We're Expecting!

It's been a hot summer, and the dogs have been enjoying their time off with lots of free runs, play time and romps in the kitty pool at the Ranch. We are counting down the days until fall training starts (only about six weeks now!) but before training starts, we are counting the days for something even more exciting: puppies!

It has been three years since Diamond Dogs have had babies, and I decided it was time to expand the kennel once again. I am super excited about the gene pool chosen! 

Cinder, who is 4 years old, came to Diamond Dogs late in the 2012 season but quickly proved herself an amazing athlete. Though she had been off training for about six weeks when I acquired her, she jumped right in with the team, started running and never looked back. She ran lead with my gee/haw leader, Yeti and ran the Midnight Run that season. Last season she ran in the Tahquamenon Sled Dog Race and The Midnight Run. She is a beauty to watch run: smooth, straight gait, and light on her feet, she makes loping look effortless. What's more, she always has a smile on her face and gives everything she has on the line.

Cinder this past spring

Cinder's bloodlines are pretty sweet. Her dad, Hobo, is out of Iditarod and Yukon Quest champ, Lance Mackey's kennel. And her mom, Bruny, is out of Beargrease Marathon veteran, John Stetson's kennel. 

I put a lot of thought into choosing a stud. Despite Cinder's bloodlines, which are primarily distance dogs, she is fast. But I wanted a male who could contribute an added element of speed, preferably one who was a lead dog. After talking with a few mushers, I decided to add the speed of Swingley into Cinder's solid endurance lines. The natural choice was Pete and Sharon Curtice's Elrond. 

Elrond has been a natural leader for the Curtice's kennel since he was a yearling. He was on their winning Midnight Run team in 2006 as a yearling, and ran lead on their 2nd place Beargrease 150 race. And his genetics are impressive. Elrond's mom is leader, Hurricane; his dad is  Ceasar who was also a leader (both Swingley origins). It is interesting to note Elrond is also the grandfather to my last litter, the Reggae Litter. 

I made a quick trip up to visit the Curtice's over Memorial Day weekend where Cinder had a date with Elrond. She should be due around July 26th. She is starting to show, and Elise is super excited to help with puppy socialization. 

Elise helping pose Cinder for a photo

We will be at the Green Branch Library tomorrow, July 9, at 1 and 3 p.m. for a presentation of Backyard Iditarod. If you're in the area, stop by! Hopefully my next post will be about tiny little toes!

"We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams." Jeremy Irons

We leave Thursday for our final race of the season, the Copper Dog, in Calumet, Michigan - a gorgeous part of Michigan known as "Copper Country." It was once a hub for copper mining; at one time, this area produced over half of the nation's copper. It is part of the Keweenaw Peninsula, which is a beautiful and remote area of Michigan that juts out into Lake Superior.

It is the longest distance we travel for a race at over 750 miles away. There are two races: a 10-dog, 150 mile race in three stages, and a 6-dog, 40-some mile race in one stage. We are doing the 40 mile race. Both races start at night.

Sometimes, I think I am crazy. I train these dogs for hours and hours (we have 850 miles on the team as of this writing), only to drive for hundreds of miles to races to put the dogs on the ground and drive them for several more miles. But, dreams can make us crazy, and sometimes we do crazy things in pursuit of dreams. Part of being free is having the ability to pursue "crazy" dreams - even if they don't entirely make sense. "Freedom is just another word for nothin' left to lose" said the late great Janis Joplin...

This morning I spent some time thinking about which dogs will race on the Copper Dog team. Here is the line up:

As always, my trusted leaders, sisters Big Brown and Ruffian will lead the way through the darkness.

Big Brown, only 38 pounds but the best little lead dog anyone could ask for

Big Brown's intense sister, Ruffian. She is the get-up-and-go. If we go too slow, she barks at the team to "Giddy up!"

In point position behind the lead dogs, I have chosen Fiona and Dirk. 

Two-year-old Dirk is an up-and-coming leader with a ton of drive and potential. All the boys hate him because he is handsome and all the girls adore him. His nickname is "Dirk the Jerk" because of it

Sweet Fiona has run such legendary races as the John Beargrease Marathon. She is tireless and just getting warmed up after 20 miles 

And rounding out our six dog team, in wheel position are brothers, Tosh and Perry.

Tosh after the Midnight Run last week. Tosh is a super sweet, sensitive two-year-old boy who is  also an up-and-coming leader

Tosh's brother, Perry, is also super sweet and sensitive and is my biggest dog on the team. At about 58 pounds, Perry is a very hard worker who brings a lot of muscle and power to the team

And I am bringing one extra dog, Cinder, just so I have an extra dog in case I change my mind for whatever reason come race time.

