The fun and furry world of sled dog racing keeps barking, despite not being in the Winter Olympics

By Frank Nunns O’Connell, Jack Bantock, CNN

(CNN) — Humans being pulled along on a sled across picturesque, snow-covered landscapes by a group of agile, energetic dogs is an image that won’t be seen at Milan Cortina in 2026, but the practice of sled dog racing does have Olympic history.

Debuting as a demonstration sport at the 1932 Winter Games in Lake Placid, the sport is still alive and barking 94 years later as dogs pull their harnessed drivers, or mushers, around courses across the globe.

Most popular in the Arctic regions of North America and Europe, any mention of sledding and the dogs involved – huskies, malamutes and similar Nordic breeds – always come with the association of snow.

So when you hear that Blair Braverman, an American long-distance sled dog racer, was born and raised in California, you might be slightly taken aback due to the state’s lack of abundant snow.

Braverman cites Gary Paulsen’s 1994 book, “Winterdance: The Fine Madness of Running the Iditarod,” as her inspiration to move to the Norwegian Arctic 19 years ago – where she learned to become a dog sledder – before heading to Alaska later on.

Teamwork makes the dream work

Braverman and her dogs specialize in middle and long-distance – with races ranging in length from 100 to 1,000 miles – meaning trust must be unconditional between her and the pack when they’re racing.

“With sled dogs, you also have those strong family bonds, but there’s almost a sort of co-worker bond at the same time,” she explained to CNN Sports.

“Most of my sled dogs have saved my life at some point, or got me out of a situation that could be life threatening. So there’s this really intense communication and trust that doesn’t necessarily happen with pets.”

That trust becomes ever more crucial, even somewhat frightening, when one learns that the musher has no real physical control, and that the dogs have full power of navigation through the tricky terrains involved in a long-distance race.

Although Braverman makes her best attempt to have the last word – usually through a short verbal commands like “Gee!” or “Haw!” – the pack is very insistent and often has the final say.

She describes the deal as a “beautiful trust,” a sentiment the dogs seem eager to put into motion.

A snowy getaway

Race starting lines are filled with the cacophony of cheers from fans and the dogs vocalizing their excitement, but once a competitor leaves the start and is out in the thick of the snowy wilderness, it’s the complete opposite.

“The only thing you can hear is the dogs panting, maybe their collar tags jingling a little bit, and their paws landing on snow. It’s just this beautiful, subtle sound, and everything else is completely silent,” Braverman says.

Because of the silence, the Californian and her pack don’t scare away the plethora of wildlife on the trail, many animals which most people could only hope to see.

“They’re often really interested in dog teams because they don’t really know what it is, so we get followed by wolves quite a bit,” she explains casually.

As the light fades in races, Braverman and her dogs will set up camp in a forest for the evening before the pack begins its pre-sleep nightly ritual: A chorus of loud howls emerges from the frosted lips of the dogs, and if she’s camping near other dog teams on the trail, they too will join in on the symphony of the night.

No rest, just run

Unlike other winter sports where your equipment can be set aside and ignored in the summer, the dogs are a 24/7 commitment, one which Braverman says she’s all too happy to dedicate herself to.

“All year round, you’re working with them. In the summer, we would do free running out in the woods, and they’re just running loose while I drive an ATV,” she says.

“What’s amazing is how quickly their endurance builds. So you do that, and pretty soon they’re doing 15 mile runs. Pretty soon, it’s 25, and eventually they can get to a point, at the end of winter, where a very well trained sled dog can comfortably run 100 miles in a stretch.”

The training came in especially handy for her dogs in 2019, when Braverman and her pack completed the Iditarod – a grueling 1,000 mile annual sled dog race across Alaska.

Beginning in Anchorage and finishing in Nome, competitors race through blizzards, sub-zero temperatures and gale force winds in a racing event that crosses through a rugged landscape of tundra and spruce forests, over hills and mountain passes, across rivers and even over sea ice.

“It was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Braverman – who completed the race in 13 days – said. “I got to the end of the 1,000 miles, and I really had the sense that my team and I were the only sort of beings in the world, and everything else had faded.”

Describing the race as beautiful yet intense, she explained that “it feels like becoming part dog: They allow you to become a part of their pack.”

An Olympic return for mushing?

Now, six years shy of the 100th anniversary of sled dog racing at the Winter Olympics as a demonstration sport, talk continues to swirl of the sport one day making a return to the Games.

Although Braverman would love to see distance mushing make an Olympic appearance, she admits that it would take weeks for the races to be completed and it would make them logistically difficult to organize give the sheer length of the trails.

“But I think that sprint mushing would be a great fit for the Olympics,” she says. “They’ll just go a short distance, five, 10 or 20 miles, as fast as they can with really speedy dogs. And it would really exciting and beautiful.”

Braverman emphasizes that dogs are the stars of mushing, and that if the sport were to make an Olympic return, “it would be fun for people to meet the dogs.”

“We meet the human athletes in the Olympics, but if there were dog athletes, we’d have to be meeting them as well!”

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