It was a chilly March morning nine years ago when Iditarod teams first set out from under the Hawthorne Bridge shouting “mush!” and racing through the icy city streets in packs of five or more. No, this wasn’t a dog sled race. It was Portland’s first Urban Iditarod, an annual race that is anything but competitive.
Taking a cue from the original Iditarod, an annual Alaskan dog sled race that began in 1973, Portland’s version substitutes people for dogs and shopping carts for sleds. In true Portland form, teams are highly encouraged to come in costume. In fact, it would be unusual to spot a team not garbed in fantastic outfits.
But what motivates a costumed throng of Portlanders to sweep through the streets with decorated carts in tow? Beer. The four-mile race, which has no winners, breaks up the stretch with three or more checkpoints. These checkpoints are a chance to revive the “dogs” with beer and allow them to roam from their “sleds,” taking the opportunity to sniff out rival teams. The Urban Iditarod doesn’t provide racers with beer, but checkpoints are conveniently located near bars and breweries.
Such a wild, beer-focused and costume-loving event might sound like a uniquely Portland concept, but the city of roses is actually the second city in the country to catch on. San Francisco, which ran its 16th Urban Iditarod earlier this month, started in 1994, and Portland followed in 2001.
The race has gained extensive popularity since then, sparking eight more races in U.S. cities, some with goofy names like Chicago’s Chiditarod. it is traditionally run the first Saturday in March, so many of the nationwide Iditarods took place last weekend, but Portland’s will happen tomorrow.
Portland’s Iditarod is officially limited to 100 teams, due to legal constraints. With an average of five “dogs” per team, that adds up to approximately 500 racers roaming the streets. But anyone who has witnessed the race in the past will accede that the race might number closer to 1,000. Apparently it’s tough to keep all those beer-swigging, cart-pushing runners at home.
As might be expected, costumes play an important role in the race. Last year presented a wacky mix of both predictable and absolutely original team themes. There were Ghostbusters, Devo and Troll dolls. Over-the-top Italian chefs threw flour at people. A team of Richard Simmons fitness instructors turned on a CD player and did a dance workout routine. Another team, called Speedos and Tuxedos, stormed through the crowd while dancing on a pole affixed to their cart.
By the time the storm of costumed drunkards reached downtown Portland, where the course ends, racers in all assortment of outfits were hanging off one another in a spirit of camaraderie. It was a truly American ordeal—indeed, a melting pot.
For those who are only now hearing of the Urban Iditarod, or who have an unwarranted fear of appearing publicly costumed and inebriated, spectators are more than welcome to observe the race. Starting at 10 a.m., expect the “sleds” to come to a final halt by about 1 p.m. It’s a long, strenuous race, so they’ll be in need of support.