Jack and I lined up for our fourth run at Leadville today, and our third chance to take the Triple Crown of Pack Burro Racing. We came up short in securing the TC in 2012 and 2014. But today, the third time at this game, it was truly a charm … as we crossed the finish line first.
I generally try to approach burro racing as an activity in which I need to free myself from expectations. Anything can happen in a burro race. They can go fast. They can go slow. They can not go at all. You may win or you may be out there for 10 hours for a 20 mile course. These runs in the mountains are hard. I mean – for the average person reading this blog – maybe not because we have redefined normal for ourselves but running from a town at 10000 feet to a 13+k pass and back is hard. Doing it with a burro is harder. If you have expectations other than controlling your mindset and emotions to enjoy the ridiculousness of the event and the day in the mountains, you are likely to be upset that your expectations were not met.
With this thought that doing these runs with a burro is difficult – winning any of these races is even more difficult. There are at least a handful of people every week that want to see that result play well for them. Securing a win is a special combination of preparation, execution and darn old luck (and my old friend Marty used to say “luck is where preparation meets opportunity.”)
Winning three? It is almost unthinkable. Winning three with an 18 year old burro? Forget about it.
And that was the mindset I found myself grappling with in the week leading up to the race. I found my thoughts focused on winning the Leadville race. I wanted to pretty badly. Not just because I would enjoy that win, but because I felt it was appropriate to recognize the amazing animal Jack, his owners and all the people who supported me through these endeavors over the years. I felt that not winning was almost letting them down. But I knew that having such an expectation was an almost certain recipe for disaster. In fact, I went into the Leadville race in 2013 after losing Fairplay to Hal Walter and Full Tilt Boogie by a length in the final stretches on Front Street. I wanted to win very badly and almost felt I deserved it. And we ended up in 7th that day in a very frustrating day for me.
I found my head on the days leading up to the race thinking of what I would say if I did cross that line first. When these thoughts came up, I would immediately find myself angrily quenching them and internally shouting “NO ACCEPTANCE SPEECHES.” Instead I wrapped my mind around the idea that I would do what I could to keep Jack and I in the race for as long as we could and if a chance came up, we would look to seize the day. And then maybe, just maybe we’d get through the run with a W. But I did not want to expect it. I wanted to hope for it, but not take it for granted.
So of course I contemplated strategy. I figured there could be a handful of us in the mix at least until the climb / drop to the base of Mosquito Pass. I figured Hal and Boogie, Justin and Yukon to be in the mix. I was less sure about Patrick Sweeney and Alice. Patrick is a faster runner but I was not sure what success he would have would have with Alice. In past years, John Vincent and his minis would start strong as well. And I was thinking this could also be a race where Carner and Ellroy had a break thru.
This race was also different than Fairplay and Buena Vista where we played the “short looks” to our advantage. By that I mean in both of those races there are places where your donkey can’t see far ahead on the trail because it is vegetated single or twin track. When a donkey sees another donkey on the trail ahead, they are often motivated to get to that donkey. When they don’t see that donkey they lose that motivation. In the prior two weeks we had snuck far enough ahead of Justin and Yukon that we went “out of sight, out of mind.” In Leadville, there is little such terrain like this and in fact the long stretch down California Gulch provides a lot of long looks. Escaping out of sight was going to be a tall order.
The Leadville race also jumps on the uphill portion immediately, unlike Fairplay that gives you about a half dozen miles of relatively flat to separate things out before you start the grind. And finally, as Leadville has an open course and a women’s course, men who would otherwise do a shorter option are obliged to go the 22 mile course. This brings in racers you would normally face.
I thought over strategy and then talked it over a bit with Bob, and we concluded the same obvious thing and the very thing that had secured the win for Jack in Leadville in 2012 and 14: there would have to be a break made at California Gulch. California Gulch is an old mining gulch in Leadville is a mix of broken down jeep road, and then asphalt road back into town – all downhill. Jack has hit a stride in both of this place in both his wins with me that other burros have not be able to maintain. I frankly did not feel that we’d get away from anyone on the climb to Mosquito, the climb back out of the ditch below it, and so it would require that we kept contact for 17 miles before seeing if we could escape at last.
And that is exactly how it played out.
As I expected Justin got out with Yukon quick. It felt hard for me and give we did a seven something in the first mile climbing a hill at 10000 feet – well, it was hard. I looked ahead and saw Justin and Yukon, Hal and Boogie looking casual as we made the three something mile up to the Veener mine. It seemed too easy for them as I felt I was struggling to keep some basic contact but I kept telling myself that while we could not win the race in this portion – we could most certainly lose it if we lost contact. We played the “taffy game” where we’d stretch out and then bunch up. I sat in third with Jack – not so much by choice but as it seemed the other two teams were dictating the race well and Jack was content to sit back based on what they did.
While the outcome of the race was not entirely clear at this point, one thing was clear: we had separated ourselves very early in this race and it was going to be the three of us unless some error tripped one of us up. And that punches were going to be thrown all day long.
