Dog Days of Kyle Lashley

Out Sledder Seeks His Place in Racing Sport

A good sled dog racer needs the instincts of Doctor Doolittle, the endurance of Lance Armstrong and the toughness of a scrappy street fighter. If that dog sled racer also happens to be gay, he or she better have courage and patience to spare as well.

Though Kyle Lashley grew up in the outdoorsman’s paradise of Oregon, he never considered himself much of an athlete.
“When I got to high school I was more reclusive and didn’t do a lot of the things I wanted to do. I hit a point where I avoided extracurricular activities all together.”

Instead of taking part in sports and other activities Lashley found himself struggling with his identity and just trying to cope with growing up gay in a traditionally religious family while living in a small, conservative town. “I didn’t feel comfortable expressing myself. I didn’t know who I could trust.”

Lashley came out his senior year in high school and life became even more uncomfortable. “It changed a lot of things and it became awkward with most of my friends. It was definitely a big shift and very difficult.”

Looking for a fresh start and a place where he could feel comfortable being himself, Lashley sold everything he owned and moved to San Francisco. He was taking classes at San Francisco City College when he got an offer that changed his life. If he could be in Bend, Oregon, in a couple of days there was a job in a sled dog kennel waiting for him. He jumped at the offer and while on the job learned to work with sled dogs, which led to him becoming the sighted race partner of visually-impaired sled dog racer Rachel Scdoris. He was hooked from the start. “There’s just a certain feel to running dogs. There is just nothing like it. Once you step on the runners you never want to get off.”

Races can be anywhere from two to 1,000 miles and both racer and dogs must be in peak condition to withstand the unpredictable demands of the trail. According to Lashley, running up hills, often at high elevation and weighed down with gear, is one important component of dog sledding fitness. “Running behind the sled is like forced exercise. It’s kind of like a treadmill except you don’t get to set the speed.”

Racers like Lashley are always striving to stay warm and support their dogs while not pushing themselves to sweaty, freezing exhaustion. Lashley also needs to keep his core and upper-body strong enough to maneuver his 100-pound sled over and around any other obstacles that Mother Nature throws in his path. “Running dogs is extremely hard work. You have to like being exhausted seven days a week, but it’s all worth it for the times when you’re in the middle of nowhere and it’s snowing and quiet and all you can hear is the dogs breathing.”

Lashley also loves working with athletes of the four-legged variety. “You can train a team to run hundreds of miles and well-trained dogs will run as much as you ask them to,” he said.

Dogs are completely controlled by voice commands and no reins are ever used. Lashley has learned the hard way that even well-trained dogs have bad days, like during the Seeley Lake 200 when his team decided to completely stop an hour from the finish line. “Dogs are just like people, they have personalities. You can make it to the middle of nowhere and then they get bored and just stop.”

Lashley and his race partner spent an hour rearranging the pack, trying to find a combination that would get them going again. Equipment failures can also derail forward momentum. “It’s not easy to fix anything when you’ve got all the puffy gear on, the wind is blowing and it’s 20 below,” said Lashley.
Navigating the course can also be tricky and missing or covered trail markers can lead racers way off course. Lashley pointed out: “If you haven’t seen a trail marker in a while, chances are you’re off course.”

Everything that can go wrong during a race or training run has taught Lashley a lot about being all in. “One of the greatest things about running dogs is that once you step on the runners and leave the yard you are committed. You cannot step off and go sit down. You are in it till the dogs get you back to the yard.”

The musher him or herself is the final variable in the winning combination. “It takes a lot of willpower to keep going when you’re tired, cold and miserable and it’s not fun anymore.” During the low points sometimes Lashley wonders why he does it, but when he sees the finish line the adrenaline rush always reminds him. “It’s not a hobby, it’s a lifestyle. It’s not just something you do on the weekends. You have to do it every day and commit to it. It’s just something that I love to do.”

Unfortunately for Lashley, winning sled dog races probably isn’t going to land him on the front of a Wheaties Box any time soon. Sled dog racing is a financially demanding sport and even established racers struggle to secure funds to support their racing habits. As a new racer Lashley is entirely self-funded, which means he has to figure out a way to get to the usually cold and remote locations where the races take places as well as pay for dogs, equipment and race fees. “People don’t get rich running dogs, it’s not something you do for financial gain,” says Lashley.


It has taken him a few years to get comfortable socially in the somewhat isolated, rural communities where dog sledding thrives. “The social life in Alaska is definitely different from the Bay Area. There just aren’t that many people. It’s cold and dark and miserable and people just drink all the time.”

He often wondered if he would ever be able to have a social life while taking part in the sport he loves. “I always kind of felt I was sacrificing a certain part of me to do this. Every year I would think, ‘Do I want to keep racing or do I want to move back to California where I feel more comfortable? Can I have a boyfriend or do I need to keep it under wraps?’”

He began to come out to a few people he trusted and has been pleasantly surprised with the support he has received. “I’m now more comfortable being out and realize that there are small communities of gay people and people who support gay people as long as you aren’t afraid to connect. I can have a social life and run dogs. I don’t have to leave one thing if I want to do the other.”

Lashley started out the 2011 season with a solid finish in the Alaska Excursion 120, a two-day race of 60-mile heats. When he’s not racing he supports himself training dogs and running tours.