On Sunday, I took a much-needed break from the relentless tax work I've been dealing with to join the rest of my family for the K-9 Uphill Race at Buttermilk mountain. Buttermilk closed last weekend, which left the mountain free for 200 and some odd owners and their dogs to hike, frolic, and poop where they may (the dogs, not the owners).
Here's Lauren, getting Maci ready to roll. Maci has probably summited Buttermilk over 20 times this winter, so she didn't have much in the way of nerves to deal with prior to the race start. She knew the course well, was adequately hydrated, and her resting heart rate of late has shown that she was fit, strong and tapered for race day.
Some joker thought it would be funny to sneak a horse into the race. Wait....what? A dog? Really?
Mommy and puppy at the starting line. Maci relieved to have avoided being selected for random pre-race drug testing.
As the gun goes off, Lauren and Maci sprint to the front of the pack. I, on my skis, languish 50 yards behind. The look of disgust on my wife's face as she peered back to check on me was one I won't soon forget.
Lauren getting pulled uphill by Maci, who is, uh, "checking out the competition."
In the deeper snow, Daddy takes over and leads his puppy through the steeper section of the climb.
After I gave Maci back to Lauren, a rather large and unleashed Burmese mountain dog decided to walk over, draw a deep breath, and promptly go to sleep on my ski tips. It took us a couple of minutes of cajoling to get Otis moving again.
At the top. Unfortunately, Lauren's old war injury starting acting up late in the climb, and we were barely edged off the podium by 200 or so of the 22o competitors. Maci was so embarassed by Lauren's effort she couldn't even bring herself to look at her.
At the finish line, Maci finally got to make the acquaintence of the freakishly large Great Dane. Here she is, cowering like a Frenchman.
Once at the top, Maci and I ditched Lauren like yesterday's newspaper in order to ski down. Here's an idea of just how much snow remains on April 13th of Aspen's greatest ski season on record.
Back at home, we rewarded Maci for her efforts by letting her pick a treat of her choice from the pet store. Click on the picture if you can't read the letters.
Here's Lauren, getting Maci ready to roll. Maci has probably summited Buttermilk over 20 times this winter, so she didn't have much in the way of nerves to deal with prior to the race start. She knew the course well, was adequately hydrated, and her resting heart rate of late has shown that she was fit, strong and tapered for race day.
Some joker thought it would be funny to sneak a horse into the race. Wait....what? A dog? Really? 
Mommy and puppy at the starting line. Maci relieved to have avoided being selected for random pre-race drug testing.
As the gun goes off, Lauren and Maci sprint to the front of the pack. I, on my skis, languish 50 yards behind. The look of disgust on my wife's face as she peered back to check on me was one I won't soon forget.
Lauren getting pulled uphill by Maci, who is, uh, "checking out the competition."
In the deeper snow, Daddy takes over and leads his puppy through the steeper section of the climb.
After I gave Maci back to Lauren, a rather large and unleashed Burmese mountain dog decided to walk over, draw a deep breath, and promptly go to sleep on my ski tips. It took us a couple of minutes of cajoling to get Otis moving again.
At the top. Unfortunately, Lauren's old war injury starting acting up late in the climb, and we were barely edged off the podium by 200 or so of the 22o competitors. Maci was so embarassed by Lauren's effort she couldn't even bring herself to look at her.
At the finish line, Maci finally got to make the acquaintence of the freakishly large Great Dane. Here she is, cowering like a Frenchman.
Once at the top, Maci and I ditched Lauren like yesterday's newspaper in order to ski down. Here's an idea of just how much snow remains on April 13th of Aspen's greatest ski season on record.
Back at home, we rewarded Maci for her efforts by letting her pick a treat of her choice from the pet store. Click on the picture if you can't read the letters.
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ReplyDeleteYay Maci! As I read the athletic stories of your wonderdog, mine is passed out on the bed. Zoe is definitely a Gray!
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