Life has gone to the [snow] dogs.

The last rays of sunshine are burning like the flames of a campfire; slowly dipping lower amongst the darkening forest in front of us. The full moon creeps steadily upward highlighting the entirety of the forest in a bright white glow. Not a cloud is present in the sky to obscure the winter constellations - most notably Orion, directly overhead, standing guard in the night sky. The air is crisp against our noses and the forest is blanketed in a layer of neon white snow. The Sawbill checkpoint is moving slow, conserving energy for the real work to come. The smell of bacon emanating from the checkpoint tent permeates the forest for at least a quarter mile. A low fire flickers next to the snowmobile trail, and a handful of volunteers are hovering in the small circle of warmth radiating outward from the dancing fire. Voices are kept low and eyes are peeled down the trail watching diligently for the first bobbing lights of a lead dog to crest a small hill down the trail. Crackles erupt over the walkie talkies. Volunteers down trail alert that a musher has made it across the last road crossing before they will reach the checkpoint. A few moments later the soft murmur of the checkpoint erupts as the lead dog light and musher headlight are spotted down the trail and cries of “TEAM! TEAM!” resonate through the quiet forest. Mumbles of “Is it a marathon team?” are repeated as volunteers jump to their positions. Our vet team moves closer to the checkpoint entrance in order to get an unencumbered view of the dogs as the team approaches. As the team runs towards us down the trail in silence, white clouds of breath encircle the dogs happy, smiling faces. Crystals frost the tips of their fur. Volunteers count the dogs as the team approaches “2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14; Marathon team!” Our vet team runs through our mental checklist. How many dogs are there? Are there any dogs in the sled? Are there any obvious limps? How are the dogs acting on the line - tired? Excited? Any signs of diarrhea? Wait is that dog urinating - what color is it? Out loud we ask the musher “Ryan, do you have any concerns with anyone?” “No everyone’s running great!” The dogs punctuate this statement by starting to jump into their harnesses hoping to pop the anchor; vocalizing, yowling, howling. They want to keep running. The dogs look back at their musher, as if to inquire as to why the seemingly arbitrary stop. The volunteers each find a spot along the gangline and desperately hold on as the team takes a hard Haw toward the woods where the dogs will be bed down amongst the trees. There are many miles to cover and hours left in this race.

The John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon is an Iditarod Qualifying Race. The Sawbill check point is the one point of the race where the Musher is required to be completely self-sufficient. This means no outside help from their spouses, partners, or handlers. The Musher must bed down, feed, water and care for their dogs for as long as they remain in the check-point; emulating care they will be required to perform along the entirety of the Iditarod trail. This contributes to the uniqueness of this checkpoint. Mushers will gather inside the checkpoint tent to eat wonderfully prepared, warm, hearty food - including the infamous 20+ lbs of bacon that are prepared here throughout the entirety of the race. The checkpoint is run by the same family each year and among the team volunteers are many familiar faces. The group is friendly, warm, and inviting no matter the time of day or night, lending to the reputation of this checkpoint.

As we follow the team deeper into the woods the sounds of the checkpoint fade away until we are left with just the sound of our own breath visible in the beam of our headlamps, and the sound of snow crunching beneath our boots. The dogs are outlined by the strong light of the musher’s headlamp, designed to penetrate far enough down the trail during a run to visualize the lead dogs. Growls, grumbles and huffs can be heard as the dogs dig themselves beds in the newly thrown straw. The ritual is the same regardless of who the musher is. Each dog is unhooked, patted, talked to and encouraged. Some mushers will toss a snack at this point, while others will snack and prepare a hot meal of water, kibble and meat for their teams. We diligently watch the dogs. Who’s eating, who’s not. Wait is that dog urinating - what color is it? Our only job during this race is the health of the dogs. Our only concern is the wellbeing of these athletes.

The John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon was established in 1980. The race consists of both a marathon distance-which is the longest sled dog race in the lower 48 states- and a mid-distance race, as well as, a few junior races. The marathon distance is also an Iditarod qualifying race. The course is challenging for either distance, and the skills of the musher and readiness of a sled dog team are sure to be tested. The race is named after John Beargrease, the son of an Anishinabe Chief, Moquabimetem. John Beargrease was born and lived in Beaver Bay, MN. Between 1879 and 1899 John Beargrease and his brothers took on the task of delivering the mail up and down the North Shore, often via dog sled along their trap line. The North Shore was (and is) notorious for its harsh weather conditions which often resulted in loss of communication to the outside world. John Beargrease was pivotal in the establishment of the North Shore as we know it now and his role is honored every year in the running of the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon. Symbolically, John Beargrease is always awarded Bib #1 and each Musher is sworn in as a member of the Postal Service for the race. Each Musher starts the race with a mail bag containing real letters to be delivered up the trail.

This year was the 34th running of the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon and my 4th year participating on the vet team for the entirety of the race. My interest in sled dog races was rekindled by memories of growing up in Marquette, MI watching the downtown start of the UP200 and Midnight run. I started volunteering for the JBSM during vet school, which quickly resulted in the recruitment of 20+ fellow vet students to the pre-race veterinary checks each year. A formal club and Student Chapter of the ISDVMA (International Sled Dog Veterinary Medical Associated) was started the year after I graduated, due to the immense interest amongst the veterinary students. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend one of my fourth year clinical vacation blocks working on the veterinary team for the entirety of the race, with an amazing group of veterinarians and veterinary technicians. I have been truly lucky to be asked back each year to volunteer for this inspiring race.