Much of burro racing is a mental exercise where you are looking to find a way to motivate your burro away from the pack you are with – regardless if that is the lead pack or some chase pack. You (not the burro) think if you can get a little ahead you will secure that position. Maybe if you get a little farther ahead you will get even farther ahead! And so you make that ten foot break, only to be eaten up by a donkey peloton. On the flip side, you watch those breaks and simultaneously worry about needing to cover it and knowing that the team will come back because, well, they do almost all the time. Except when they don’t.
And Hal had every intent of throwing haymaker after haymaker to get away with Boogie. On the climb to the Veener mine he got as much as 40 yards ahead, but then would have a slight hiccup that would allow Justin, Yukon, Jack and I to catch up. Or he’d break again and Yukon would get the spirit to sprint them back in. This in turn would motivate Jack to up his pace a touch (but never a gallop) to roll them up to some respectable distance. It almost seemed to me that Hal and Boogie could run away from us at will when they wanted and Hal was looking for any slip up from us to do so.
My goal again was just to keep in contact. I could feel my mental stress but I would occasionally remind myself to a smile by thinking – this is the plan, this is where you want to be, this is okay, you and Jack are still in it, just keep contact. But over and over I felt that Justin and Yukon and Jack and I were out of the race when Hal would build what appeared to be a big enough break that we could not cover.
But we did each time. Again, I lost faith in what Jack could do, and over and over he taught me otherwise. Someday I may learn.
Hal built one of those leads heading up to the Pass and he and Yukon were the first up there. Justin and I and our donkey circled in opposite directions at about the same time. Hal had take a break for some water and so we were all together again. Naturally the human racers all think after the long slog and mostly walk up the pace that we are not going to crush the rest of the race down, but with the road up to the pass being loose rock and shale on a rutted and sloped road, the donkey are content to just walk it. Hal and Justin to leading their donkeys and Jack and I maintained contact – again in third.
There are essentially two climbs out of the base of the pass, one back up to the Veener mine, and then one over the hill to California Gulch. These are both hard because the donkey are not super interested in running fast up. After clutching to Hal and Justin’s teams for a dozen plus miles I felt that we were going to slip out of it at any moment. Jack maintained good contact to the check point but then balked at the climb to the top of the gulch. He just outright stopped. And so did Yukon. Where we had moments where Hal and Boogie had built some distance previously, we were able to cover it with some motion. But now, with us NOT moving, each second had Hal and Boogie getting farther and farther away. They had built a lead far surpassing anything they had before for the day – easily 200 yards, if not more. And Jack was not moving. I tried all the typical tricks but he looked at me and it felt like he was saying, “yeah, this is it. This is what you are gonna get.”
I muttered … “well I guess that is it.”
And then Jack decided to run.
And he ran up the hill at a steady hard clip until we rolled up Boogie and Hal. It was almost unbelievable. I heard Justin yell as we started the climb as he took a spill. I thought he and Yukon were out of it, but they came barreling up to the top of the hill at a break neck speed too. Hal and Boogie’s big break that we all had thought would have secured the race had been covered. Hal almost laughed but quipped, “well I guess we all get to test our break neck speed in a half mile.” It was clear that the race was going to come down to the descent down California Gulch – or the last four and so mile miles.
The top going of the Gulch is rough, and again the donks seemed less than enthused to run it. Jack suddenly felt okay to take lead on some of the good lines but we were not ahead at all. We made the turn to where the culvert appears and the path smooths a touch. Jack seemed to find a bit of a stride and I could hear we suddenly had a few yards. And then a few more. I did not count this as a significant break because I expected both teams to come roaring past us any moment.
But then 10 yards was 20, and we then doubled that and then again. And I could feel the excitement that the plan was actually coming together. It became a question now as to whether we could get far enough ahead that we’d be out of sight of our chasers and have enough time on the last push up the Avenue to not have an outright sprint finish. We started roll up women racers and Jack seemed to be using these teams as targets to move his pace on. We were never super speedy but his trot was constant and unwavering. We continued to build distance and soon on my looks on the long stretches back, I could not see our pursuers.
The last push up the Avenue is always hard. Jack (and most burros) seem to have no idea of a finish line. They rather stop at the bottom of the hill before climbing back up to Sixth Street where there is all sorts of commotion on people, noise and machines. We covered it at a walk, but we had built enough of a lead that it was enough for the win.
It was pretty overwhelming.
Most of all I felt … supported. By Jack. By Bill. By Brad and his family. By Justin and Yukon (who took 2nd in ever TC race this year and I am sure I could not have won Leadville without). By Hal. By Dave C. By the community of burro racers. By the people who create, direct, oversee and volunteer for this races. By my family, and in particular – this woman.
Really – can I have a more magical summer?
Thank you all. More to come on what’s happened and what’s next. Live it.
(all pix courtesy of John Brisnehan)
