The Iditarod started yesterday. Run dogs, run!

Who could have imagined that an 1,100-mile ultramarathon waged across the vast emptiness of the 49th state could some day spark a show like this: gawking tourists from around the globe filling downtown with a babble of tongues, hot dog carts and food vendors saturating the winter air with the smell of money, T-shirt and Iditarod program vendors hawking merchandise behind snow-fences needed to keep roaming multitudes safely corralled, photographers snapping pictures everywhere, and, of course, dogs, dogs, and more dogs.

Yep this is what passes for excitement up here in the frozen north. Yippeee!

I have long held ambiguous feelings concerning the sled dog races up here. It is just another example of how I don't exactly fit in with my Alaskan brethren. You see I know just how cruel and cutthroat a business sled dog racing really is. I have even ridden on one. Impressed? Don't be.

I helped a teacher from my school exercise her team when I was about nineteen. I helped hook the dogs up after we pulled them from these tiny little compartments attached to the bed of their pickup truck. The compartments were so small that the dogs could barely turn around once inside of them. When they came out they were so excited that their legs started running before I placed them on the ground. Once their feet touched the snow they pulled mightily to escape from me. I had to hold on tight or else they would escape. And that is the real truth behind sled dog racing. These dogs are not athletes. They are not pets. They are prisoners.

These dogs are constantly trying to run. The run everytime they think they might get away. When you are attaching them to the sled they will hold still. But the minute you unclip them they start pulling against you forcing you to drag and lift them to get them to their tethers. They are just desperate to escape. I have often felt that as the dogs run they keep hoping that they will leave the bulky sled behind and disappear into the woods.

Many people do not know that when the musher falls off of the sled (which happens fairly regularly), the dogs don't stop and wait for him or her to climb back aboard. They run just as fast as they can until they invariably get caught up in the trees or brush. Only then can the owner catch them and regain control of his sled.

To be fair, in recent years I have seen a kinder gentler approach to sled dog racing then in years past. For that I would give credit to the ladies. The women emerged as a real force in the last twenty years and they have a much more maternal method for getting the most out of their dogs. Many of the males took notice after Susan Butcher won several races in a row. So now I do believe that these dogs are treated with more warmth and compassion then in years past.

In the past the sled dog owners would cull the weaker pups born to their team dogs, and only keep the ones who showed potential and could be used or sold to other dogsled owners. Culling is the act of drowning puppies that are not considered useful or strong enough to compete with their brothers and sisters. I do not have any evidence to support the fact that this continues to this day but I do wonder how the sled dog owners deal with the weaker animals that are invariably born to their dogs.

Well I guess there go my chances of being invited to the big Iditarod banquet.