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 Had you wandered into Iditarod Headquarters today in Wasilla, you might have been forgiven for thinking you'd somehow stumbled into a political gathering. Alaska's Governor Sarah Palin was there, shaking hands, posing for photos, and even signing a few autographs. If you took a closer look, however, you might have noticed something strange. While the Governor was certainly drawing a crowd, much of the audience was elsewhere. They were in search of mushers to sign autographs and pose for photos, not hometown-girl-made-good Sarah Palin.
 This picnic is an Iditarod ritual of summer. Volunteers gather to be honored, while mushers gather to fill out paperwork and pay the entry fee for the next race. It's an interesting mix. You've got the likes of past champions Mitch Seavey and Martin Buser on the one hand, while his son was on hand to enter the race for his rookie run, as were any number of Iditarod dreamers. Back of the pack mushers rub elbows at the sign-up table with the likes of not just these champions, but Aliy Zirkle, the first woman to win the Yukon Quest, Ray and Ryan Redington, heirs to the best known name in Iditarod mushing, and new veterans like Bruce Linton, who ran the race last year and finished despite being diabetic and insulin dependent. Somewhere in the mix you had author/musher Gary Paulsen, back for another try at the race, Native Alaskans Joe Garnie and Mike Williams, and more. Who you see and what stories you have to tell afterward are dependent on where you were at any given time. That's what makes it so special. Unlike other sporting events, there are no roped off areas, no restrictions on access to the athletes. It's a day made for stories and memories.
 What stories did I encounter? A mish-mash of stories, some as simple as getting to coo over the latest Redington baby, another noting the reflection of Gov. Palin in a window behind Lance Mackey as he waited to draw a name for a big prize, and another as I wandered in search of specific mushers, usually finding someone else in the process. Rachael Scdoris was there, too, ready for another run, noting that the hope was that recently injured Tim Osmar, who broke a leg in several places while protecting the Osmar's homes from recent wildfires, was to be her visual interpretor. Retired mushers like Dan Seavey, whose roots go back to the original Iditarod, wandered about the crowd, as did perpetual fan favorite DeeDee Jonrowe.
 Amidst the crowd was Canadian Karen Ramstead. She was there to sign up for the next race, yes, but she had a larger purpose in being there. The death of her main leader in last year's race, Snickers, had sent her searching for a way to bring meaning to her lose. As a result, she'd set up an account to help fund canine ulcer research in sled dogs. (http://www.northwapiti.com/fund.html) She was there to present the funds donated to vet/researcher Mike Davis. This was Ramstead's first picnic in person, so it will always hold special memories for her. That's a part of what makes the Iditarod so special, the memories, at once so personal and shared. It's the Iditarod.
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