Conditioning

Shhh… Be very quiet. Can you hear it? That is the sound of a tired , happy dog team. They just ran 80 miles in the last 12 hours.

At noon I started preparations, fixing lunch and dinner for myself. Getting the kibble and hot water for the dog’s meals. Loading harness, quad, gas, dogs, meals, water, handwarmers, arctic gear, headlamp, and everything else we would need for the runs. We got to the trail at 2 PM, unloaded, hooked up, and started the first run at 3. Four hours and twenty minutes later we had bounced and bumped our way over 42 miles of trail to arrive back at the truck. Feed the dogs, myself and settle in for a 3 hour rest. At 10:30 PM it’s back on the trail to bounce our way through another 42 miles. At 3 AM, 4 ½ hours later, the dogs are tired, but feeling good about a job well done. I take the time to tell each dog how proud I am, feed them again, and load them into the truck. By the time I get home Strider is sound asleep in his box. Unload all the dogs – Strider climbs into his house and is back asleep before I get the next dog unloaded. Dash isn’t tired and runs around the backyard checking out the morning smells before coming to be tethered. I rejoice in my life with these wonderful companions, and at 5:30 AM fall into bed for my own nap, knowing I will not get to bed this early, after a back-to-back run, again this season.

So what does it take to condition the dogs to run Iditarod? The conventional building block for a mid- to long-distance race is the back-to-back 50. Run 50 miles, rest 6 hours, and run 50 more. Repeat until finished. If you can do this for 2 weeks you will finish Iditarod.

This year I started in early September with four 7 mile runs per week and 10 to 20 short rest stops during each run for the dogs to cool off and catch their breath. It was a cool September and we ran mid-mornings, a nice change from getting up at 3 AM to beat the heat. Figure 4 to 5 hours overhead (loading, setting up, driving, taking down, unloading and putting away) plus an hour fifteen for each run and we are working 24 hours / week (not counting 1 hour of chores to take care of the dogs each day).

By October 1st the dogs are getting into shape and we mix 10 mile short fast runs with 20 mile long slow runs. The dogs actually ran for 9 hours the first week, with a solid 20 hours of overhead (driving to different trails), for a 36 hour week (counting chores). By November 1st the short fast runs are 15 miles (at higher speed with fewer rests), and the long slow runs are 30. We started back-to-back runs (where we run, rest short, and run again) October 23 with a 40 mile run with 4 hours of rest in the middle. I also started feeding twice a day, so chores go to 1 ½ hours / day. The typical week runs 40 hours with the dogs.

By December 1st the plan is short fast 30 miles runs, long slow 60 mile runs, and 50 mile back-to-back (190 miles total), achieving the conventional building block. Last year I thought that was what the dogs were capable of, and spent the rest of the training season refining it. The team had run 2,500 miles by the start of last year’s Iditarod. But after the 114 mile run to finish the Taiga 300 last April (http://www.rnorthbounddogs.com/PDF/Taiga3002008.pdf), I know better.

Our planned race season starts January 3rd with the Knik 200. To be competitive in that race you have to run from Knik to Skwentna (about 92 miles) in 8 to 9 hours, rest 6 hours, and 8 to 9 back for a 22 to 24 hour total. I really need to do at least one back to back 100 (200 miles total) with 6 hours of rest before January to simulate that race. This is new ground for me and I don’t know exactly how I’ll get there from back to back 50’s next week. But you can count on it being exciting, and getting to bed by 5 AM will be a fond memory.

My mother used to warn me about people who came home when decent people were getting up to go to work. Like most kids I never listened. ;-)

Keep ‘em Northbound

Eric

The dogs make me laugh

This has been an interesting week. Monday was supposed to be a short fast run. We tried a new trail and there were at least three trees down blocking it. I cut the first two, the third was too big for my hand saw. Turn around and go back. So much for short and fast ;-). The photo shows a branch stuck in the chains.

Tuesday was supposed to be a 50 mile run. The moose changed that. Thursday was supposed to be a 40 mile run, a 5 hour rest, and another 40 mile run getting me home between 6 and 8 AM Friday.

