Lauren Stierman and her husband, Lute, had been hardcore mountain bikers for years when Lauren first learned about a niche sport known as “bikejor.”
“I was on Instagram one day, and the top bikejoring male in the world — who is in Poland — his video came up in my feed. And I was like, ‘What is this?'”
In October, Lauren will be representing the United States in the International Federation of Sleddog Sports (IFSS) World Championship in Minocqua, WI, just five years after learning about bikejor. It’s the first time the IFSS World Championship races are being held in the US, and the event is being hosted by the US Federation of Sleddog Sports (USFSS).
What is bikejor?
Also known as dryland mushing, bikejor is said to have developed from dog sled racing in snow. A specially designed lead and harness are used to attach one or more dogs to a mountain bike, with the rider and canine working together to complete a roughly three-mile race circuit. Though the sport has traditionally been practiced in northern Europe and the upper Midwest, it’s beginning to catch on in warmer climates as well. The word “bikejor” comes from the Norwegian word “kjor,” which means “to drive.” There are skijoring competitions as well.
Race courses are typically two to four miles in length. For the upcoming IFSS Dryland World Championships, the Juniors bikejor race course will be 3.7km long, while the Open and Masters course will be 5km. The amount of climbing and descending varies depending on the race location, and while courses are typically pretty smooth, some can be technical in spots.
“You’re working with the dog to navigate these courses and trying to optimize the speed that they can go, but also, you have to make sure that you’re not overtaking them,” Lauren told me. “And so on a lot of the downhill sections, that’s usually when we’re bombing down hills, and with the dogs, I’m actually putting on the brakes and making sure that I’m not running up on them or angling the line.”
Rules are in place to limit the number of races a dog can compete in during a given timeframe, and their overall racing mileage must remain under a specific threshold. Riders may not pace the dog by riding ahead of them, and they may not pull the dog at any time. There are even anti-doping regulations for both canine and human athletes.
Equipment
Dryland mushing isn’t quite as simple as attaching a dog to a bike with a leash. Many riders choose to start with a hardtail mountain bike, though some of the top athletes are riding full-suspension bikes. Because courses are off-road, a mountain bike with wide tires is ideal.
Where the equipment becomes specialized is in the leads and harnesses used by competitors. An “antenna,” like the S/LINE PRO shown above, attaches to the bike’s steerer tube above the stem and is used to keep the lead from getting tangled up in the front tire. A 2-3 meter bungee-like lead helps modulate slack in the line as the dog surges and slows along the run.
Harnesses like those from Non-stop dogwear are designed to avoid choking dogs’ necks and to keep pressure off their shoulders.
The dogs
While there’s not a singular dog breed for dryland mushing, the Greyster has emerged as a favorite among competitors. Greysters are bred for sled dog racing, particularly dryland racing like bikejor and canicross, which is like bikejor but without the bike. Breeders say Greysters combine the endurance and excitement of a German Shorthaired Pointer with the speed of a Greyhound.
The Stiermans tell me that it’s not uncommon for bikejor riders to get into the sport as a way to exercise their family pet. It’s clear that the Stierman dogs — Knute and Leifr — are extremely enthusiastic about the sport, literally jumping at the chance to hook up to a bike and go.
Training to win
Living in Anniston, Alabama, the Stiermans and their dogs have a limited training window, generally from September through April or May. That’s because it’s not safe for the dogs to run with bikes in the heat; temperatures need to be in the 60s or below for bikejor training rides. The dogs take summers off from training, though they do free run and dock dive to maintain their fitness. Though bikejor isn’t huge in the Southeast, there’s a core group of riders in Alabama and Georgia hoping to expand the sport.
For the humans, there is no off-season. Lauren and Lute often train six days a week with mountain bike rides and spinning classes to ensure they’re in top shape. The short race format is essentially a sprint requiring massive lungs and even bigger quads.
Though the dogs and humans each have their own training regimen, it’s important for the two to be in sync. Dogs are trained on basic directional commands — like “gee” and “haw” for turning right and left — and commands to slow down or to ignore the geese in a nearby field.
“The goal is to actually work together. I need to be able to trust my dog, just like my dog needs to be able to trust me out there. So you build this bond,” Lauren said.
To earn a spot in the World Championship competition, athletes must earn enough points at qualifying races during the year. Leading up to this year’s race, Lauren competed in seven qualifying races all over the US from Alaska to New Hampshire, and podiumed in six of them, finishing in first or second place in each one. As one of the top women in the US, Lauren qualified for one of six slots representing the US. She tells me her goal is to finish in the top 10 overall.
Traveling with dogs to far-flung locations, not to mention vet visits and specialized gear, makes bikejor an expensive sport. To support their World Championship effort, the Stiermans are running a small crowdfunding campaign to help defray some of the costs.
Dog-tired after just one lap
When I first interviewed Lauren, she told me the races are fast and that riders have to put in an intense effort.
“It’s insane to have to go those speeds for four miles straight, where you’re just working your butt off the entire time. And then you get done, and it’s only been like 12 minutes, but you’re absolutely laying on the ground, dying.”
Four miles? Twelve minutes? To me, that didn’t sound like a big deal, especially if the dog is doing some of the work. “Surely,” I thought, “she’s exaggerating.”
Then I tried bikejor for myself.
I was paired up with Leifr, the older and more experienced of the two Stierman Greysters. As soon as we lifted our bikes from the ground, the dogs knew something was up, and they began jumping and barking with excitement. Once the leads were attached, we were off at a full-on sprint!
From the start, the dogs were running top speed, and I was shocked at how hard I had to pedal to keep up with them. I quickly shifted into my lowest gear and gulped the morning air, eyes watering in the wind. Lauren briefed me on a few commands, but as soon as we were sprinting, I completely forgot everything. Fortunately, the dogs were familiar with the course at Choccolocco Park, and Leifr led like a champ.
Keeping up with the dog on straight sections isn’t too bad, but once you get into a turn, it’s hard to stay on their tail. Technical trail sections seem like they would be tricky as well.
After about a mile and a half, we were back at the start, which was a relief, at least for me. Looking at my GPS data from the effort, we averaged 20mph with a top speed of 23mph, and my heart rate peaked at 176bpm, which isn’t too far off my max.
If you think about it, bikejor isn’t like any other mainstream mountain bike race format. At speeds averaging 20mph or more, the race lasts longer than a typical downhill race, but without a gravity assist. And though athletes’ heart rates are pegged the entire time, the race is shorter than a short track XC competition. When it comes to MTB racing, bikejor is a whole other animal.
“In this sport, especially if you have a purpose-bred dog for it, the weakest link on the team is not the dog, it’s you,” Lauren said.
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