Prologue

Last winter I decided that after the first night skijor that my dog team was too strong for me to control. I was 56 years old and I didn't want to do it anymore. My oldest lead dog "Flash" was still alive at almost 16 years. I remember he was 11 years old when he told me he didn't feel like racing that day. He decided to stay in the car and I let him because he had never before refused to jump out of the vehicle and be instantly ready to go. I raced with only one dog that day.

Without daylight after work, I had every year until then trained my team using an extremely bright headlamp. I could see clearly every bump and rut in the seldom groomed trail while on skinny XC skis. Always with at least two of my dogs towing me on skis I could travel high speeds at night. Over the years since 1995 my team and I traveled countless miles over countless mountains over countless nights. I behaved like this while living at North Lake Tahoe. I was in Kings Beach to be more precise.

I only entered one skijor race last winter at Frog Lake near Mt Hood OR. Ellen Donoghue for the first time smoked the trail to win ahead of me her first time ever. Another local 24 year old also passed me the second day. For someone used to winning, I still had a great time. I went as fast as I could.