Last night, Christmas Eve, the dogs and I were out on a training run. They looked good, moving along at a nice pace. We climbed high up into the hills, snow was lightly falling, and it wasn’t too cold (-10 below). It was the second team I had run for the day so we didn’t leave until quite late. I don’t know if it was the beautiful night, or the festive feeling in the air, or both, but everything was running smoothly and the dogs were really eating up the trail. Part of being a good musher is recognizing this and going with it. It works the other way too; if everything isn’t clicking together sometimes it is better to shorten your run. (Not always however, everything isn’t going to go perfectly on a race (unless, of course, you are Jeff King) and you need to learn how to work it out.) But last night was an awesome night so instead of running the 30 mile run we had planned we went 15 miles farther.
If I run over 30 miles (and sometimes on shorter runs too) I usually stop and snack my dogs at some point. It is just a nice attitude enhancer for the dogs. Joe May gave me some good advice once, that he never runs his dogs 60 minutes out of the hour. He always stops, even for just for 5 minutes, and gives the dogs a break. Every other hour he usually snacks too. This is a philosophy I follow, and I think you make up for it double in the speed of your dogs, for the rest time you “wasted.” Not to mention, it’s an excellent excuse to stop and pet the dogs. If I didn’t want to be out there with my dogs, I would go and buy a snowmachine, what would be the point? So I stopped at one of my favorite spots, where during the day there is a nice view, and a small spruce tree that I can securely set my hook on, gave the dogs a little fat snack, and pet them, telling each one how great they are. Leo was rolling around in the soft snow just off the side of the trail (just like his Dad, Chebah, used to do). Spock was inspecting the ground around him, making sure he didn’t miss a crumb. Telesto was busy barking, “What are we stopping for?!? Let’s go!!” Gosh, he still acts like a yearling and he is the oldest dog in the team.
All of a sudden, Leo jumps up, Telesto quiets, and Spock looks up. The whole team is turned looking back down the trial, ears perked.
Now I like to “rock out” on my runs, so I have my MP3 player head phones in, listening to something or another (my mushing soundtrack I will touch upon in another blog) plus I have my thick beaver hat on, the one my handler used to hate me to wear because she would try to talk to me but I can’t hear a thing, so I didn’t hear anything. I have some of the best ears in the animal kingdom to listen for me, and they were all alerting me to something coming up behind us. I pressed pause on my player and lifted one of my ear flaps so I could hear what it was.
I could hear a jingle in the distance. As it grew closer the jingling grew very loud. Dogs are given metal ID tags each time they compete in the Iditarod and the Yukon Quest which hang from their collars. But this jingling was so loud, I thought, “Geez, this team must have run both races for the last 10 years!”
As I attempted to work out which musher would have such an impressive race career, I could see the silhouette of a team against the white snow. I tried to make them out through the falling flakes and dark, “Holy cow! Those dogs are huge!” I said out loud to Telesto. Then I saw shadows of antlers coming out of the dark heads. Was it a herd of moose tagged so many times by biologists that they rang like bells? Then I saw a giant sled driven by a fat musher.
“HO! HO! HO!” He cried. I actually say “Ho!” to make my dogs stop, instead of “whoa!” So I thought the musher was just telling his team of “freak dogs” to stop. He got off his sled and walked up to the front of his team, “Good boys and girls,” he said in a jolly voice. All of my dogs started wagging their tails madly. I could see he was wearing a red parka with a white ruff.
It was Santa!
“Well it’s nice to see another driver out here tonight,” he said as he approached. He smelled of candy canes and ginger spice, “Nice night for a sled ride!”
Santa and I exchanged training tips, and talked about gear like harnesses. He actually uses QCR plastic and aluminum runners on his sleigh; they ride nicer on roof tops. He was also contemplating swimming the reindeer during the summer like some of the top mushers do now. He liked my homemade “Seavey Style” spreader bars that hold the tuglines the dogs pull from straight, so that they pull more efficiently and is thinking about having the elves make him some to try out. He said Donner has been fighting a chronic shoulder injury and he has been massaging it with Algyval. I asked him what kind of headlamp he used and he said he didn’t need one on account of Rudolf. I asked if he had an Iditarod win wrapped up in his sled for Lance Mackey, and told me that no matter how good we mushers are, victories are only given out by good dogs, good luck, and hard work.
“Speaking of work, I must get back to delivering all these presents.” He turned around go back to his sled, but then stopped and turned back around, “ I noticed you didn’t hang up any stockings, and I am afraid to put any gifts under the tree you decorated outside, you know how the ravens get into everything. I was wondering how I was to give you….”
“But Santa,” I looked at my dogs, down the trail, and at the softly falling snow. ” I already have the best gift ever, I’m living my dream.”
