I write this as warm temperatures and rain begin eating away at our snowpack. We’re nearing 300 miles for this season, which is good compared to last year’s 175, but no where near the 500 miles I had hoped for. It’s frustrating. Mid-distance and distance kennels run that distance over the course of a week. They run races as long as my entire training season.
There are a lot of factors that limit what we do. I’m running this team on my own while working a full-time job. The weather has sucked. It’s not as easy to build up miles in the northeast compared to the midwest and Alaska. Don’t get me wrong, I have some amazing trail systems here, but they require repeating loops to get more miles. The dogs get bored.
This season also saw Denali and Knox slowing down slightly, while Laika picked up speed. I don’t want to push the older dogs beyond their comfort zone, so we stayed at their pace. Now that our racing season is over, I’m focusing on training Sagan and Hopper to run with the team. Since they’re still young, we’ve been doing short, slow runs. They’re mainly learning the hookup procedure, how to maneuver around the lines, and what commands mean. This works well for the older dogs, too, but it also means I’m no longer building up miles for the core team (Willow, Laika, Blitz, Hubble). If I had more time, I’d run the older dogs and puppies, and then do longer runs with the other four. But, ah, time is flying.
Next season I will push for longer miles. The older dogs can join us for short runs around the property, but I’ll be taking the younger six out to Winona as much as possible. The goal is our first mid-distance race (a modest 30-miler), so we’ll need the practice. But the sights I had been setting for 50 or even 100 milers seem less possible with my current location, resources, time, and energy. Oh, and climate change doesn’t help.
You know though? That’s OK. I don’t think I need it.
I realized while out on a short, trail-breaking run this weekend—I don’t have to justify having a sled team by going certain distances or competing in prestigious races. We were traveling slow and I wasn’t looking at the speedometer or checking our distance. I was smelling the pines and watching the dogs working together. They were happy and so was I. That’s the reason for all of this. That’s more than enough.
March means springtime, my least favorite time of year. Mushing season dwindles down. The beautiful snow melts into endless mud. Everything is cold, but not too cold, and forever damp. The awful, biting flies return.
Instead of moping, I’m filling my time with more projects. Last season’s focus was getting up the play yard. This year I can zero in on turning this property into the homestead I’ve always wanted. I’ve got a chicken coop in my garage waiting to be assembled. There’s materials for four large raised gardens on the way.
Then there’s the usual end-of-season chores. The dog carts need to be power washed and brake pads replaced. The sled needs to be tidied up. The dog truck and van need deep cleaning, inside and out. There’s a season’s worth of dirt and debris that needs to be blown and swept from the barn and garage. The snowmobile and snowblower will be “summer-ized”, the ride-on mower will be prepped for duty.
The cycle continues. And we’ll keep on rolling on.
