The "Backyard Iditarod" comes to the Tallmadge Branch Library

Foxy and I had our first dog sledding presentation of the season today at the Tallmadge Library! It was a great way to kick off fall, and the weather followed suit with a chilly rain.

Fourteen-year-old Foxy really enjoys our outings. It gives her a job to do, and she adores all the attention from the kids in the audience.


Foxy feelin' the love from the audience at the library talk today

Recently, Foxy gave us quite a scare.

I came home from work one day a couple weeks ago to find Foxy stumbling. She fell four times heading for the back door; I had to carry her in all of her 65 pounds outside to use the bathroom. Her head was tilted, and her eyes were doing a quick back-and-forth movement, called nystagmus. She was also drooling and walking in circles - all signs of a stroke, or so I thought.

I rushed her to our vet's office. She went reluctantly. Even though she could hardly walk, she still strongly refused to enter the vet's office willingly. I was relieved when Dr. Wittington said she had something called Canine Vestibular Syndrome, a relatively common thing that affects elderly dogs. It is idiopathic in Foxy, meaning we don't know what caused it. Her ears were fine; there was no sign of infection or mites. So we went home to wait it out.

Sure enough, within a few days, Foxy was back to normal, trotting along the puppy paths at the Ranch! We are so thankful!


Foxy and me at the Tallmadge Library

In other news, nothing says "I need a four-wheeler" quite like this bruise!



Six crazy dogs + one 80 pound cart and me = suicide mission #562!

Yes, it's true. I hooked up six dogs to my little cart. We took a corner quite sharp at the end of one of our dirty, country roads, and my leg collided with the post of a stop sign going six-dog-power forward. Lemme tell ya, it ain't pretty! And it's turning deeper shades of purple and blue as I type. OUCH! My dogs heard some extra colorful words coming out of my mouth on that run!

But, I have to remind myself of the words of my friend, Jim Warren.

Jim told me two things a few winters ago as I ran his dogs.

1. They're only dogs doing dog things. Be sure your expectations of them aren't too high because, after all, they're only dogs.

2. Mushing teaches the best of all skills: triumph in the face of adversity. No matter what life or nature throws at a musher, a good musher will pick up and carry on.

After a few brightly colored words and a brief pause, I lifted the brake on my little cart, hupped the dogs, and away we went following the setting sun.

Reminiscence of a winter's heart

I had a fairly major surgery a week ago tomorrow, and have spent the better part of the last week sleeping. Yesterday was the first day I felt fairly normal in a week. I made it out to the kennel to see my four-legged kids, who seemed as happy to see me as I was to see them. It was a good day until, quite suddenly last night, I spiked a 101.3 temperature and was, literally, quaking with chills under several layers of clothes and blankets. Run-of-the-mill, post-op infection. I am back in bed, taking antibiotics and waiting for life to begin again.

In moments like these, it is sometimes difficult to remember that age-old adage: "This, too, shall pass."

Perhaps it was my febrile state that led me to reminiscing of things that bring me most joy in this world, trying to remind myself that this, too, shall pass. I know there are many who don't understand the love of this expensive sport. In my reminiscing, I stumbled on several videos I'd taken last season while running the trails surrounding Jim Warren's Sleddog Lodge.

The dogs are so much a part of my life and my joy. I feel so helpless this last week being cooped up inside, not spending time with them.

Funny, I wrote to my friend Jason: even in the heat of July, we reminisce about winter, training practically all the rest of the year for one or two or three big races. Ever wonder why we put so much stock in these relatively short claims of glory?

Because we have a winter's heart, and a love for the simple joys being behind a team of well-toned athletes cooking down a pristine hardwood trail covered in nature's glory.

Take a peek: click on the video below to see my six-dog team cooking down a beautiful, sunlit trail on a perfect winter day in the U.P.

Break on through

Early last season while training, Jim and I left Sleddog Lodge one morning with two teams in a veritable blizzard. It was just before Thanksgiving, and snow dumped on the U.P. in massive amounts.



Even lifelong Yoopers were dumbfounded with the weather patterns. With a total of 14 dogs lined out between the two of us – me with six and Jim with eight – we slogged through a tough 28 mile run, breaking trail the whole time. I was glad I had my ski goggles and my coyote-fur lined hooded parka; otherwise, I would have been blinded by the snowfall.



Sweaty and struggling at often a snail’s pace, running up hills through the knee-deep snow, there were moments when I thought of giving up. Then I looked at the dogs and felt guilty for my own lack of stamina.


A training run - on route 414 outside of Newberry, MI

We should all aspire to a sleddog’s work ethic. Regardless of the depth of snow, the blowing wind, or the flakes falling in a blinding sheet, they put their heads down, focus and keep on running. They do not question it. They just do it, like the best Nike athletes.

We can learn a lot from dogs. The do not falter when faced with adversity; it isn’t in their vocabulary.

Two of Jim's dogs who exemplify an iron will and fierce determination are Cocoa and Eric.


Cocoa, only a yearling in this photo, but running up front on a training run. Jennifer Warren praised Cocoa for her willingness to keep on going when the going got tough last year. "She just puts her little head down and goes," Jennifer said of Cocoa.


Eric the dog. Also a super strong leader who will break trail for hours, Eric is a linebacker on the line


Rachel - probably the dog in Jim's kennel I identify most with. Fiesty and scrappy, Rachel can dish it out and take it too

Life is often like breaking trail: disoriented and blind, we slog through and hope the path we take is the right path. No matter what your passion, regardless of the challenges that you face, never give up. Keep slogging.