Okay, let's fast forward a bit to the end of the evening, a little after one, when Jeff King finally comes across the finish line. At first, I thought Morgan and I had a pretty good position on the ropes marking the boundary to stay behind. Unfortunately, when the whistle went off to sound that the musher made it onto solid ground (they travel for a time on the ice), some of the drunks came out and ended up boxing us out of line. My camera doesn't have a motion picture with the nighttime vision so this came really fast. These dogs seemed so much smaller than we thought they'd be. I learned from all this that next year, we don't have to be so close to the arch. The best place to be is down Front Street, where we were parked and watch him take the last bit of trail. Amy said he waved at her down by the car as she sat to watch a sleeping Madison in the car. However, it was neat to be at the finish. This is like the World Series or the Superbowl around here and we were at the finish line. This seemed like one of those places to be in your life, comparable to the running of the bulls in Pamplona. I was there. As far as I am concerned, this is another notch on my belt. How many people have actually been here at this time?

Here is a blurred image of the dogs in Jeff King's team coming in.