Boom Days. I had hesitated on this race – not sure if a 20 mile race would be in my best interest. Burro racing is different though – I knew this would not beat me up like an outright 20 mile (climbing to Mosquito Pass), and so given the thought this would be less impactful, a thought that I could have a shot at a win with the long down of California Gulch, and that I did not want to come across as a guy who only did these races when he was winning – I decided to toe the line again with Jack. Photos courtesy of John Brisenhan unless otherwise noted.
I finished the race 7th – my worst Pack Burro Race showing with Jack yet, and nearly an hour slower than what we cover the distance in last year.
Any thoughts I have of not being “impacted” were left somewhere up on Mosquito Pass. My fingers are jammed, my back is sore from pulling a 800 pound quadraped, my left hip is bruised from taking a digger into a ditch that said quadraped thrust me into, my legs are feeling the effects of a 20 mile run that includes 3800 feet of up and down, my neck is tight and I am just plain spent. I smell like what I am: a mix of sweat, Gatorade, vaseline, road and mountain dust, burro poop …
That is pack burro racing. The burro giveth and the burro taketh away. This day, I spent most of the day paying dues for a loan that I took out last year. That loan netted me a win in Fairplay and Leadville, but today was time to square up some on that mortgage. Pun intended or not, my ass is kicked.
I struggled all day to keep Jack moving forward and at a reasonable pace. Likewise, my head moves in multiple directions, and I often can see the juxtaposition of two thoughts that are often completely contrary, but that I hold at the same time. That is pack burro racing … and there are more lessons when you are on the losing end of the rope than the winning. First contradictory thought is that I guess: I am glad that I had that opportunity to learn all that again, but sometimes learning sucks.
I rolled out of Brandon’s early. I hit the Golden Burro for some coffee and pancakes (anything else is a bit of a gamble there) and then got down to the Fairground just a couple of minutes before Brad and Bill showed up. We loaded up the burros. 2011 winner of this race Jeff Bennett shows up and we greet each other. I am surprised at how tall he is. He might be 6’5”? The dude is clearly fit from the eye ball check. He discusses with Bill who he is going to race with and they decide on Bullwinkle. I bite my tongue on how difficult a day I had with my sole training session at Laughing Ranch with Bullwinkle.
We all head into town and start the set up of the burros. Unlike a regular run, it takes a couple of hours to get all the burros checked in, saddles weighed, ropes measured, number bibs tied on, fed, etc. Bill travels with over a dozen burros and they are all accounted for with racers today – some seasoned vets and some first timers who have never run with a burro before. There are folks who have heard of the race in some regard and have decided this is on their bucket list – so they are doing it. Brad and Bill run the show, I try to lend a not a totally newbie hand here or there but I am still very much a greenhorn on a lot of the turns.
TZ and JZ show up with some friends and it is good to see them. 
There is the buzz in the community of the pack burro racers. It is indeed a family of folks. No different than other running families really. It is like going to some sort of family reunion. You see the old faces, meet some new. Last night was the ultra crowd and today it is the army of pack burro racers. Outside of the contingent of folks racing Bill’s lot of donkeys, most of the racers own their own and have very tight relationships with their donks. Jack seems to know who I am now, and folks say he likes me. I am not sure if he really does or doesn’t. I try to get into his head at times and figure out what he is thinking but most times I am at a loss. Or I figure it is about eating.
It is a beautiful day in Leadville. It is an odd mix of a mountain town that wants to hold on to its history but has to embrace nutty events like 100 mile runs and bikes and burro racing to bring people in to spend a few bucks. I am glad at this point to have decided to race. It is going to be a fun day heading up to Mosquito Pass and maybe we can get a little luck on the way down. I like my chances, but I remind myself that pack burro racing is not about what I want. It is what the burro wants. But there is that opposite thought right there … a seed of thinking about what I want.
We get off and Jeff and Bullwinkle seem to race off the line. Rather than start Jack from way back as I have been choosing to do, I edge my way towards the front of the line up and start near Hal. We get a good start out of town and all the usual suspects are there. I know it will change up in about 2 or 3 miles as burros and people settle.
As we break out of town, Hal and Full Tilt Boogie, Karen Thorpe and Kokomo, David Carner and Smokey, Patrick Sweeney (racing in huarache sandals) and Masai, and Jack and me have a slight gap over every one else. Karen is already dictating the pace and the race. Given how she climbed in Fairplay, this is completely what I expected. Hal makes a short burst to catch up to her. I am keeping contact but Jack already has a periodic lapse or two where he turns hard to the left and stops. We lose yards that don’t mean much in the first five miles of a pack burro race, but are putting us out of contact with the front running herd. We then work hard to catch back up but it is already having a toll. In the hot Leadville sun, Jack is already starting to glisten a bit with sweat. I am not working hard, but am reminded that running at 10k plus feet is a bit of a contradiction itself.
