Mental preparation needed for skijoring

For the past six months, I've been greatly anticipating winter, when, presumably, there would be enough snow to begin training my medium-sized, 50-pound Siberian Husky for the sport of skijoring.

I've also been looking forward to relaying my own personal accounts of this experience, which is a great and wonderful departure from the primarily informative trail descriptions I write the rest of the year. Really, unless something outstanding happens on a hike - you twist your ankle or break a leg and have to rely on your dog to pull you in a make-shift gurney back down the mountain, because, coincidentally, being in the back woods of Maine, you're also out of cell phone range - it's not going to be much more than, "Yeah, we walked for a while, climbed over a few rocks and ... 'Wow. What a splendid view.'"

Of course, hiking with kids and a dog - or canoeing, as in one of my more nerve-wracking adventures this past summer - is a completely different story.

As the season progresses, I will be inevitably documenting the very humbling experience of falling flat on my face in the snow - white wash by dog - as well as the obligatory tale of smashing through a pine stand, throwing my arms in front of my face and praying for mercy as Saber veers off course in hot pursuit of a red squirrel.

Those of you who enjoy watching others sacrifice their bodies in the name of good humor and in the spirit of extreme sports should check back later. There may even be a video.

Unfortunately, this morning's half-inch of snow has served only as a tease, mocking my ambitions like a squirrel sitting just outside the reach of a curious dog's nose.

I suppose I could always strap on roller blades, a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, a mouth guard, a chin guard and two economy sized packages of double roll toilet paper, then attach myself by bungee to my hyperactive pup and hit the paved trails - quite literally - of Sanford and South Portland, but something inside me screams, "Don't do it!"

Skatejoring is actually a recognized sport, which, like the very fun-sounding, if not absolutely insane, sport of bikejoring, conjures up visions of the half dozen emergency room visits I took as a child. Trust me, it's no fun getting a shot in the rear to numb your body so a team of doctors can set your arm back into place. So naturally I'm inclined to shy away from "sports" that could result in hips, ribs, legs and skulls being screwed back on like a scene out of Young Frankenstein.

I think I'll just wait until there's some padding on the ground.

My insurance company will thank me.