Cinder is also only three, but has a lot of drive and is whip-smart

We leave on Thursday after a Skype session I have scheduled for an elementary school in Roaring Brook, New York. It's hard to believe this will be our last race of the season! Our race will end sometime late Friday night/early Saturday morning. We have trained harder this season than ever before. I hate to see it end, but hope we end on a happy note! I plan to spend the weekend helping out other teams at the race and shooting photos of beautiful Copper Harbor. Stay tuned and you can follow our results on the Copper Dog site or on our Facebook page.

Mush love!
Shannon and the Diamond Dogs

Shuffling

This summer has brought a lot of changes to the kennel. I had to look hard at my goals for what I wanted to accomplish this season as well as make some tough decisions about some great dogs. Some of my dogs were better suited to recreational mushing homes, and others better suited to distance mushing homes.

What's the difference?

Well, first of all, recreational mushing dogs can be any dog breed. Some people mush with Golden Retrievers, Labs, or any kind of dog who has a propensity for pulling and loves to run. 

When it comes to competitive races, however, there are several types of races that mushers compete in. Sprint races, which are the shortest distances, are run with super fast dogs who are often crossed with hounds, like greyhounds. These dogs sometimes reach incredible speeds of 20 miles an hour or more, and run full-throttle for distances that are usually a mile per dog. For example, a four dog sprint team would run four miles. Open class unlimited sprint racers can run any number of dogs, however. The dogs that run these types of races tend to be shorter coated and sleek, leggy, fast machines. A popular sprint race in Alaska is the Fur Rondy.

The super endurance, distance races, like the Iditarod and the Yukon Quest, go over 1,000 miles. The dogs that tend to run these marathons typically have a dense coat and are heartier and muscled-up compared to the sprint dogs.

The kinds of races I ran last season and plan to run this season (and into the foreseeable future) are called mid-distance races. Like the name suggests, these races are in between sprints and distance races. The races I compete in are between 90 and 150 miles, and the dogs, like the race, are a blend of the best of both the sleek, fast sprint dogs and the woolly, muscled-up distance dogs. They tend to have finer bones than those who run ultra marathons, but are still beefy enough to break trail.

It might be worth noting that in mid-distance and distance races, mushers camp out with their dogs at certain mileages. A fourth type of race is the Stage race.  In these races, dogs and mushers rest at certain mileage points, just like in mid-distance and distance races, but mushers aren't required to "camp out" with their teams; they can check into their favorite hotel and snooze in a cozy bed. A well-known stage race is the International Pedigree Stage Stop.

Part of my paring down this summer was out of necessity due to life changes. But these changes gave me an opportunity to really study all of the dogs to discern who was the best fit for my race goals.

In the end, I was left with what I think will give me the best shot at stepping up my goals this season and being competitive.

I parted with seven beloved pack members since the end of July. But they all went to awesome homes - and several are now full-time house dogs, which makes me happy.

This also left me with only seven race dogs.

So...soon three new dogs will join Team Diamond Dogs. I can't wait to introduce them! Stay tuned!

"Man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same." Jacob Dylan

It's official: I removed the dog boxes (portable dog houses that fit on the back of my truck where the dogs ride) from The Black Mamba (my truck) today, calling an official end to my season. Incidentally, this weekend most of my friends are traveling to races that traditionally mark the end of the season as well: the Iditarod, and, closer to home, the Copper Dog 150.

Signs of spring are already emerging here at the Ranch - and our winter was hardly a winter to begin with. 

While I am saddened to see this hallmark season pass, I am so proud of my dogs and what we've accomplished together. I have spent more time with my dogs this season than at any other point in our lives.

We've covered hundreds of miles and hours alone on trails in the glorious fall of the Upper Peninsula and here in Ohio together. My team had merely 750 miles on them when we hit the Midnight Run trail, and that number pales in comparison to the miles other teams had on them for that same race, not to mention the thousands of miles logged on a longer distance team.

Given the number of hours dogs spend with their mushers every season, is it any wonder the bond between us is one of the strongest between animals and humans? 

My yearling, Miles, at the Chatham checkpoint during the Midnight Run

I took a nap yesterday - a glorious treat - and while napping, I dreamed of running dogs. It was a straight forward dream (no hidden Freudian meanings to decipher) of simply being on my four wheeler with the dogs lined out running as we have done for so many hours this season. I awoke from the dream when I got off the four wheeler and started moving dogs around on the line.