I haven’t had any more luck making money to support the family, mortgage, and dogs than I’ve had running this week. A marine survey company called Wednesday to interview me on Friday for job and I jumped at the chance. But I needed to be coherent, not a sleep deprived musher. No problem. Single runs on Thursday and Saturday will work fine. The dogs need an easy week once in a while and this fits.

It’s Friday, life happened  and the company never called me back to confirm time for the interview. Ok, run Friday to leave the trails open for those that can’t run during the week. About 9 miles into the run, I’m debating the merits of 20 vs 25 miles when it struck me the dogs were running like a fine swiss watch. Everything was great – let’s end the week on a positive note – I turned them for home. A mile out we climb heartbreak hill. The dogs attack the hill like a troop of marines. My heart swells with pride.

Pepper is having trouble keeping up and dropping back behind Worf (they are two up from wheel). Slow the team a little and Pepper catches back up. Then he pulls ahead of Worf. Befuddled, I watch as Pepper slows moves up until the pair of dogs ahead of Worf becomes three dogs wide. What?… Pepper keeps moving up the team like a long distance runner. Now he is two pair up. Light dawns. His tug line is loose (he doesn’t wear a neckline). Stop the team and Pepper stops with the others. Get off the quad and walk up the team. Pepper walks up as I do. He stops beside the leader with a quizzical “Now what?” look on his face. “Pepper”, “Pepper”. He looks back bemused and walks down the team to me. I hook him back up beside Worf and he starts slamming his harness and screaming to run. Funny dog .

We finish the run strong. Strider starts to trash talk Dukat and I move him to the truck to keep the peace. I lay out the dishes on the ground in two groups and fill them with kibble. When they are done I add water and give to the dogs. Setting out the second set, Blaze and Thyme in lead start complaining. Strider has gotten lose and is eating from the first 8 dishes I set out and filled. Typically he eats with great vim and vigor (I’ve got to use those names!), but he looks confused, taking a bite from this dish, then a bite from that one. He is kind of randomly working his way through the set. Silly dog.

Now I remember why I do this. Therapy! The dogs make me laugh.

Keep ‘em Northbound

Eric

The trouble with Moose

Seventeen dogs and I started on a 50 mile run with Lycos and Dash in lead. Lycos stopped twice to stool in the first two miles and I just didn’t want to deal with it. I moved Platinum into lead with Dash and off we went. Four miles into the run the four wheeler came over a small hill and there was a huge bull moose in the middle of the trail kicking my swing dogs! Slam on the brake. The quad slides to a stop. The moose is working on the first pair of team dogs. The rest of the dogs are going crazy. The moose walks off to the left side of the trail. Come on moose we won’t bother you if you don’t bother us. Please walk off the trail and let us be. No Luck.

The moose comes back into the team and kicks the first pair of team dogs again. I’ve got handlebar warmers on the quad, and can’t find the reverse release. There it is, jam into reverse, give it gas, all four wheels just spin on the icy trail. The dogs are screaming – not sure if they want to run, get the moose, or both. I’m hollering at the moose. Nothing! Shift into neutral and rev the engine – the muffler is worn and it roars like a jet. Nothing from the moose. Moose walks back to the left side of the trail – come on – just walk off and leave us alone. No luck!

Try to think. Now what!?! The moose is standing at the edge of the trail facing me about 60 feet from the quad, right beside the swing and team dogs. I don’t see flared eyes or steaming nostrils. He doesn’t seem real upset and the kicking is kind of half hearted, but that could change in a second. Those feet can kill. We have got to get out of there. Try reverse again – all 4 wheels spin. Could the dogs pull the quad into the moose with the brakes locked?

The trail is 8 foot wide with the moose taking about 1/3 of it. Platinum is doing yeoman’s duty holding the team out – he and Dash are past the moose. Blaze and Frodo in swing and Rosemary and Mocha in 1st team are in a semi-circle as far from the moose as they can get. Can I go forward past the moose? If I hug the right side of the trail my shoulder will past under his nose. Unless he moves. What will this animal think of 11 dogs, a quad, and a human coming at him? If he gets stressed, things could go from bad to disastrous in a second.

