You guys, check out this Twitter thread:
So! We arrived in Dawson City to head out on the 200-mile @percydewolfe race. My team was Pepe, Jenga, Brewtus, Xander, Anya, Colbert, and Flame -- and since poor Clem has stitches and doesn't get to run, we borrowed two dogs from Ryan: Teddy and Ladd. pic.twitter.com/I64iIr5vVj— Blair Braverman (@BlairBraverman) March 24, 2018
It does not make me want to compete in a dog race, because brrr. But it totally makes me want to spectate at one, or maybe drink coffee at an old miner's cabin while the dog-sledders come and go, talking of icy glaciers, yo.
Seriously, check out those wide open spaces, or the dogs navigating the tricky bit where a glacier spills across a frozen river. Imagine a life in which you might think to yourself, "Maybe I'll stop and butcher some of that wolf-killed caribou for my dogs-- but no, we'll keep going. We only have 30 more miles to run in frigid temperatures so we can qualify for a race five times as long and considerably more difficult."
I was thinking about buying another Kindle novel fueled by East Coast PTA wars, but the dog-racing milieu is striking me as more interesting and perhaps a smidge less hostile. I am going to dive into Blair Braverman's story instead. I'll report back.