The veterinary team each year is comprised of approximately 10-12 veterinarians and 6-8 veterinary technicians. We are split into groups of 2-3 and spend the entirety of the race bunny hopping down the race from checkpoint to checkpoint, Northbound and Southbound, providing veterinary care to all of the dogs involved in the races, at all hours of the day and night. Sleep is a luxury during this race and it is not uncommon to find race veterinarians, race marshals and mushers passed out in chairs at a checkpoint.

Every dog is given a physical examination prior to the start of the race. Their body condition, heart rate and any physical exam abnormalities are recorded in the Musher’s veterinary book that is a required to travel with the Musher in the sled for the entirety of the race. To not have the vet book, is to risk disqualification. The dogs have required veterinary checks at certain checkpoints. At these checks, all dogs heart rates, hydration status and body condition are evaluated and recorded. Every individual on the veterinary team is a volunteer and most return year after year. Our fearless leader and Head Veterinarian is Gregg Phillips. He is in charge of all of the logistics of putting together a successful and cohesive veterinary team - and he does an amazing job. We have a lot of fun as a group, and meeting up with these individuals in something I look forward to every year.

It is very difficult to put into words what exactly draws me back to races, to these dogs, to these people. Truly, the draw originates from somewhere deep inside of me. Its deeply emotional. I think the feelings can be best described in the context of the starting line. You can tell immediately when a team is starting to hook up dogs to the gang line to start a run. The air erupts with howls, screams, and yowls. The dogs start to bounce against their chains. Teams are escorted to the starting line with a 4-wheeler attached to the sled anchor because the power generated by 14 dogs is too much for the friction of the sled brake to fight against. As the dogs stand on the starting line the energy is palpable. Every dogs is trembling with anticipation. Dogs are leaping 5 feet into the air, jumping into their harnesses just to be abruptly brought back to earth as they hit the resistance of the anchor. You can feel the cries of the dogs to your very core. And then all at once, the anchor is lifted, and the world goes completely quiet, as if all of the sound in the world was sucked out, leaving a vacuum in its place. As the dogs start to pull the sled forward, they are all business. They will pull the sled the next 40 miles, up and down hills, through snow drifts, and snow storms. If you are familiar with mushing, then standing at the starting line you know that this is the culmination of hundreds of hours of training, of a life spent devoted to these dogs, of the support of a team and a family working together to keep the dogs and musher healthy and safe. It never fails, that at every start that I watch, my chest tightens and tears swell up in my eyes as each team starts down the trail. As I come back year after year to be a part of the veterinary team, and get to know the mushers and the handlers, that emotion and grip on my heart only deepens and strengthens. Truthfully, I spend most of the down time of the race daydreaming about owning my own team.

I am fortunate to have been able to take a small piece of the culture down with me to North Carolina in the form of my dog Q. Points Unknown is a recreational mushing kennel in Hovland, MN dedicated to preserving the Hedlund husky which is a traditional line of sled dogs originating in the Alaskan bush. I became acquainted with the Points Unknown Kennel last year during the JBSM through a seasoned race veterinarian and mentor. She brought me to Points Unknown to meet the dogs and Linda. Linda runs an amazing kennel. Her dogs are well socialized, get hours of group play, pull sled almost daily, and teach visitors about the logistics of mushing. **Small plug - Points Unknown has a beautiful Airbnb for rent that overlooks their dog yard!! Click Here to learn more!!** The process to adopt Q was extensive. I filled out a questionnaire inquiring about my lifestyle and the type of dog I was hoping to add to my family. Linda expertly guided me to Q as a possible adoptee. Q was almost ten years old but hardly slowing down. Linda felt that Q more than deserved a retirement home at this point in his life. I feel immensely honored that she allowed me to welcome Q into my home and heart, as he holds a very special place in her own heart. Q has taken to retirement quite well. He has learned to de-stuff plush toys with the best of them, how to lounge on the couch and on the bed, and how to beg for food. I try to get him out as much as I can to continue doing what he loves in the form of Canicross (and hopefully bikejoring soon!). I love this dog to pieces. He is the most solid dog ever, in all situations. While he can sometimes internalize his stress, he still is very willing to go with the flow and trusts me unconditionally.

This type of kennel, and these types of people are those that I am lucky to know and work with. I am not blind to the fact that there are controversies surrounding sled dog racing. While my experience has been positive, it would be foolish not to acknowledge the improvements that can be made in the sport. Nobody is perfect and all we can do is continuously work to BE BETTER. And that means speaking out when we need to against cruelty and mismanagement. Being transparent about kennel practices and EDUCATING the public, because almost any picture or video can be taken out of context, warped and demonized. I think that I, and my fellow veterinarians/technicians, have a unique seat in this discussion, as our ONLY concern is the welfare of the dogs. Our sole purpose is to be a voice for the voiceless. And let me assure you, this is not to say that mushers aren’t focused on this already, but specifically in race situations, when stress and sleep deprivation can warp the brightest and most well intentioned minds, we as veterinarians, can be a voice of reason-if necessary. I would encourage anyone that has questions about sled dogs, mushing and racing to ask questions. I am happy to engage in conversation with anyone who comes to the discussion with an open mind, and I promise to do the same. To say I am passionate about this subject is a gross understatement. I encourage anyone and everyone to visit the start of a sled dog race. Talk to the mushers. Experience the raw energy. Go out and meet a sled dog.

Ryan Anderson's Team at the finish line.

Ryan Redington - 2018 John Beargrease Marathon Champion.

Blaire Braverman's Team heading into Skyport.

Blake Freking heading out of Skyport.