Randomness & the Ass Matchmaker

This adventure started with a random NYT piece by renowned runner/author Christopher McDougal. McDougal had taken in an ill-treated donkey, Sherman, with the goal of training together to compete in the World Championship Pack Burro Race in Fairplay, CO.

This adventure continued with a further random incident. We happened to be nearby in CO & were able to attend Burro Days, a 2-day festival celebrating mining heritage & animals- all capped with the burro race. These intrepid runners aren’t RIDING the burros. They RUN WITH their burro partner. On a rope. Over mountains- high mountains. For either 29 miles or for the “short course”, 15 miles. This is no sissy sport. Of course, that means I HAD to do it.

More randomness. At the race I made a connection with the Ass Matchmaker, Amber. Amber & her husband, Brad, care for a band of “rental” racing burros. Two years later when we headed back to CO, I considered participating in the event but all the burros were spoken for. A week before the race, Amber reached out. A burro, Bandit, was now available.  Was I interested?  Hell Yeah.

Oh, & how does one quickly train for a burro race? I went to the local REI store searching for appropriate burro racing shoes. I watched burro racing YouTube videos- a bad idea that featured broken ribs, dragging & concussions. This gave me a full-blown panic attack. Jeff & drove to Denver for a training run. I learned the proper way to handle my rope, saddle the burros & work as a pack with other burros. With only days before the race, I had no chance to train the weak link in this high-elevation partnership- ME.

June 28, 2019. Day of race. We arrived early for race registration & saddle weigh in (we have to carry specific mining gear.) The race harkens back over 70 years when bored, drunk & slightly stir crazy miners competed in the inaugural race. I’ve been in lots of races, but never one that leaves piles of poop all over the starting line. Cue the starting gun & we’re off. A few miles out, Bandit needed to stop to take care of business. Once he finished & looked up, he realized all his burro buddies were long gone. At that point, he put on the brakes & lost all interest in racing. I tried pulling. I cajoled. I bribed with apples. No movement. Finally, I had to turn him around for the walk of shame back to the main street finish line to the cheers of the crowds thinking I was the speediest of runners. I’ve never DNF (Did Not Finish) a race so I had issues with how things went but had to get my head around the idea that it just wasn’t my day & I had to share power in this partnership. Still, we took Bandit back to his pen, combed him & fed him carrots. Two years later Bandit passed & all the Bandit stories came out. I was not alone in being a runner toyed with by Bandit.

July 25, 2021. We end up back in CO during Burro Days. Again, a few days out, Amber had a burro. This year, my goal was to use the race as training for an upcoming looong hike. 15

miles at high altitude across varied terrain would be great training. My partner in crime would be Blaster. This mini-burro was perfect for me. Small, so it wouldn’t hurt too bad if he stepped on me. I could even decorate him with festive flowers & a lei. Blaster is in his late 20s- I’m not sure what that means in human years but Blaster was slow & that was OK. He is also the beloved mascot of the Colorado School of Mines. He even has a web page that describes him as “an enduring symbol of determination & work ethic” for all students. The pressure! I confirmed with Amber that the race would not kill Blaster- I didn’t want that on my tombstone- The Lady That Killed Blaster

We had a strong start. Blaster’s little legs kept us in the middle of the pack, but with time lagged & ultimately were out on the course in the hills hunting for pink ribbons indicating the course & on the lookout for other racers. At six miles, a bit short of the turnaround, he just put the brakes on. I pulled, I cajoled, I bribed (sound familiar?) to no avail. Luckily, after time, some of his burro buddies made the turnaround & he was more than willing to join them on the run home. Where did this little guy get the energy to run home the final six miles, I’ll never know. He was such a pleasure to be with (along with the other racers that we ran home with) that I was ok that we “only” got to go 12 miles. It was HIS race, HIS day. I was just along for the adventure.  And hurray, I didn’t kill Blaster!

Boston Stronger

Most people never have the opportunity to perform in front of a million people. Not so for those of us who had the privilege of participating in this 118^th running of the Boston Marathon.

As race director Dave McGillivray described the race, it was “epic.” With over a million spectators (or as I should call them, roadside participants) cheering on over 36,000 runners, it was easy to see how over 99% of those who started in Hopkinton finished 26.2 miles later on Boston’s Boylston St.

With heightened security, our team gathered early in Hopkinton to join the long lines for porta-potties. Ingenious planning was required to carry my race-day necessities. My four dollar thrift shop fleece not only kept me toasty but was home to a myriad of electronics, fruit, nutritional supplements, chap sticks, trash bags, and my “heroes” cape with the names of those supporting my fundraising efforts.

My only point of reference to describe the spectacle is Mardi Gras in New Orleans- but without the beads and floats, but with the beer and screaming throngs. Crowds lined a dozen deep in many areas. From weathered Bostonians in equally weathered Red Sox sweatshirts to a children’s gymnastics class handing out high fives while popping up and down on mini-trampolines, you could feel the collective energy pushing you along.  At Wellesley, the annual chorus line of coeds with their “Kiss me because I’m (insert your own descriptor here)” drew a good number of male runners to the sidelines to collect their kisses. I admit to giving in to more than one “Free Hugs Here” sign from buff guys. I’d heard about the daffodils planted along the entire course but was only allowed peekaboo glimpses through the legs of spectators.

I admit to getting particularly emotional while passing (or often, being passed) by a number of wounded and handicapped runners. Spectators were particularly loud for local favorites, Team Hoyt, honoring father Dick who has pushed handicapped son Rick in his wheelchair to compete in triathlons and marathons for more than three decades. This is Dick’s last marathon.

As a non-qualifying charity runner for the American Red Cross, I expected a long day but wasn’t fully prepared for Boston’s abundant hills (I believe I actually heard them scoff at the meager bridge I used for training.) I used the uphill walks to capture crowd shots and even send a post or two.  As a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I didn’t want to forget a moment!

I had a number of valuable “learnings” from this “epic” event:

·         When bad people do bad things, good people will overcome with wicked vengeance. Hats off to the people of Boston who took back their finish line!
·         If a wonderful opportunity presents itself- take it!  A casual conversation at a party last May led to the chance to be at this starting line (Thanks, Karen). That night, I decided to go for it and never look back.
·         If you accept an opportunity, be prepared to do what it takes. After pushing the button to send my application, I went out for a run. Good intentions may get you to the starting line but hard work and commitment are necessary to make it to the finish.
·         Finally, you can’t do it alone.  It does take a village- from those dear friends who generously supported my fundraising and sent countless day-of-race wishes, to fellow runners who helped make training and racing miles melt by. And most of all, my super-supportive husband Jeff who now knows more than he ever wished to about chafing products and blister relief but still rose early on Patriots’ Day to make me “lucky” pancakes and hunted me down hours later on the course at mile 25.  I may be the one with the medal and the cool commemorative jacket but these are the folks that made this opportunity possible.