Burro racer for the future
62
There was a point about six miles out from the finish line during the 2004 World Championship Pack-Burro Race that I stopped as Mary presented my baby boy, wearing a “Future Burro Racer” T-shirt, for a kiss on the forehead. I had the 29-mile race handily won for the fifth time, and it was basically just a matter of jogging the rest of the way into Fairplay.
At this moment the world seemed at a perfect standstill. I was a new father, five-time World Champion in perhaps the world’s most obscure endurance sport, and I also had two jobs.
I had no idea the rocky road ahead. In just four years I would be laid off from my main income source, struggling to stay alive as an athlete, and learn that my Future Burro Racer has autism. The way forward would be an uphill grind like nothing I’d ever confronted on Mosquito Pass. Through it all Harrison was raised with running, and with burros. He saw me win two more world championships and some other races too.
It was only a matter of time before the T-shirt came true.
After seven years of middle- and high-school cross-country and track, and now a year of running in college, he finally asked to run in a burro race. I had sort of dreaded this. People close to us had asked: “So when is Harrison going to start racing burros?” I would explain that running was one thing, but racing a burro was another game altogether. Also in the back of my mind was a comment from the great burro racer Ardel Boes, who won eight world championships in the sport and also coached cross-country at Colorado School of Mines. He had said that college runners could not afford to race burros because of the risk of injury.
Pack-burro racing has been described as a combination between a footrace, a rodeo and Teddy Roosevelt’s Boys charging up San Juan Hill — and that was in the early days when there were fewer than 20 runners at the starting line. Now some races top 100 human-burro teams, and a fair number of the humans are not very experienced with large animals. The shotgun starts particularly can get a little Western.
One year when Harrison was still in high school we had the opportunity to run in a team pack-burro race. This concept was new but was a lot of fun. All the burros were turned loose in an arena. At the starting gun the two-person teams scrambled to catch their burro with rope and halter, saddle their critters, then head out as a team on a five-mile course. Somehow we managed 1st place.
When Harrison expressed interest in running a traditional pack-burro race, I began to think things through for a successful outcome. He was familiar with running burros. He’d first watched it from a baby jogger, then from a bicycle, and in recent years had begun to help train burros, including some wild ones. He certainly had the running talent and experience with the animals, but if this training had been the course work, a race would be the final exam. An event hosted by the town of Creede presented perhaps the best opportunity, with a straight-away uphill start, a fair amount of climbing and a 10-mile loop.
A couple of years prior I had adopted a burro named Oliver as sort of a backup burro for myself and also with the idea that maybe Harrison would someday race him. Oliver was a fairly gentle and calm animal. It seemed like he might be the best fit for Harrison’s first race. However, the week prior to the race, Oliver started behaving strangely and randomly favoring a front foot. I had a veterinarian and farrier out to look him over, and neither could find anything wrong with his hoof, leg or shoulder. The issue was fleeting and would come and go. Our vet said to just go with it and suggested if Oliver started to limp during the race to simply drop out.
So we took Oliver and the famous Full Tilt Boogie over to Creede. All the while the drama was playing in my head. This was Harrison’s first race. It would be terribly disappointing if he had to drop. On the other hand, if I let him run Boogie she can be a handful and might pull some shenanigans. I went over and over this in my mind. Before the race I asked a fellow burro racer who is a veterinarian to look Oliver over. He also could not find anything wrong with his feet or leg. Still, I was not confident. At the last minute before the race I made the decision to swap burros with Harrison and handed over Boogie.
Whatever butterflies had flown to all corners of the Universe over my four-plus decades of pack-burro racing returned in droves and brought friends. The main concern with Harrison running Boogie was the chaos just before the start. A lot happens just before the gun and it happens very fast. Boogie gets a little dancy and often tries to false start. Harrison weighed only 129 pounds and did not have experience in situations like this.
As we waited for the race to begin, I tried to hold onto Boogie while also managing Oliver. Just as the gun went off our ropes got crossed and in the process of getting untangled Boogie hip-checked Oliver into the gutter. Harrison and Boogie got away clean but I got caught behind several other teams while regaining my wits and footing. Quickly I went into aerobic debt trying to get back into the race. Once Boogie is out of town she usually settles into her job and is all business. She and Harrison stayed with the lead group 200 meters ahead, galloping past the sharp rocky crags that tower over this historic mining town.
Meanwhile Oliver seemed to be hanging back, allowing my breathing to normalize. Less than a mile out he pulled over, once again favoring a front leg. I was prepared to bail as we stopped by the side of the road and some of the teams I’d just caught ran past. Then suddenly Oliver just trotted off on his own, picking up speed, passing some of these same teams again, and eventually catching up to Boogie. He never limped again the entire race — or afterward.
The course forks to the right and follows a rocky Jeep road gradually uphill along creek before taking a sharp left turn and beginning the grind up a series of steep switchbacks. It was hot on the climb up this south-facing stretch even though shaded by aspen trees. We reached the course summit among the top-five teams and began the shorter, but very steep, descent back into Creede. In her recent years Boogie had begun to slow down on steep rocky downhills. And honestly, at this point my quads were shot from the early surge to catch up.
We negotiated the initial steep pitch then cruised through high meadows before joining the precipitous roadbed of loose rock back through the mining district. With the roaring creek plummeting alongside the canyon road a misstep could lead to a consequential swim. Not a place for lost focus. We ran as fast as we could without taking any big risks. During this we lost a few places but eventually ran past the old railroad station and on into Creede and the finish line.
Not only had we both survived, we had finished in the top-10. As the first openly autistic person to compete in the sport, Harrison and Boogie placed 7th in his first pack-burro race. As for me, I’ve won a few races in my time, and have forgotten more than I remember. But this one would be forever etched in my mind. The Future Burro Racer was now a burro racer for the future.
The Blur Goes to College is a free online book published as a series. Subscribe to receive future chapters delivered by email. If you would like to support our writing, we appreciate upgrades to paid subscriptions.
Love it! Keep sharing.
Your family is ever-inspiring, Hal. God bless and keep up the good work! 🤗