, dedicated dog musher's of history. I
will meet with their modern day relatives, cross the same creeks and
travel along the same rivers as they did during that bitter winter of
1925.

As part of the journey, the Serum Runners will be providing public
health education at the communities we stop in, as well as having the
opportunity to learn from the people we meet in the villages. This
year's public health topic is traumatic brain injury prevention.
Rural Alaska has extremely high rates of traumatic brain injury, due to
the frequency of four-wheeler and snow mobile accidents, combined with
high rates of alcohol consumption.

Eighteen months ago I learned firsthand the impact of traumatic brain
injury, as my father fell from a roof while working on a job site. He
survived, but only with multiple severe traumatic brain injuries.
Every day for him, and for those with him, is a struggle and a new
experience. I understand the effects of such an injury on an entire
family, as well as the life altering impact such an injury has on the
recipient. I have had to pick my way through the emotionally uncharted
territory of losing the man that was my father, and adapting to the man
that is now my father. For that reason, I feel even more strongly
about participating in this year's Serum Run, and believe that my
personal experience will lend authenticity and value to the message.

One of the biggest challenges that face the youth in bush Alaska is the
feeling of hopelessness and despair that can arise out of living in
such isolated places. The native traditions often run counter to the
images that are seen on television and found on the Internet. As
communities struggle to bridge the gap, and find a balance, between the
past and the present many youth are unable to have visions and dreams
regarding their future. Through my participation I hope to be seen as a
concrete example that not only can kids in bush Alaska dream but also
accomplish their dreams.

Most importantly, I will be sharing this journey with friends,
relatives, and all those who yearn to experience life in this way but
are unable to do so. This will include an online journal from the
trail and a newsletter sent out to all of my supporters at the
conclusion of the Serum Run.

Participation in the Serum Run does not come without a significant
financial cost. I am asking for your support to help me reach my goal
of bringing my dog team home to Nome. Dogs and people need to be fed.
We need to ship people, equipment and dogs from Nome to the starting
point in Nenana, and we need to insure we are properly equipped for the
extremes of the arctic conditions that we will encounter on the trail.


A percentage of my fundraising efforts will be donated to help the
families of newly injured traumatic brain injury patients cope with the
changes that will be required of them, including medical expenses, loss
of income, and changes in lifestyle. I know those first weeks and
months after my father's accident were extremely stressful for my
entire family, as we tried to come to terms with all that was lost and
the new reality that we faced. I hope to make that difficult
transition a little bit smoother for others who find themselves in a
similar situation.

The Serum run is a grassroots, community oriented journey. Thank you in
advance for helping me pursue my dream, share my adventure and spread
awareness about the challenges of living with the impact of traumatic
brain injury. As Norman Vaughan, the founder of the commorative Serum
Run stated as a guiding force in his life, "Dream big and dare to
fail".

For more information on the Serum Run please go to the official Serum
Run website at www.serumrun.org. There you may click on my bio, Kim
Waldrep. For more information, or for any questions you might have
regarding the trip or helping with my expenses please email me at
.

Thanks for you time,

Kim Waldrep and the dogs of Slim Pickins Dog Farm