A few yards to Hal, Karen and their burros becomes a few tens. And with more lapses, a hundred. David Carner and I are working our own little pack of Jack and Smokey, and not far behind is the large and legendary Masai and Patrick. Smokey lapses and Jack defers to wait for him. Jack defers and Smokey returns the favor. Damn, we are already losing contact. I try to convince myself that it is early and that a lot can still happen but I feel a bit of frustration welling with these early miscues as I watch two vets and champs inch away. The next four photos are from Amber Wann.
David is all positive however and I try to cue off that. I mean he is ALL positive. I find it inspiring. And a bit bothersome. How can the guy be that positive when we are losing ground? I have this contradiction of feelings. I am bugged by our pace. I am bugged by David’s positive nature. I realize our pace is whatever a burro will give us. I want to be like David. I am bugged that I am bugged by it all. What the hell is wrong with me?
I remain hopeful that David and I can work together on the down before the later climb to Mosquito Pass and catch the leaders. As we pass through this checkpoint, what I suspect will happen does – Jack does not want to go and neither does Smokey. We start walking the down hill, towing our burros. I laugh at myself for imagining this should be any different. There is that contradiction again – laughing at myself for being frustrated, realizing that I can only take what the burro gives me, and understanding that I should just enjoy what I have, but on the other hand being frustrated at that Jack keeps turning left, waiting for Smokey, and that we are walking downhill.
David and I continue to work together as we roll through the down. As we come into one of the curves, a guy is there with lady and a kid. He starts jumping up and down and shouting whooping noises. It is not unusual to see folks on the course – and heck even up high – 4WD cars on it and to get some words of encouragement. I distinctly hear him say, “You need a better donkey than that!” and then “You guys need to get out of here!”
W.T.F.
I glance at David and wonder if he heard it, but I quickly lash back as we run by, “if I needed a better ass I’d tie you to the rope.” Immediately I feel that odd mix of feelings. I am a bit angry that this guy made such a statement. I feel good that I made a quick and what I thought was a somewhat witty response back. But I also know that I lashed out a bit in anger and I really did not need to.
It gets the desired effect because the guy immediately stops his jumping and I hear him say “what?” but I press on.
Fast forward to post race, about an hour after I finish. I catch up with Hal and he is talking with two other folks. We make introductions and the guy eyes me up. He says, “you are the guy who said if I wanted a better ass I’d tie you to the rope. You said that to me.” I don’t balk – I say, “yeah, I said it because you said …” and explain it.
He absolutely denies it. Again, a mix of feelings. I feel like an ass myself for picking a fight. I want to believe this guy and I want to settle this in a positive way. But I certainly did not hallucinate what I heard. I heard it clearly. I feel a bit ashamed for making such a stupid remark but a bit of my pride is burning because I know I heard what I heard. I apologize, and say it must have been a miscommunication. I tell him that I hope we can move past it. The guy seems fine but the damage is done. That conversation, the exchange bugs me for most of the ride home.
Back to the race. David and I work together, trying to get Jack and Smokey to move but we are just walking all the up very slowly. I see that Hal and Karen have extended their lead to what I guess is at least 15 or 20 minutes as I eye them on some of the upper stretches towards Mosquito. I turn around and see that we are also getting rolled up by a pair of racers and their minis.
They join us as we climb up the final stretches to the pass. We all look to motivate each other and the donks by getting a bit of a herd thing going with some war whoops as we climb. The two leader teams come by us going down about 15 minutes before we’d hit the pass. We hit the pass, make the circle around Father Dyer’s stone and start the down. The minis TEAR away and David and I are left quickly to dragging downhill donks that are not interested in running up OR running down. As we head down, I see we are not too far ahead of other packs of racers.
Curtis Imrie comes by and smiles and gives me a kind word. Then he says, “well Momma said there would be days like these.” I grin because I know Curtis is right. Heck the guy has run the race 41 times. 41 times. Who else has done a single race – any race 41 times? Sure there are folks (Burfoot, Manchester Road Race), but nobody has done some race 41 times that climbs to Mosquito Pass from Leadville. And if you add in that Curtis has also done the Fairplay race, that is an ultramarathon – he has climbed to that pass with a donkey 82 times. Good grief. I know Curtis is right. The man knows. Of course, like a child I am pissed that he is right. And I laugh at myself that he is right. I keep plugging, telling myself that I was due for a day like this. Jack continues to push me into ditches to the left, come to a stop, and generally not be interested in moving forward. David remains wonderfully positive to both my delight and chagrin. Clouds start to build and roll in from the west.
We come to base of the road that is flat, just before a climb back up for us, and just before the climb gets steep for folks heading out. There I see Jeff Bennett walking with Bullwinkle. Holy crap. The guy is easily an hour from the summit and not moving quick. He smiles and says kind words. I am blown away at how positive he is and feel a bit stupid about my inner voice whining about my having to pay some donkey dues. This guy is going to have an incredibly long day on the trail. And he seems nothing but happy about it. What the heck is wrong with me?
As we roll through the curves that climb up, a group of no less than five other racer catch us. I decide to go with it and rather try to break away that I will ride the tide and see if Jack will be content to go with this group. Sometimes he is. Sometimes he is not. The group taffy-s as we stretch out and recollect up. No one gets an upper hand as the burros seem content to move at some unspoken pace that was part of some prior agreement.
