Stretching the Distance, Shrinking the Stress: The Bangtail Divide 38K

Gathering at the start

I distinguish between trail races and mountain races. Around the Bozeman area, I classify the Bridger Ridge Run, Baldy Blitz, Devil’s Backbone and Old Gabe as mountain races. These races have rough, rocky trails, brutally steep climbs, and in the case of Old Gabe lots of creek crossings and at least one snowfield. I alternatively categorize the Bangtail Divide 38K as a trail race, and what a trail. Yes, there are a few rough sections, but for the most part the trail is smooth, and the climbs never crack 500 feet per mile. Runners can actually run up them without feeling like their hearts are about to burst out of their chests. Okay, I am old and slow; maybe others were pushing their heartrates near their maximums as they competed for glory. I only hoped to finish. In these other races just finishing requires heart maxing effort.

It’s not that I don’t love mountain races, I do. They are an extreme challenge, but it was great to experience a trail race right here in Bozeman that was different. This was the 14^th running of the Bangtail Divide 38K put on by Bozeman Running Company. I finally opted in to broaden my race set. The list above and the John Colter Run are the favorites I run regularly. Apart from the Colter, they are all beastly efforts. When I looked at the elevation profile for Bangtail Divide, I noticed the trail began climbing from the first steps onward: no surprise there. But it only climbed 2200 feet in the first 6 miles. At that point I would be up on top of the mountains and all subsequent climbs were but a few hundred feet and none of them were steeper than the first. The distance was at the top end of my range, but the moderate intensity of the climbs seemed too good to be true.

First view of the Northern Bridgers

The course begins on a dirt road for the first mile or so to allow runners to spread out before reaching the single track. We turn onto the trail and continue to climb. It’s early morning: the air is cool; the trail is smooth and shaded as it cuts through a pine forest. We come out of the forest to the top of a ridge to catch our first views, then its mixed forest and meadow with views of the northern Bridgers from an angle that was new to me.

We continue to climb through cool early morning air until we are on top of the Bangtails. We crest the high point of the course at the half-marathon distance—7,917 feet according to my Garmin. The northern Bridgers are a mainstay throughout the run. They appear through breaks in the forest, and as we cross flower strewn meadows; our perspective changes as we trek north. Views of the Crazies tease until the trees relent and they fill the view from a meadow.

The Crazies

I ran with a partner for the first half of the race; I was minimally faster than her on the climbs, she had me on the flats and downhills. We evened out through the ups and downs. I always find that having someone to pull or push me along helps keep my head in the race. Downhills dominate in the latter half of the course. I couldn’t keep with her and watched her slowly fade into the distance. It was quiet time.

Grassy Mountain, the last climb, is visible from far away. I’ve biked the northern half of the Divide trail, so I knew it was coming. We don’t crest the mountaintop, but we angle up across its face and crest its shoulder in late-morning sun at about the 20-mile mark. It was the only climb of the day that had me dragging. Once up it though, I knew it was a long mostly downhill to the finish.

My legs were tired, and the trail had been getting steadily rockier. If the smooth trail I’d experienced through much of the course reasserted itself on the downhill, I could just turn on cruise control and crank out the last few miles. But the rocks didn’t ease up. I managed to pick up the pace, but I had lost time on Grassy Mountain, and I wasn’t going to make it up at the rate I was going.

With maybe two miles to go, I came upon a young woman who was walking it in. Her ankle was giving her trouble, but the sight of me seemed to inspire her. She started running; I picked up my pace. One-on-one competition provided much needed inspiration to us both.

My Garmin read 23.4 miles, the advertised length of the race; we kept running. We were still overlooking Bridger Canyon. Every nook in the hillside we were on was suspected of being the turn east to Brackett Creek Canyon. After two feints, we finally heard the music and cheers emanating from the finish area. We were getting close; we found another gear.

“There’s the bridge.” One last switchback, across the bridge and then the finish area. It felt great to finish. I was hoping to run 15 minutes a mile; I managed 15:01. Not bad given the course was a mile longer and had 700 feet more climbing than advertised. That though is par for most trail courses. You always have to be prepared for whatever the race entails, not what’s advertised. Many a distance was guessed in the days before GPS and never updated.

I have never been fast, but I am slowing down; 15-minute pace was slow for this race. But I’m finally getting to the point where that’s okay. At 68, the advice that Maria, the philosophy student I ran with for a stretch in the 2025 Old Gabe, gave me is finally starting to sink in: ‘Nobody cares how fast you go, just have fun.’ Thanks Maria. I am.

Last view of the Northern Bridgers