I'm Beaker, He's Bunsen

I love trail names. Or at least the idea of having something you are so committed to and invested in that you have a different identity within it.  But I also like the process around trail names.  That there are rules, but there really aren’t any rules.  That it represents an informal belonging to a larger community that sees the value in trails and wild spaces.  That other people can give it to you, but it can change over time.  Or not. Or whatever. 

I have spent a ton of time on trails and have had a couple different trail names. They have all come from my brother since we have done so many of these miles together.  First was Fish Fry.  I never understood why, and neither did he, but it was kind of funny. As a vegan with a history of disordered eating and body image issues, it sort of made fun of some of my neuroticisms.

Then there was Bighorn.  For a trail runner, that seems like a testament to my love of mountains and my surefootedness and strength.  Not to mention my years of longing for a big ass pickup.  But we both knew that it was really an inside joke about my schnoz.

Then there was Dr. Dan. After we were interviewed for the local news before a 100 miler in Montana, they published the interview and put my name as Dan in the banner at the bottom of the screen. And somehow that birthed the alternate ego of a misogynistic, money grabbing plastic surgeon who spends time on trails just to generate business by passive aggressively body-shaming people and offering curative "augmentations".

Doug was dubbed Quesadilla at the Oregon 200 in 2023.  Less a comment about his personality, this came from his versatility with aid station food when he had to take an unavoidable shit 1 mile from the finish and had no toilet paper. Just a leftover quesadilla in his pack from hours prior.  At least this aligned with a couple of his persistent traits during our time on the trail - his overwhelming fear of running out of food, and his need to shit 8-10 times a day during a race.

But none of these fit quite right. And none of them included the fact that we did so much of these things together. It made so much more sense for our names to be related or entangled somehow.  

I can’t even remember how these names came up, but as soon as we thought about it we knew it fit perfectly.  He is always calmly thrusting us into adventures we are unprepared for.  In fact, this whole ultrarunning thing was entirely his idea.  In 2016, he did a 50k on his own and loved it.  Then he committed both of us to another.  It was in January in Chicago and after an unusual week of warm weather beforehand that melted all the snow, we had a hard freeze for 2 days prior and half the course was solid ice.  I was unaware of what these trail races were like and he launched us into it without hesitation.  And committed me to 6.5 hours of slipping, falling, walking, and complaining my way to the finish line.  And I could not walk normally for a week.

The next year he wanted to run the Vermont 50 for his birthday, and committed me to another misadventure.  This race was 90+ degrees and humid and a total mess.  For 10.5 hours I hobbled on a furious IT band as I drifted in and out of dehydration and delirium.  Doug watched calmly as I slowly fell apart.

Up next was another experiment of 100 miles at Cascade Crest.  Then Doug floated the Bigfoot 200.  At that time (maybe still) it was the hardest 200+ mile race in North America.  While I perseverated over spreadsheets and planning and paranoia about all that could go wrong, Doug trained and raced without a watch or a plan and simply leaned into the completely unjustified idea that “everything will be fine.”  

This is always how it goes.  Doug submits us to outlandish experiments, I run in circles trying to plan and minimize all that could go wrong, and he just shows up believing all will go well.  He brings optimism and treats all this as perfectly normal.  He is Dr. Bunsen Honeydew.

I’m lanky, wide-eyed, anxious and always confused by his blind confidence.  But somehow I love all this. We are endlessly loyal to each other. I trust him and will keep coming back for more.  My wariness about the next big thing is always overcome by my love for Doug and my joy in doing these crazy adventures as a team.  We are partners and we will do it all together.  Even if I keep catching on fire as he calmly looks on.

I’m Beaker. He’s Bunsen. Meep.