Up ahead, I can see the minis and I think we still are in the hunt for some of the upper positions if we can get a good go on the downs and California Gulch (the last long down stretch into Leadville). The clouds build some more and start to bark and spit rain. Ugh. Not where I want to be – above treeline with lightning in the mix. But this is all pack burro racing. The rains start to really kick and I wonder about Jeff, up really high in this crap. I am glad I am not him but I am concerned about him and the others not too far ahead of him.
The races all start late – 10:30 AM. Not my favorite time to start simply because it inevitably puts you up on mountain ridges in Colorado in August at noon or one PM. Or what I have called o’lightning thirty. The races start then because these things draw people into town to spend money at the fairs. No money, no fair, no burro race – so we start at 10:30. That would be great for nearly any other race.
The group churns through the rollers and the rain now over to California Gulch and as the descent really starts at least three (I start to lose count though) break away very quickly. I look at my watch and know we have at least 5 or 6 miles to go and it is nearly the time that I had finished in last year. The rain is pretty good now. David and I are still together, walking our donkeys down the hills and through the rocks. Jack has seemed uninterested all day. I wonder if he has soured on the idea of these races, or if his feet hurt or it is something else. Last year we hit this section and just moved at 7:30 pace and faster to break away from everyone. But that is not today.
I get glimmers of hope as Jack begins to trot, but inevitably, he stops, turns left, waits for Smokey. I want to just let the thought go of moving forward more quickly and go with what the donkey gives me, but 30 plus years of driving forward in races hard to unwind.
As we descend California Gulch the weather clears and it is actually sort of warm. I take off my rain coat, my shirt and try to reboot. Again, we are a taffy-ed group. The road starts to smooth, and I find myself running with Rick Pedretti. The Pedretti family has a special connection to this race. The whole family comes out and makes a big vacation around the burro events. The Pedretti family has quite a story connecting to this race. Rick and I run together and for the first time all day, David starts to drop back. Jack seems to content however to do the same dance with Rick’s burro and we exchange places several times. Rick mentions his quads are really hurting, but he looks fine to me. The race here is not about how the runners feel – but instead how well their burros move and then if they can run with them. These next photos are courtesy of Brandon Fuller.
Finally, after a few minutes of pavement, Jack opens a small lead over Rick and his beast. As we come into far outskirts town, we pass a lady racer and her burro. I expect Jack to stop as he has for all other burros all day, but for the first time in two weeks he plugs forward. Hmmm. We keep running and I wonder if Jack just knows this race well enough that he can smell the finish and is ready to get it over with. I see Brandon and his family as we pass one of the mines in the gulch. I give him a smile and a shrug. He grins, knowing exactly what has happened.
I ham it up for his family a bit later as we come into town. This is actually probably a pretty stupid move because if Jack really wanted to take off, he could probably have a shot at killing me here.
As I am coming in, I learn that Karen and Kokomo have won with Hal in close pursuit until Harrison Avenue. There is some question if they are both still Triple Crown contenders as Karen was first woman last week and Hal was first man this week.
I finish not far ahead of Rick.
I am greeted in town by TZ, JZ, the Sweeney family, my son’s Scout Master (who still looks at me like I am a little out there), the Fuller family, Jean and John and their kids. Brad and Amber are there and have nothing but kind words to say. How can I not be grateful and not feel supported with all these wonderful people around me. Geez. I learn that I have come in seventh (which seems higher than what I had counted about six miles back). Everyone smiles and says, “well, that is burro racing.” How come they seem to get it so simply?
At the awards assembly (which is just awesome … dinner, awards, a kick ass buckle, checks, sharing war stories), Dave Tenyck – a guy who just oozes charisma (seriously, totally comes across to me as a guy I’d gladly follow as a leader), looks at me and says, “George, the mark of a true champion is the man who wins this race, then loses, and the comes back to win again.” I tell him, I will be back.
It is probably my imagination, but I seem to get a bit more credibility from the pack burro racing community for having performed as I did. “That’s burro racing.” Rather than be a flash in the pan, taking my lumps out there on an off day seems to earn me a few stripes that I did not get when I won the event last year. Bill Lee says, “well, you had a tough day … “ as we converse and I had to interrupt him - “no, I did not have a tough day. I had a day – that is pack burro racing! I think I had to pay a few debts to even the ledger some but it was a good day!”
I realize so much of this comes across as negative. It is not really that. It is negative and positive really. I clearly saw the negative feelings I had – the frustration with not being able to run with Jack as I wanted or expected. And I even got meta with that, frustrated that I was frustrated in the first place. But I also had a lot of positive. I got to be with wonderful people in the mountains. I got head up to one of my favorite places on the planet. I got humbled which always stings, but I inevitably come out better and happier about. I got to see how supported and loved I am. I was able to participate in some crazy nut sport that is uniquely Colorado. Burro racing forces me to face some things that I am still working through, even after 43 years, and I am grateful for that. And that is positive.
Some vids that give various perspectives on the race.