“HO! HO! HO!” He smiled at me with a sparkle in his eye. Then, without a word he climbed back onto his sleigh. The snow danced and whirled around us as they flew by into the sky.
I went back to my own sled, but before I could pull the snow hook all of my dogs began to howl.
“OOOoOOoOooooOOooooOOooooo!!!!” I couldn’t help it, I joined them.
Merry Christmas Everyone!!!!! I hope you all got your dreams for Christmas too!
If I run over 30 miles (and sometimes on shorter runs too) I usually stop and snack my dogs at some point. It is just a nice attitude enhancer for the dogs. Joe May gave me some good advice once, that he never runs his dogs 60 minutes out of the hour. He always stops, even for just for 5 minutes, and gives the dogs a break. Every other hour he usually snacks too. This is a philosophy I follow, and I think you make up for it double in the speed of your dogs, for the rest time you “wasted.” Not to mention, it’s an excellent excuse to stop and pet the dogs. If I didn’t want to be out there with my dogs, I would go and buy a snowmachine, what would be the point? So I stopped at one of my favorite spots, where during the day there is a nice view, and a small spruce tree that I can securely set my hook on, gave the dogs a little fat snack, and pet them, telling each one how great they are. Leo was rolling around in the soft snow just off the side of the trail (just like his Dad, Chebah, used to do). Spock was inspecting the ground around him, making sure he didn’t miss a crumb. Telesto was busy barking, “What are we stopping for?!? Let’s go!!” Gosh, he still acts like a yearling and he is the oldest dog in the team.
All of a sudden, Leo jumps up, Telesto quiets, and Spock looks up. The whole team is turned looking back down the trial, ears perked.
Now I like to “rock out” on my runs, so I have my MP3 player head phones in, listening to something or another (my mushing soundtrack I will touch upon in another blog) plus I have my thick beaver hat on, the one my handler used to hate me to wear because she would try to talk to me but I can’t hear a thing, so I didn’t hear anything. I have some of the best ears in the animal kingdom to listen for me, and they were all alerting me to something coming up behind us. I pressed pause on my player and lifted one of my ear flaps so I could hear what it was.
I could hear a jingle in the distance. As it grew closer the jingling grew very loud. Dogs are given metal ID tags each time they compete in the Iditarod and the Yukon Quest which hang from their collars. But this jingling was so loud, I thought, “Geez, this team must have run both races for the last 10 years!”
As I attempted to work out which musher would have such an impressive race career, I could see the silhouette of a team against the white snow. I tried to make them out through the falling flakes and dark, “Holy cow! Those dogs are huge!” I said out loud to Telesto. Then I saw shadows of antlers coming out of the dark heads. Was it a herd of moose tagged so many times by biologists that they rang like bells? Then I saw a giant sled driven by a fat musher.
“HO! HO! HO!” He cried. I actually say “Ho!” to make my dogs stop, instead of “whoa!” So I thought the musher was just telling his team of “freak dogs” to stop. He got off his sled and walked up to the front of his team, “Good boys and girls,” he said in a jolly voice. All of my dogs started wagging their tails madly. I could see he was wearing a red parka with a white ruff.
It was Santa!
“Well it’s nice to see another driver out here tonight,” he said as he approached. He smelled of candy canes and ginger spice, “Nice night for a sled ride!”
Santa and I exchanged training tips, and talked about gear like harnesses. He actually uses QCR plastic and aluminum runners on his sleigh; they ride nicer on roof tops. He was also contemplating swimming the reindeer during the summer like some of the top mushers do now. He liked my homemade “Seavey Style” spreader bars that hold the tuglines the dogs pull from straight, so that they pull more efficiently and is thinking about having the elves make him some to try out. He said Donner has been fighting a chronic shoulder injury and he has been massaging it with Algyval. I asked him what kind of headlamp he used and he said he didn’t need one on account of Rudolf. I asked if he had an Iditarod win wrapped up in his sled for Lance Mackey, and told me that no matter how good we mushers are, victories are only given out by good dogs, good luck, and hard work.
“Speaking of work, I must get back to delivering all these presents.” He turned around go back to his sled, but then stopped and turned back around, “ I noticed you didn’t hang up any stockings, and I am afraid to put any gifts under the tree you decorated outside, you know how the ravens get into everything. I was wondering how I was to give you….”
“But Santa,” I looked at my dogs, down the trail, and at the softly falling snow. ” I already have the best gift ever, I’m living my dream.”
“HO! HO! HO!” He smiled at me with a sparkle in his eye. Then, without a word he climbed back onto his sleigh. The snow danced and whirled around us as they flew by into the sky.
I went back to my own sled, but before I could pull the snow hook all of my dogs began to howl.
“OOOoOOoOooooOOooooOOooooo!!!!” I couldn’t help it, I joined them.
Merry Christmas Everyone!!!!! I hope you all got your dreams for Christmas too!
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