So this story is actually about a training run from a couple days ago. It makes me laugh, even as I retell it in my head, so I hope you enjoy.
I was running a 16-dog team around the local trails of Two Rivers. Sixteen is A LOT of dogs, but normally, this time of year, the dogs are manageable and listen well. About 30 miles into the run, I stopped to fix Oryx’s bootie. It looked puffy and full of snow, and turns out, it was. She was running in the position just in front of the wheel dogs, so I was pretty close to the sled with 12 dogs still strung out in front of me. I had just finished putting a fresh bootie on Oryx’s foot when I looked up and saw two, 6-8 dog teams trotting down the trail towards us. My team saw the oncoming teams, and since they’re used to passing other teams while moving, they all lunged forward and popped the snowhook (aka blew through the emergency brake). You can never trust a snowhook to hold your team, so I’m typically at the ready to catch the sled as it glides by in the event that they get a little too excited and pull the hook before I’m ready; however, in this case, I was straddling Oryx at the time and not in an athletic stance to grab the sled. In fact, Oryx’s tugline took me out at the knees, throwing me backwards. I managed to grab the gangline with my right hand as I fell and proceeded to drag down the trail, under the sled, holding on to the gangline. I recall seeing the other team’s dogs trot past my face, and for some unknown reason, I blurted out “I’m ok!” I don’t know if this was my subconscious trying to save face in my hilarious struggle, or ….. well… I have no idea why I said it. A person being drug under a sled by a 16-dog team isn’t really “ok.” And I had to laugh- the other musher’s response was perfect. He said, “No, I’m going to help you.” He stopped his team, grabbed my sled as it went by, and pulled it to a stop. His team then started pulling his sled down the trail, even with the hook secured in the snow. Luckily, he managed to run ahead and grab it before they truly popped the snowhook. As I stood up, hat full of snow and catawampus on my head, headlamp wrapped around my neck, I stupidly looked back and yelled again “I’m ok!” I don’t think I remembered to even say thanks. So if that musher happens to read this, thank you! I’ve got a nasty kink in my neck and my pride is a bit hurt, but it gave me something to laugh about as I mushed back home.
