GUEST ARTICLE ALERT: I’m honored to welcome back guest contributor Chris Stiffler, a Professor of Economics out of Denver, CO, who also climbs mountains, authors books, and does standup comedy open mics while co-hosting the Funny Muscle Podcast.
Getting One’s Ass Over the Pass
By Christopher Stiffler
I yelled at my ass named Spiff what I think means “Move forward,” in donkey.
“Hup!! Hup!! Hey! Ha Ha Haaa!!”
But wise Spiff – a sandy brown burro with floppy Bugs Bunny ears – froze.
Up ahead on our trail, I spotted why.
It was a pack of Bighorn Sheep, whose horns can weigh up to 30 pounds. More if you include our gorged carcasses on that scale.
But that didn’t faze trusty Spiff. He led us straight through the herd.
I hadn’t realized donkeys were brave.
Except then 10 minutes later after confronting the Bighorn sheep, Spiff locked his knees and wouldn’t move at the sight of an inanimate orange construction cone.
Those scare Spiff. As do fishing poles and children’s trikes.
It’s all part of the sport known as Pack Burro Racing.
This July, one of Colorado’s oldest mining and ranching towns Fairplay will hold the 75th annual Burro Days celebration, which culminates in a 29-mile race.
On the off chance you’re one of those out there that have never witnessed a World Championship Pack Burro Race…
…I’ll obviate your first question.
Burro is simply the Spanish word for donkey. As in an “ass,” as in anyone who uses the word “obviate” instead of just saying “anticipate and prevent.”
Pack burro racing is the answer to the question, “What if we invented a partner race, where one of the participants might be easily derailed by dandelions, who, by the way, might also kick you? Oh and let’s make them stubborn as a … well, you know.”
The rules are simple:
A team consists of 1 runner and 1 burro. Each donkey must have a packsaddle with prospector’s paraphernalia including: pick, shovel, and gold pan. The first burro whose nose crosses the finish line is the winner. The human cannot ride the donkey. They run beside each other like army cadets.
(Ah Left, Left, Left, Right, Right, Left … I gotta donkey, brave as bones … nothing scares him ‘cept traffic cones!).
As a Coloradan, I take pride in the quirky sports that honor the prospecting history of the Centennial state.
The origins of the sport come from 19th century gold mining times when it was common for miners to keep donkeys around to carry supplies. One day two miners raced each other back to town in order to stake ownership of the area where gold was found. Because their burro was loaded with gear, the competing miners didn’t ride the animal but instead raced alongside it.
Nowadays racers mimic that same competition except with more selfies.
Like most major sports, burro racing has its own ruling body: The Western Pack Burro ASS-ociation (The name writes itself). The ASS-ociation, by the way, has its own registered trademark, lest it be confused with any similar organizations like the American Mule Association or Congress.
In 2012, in a move that defies those who say politicians never do anything substantial, the Colorado General Assembly designated pack burro racing as the official state summer heritage sport. (Over cycling, rock climbing, and sitting in I70 traffic.)
If you’re wanting more history, head to Fairplay’s Burro Racing Museum.
There you’ll be bombarded with obscure facts like:
- The first ever burro race was won by Melville Sutton and his donkey Whitey
- There is usually prize money for the winning pair, though the donkey’s rarely see their percentage since they’re too stubborn to do the math.
- Burro Racing photos posted on social media have a combined 86.2% chance of eliciting the comment: “Nice Ass!”
The good news for the non-burro-owning crowd: you can rent a donkey. So, anyone can burro race provided you have a credit card, a valid ID, and the ability to run over a 13,000 foot mountain pass for 29 miles.
If you manage to complete the course, they’ll etch your name in the burro racing history books alongside prior runners like John Stuart – not THAT one – who, during a training run the day before the 1954 race, was dragged by a rambunctious donkey named Kingo for a half mile over rocks. The team still ran in and completed the race the next day.
Total badassery.
In the early days of donkey running, someone asked, “How can we add more betting opportunities to this sport?”
And the answer from an eager (meaning drunk) burro-racing enthusiast was, “Well, what if we bet on where the donkeys poop?”
“Donkey Poo Bingo it is!” (I am not making this up).
At the race’s start, they tape off a giant grid across the street and bettors can buy squares. The winning square is the one with the most donkey poo, as measured by weight on a scale by Danny “Thick Gloves” McGee. Because of this, Danny McGee’s wife Maggie can never complain about her tough day at work. (Danny: Oh, ya think YER day was crap?)
There are shorter races than the World Championship Fairplay course. I’ve run the 9-mile Georgetown Pack Burro Race the last three years.
Which brings me back to scared Spiff, the spooky construction cone, and my secret donkey-whisperer technique:
Inner ear scratches.
They are Spiff’s favorite. (Mine too if your fingers are clean enough.) After some reassuring talk and some inner ear scratching, Spiff vigilantly side-stepped around the unresponsive enemy cone.
And then we got back into a partner cadence where my two trailrunners matched the rhythm of his four hooves all the way to the finish line.
I ran my first official burro race in 2021 and have been back each Memorial Day weekend ever since.
Put it on your bucket list for 2024. (Just make sure that bucket doesn’t belong to Danny “Thick Gloves” McGee.)
And to those setting up the 2024 Georgetown Burro Race track, could you PLEASE skimp on the construction cones this season?
Those are items Spiff and I would really like to obviate.
Be sure to check out the Funny Muscle Podcast episode in which we reference this article=>
Christopher Stiffler is an economics professor and senior economist in Denver, Colorado.
He’s also worked as a high school Latin teacher, trained as a professional wrestler and climbed all of Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks.
Chris is a burro racer, public speaker, thru-hiker of the Colorado Trail and dabbles in things like ice climbing, stand-up comedy and cowboy poetry.
He hosts the Non-Standard 14er Podcast and co-hosts the Funny Muscle Podcast.
Stiffler does his best writing after weekend trips backpacking into Colorado’s wilderness away from cell service.
His published works include two children’s books titled, “An Igloo Half-Made” and “A Burro Named Bedford” and an economics book titled “Economics In-Other-Words; What Your Boring Economics Professor Tried to Teach You.“
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A fun read. A witty Who Knew.
Thanks, I’ll let Chris know. He plans to author more guest blogs so stay tuned! – Mike
Makes me want to start running again just so I can race with a donkey!
Right? And Donkeys are the sweetest animals. Saw a video of one being called by a little girl and it was hee-haw-ing to her from all the way in the back of the woods. – Mike
Funny and educational! I laughed as I learned about a new sport, and I learned a new vocabulary word “obviate”
That’s hilarious, Robyn, glad you enjoyed it, I’ll let Chris know.-Mike