I suspect a person has to spend a lot of time doing something before it becomes infiltrated into a person's psyche enough to dream about it.

I know how to read all the little nuances in my dogs. I know the look Yeti has when he is about to stop my entire team to take a dump. I know when I call a command, Ruffian will answer me with a commanding bark of her own, as if she is telling the whole team they had better listen, or else! I know every 30 seconds or so, Gwennie will look over at her son, Kerouac, and they will smile at each other while running in tandem as if to say, "isn't this great?!" I know to put a cable neckline on Aspen. :)

Some of my dogs are small (Gwennie weighs 35 lbs; Big Brown about the same); some of the dogs are larger (Yeti is 66 lbs, and Freya is close behind weighing in at about 58 lbs), yet, we move as a unit, one flowing, cohesive flow of energy all working toward the same goal. Sometimes, the dogs look like horses on a merry-go-round, bobbing and flying through the air with such grace and beauty, they almost bring tears to my eyes.

I have not changed this season, but this season has changed me. The dogs have changed me. The trail has changed me. And I can't go back. These hours spent moving forward with my dogs have melded us and shaped me.

To all of my friends embarking on their final hurray, I am thinking of you and your doggies. Good luck, and ....

Seventh grade science class in Elizabethtown, KY learns about dog sledding from Diamond Dogs

I am an educator first, before I've been anything else. I have taught grade-schoolers all the way up to middle-aged college freshmen returning to school. I spent seven years doing health education beside the beds of critically ill cardiac, Cystic Fibrosis, cancer and burn patients. I was raised to believe - and believe whole-heartedly - that education is the key to what makes or breaks us in life. It can change beliefs, prejudices, habits and lives.

Embracing my inner geek

I have been pleasantly surprised at how relevant and far reaching education can span within dog sledding. It involves tons of science: biology, genetics, ecology, geography. And one of my favorites: history!

Most know I do lots of educational presentations about dog sledding, but today was the first day I Skyped with an entire classroom of students about dog sledding! Technology offers such cool ways to learn about dog sledding - and science - from afar. I was impressed with the questions Ms. Kim Swickard's 7th grade science class at T.K. Stone Middle School asked me during our dog sledding Skype session today. They asked thoughtful questions, like how do you train the dogs, and how often do people get hurt in dog sledding. They also asked things like what kind of sports I played as a kid, and what I do in my spare time.

Finally, one student asked a question that has been popping around backstage in my mind, the question probably all mushers are asked and entertain at some point: do you ever want to run a long distance race like Iditarod. 

Almost six years ago, I said I had a short-term goal to run the U.P. 200. I keep running longer races, and no matter how long, no matter how many hours I am out there on the sled, I never want it to end.

I have always said I have no desire to run any kind of super distance marathon like Iditarod - the lack of sleep alone would just about kill me, not to mention it is super expensive: just the entry fee for Iditarod costs about as much as a fairly decent used car.

But something has shifted in me this season. I just keep doing longer races, and at the end of every one of them, I don't want it to end. And, as I said to my friend and mentor, Jodi Bailey, I started thinking,  if my dogs can do a 42 mile race at a 9.1 mile an hour pace, that's kinda like running from one checkpoint to the next in the Iditarod. It always seemed overwhelming to think about until now: 1,150 miles. Holy shit. Who does that? But now, I think, it's just a series of 42 mile, 18 mile, 50 mile, 90 mile runs.

And I guess that's how it starts. When you can look at that 1,150 miles and not see that number, but as each piece as a stepping stone to the big picture. Right?

And I can see that now. My mind has shifted.


And, as Jodi replied, "The mind shift is the first step, something goes from impossible to plausible to possible, and then you're doomed *hehehe*"

You can learn more about one of my favorite people, Jodi Bailey and her husband Dan and their adventures here. 

So, to answer the question, yea, I can see someday possibly attempting a race like Iditarod. I have lots of races that loom in the distance as long-term goals: The International Pedigree Stage Stop Sled Dog Race, Montana's Race to the Sky, Minnesota's John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon, and, closer to home and more immediately attainable, The U.P. 200 and The Copper Dog 150....

