A Better Way to 15k
A brewery running tour in the heat of summer.
The better part of July had come and gone, and the month continued to burn with the hot fervor typical of a Montana summer. Throw in some wildfire smoke and our usual high-alpine trail runs became far less appealing. As Brynne, Sophie, and I contemplated how to best make use of the dog days, we knew that to get outside we’d have to get creative.
That’s when the Brewery 15k idea hatched. Weaving together two passions—beer and running—the plan was simple: drink a beer at every brewery in Bozeman in a single low-elevation run. No logistics, no driving, nothing but running shoes and a healthy thirst. Enough said; we'd do it as soon as the workweek was done.
Saturday arrived, the course was set, the ridiculous outfits were donned, and our livers were ready. We started from my house with IDs and an eager attitude for whatever was to come. Our first stop, Bridger Brewing, was a sober one-mile jaunt that flew by. During the run we laughed at the absurdity of the mission, proudly commending our creativity. Suddenly we realized that nine pints at nine different breweries wouldn’t be exactly cheap. So we devised a plan to get “sponsors” for each brewery, knowing that adventure often calls for improvisation. Through tidbit posts on social media, we asked friends & family to chip in for pints and—to avoid coming across as complete money-grubbing schmucks—incentivized sponsors by turning the event into a fundraiser. Proceeds would be donated to a local nonprofit. Worth a try, right?
Leg six was the hardest yet. My stomach was in knots and sobriety was long gone.
At Bridger Brewing, we downed our delicious Mad Miles like water and gleefully raised toasts to our incoming supporters—from whom we had already received $30 in beer money. One beer down, eight to go. We arrived at what was then Bunkhouse Brewery (it's now Apres Brewing; Bunkhouse moved to Four Corners) after an easy 100-yard-hop for stop two, but noticed that we’d miscalculated the hours of operation, and the brewery wasn’t open. Once again, improvisation held sway and we moved on to our next stop, Shred Monk (also no longer; out of business, alas). Beer two went down smoothly, and in no time we were on to the third leg running down Main Street to Shine, which is technically not a brewery, but close enough—we're flying by the seats of our pants, remember?
The third pint required more coaxing. But we were moving right along, and our process was developing: order a beer, check our donation pot (growing at a very desirable rate), and get to drinking. Still, after three pints, no food, and a little over three miles of running, our jolly aura was beginning to fade.
Luckily, leg four provided a needed distance to prepare for the next stop. At Bozeman Brewing we arrived with tight legs, cramping tummies, and an increasing buzz that made everything funny. We munched on popcorn and sucked down Axolagers (a.k.a., Fiesta Select), while our spending pool kept multiplying. Our plan was working: we’d raised over $120 and weren’t even halfway! Lunch was in order at stop five.
Leg five was as easy as crossing the street, literally. Sipping on huckleberry sours, we drooled over the delicious smells coming from the kitchen at Mountains Walking. Now, any athlete knows that fueling is important to sustaining energy and food choices must be picked with the utmost care. “I’ll have the chili,” Brynne declared.
Leg six was the hardest yet. My stomach was in knots and sobriety was long gone. Sophie steamed ahead—definitely drunk. Brynne fell behind—definitely puking up chili in a bush. The back-to-back breweries had gotten the best of us, but we managed to stumble our way to Last Best Place. The three of us stared at the downright unappealing sixth beer and mustered up the courage to finish our drinks. “Oh God, make it stop”, sputtered Brynne. We waved goodbye to our bartender and made our way to Freefall. Stop seven was nothing short of a blur; all I remember was the greenness of Sophie’s face and trying to explain what we were doing to a guy I think I used to work with?
The final leg was an eternity, with all of us collapsing into delusional laughter and oh-so-much pain.
By now, the task at hand seemed impossible: 1.7 miles to MAP, then another 3.1 miles to Outlaw. This was not the beginning of leg seven, rather the seventh layer of hell. But stopping was no longer an option. We had a whole swath of supporters who had been carefully following our journey and giving us money on dubious terms. The people wanted to see us finish, so we had to persist.
It was a battle to keep our stomachs in check, our paths straight, and our wits about us. Grasping for our dignity, we were greeted by friends at MAP who had drinks and poutine awaiting us. The beer was good, but the poutine was a foul choice that my body immediately rejected along with my seventh beer. The final leg was an eternity, with all of us staggering in painful, delusional laughter. Like a beacon in the storm, Outlaw came into view and a sense of joy overwhelmed our intoxicated hearts. We sprinted through the straightaway and embraced at the finish, nearly in tears. Clinking our glasses one last time, I was overcome with the absurdity of the day and a sense of relief that the Brewery 15k was over.
In the end, we collectively drank 27 beers, ran 27.9 miles, puked 3.75 times, didn’t spend a penny, and ended up raising over $250 for a local nonprofit that celebrates abilities and empowers recreation. A day like the Brewery 15k was a good reminder that the true nature of adventure doesn’t only reside in the mountains. It can be found in any new experience, so long as you have good companions and better stories thereafter.
