Musher as coach: the symbiotic relationship between sled dogs and their person

"I don't believe in team motivation.
I believe in getting a team prepared so it knows
it will have the necessary confidence when it steps on a field
and be prepared to play a good game."
    -Tom Landry

I have a very young team this season. Out of the ten dogs in training, six are two-years-old or younger. It's been really gratifying watching them transform from puppies to athletes.

For the last two months, as training runs became longer, colder, and more strenuous, an idea began to surface for me.

There were days on training runs when we were breaking trail and moving so slow that it would have been easy (for me and the dogs) to become discouraged. Wading through knee-deep snow to hook up my 10 dogs seemed to take forever.  But the stamina and enthusiasm of the dogs is admirable and catching. Watching the snow cascade over their backs as they leap into the next drift, barking and clamoring for more despite the extreme effort of breaking trail is something to behold.

They inspire me.

But during those long strenuous runs, my role was also to coach, to inspire, to encourage them.

We have a symbiotic relationship. The energy I put into coaching and encouraging them is the same as what they give back. We rely on each other.

We have spent four months training and preparing for next weekend's Midnight Run. I have chosen the team and here's the line up:

Leading will be the dynamic sisterly duo of Big Brown and Ruffian.

Big Brown, who is neither big or brown, demonstrating how a good leader holds the line tight - even a tiny 40 lb one!

To say Ruffian is intense is an understatement. She is the "get up and go" in my team - a real cheerleader, always barking to go and barking more if we don't go fast enough!

In point are two young, up and coming stars and both young. Dirk, who is an older yearling, and my rising leader, and Cinder, who is two years old; this will be Cinder's first race ever.

Dirk, rising star leader for Team Diamond Dogs; the dogs run a full mile per hour faster when Dirk is in lead. He is young, so doesn't know commands yet, but has been a great trail leader

Cinder, who I acquired late in the season, but who has jumped right into training and become a super special girl in the team. Fantastic attitude, great feet, super eater, and beautiful to watch lope!

In team are yearling brothers from the Tak x Yeti litter, Perry and Tosh.

Always gentle, well-mannered and beautiful Tosh.

Big boy, Perry, is always playful and wagging no matter how long or difficult the run is. He has lead a few times and may have a place as a leader for the team soon

Finally pulling up the rear in wheel will be the backbone, veterans Fiona, who is 5 years old and the oldest dog on the team, and Miles, who is 2.

Fiona who is tireless and just getting warmed up after 20 miles

Miles, all brawn and muscle, and always jumping and barking to go

I have done my best to get this young team prepared so it has the confidence to play a good game. Our speed had been less than stellar from slogging through three feet of snow in the Upper Peninsula during the last month of training. And with this young team, I don't expect to win anything.

But we will enter the Midnight Run on Friday with our best paw forward - entering as mostly yearlings and emerging (hopefully) as seasoned canine athletes.

See you in Marquette and as always, mush love!

Dog power: thoughts on mushing, and bitter pills

Happy New Year from the Lazy Husky Ranch!

After some set backs that have had me quite depressed this week, I've had some time to reflect. This blog is about so much more than dogs. It's about life, adversity, perserverance. And it's about mushing.

Mushing is something that is in you. You either get it, or you don't; there's no in between. Marriages break up because of those who "get it" and those who "don't." Friendships change, lifestyles change, everything changes because of the passion for this sport. And, if you're reading this, I suspect it's in you too. And there's no changing that. No race can "qualify" that; no person can take that away.

I personally like having a race to train towards. It helps me have a goal and helps to focus my training with the dogs.

But it looks like I may forego all my plans for this season. The reasons for this are several, first and foremost, my health. I have recently realized I not taken the time to process everything that happened in September. I was so anxious to jump into fall training, I stifled or "compartmentalized" the pain and trauma I felt from my hospitalization.

So, at least for the time being, I am canceling plans for racing this season. Races will be there.

Instead, I'm hoping to have lots of sled time with my family. I plan to teach Sophie the fundamentals of dogsledding this winter.


Sophie ice skating on New Year's Eve

And I plan to heal finally from all that happened in September.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, I admit. But I think it's the right pill for now.

Besides....someone has to be here to care for puppies....

Learn by going where I need to go

It is six degrees out as I type. The snow is piling up outside with no intention of letting up. The house is quiet and in that quiet, a storm brews.

I should be excited. And I am, in a way. But I've had this horrible cough for going on three weeks now, and sometimes right now, it hurts to breathe. So I sit quietly with Gracie lying next to me and Foxy at my feet, thinking. Sometimes, now, I want to just be quiet.

What have I been training for? Several hundred miles logged on the dogs this fall, moving toward a solid goal, only to have everything fall apart at the last moment?

This year has been such a rough year. All I wanted more than anything was to get back on the runners and move forward. But maybe I've moved forward too fast. Because now suddenly these demons are haunting me. Three months of solid antibiotics have weakened me, made me susceptible, led to this awful cough. My body is not what it was. I am atrophied in places that were once strong. And I've been denying this fact.

My intentions were good. I thought picking right up where I left off was the right thing.

But I find myself in these quiet moments remembering the fragility and tenuous hold we have on life. In flashes, now that it's quiet, I remember the helplessness I felt in September, the stream of physicians of various disciplines, the humiliation and frustration and yes, the anger. And I remember the pain. Now that it's quiet, the memories well up inside of me, now that it's quiet, and rushes out in a flood that once was an iceberg. Why? Why did this happen?

I have decided to spend some time processing. Races will be there. I need to embrace this quiet, grieve, feel. And learn by going where I have to go.

Theodore Roethke - "The Waking"

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

Not up to me

Bring on the dancing horses

I've had enough.

Still "infectious," still sick, I cast aside all this "rest" to retreat into the things that will make me heal the most: my children, and the lake.


Elise at the county fair - ride em cowgirl!

Saturday night, I took my girls to the fair, walked for hours, looking at the beautiful lights and all the animals.


The dizzying array of lights on the ferris wheel - our favorite

We saw the sights, road the rides, ate the cotton candy.


Not sure what Elise was thinking here, but that horse she chose does look pretty ominous


Sophie on the merry go round




Elise stuffing herself with sugar! Cotton Candy! Yum!

Along the way, we stopped to smell the flowers:




Hibiscus


One of my favorites: the Tiger Lilly

And tonight, Sophie and I headed out to the lake, just the two of us, a mom & daughter date night. We floated along together in my kayak and witnessed the most spectacular sunset. Fish jumped, but otherwise, the lake was smooth as glass.



While floating along in a peaceful bliss, Sophie and I came across a young raccoon shaking on the shore. Clearly sick with distemper or some kind of disease, we floated up to it, his feable human-like hands grasping a branch, shaking.

"Oh, mom! He's so cute! Can't we save him!" Sophie pleaded.

This was an opportunity to teach my eldest daughter the one of the hardest lessons of life: it's not up to us.



I thought about this in reference to myself. This infection, getting better, getting worse: it's not up to me, if I lie in bed 24/7 or if I live my life. What will be will be.

It's not up to me. So I let go.

I return to the doctor on Wednesday and will learn then if I need another surgery to clear up infections from the first surgery.

Intervening is sometimes notthe answer.

Sometimes we must just let nature take its course, and live out our lives the best we can, do right by those we can.

But in the meantime, I'm gonna do the things I love, and rejoice in the beauty all around. Life is short; the life of a raccoon, even shorter. It's no coincidence when we first spotted the raccoon, he was limping along weakly, making his way to rest on the shore facing the setting sun. One beautiful final view, indeed.