The moose crosses to the right side of the trail, tangles in the lines and half-hearted kicks at the dogs again. Come on – keep going… keep going… No Luck. He walks back between lead and swing to his spot on the left side of the trail. Think Eric, think! Try reverse again – all 4 wheels spin. Shout – nothing. Rev the engine – nothing. I wish I had a weapon.

“Platinum”! We have done some come haw work. “Platinum! Come Haw” I call. The third time he gets the idea and comes back – even though he had to pass the moose again. The moose stand and watches the team come back to me on the narrow trail. Each dog swings over to ask Platinum what is going on. With the pressure off the gangline, reverse works and we back over the hill out of sight. Platinum, Dash and a big ball of 13 dogs pass the quad.

Check the dogs. Nobody has a line wrapped around their neck, but Lycos is being drug upside down and backwards. In desperation he attacks the dog next to him. I can’t get slack in the line. Undo tugs – get some slack and unwrap the gangline from Lycos rear leg. Check for dogs in distress. There are a couple on the rack with necklines caught pulling one way and tugs the other. It takes some effort get them loose. There are red / pink blotches all over the snow where the dogs are struggling. Keep untangling dogs, looking over my shoulder for the moose. Finally, everyone is clear and lined out. Where the blood on the snow is coming from – I don’t see any injuries. It isn’t blood but cranberries that thawed in the warm weather (32 degrees) and were crushed when the dogs stepped on them.

Climb back over the hill – the moose is still standing in the same spot in the trail. Let’s get out of here! Start to turn the quad and the dogs lunge into the lines – crack the whip – I hang on and we fly out at warp speed.

I’m just about ready to call it a day and drive back to the truck. My heart rate comes back to normal. What is that about getting back on a horse when you fall off? A bumpy ride takes us to the alternate side trail. Four loops (20 miles) later we drive back to the truck and call it a night.

Oh, we did get caught in a rut and drug into a 6 foot long concrete Jersey barrier. We moved the end of the barrier 8 inches in the collision. And the high tide came in – put 2 inches of salt water over the low spots on the trail back. But after the moose that was anticlimactic.

At the truck Lycos told me his left front leg was sore. There is a small tear in the skin, probably from being kicked. Two staples repair the damage.

Thank heaven I moved Lycos out of lead. He has a high prey drive and has tried to chase a squirrel up a tree – with a dog team and sled. He also tried to play with a porcupine. Two hundred quills later… Platinum passed the moose and kept the team strung out – what a guy. He got an extra piece of fish and my undying thanks.

Keep 'em Northbound

Eric

It is all relative

This is what a 19 dog team looks like to the musher.

In the beginning, you picture the ideal dog team in your head. You refine that image to picture the individual dogs. Then you go out an find those dogs, or as close as you can get to them. Come fall you start training the dogs in small teams - maybe 8 to 10 dogs at a time.

You and the dogs start to build trust and gain experience together. The runs get longer and longer until you just don't have the time to run two teams anymore. You hookup all the dogs into a single team (after all an Iditarod team is 16 dogs). You release the snub, and on your command to "hike" the dogs hit the line like an NFL team in the Super Bowl. The power is incredible, they pull the 4-wheeler like they don't even know it's there.

Your heart swells with pride. This is your team. The product of your dreams and hard work. Each and every dog is working like a fine Swiss watch. What great animals they are!

An hour or more into the run, you stop, set the brake and get off the 4-wheeler to relieve yourself. The dogs scream with the desire to RUN. As you swell with pride, one of the dogs hits his tug. Another dogs picks up the idea. The 4-wheeler starts to move and the whole team leans in with a passion, dragging the 4-wheeler with the brakes locked and chains on all four wheels.

Your pride turns to despair as your realize that those mangy male offspring of female dogs are leaving you behind. You took to long, and they expect you to walk home!

Perspective is everything!

Keep 'em Northbound

Eric