A two-year-old Czechoslovakian wolfdog named Nazgul briefly became the most unlikely “competitor” of the Winter Olympics on Wednesday, after wandering onto the finishing straight during a women’s cross-country team sprint qualifying race in Tesero, northern Italy.
As athletes drove towards the line at the Lago di Tesero venue in Val di Fiemme, the wolf-like dog appeared on the course and ran alongside skiers in the closing metres, prompting a mix of cheers, laughter and visible uncertainty from competitors who suddenly found an animal sharing their lane at speed.
Croatian skier Tena Hadzic, who encountered the dog in the home straight, said her first reaction was disbelief, then concern about what might happen. “I was like, ‘Am I hallucinating?’” she said, adding: “I don’t know what I should do, because maybe he could attack me, bite me.” Hadzic later said the surprise moment likely cost her “some seconds” as she tried to process what she was seeing, but she stressed she was not in medal contention. “It’s not that big deal, because I’m not fighting for medals or anything big,” she said. “But if that happened in the finals, it could really cost someone the medals, or a really good result.”
Footage of the incident, shared widely online, showed Nazgul lingering near cameras and officials before accelerating down the finish area as skiers approached, at one point running close to athletes from Croatia and Greece as they crossed the line. In the moments after the sprint, the dog was seen sniffing near competitors and then moving towards race staff, who quickly stepped in to secure him.
Race organisers did not present the dog for media questions after he was removed from the course, but an account of what happened was provided by his owners, who were linked to an event official. They said Nazgul had left home earlier that morning and appeared to follow them as they departed for Olympic venues. “He was crying this morning more than normal because he was seeing us leaving, and I think he just wanted to follow us,” one owner said in a brief interview, speaking on condition of anonymity because of the attention the incident attracted. “He always looks for people.”
The owners described Nazgul as “stubborn, but very sweet”, and said he is highly social and seeks contact with people. In the immediate aftermath, the dog was reported to have been returned unharmed to a nearby bed-and-breakfast close to the venue.
The brief appearance did not appear to alter the competitive outcome of the session, which was a preliminary qualifying round for the women’s team sprint. The most likely medal contenders had already finished by the time Nazgul reached the finishing straight, reducing the risk that the incident could directly influence the fastest times.
Even so, the disruption revived a familiar concern in alpine and Nordic sport: that unexpected obstacles at high speed can have serious consequences. Skiing commentator and expert Fredrik Aukland said the prospect of an animal entering the track “could have been a disaster”, a view echoed by those who noted how quickly a moment of confusion can turn into a fall, collision, or injury in a tightly packed sprint finish.
Athletes offered a range of reactions, blending humour with caution. Argentina’s Nahiara Gonzalez Diaz said she was surprised by what she saw as the dog ran near the end of the course. “I thought: What on earth is a dog doing here?” she said. Sweden’s Jonna Sundling described the scene as “cute”, while Norwegian skier Astrid Oyre Slind delivered a characteristically competitive aside: “A dog is my least problem, a Swede is my biggest.”
For Greece, which finished at the back of the field in the session cited in reports of the incident, skier Konstantina Charalampido said the dog’s behaviour had been calm and non-disruptive in the crucial sense that no one fell. “He was very well-behaved,” she said. “He followed the camera on the finishing straight, was cute, and thankfully didn’t disrupt the race.” She added that the moment briefly distracted her from her own performance and joked that the dog’s appearance had brought her unexpected attention. “It was funny. He made me forget about the race, because it wasn’t good. Thanks to him, I’m famous now, so I have to thank him.”
One detail that further boosted the story’s viral reach was the dog’s name. Nazgul is a reference to the Ringwraiths from The Lord of the Rings, a fact repeatedly highlighted in social posts and media reports as clips spread beyond Olympic audiences.
The incident was captured not only by spectators’ videos but also by official timing imagery. One widely shared still image, credited to Omega, appeared to show Nazgul on the finishing straight in front of the event’s finish line camera setup, underlining how far the dog had progressed into the controlled competition area before being stopped.
Online reactions quickly followed, with viewers on social platforms treating Nazgul as an honorary entrant and joking about medals, qualification and future Games. Some posts celebrated the surreal sight of elite athletes sharing the stage with a dog, while others focused on the safety implications and asked how the animal reached the course during an Olympic event.
The interruption also came amid a broader theme of viral, light-hearted moments at these Games, with dogs appearing in other Olympic-related footage. Separate clips circulating during the Winter Olympics have shown dogs near venues and, in another incident earlier in the week, a dog sliding on icy surfaces near a downhill setting, though those moments were not part of a live race finish in the way Nazgul’s sprint was.
Officials on the ground acted quickly once Nazgul was on the course, with reports indicating he was collared and removed without injury to the animal or the skiers. No falls or collisions were reported in connection with the episode, and the session continued.
For organisers, the event was an unusual but pointed reminder of the layers of security and course control required at the Olympics, where multiple venues operate simultaneously and thousands of staff, athletes and spectators circulate each day. For athletes, it was a rare moment of unpredictability in a sport built on precision pacing and narrow margins, where even a split-second hesitation can affect a race’s outcome.
For Hadzic, the primary emotion seemed to be relief that the encounter happened in qualifying rather than a medal-deciding final, and that the dog did not behave aggressively. Others, including Charalampido, treated it as a strange footnote that briefly stole the spotlight.
Nazgul, meanwhile, was back with his owners by the end of the day, his short-lived Olympic run already preserved in broadcast footage, official images and countless reposts across social media.