That's it. I am, indeed, doomed :)

For more information about how you can use mushing in your classroom, please visit any of the race sites linked above, or click on the following:

Polar Husky

Will Steger Foundation

The Iditarod: for Teachers

Outward Bound Wilderness Expeditions

Getting frank with Frank

Frank from ten years ago when I first met him, in front of the big Ford F-350 dog truck

I had the opportunity to chat with Frank Teasley for the first time in 10 years last night. We had a lot to catch up on and I was up until nearly 1 a.m. listening to his stories - some of which I'd heard before - like arriving in Dead Horse in 1982 via a 1971 school bus with $2,800, 35 dogs and dreams of running his first Iditarod. Stories of learning from Joe Redington Senior, of running along Finger Lakes during his first Iditarod in 1988 with some of the greats such as Redington Senior himself, Rick Swenson, Rick Mackey, Tim Osmar, John Barron, Dee Dee Jonrowe and Duane Halverson. And of course, Susan Butcher, who won the Iditarod that year. Our conversation evolved into a discussion of what it means to be an Iditarod musher of the "old school." One thing that Frank and I agreed on immediately that identifies "old school" mushers are Carhartts. You'll notice Frank has a pair on in the above photo.

Frank, as anyone will tell you who has met him, is quite a character. In 1998 when I first met him, he was training for his eighth and final Iditarod. I wrote about him during that time in what would eventually become part of my master's thesis manuscript. In 1998, my description of Frank still fits him. I wrote:

Frank is a good-looking man of thirty-eight who has run the Iditarod, the annual dog-sledding race across Alaska, seven times. His ruddy complexion and strawberry blonde hair match his personality, for he is gruff and often difficult to read. Intimidating to some, he is smart, rugged, and looks good in Carhartts. He's made a living running a dog sled touring company outside Jackson Hole, Wyoming, along Granite Creek Road with 180 Alaskan huskies in Teton National Forest after working as a commercial fisherman and living in Alaska for years. And his kennel is now my new home.

The description of Frank is still largely the same, with a few exceptions. Marriage has softened him. He says of his wife Stacey, "I built this house, but she's made it a home." It was so good to reconnect, talking about our friends Lila and Aaron, and some of his old dogs, like Creature, who was infamously destructive.

Frank's best Iditarod finish was sixth in 1991 - the year I graduated from high school. He's won the coveted Leonhard Seppala Humanitarian Award for the best cared for team in 1989, and the Sterling Silver Award for the most improved team in 1991. Frank founded the largest dog sledding stage race of its kind in the lower 48: the International Pedigree Rocky Mountain Stage Stop, which combines distance racing endurance with sprint/mid-distance strategy and speed (according to Frank, the average speed of Stage Stop dog teams is 18 miles per hour compared to an average of 9 MPH of Iditarod teams)to cover several hundred miles up and down the rolling hills and valleys of Wyoming.

Frank has also traveled all over the world mushing, from Italy to, more recently, Russia for Nord Hope a project that introduces mushing and dog care to orphanages around Russia.

You can read more about Frank and listen to a podcast of our interview soon through Mushing.com. In the meantime, here are some photos of Frank, courtesy of Chris Havener via the International Pedigree Rocky Mountain Stage Stop (IPSSSDR)site. For more information about Frank or the IPSSSDR, click the link here.


The man himself during the Nord Hope race in Russia


Frank at a starting checkpoint during the Stage Stop '09

An afternoon with Balto, an otter and two little girls

Elise walking up a stairway at a local park

I am lucky. Both of my girls love nature. So we spent time this last weekend hiking in the muddy NE Ohio woods and visiting Balto (and some other creatures) at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History.
Elise and her daddy, along with two crazy dogs

Many may (or may not) know that Balto only led the last 53 miles of the famous 1925 diphtheria serum run that saved the lives of many people in Nome, Alaska. Togo, another dog who ran in the serum run, did most of the work, but got little credit. Sadly, after publicity of the serum run died down, Balto's owner, musher Gunnar Kaasen, sold him and the rest of the team to a traveling "dog and pony show" before Balto ended up at the Cleveland zoo where he spent the rest of his days. This is how Balto came to rest in the Cleveland Museum of Natural History. Seems like a sad end for such a heroic and strong animal who did so much to help people.

Here is a video I shot of a movie at the museum commemorating Balto and the Serum Run that became the foundation for the Iditarod every year. The happy looks on the dogs' faces are familiar, despite this footage being more than 80 years old.



Here are some other pictures from the day:


Sophie, future musher, and Balto


Sophie playing with Mr. Potato Head at the new forensic science exhibit


Sophie and a bear statue outside the museum


The favorite activity of the day was seeing raccoons and the otter exhibits at the museum.