Denise Edwards wakes up every day at 5 a.m. with 16 mouths to feed. A dog sled racer who owns the “Coyote Kennel” in Flagstaff, she is both alpha mom and coach to 16 Alaskan huskies, who depend on her for food, water, shelter, exercise, training and love.
“And then there’s the whole poop thing,” laughs Edwards.
“Dropping” dogs, or giving them a bathroom break, is part of a very calculated regimen in dog sled racing. There are the stops on the side of the road, to let eight or so dogs out of their small kennels perched on the pickup truck to take what is hopefully a synchronized break. There is also the careful timing of feeding, so that ideally dogs don’t do what one of Edwards’ lead dogs did just out of the race chute at the Lone Cone Conquest — leaving a pile-up of confused dogs and a small offering in the snow.
“I had a tangle,” said Andrews, who still managed to take fifth place in the six-dog sled event. “It’s all about knowing your dogs.”
The Lone Cone Conquest drew a horde of sled dog enthusiasts just like Andrews, breeders, trainers and racers who own dozens of Siberian Huskies, Alaskan Huskies, Samoyeds, and other lean, wild-eyed breeds who thrive in the snow.
These enthusiasts spend hundreds of dollars or more a month just on dog food. Some feed their race dogs a chum of raw meat and blood. They break up fights, they raise and train the dogs, and they spend countless hours at the vet. They purchase special vehicles, pickup trucks or bigger trucks, and modify them with kennels so that teams of dogs can hit the road to race, with their snouts poking out the small holes. They buy special sleds, and drive hundreds of miles to races between October and March.
“It’s a lot of work,” concedes Edwards. “You do it because you love it. It’s all about the dogs, but if you’re in this, you love the dogs.”
The Lone Cone Conquest race officials sprayed a small paint mark on the dogs’ flanks so that teams can’t swap out the athletes during the day. Organizers, racers and spectators had to endure the utter cacophony of howling, screeching animals who want only to run so fast and so hard that they may throw up during the race. And with the heat at this year’s unusually sunny and snowy Lone Cone Conquest, many of the dogs did.
Sled dogs, even the big breeds, are ultra-fit athletes. They are bred, fed and trained to perform, and as they are latched to the sleds, the volume of the howling and braying goes up in anticipation of the run.
“They are like marathon runners,” said Edwards. “There’s no fat on them.”
Once their energy is spent, they curl up in their kennel or on the ground leashed to the truck, and they start to look less like hungry wolves and more like the cuddly pets you might have at home. Sled dogs are usually high-strung and hard for most regular pet owners to handle, said Edwards. But she isn’t looking to give her dogs up, Barbaro-style or to good homes, after their racing career is over.
“They’re mine. They’re my kids,” said Edwards. “They stay with me their whole lives.”
The race in Norwood is sanctioned by the International Sled Dog Racing Association, and includes events for teams with four, six and eight dogs as well as skijoring, where dogs pull a cross-country skier around the track. The eight-dog teams traveled an 8.2-mile loop, the six-dog teams a 6.4-mile loop, and the four-dog teams a 4.2-mile loop. The skijor teams ran for 6.4 miles. The total purse was $5,000 and the results can be found on at www.isdra.org, under “events” on the third page.
Thirty-one teams traveled to compete in Norwood, in beautiful weather, under sunny skies and with plentiful snow. Organizer Jim Hoffman said the event was a success.
“The weather was great,” said Hoffman. “The only thing that would have been better is colder temperatures for the dogs. But the people really enjoyed it.”