Some people think Deb "Danny" Glenn has gone too far this time. She doesn't even necessarily blame them. "I second-guess myself," she was saying Monday.

But then you see her with the dogs and it's not so hard to understand. She was coming up the driveway when they started barking. "They only bark when I come home," she said.

Minutes later, Glenn was standing in the middle of her outsized back yard, watching with a grin as her dogs -- 16 Alaskan Huskies -- ran, jumped and tumbled over one another. She hugged them, called them by name and stepped in when the play got a little rough.

Glenn takes care of them, and she hopes and believes that in about nine months, they will take care of her -- by pulling her across the finish line of the famed Iditarod sled dog race in Alaska.

Qualifying for the Iditarod has been an obsession with Glenn for several years now, and while there have been newspaper and magazine stories about her quest, it has recently taken a turn.

Earlier this year, Danny and her husband, Bill Glenn, were forced to make a decision: Either move from the home in Verona that they built themselves -- the home in which they raised their children -- or get rid of the majority of their dogs. The isolated area where they built 14 years ago isn't so isolated anymore. An ordinance change precipitated the wrenching decision.

Danny didn't blink. The Verona house is on the market and she and Bill are now ensconced in a century-old farm house northeast of Madison that has its charms, but needs a lot of work and was, in fact, scheduled to be torn down.

Glenn didn't blink, but she did cry. She can tear up a little even now, a few months later, talking about it. The kids, all grown, came home for one last Christmas in the house. But even conceding her own second-guessing, Glenn believes deep down she made the right decision -- the only decision.

"We get entrenched in our responsibilities," she said. "People need to follow what their heart is telling them. Otherwise your soul will never rest."

Don't mistake the first part of that as coming from someone who ducks responsibility. Danny Glenn has always put plenty on her shoulders. Along with raising money in anticipation of a September move to Michigan to train for the Iditarod -- "this will be my year," she said flatly -- Glenn has been working on various projects for Park Towne Corp.

Glenn is chair of an event Friday night at Monona Terrace that will announce the new Wisconsin chapter of Outdoors Without Limits, an organization that makes it possible for people with disabilities to enjoy the outdoors.

Raised on Michigan's upper peninsula, Glenn, 52, has embraced many enthusiasms over the years. She has published a novel; been both a champion equestrian and rower; run unsuccessfully for the state Legislature; and served as president of the Madison Civics Club.

Yet those pursuits can seem to pale when cast against her current passion for qualifying for the Iditarod. Those believing in fate or karma might note that Glenn is a descendant of William H. Seward, who was secretary of state when the United States purchased Alaska from Russia in 1867. Critics called the purchase "Seward's folly" but in the years since, many Americans have been drawn to the area and its promise of rugged adventure.

Glenn went to Nome in March 2004, in the company of her mother and daughter, to watch the finish of the Iditarod. "I had always heard about it," she said. "I wanted to see it."

Once she did, the bug didn't bite her, it devoured her. Before she had even spoken to a musher, just looking into their eyes, she thought: "Wherever you guys have been, I need to go there." Once Glenn got to know the mushers, and hear their stories, she was mesmerized.

The Iditarod is grueling and exhilarating -- covering 1,150 miles over 10 to 17 days each March -- and Glenn could feel its pull. Early, she tried to resist -- "I know my personality," she said, and realized the race might consume her -- but when she came back to Wisconsin, she couldn't let it go.

Glenn's first serious step, in October 2005, involved relocating to Montana with a leased team of dogs to train and try to qualify. Bad weather during the qualifying race doomed her chances. She's had other setbacks since -- a promised sponsorship that fell through at the last minute among them -- but she is more determined than ever.

The 2009 Iditarod is in her sights. There will be sacrifices on top of the sacrifices she has already made if she is going to attain that goal.

You wonder if it can possibly be worth it, and then you remember Danny Glenn standing in her back yard, her smile reaching her eyes. You see her with her dogs, and you understand.

Contact Doug Moe at 608-252-6446 or dmoe@madison.com.