Just Not the Same

This is a big weekend around here. The annual dogsled race is taking place the next three days across the region, spanning a total of 240+ miles. I used to be so excited for this event and once February rolled around, I knew I wouldn't have to wait much longer. My hometown used to be a checkpoint for the race and the start of a smaller dogsled race that took place the same day. It used to draw a lot of people to the community and I always enjoyed attending the race, even in the most frigid of weather. But all that changed about three years ago, when race officials made a major change to the race course and plotted new checkpoints. That meant my town was no longer a checkpoint and the race just basically went right on by without much fanfare. Along with the changes went my enthusiasm for the race.

I can vaguely remember my first dogsled race. It must have been the second or third year that the races existed and I had no clue they were going on (of course, I was rather young then, too). My dad and I took a walk towards town and saw lines of cars parked along the side of the highway. As we approached the downtown, streets were blocked off and these oddly shaped trucks were parked randomly through the village. I even remember going up close to one of the dogsled trucks, as small eyes peered toward me from one of the main cages holding the dogs. Just a short distance away, I heard small yelps from another truck. It was an amazing sight to see, especially in the middle of winter. And when you are as young as eight or nine years old, an event like a dogsled race becomes something very impressive. We walked down a hill towards the railroad tracks. In the summer time, this is our usual walking path through the village. But in the winter time, it's transpired into a snowmobile trail. And on this night, it became the trail for the dogsled race. Bright orange snow-fencing lined the trails with hay bales helping to outline the track. The bales actually became convenient seats for those individuals who were lucky enough to get a seat right up in front to watch the race. We watched the festivities from the back as the dogs lined up to the starting gate and the crowd would countdown until the sled took off and sped down the trail into the darkness. As the night progressed and people began leaving, we made our way towards the front and got a front row seat. We watched as team after team left the village on their way to the next checkpoint. Soon, my feet were froze and my hands getting chilled and it was time to go. But what a first hand experience that was.

In total, I only missed one dogsled event in a ten year span since that first race. It was always enjoyable meeting up with friends and watching the races with them or enjoying it with family members. The last few years that my town was the checkpoint, I went by myself. Even then, I enjoyed seeing all of the sights and sounds of the dogsled races. But now I don't have the same enthusiasm for the races. Tonight, the race begins in the city where I have my apartment. But I'd rather just sit at home and watch the local news coverage of the races instead of freezing my rear-end off waiting for the dogs to take off. The best memories are when I attended the races in my hometown and now that things are different, it's just not the same. Nothing can compare to the memories I hold of what used to be, even if it's still the same dogsled race that I used to attend for all those years.