Iditarod

It was the first Saturday of March, the day that he had spent many months preparing for.  It was the starting date of the Iditarod Great Sled Race.  Numerous teams pulled their sleds up to the starting line, but it was as if Charles had blinders on his eyes, like a horse.  His mind remained focused on his sled and his dogs only.  The sled was piled high with all of the supplies necessary for the trip that would take between eight and fifteen days.  Fourteen beautiful, eager, well-trained, Alaskan Malamutes stood before the sled, tied together and ready to go. 

A small smile appeared on his lips as he observed his dogs.  They knew that this was different than their usual days of training.  This was the day, and his team was the best team he’d ever brought to a race, with Carly and Spike, Charles's favorites, standing proud at the front the pack. 

After making sure that every thing and animal was secured to the sled, he took his place at the back, gloved hands gripping firmly onto the bars.  The announcer finished his introduction, and all that was left was the countdown.  His heart began pounding from excitement and nerves as each second ticked by.

"Five...four...three...two..."

A gunshot echoed across the snowy field, and an uproar of yells and commands quickly followed. 

"Let's go!" Charles cried out to his team.  His legs began pumping, and his feet dug into the blanket of fresh snow as the sled finally inched forward.  It wasn't long before he was coasting down a hill.  Occasionally, a bark of enthusiasm was carried on the back of the bitter, Alaskan breeze, but the burn of the harsh wind could do nothing to take away from the thrill of the race. 

Word Count: 297