Over the hill and still kicking

When my common-law husband asked me what I wanted for my birthday, for the first time I thought he might say no to my request.

On my 40th birthday, my kids told me I was officially over the hill. Thanks, kids! To celebrate this milestone, I decided to sign up for the Burro World Championships in Fairplay, Colorado. I figured if I was going over the hill, a donkey would be a fine escort into the new territory of being “elderly,” as my kids put it.

I signed up for a short course of 12 miles. Although I was tempted to take my favorite running companion, Mugshot the mini donkey, our dedicated veterinarian, Dr. Jane, advised against it because running that long wouldn’t be good for his developing bones.

I had no choice but to cheat on Mugshot with a fit, muscular, standard-sized burro named Cooper.

The 76th Annual Burro Days did not disappoint. The charming town, with its historic main street, hosted live music and vendors throughout the weekend. Highlights included the burro race, as well as llama, dog and outhouse races. The event was even enjoyable for my teenagers, which speaks volumes about its appeal.

On my phone, I have family photos with the Dolly (Parton) Llama team, complete with big hair, my kids posing with a South Park mural, and eating loaded plates of fair food. I promise that I refused to eat any Colorado green chile.

Back to my big birthday request: When we first started dating, my man was adamant about keeping his distance from our miniature donkey. No amount of coaxing could convince him that she wouldn’t bite or kick him. So, when I finally told him that I wanted him to race a donkey for my birthday, I was shocked when he readily agreed. He even admitted that he had enjoyed watching the Magdalena Burro Stampede. Who is this person?

Now it should be noted that he has an impressive record in Ironman triathlons and a lifetime of athletic achievements beginning with high school state championships. It’s rare for a weekend to pass without riding at least 100 miles on the bike and running 20 miles.

I had no doubt he had the physical ability, the question was, would he love it or hate it?

I wondered if the years of our often chaotic home life of delivering lambs and pigs, doctoring hurt and sick dogs and donkeys. The slaughtering and putting down chickens and ducks, and the joys of rescuing a critter who needed a home, slowly broke my partner into a true animal lover.

Our rented donkeys arrived the night before the race, and we were invited to go on a short training run with them around the block. It was then that I discovered that there is a whole group of non-donkey owners who travel around to the burro races with rented donkeys, who knew?

The morning of the race, I was so anxious to get to that start line that I woke up at 4 a.m. Burro Buddies, our donkey rental company, patiently taught us how to pack our burros and gave us words of wisdom and encouragement. I was told Cooper would test me and just to hold on tight and stand my ground.

The start line, packed with close to 100 runners and 100 donkeys, crowded with hundreds of brave spectators, was electric. My blind date, Cooper, was not having it, and after a loose donkey went by him, it took all my might to keep hold. The good news was I didn’t need a warm-up because most of the ten minutes before the start, I was wrestling with a 400-pound burro and crashing into spectators who should have known better.

I could see my man looking back at me, worried, wanting to help, and I reassured him I was fine and to stay at the front.

When the start buzz went off, to my surprise, my burro turned into a graceful partner, and we eased through the main street past the crowds. There were a few times when Cooper got a little too energetic, and I had to pick up my pace. At one point on a narrow trail, he pulled me through thick vegetation, and I felt like I was playing Super Mario Bros, bouncing over bushes. Boing!

But honestly, most of the race was walking, Cooper was sweet on being with his burro buddies, and even though I tried to change his mind and trick him into leaving them, it was fruitless. The event was complete with a successful finish, narrowly beating two other teams.

I have to say that the kind of hug you get from your kids after a finish like that is incomparable.

My man was able to hang on to the front of the pack, and he not only was a complete natural with his burro, but he placed 11th with a smile on his face (For context, I placed 58th). Better yet, on the drive home, he talked about strategies for next year.

I realize that my fascination with burro racing over the past year may come across as unusual to many. However, this unique pursuit has been a lifeline for me during a particularly challenging period in my life.

The thrill of racing alongside these incredible animals, with their spirited personalities and surprising speed, has ignited a sense of joy and purpose that I crave. Each race feels like an exhilarating adventure.

Almost a decade ago, I found myself in a sterile room at the University of New Mexico Hospital, where a neurologist informed me that I would gradually deteriorate. He told me that by the time I reached my forties, it was likely I would be wheelchair-bound. He said he didn’t want to frighten me, but rather to prepare me for what was to come.

I'm glad I refused to accept his prognosis and made other plans.