Rachael Scdoris: Iditarod Bound
By: Sarah J. Murray
From the Women's Sports Foundation weekly newsletter.
 
This fall, after tumultuous deliberations, the Iditarod Committee agreed to let 18-year-old musher Rachael Scdoris run the legendary dogsled race with assistance. Long revered as the “last great race” and a bastion of rugged individualism, the race is guaranteed to give Scdoris a unique experience. Legally blind, she will use a radio to communicate with another musher to help navigate potential hazards on the course. Following the decision, we spoke with Scdoris and marveled at how this big-hearted young woman with fire in her eyes has turned each instance of her life’s adversity into opportunity.
 
Many of us in the women’s sports community have been following your quest to compete in the Iditarod. Congratulations, first of all.
Thank you.
 
What are your thoughts about the Iditarod Committee’s decision?
I’m happy with it. It wasn’t really the accommodation I wanted. But they are going to let me run, and they did make a change in the rules to let me run. You know, it was a tough decision for them to make, but I think they did what was right.
 
How has this whole process changed or affected you?
It hasn’t. I did what needed to be done, and I was basically just myself through the whole thing.
 
Is it true that you’re planning on running in 2005?
Yeah. It’ll probably be March in 2005. Since the Board made their decision, they say I need to run two teams – that’s a lot of work and money. It’s going to take me longer than I originally planned.
 
What kind of partnership do you and Dan have? How is your chemistry? How do you know him? [Dan MacEachen, an eight-time Iditarod finisher, will be running the spotting team for Rachael]
Well, I met him in Wyoming in 1997 when my dad ran. He pretty much just fell in love with me there – I don’t quite know why. I saw him once a year for a few years. I always have fun with him. He’s a nice guy – really funny. When I ran Wyoming in 2001, he came and said he’ll be my eyes on the snow machine. He loaned me a couple of leaders, and we were thankful. I imagine we’ll do it about the same. He’ll run his team, and I’ll run mine. We’ll each have a radio on us…and as soon as he passes an obstacle, I’ll be shortly behind.
 
Can you describe what it’s like to be out in the middle of a desolate, snowy place for long periods of time with nothing but a team of dogs?
It’s really fun. It’s like you’re just out there with let’s say, 10 dogs. If they are moving fast and it’s cold and all is going well – it’s what you might call a perfect moment. Just being out there makes you feel so close to them. The scenery is absolutely beautiful, and the sight of the dogs all pulling in unison is gorgeous.
Geez, that makes me want to do it.
You should.
 
How many dogs do you have?
We have 37 racing dogs right now. And about 30 retired dogs that do tours and 10 yearlings in training for tours and a bunch of sweet old dogs that can’t quite make the race team, so they just do tours. Total, I’d say about 90.
 
What makes a strong team?
They all pull, and they can do it quickly, and hopefully they listen to you, but that doesn’t always happen.

Do they have chemistry amongst themselves?
Yeah. There are some dogs who won’t necessarily protest running next to someone else, but they much prefer running with their buddy. So Joe and Felix, I always put them together, and same goes for Haley and Junior. They seem to like each other.
 
How do you care for 90 dogs?
Easily. I understand to someone who doesn’t understand the lifestyle that that seems overwhelming. If you get a system down, like every morning do the runs. When we have help, they take care of the watering while I’m gone and when we get back we feed. But, if it’s just Dad and I, one of us will go out and the other will water and feed. When you aren’t training, it’s really easy. You just go out and water and scoop. When I get back from a run, I’m really careful with deharnessing the dogs. I do it very slowly and deliberately. I move their limbs around as much as I can. If they squeak or limp, I’ll catch it and later I’ll go out and take a look at them and see how they are. Do some range of motion stuff. If they still squeak, I’ll give them a couple of days off and an aspirin so the swelling goes down and they can sleep.
 
Do you love each one of those dogs like a pet, or do they turn into a resource, a machine when you get to that point?
They are all totally my pets. Once we’re out on the run, I’m really focused on who is doing what. It’s just like if you’re training yourself, if you’re really into you, you’re focusing on form. But as soon as I go up there to see what’s wrong, he’s my sweet, little boy again. They all are, and I always love them. I don’t want to say they are like machines, but I get very serious. But they’re still my dogs.
 
Musher gets a little less mushy, maybe?
Nah. I’m still pretty mushy. When they’re not doing well, I sweet talk them.
 
I’m sure you know the Iditarod has been criticized by animal rights groups for being an abusive practice. What do you think about this?
I think the reason the Iditarod is criticized is because people don’t know much about it. And they don’t want to know. There is one woman in particular who started the Sled Dog Action Coalition, she went to Alaska for three days and made up her mind completely about sled dog racing. She based her opinions on one kennel.
 
Do dogs get killed doing this?
You know, no one tries to deny that it happens. Like any sport. People die running marathons. When you have that many dogs together in one area, sometimes one of them is going to die. In the past three Iditarods, only one dog has died each year. I happen to know that in a Chicago walk-your-pet, three dogs died in one hour.
 
That’s an interesting comparison. Hmmm. OK. Back to you. What has been your biggest obstacle in life?
A lot of people would think that it would be being legally blind. But actually, it’s being taken seriously as an athlete and one who is smart. A lot of people pity me, think I’m blind. I can’t be a sled dog racer. I can’t do well in school. I can’t speak for myself. Overcoming that has been my biggest obstacle.
 
And how do you overcome that?
I just prove them wrong. If I’m curious about something, I research it. I train on a daily basis. During races, I run up every single hill and do my best not to fall. I take the best care of my dogs as possible, so people will reconsider – and know I’m smart and athletic and that I can take care of my own team.
 
Do you ever doubt yourself?
Never.
Not even a second thought to that one, huh?
I’ve thought about doubting myself – it was always about the vision thing. What happens if I can’t see if Dugan is limping at the front of the team or whatever? But if I do that, I’ll end up just resenting my vision all over again. I don’t have time for that. That leads to more time-consuming thoughts that I can’t afford.
 
Where do you get your inner fire? That drive that just fueled that last answer. Where does that come from?
Probably, both my parents, and over the years I’ve had to prove myself over and over again. It builds up. The parents gave me a spark – they are both determined and competitive. And the stuff that I’ve had to do just fuels that fire, I guess.