Some years ago a writer named Don Cuerdon (I think) entered the Iditabike and took with him as part of his survival gear a .45 caliber handgun. Anyway, at some point on the course he was hallucinating due to exhaustion and sleep deprivation and he thought he was being chased by a giant chicken. He whipped out the .45 and prepared to shoot the bird. As it got closer, he realized it was another rider and threw away his bullets.