Bolder Boulder Memories
by Shireen Malik, written in 2008
It all started on a chilly Bolder Boulder morning in 1982.
Five of my students of Oriental dance (bellydance) and myself, donned warm attire
and headed to the top of the hill on Folsom Street, just south of Valmont, beginning
what is now a twenty-six year tradition of entertaining along the route of the
popular road race.
Our little band of finger cymbal-playing performers danced for hours and hours, as
the elite racers zoomed by, followed by masses of citizen runners and walkers. We
stayed throughout, until the last weary stragglers passed by. It was an exhausting
day, but great fun to see the surprised and delighted expressions as thousands of
Bolder Boulderites crested the hill and spotted us for the first time.
In the early years of the race, with fewer runners, there were also fewer rules. It
wasn't unusual to see leap froggers hopping over each other along the route.
Costumed Marx Brothers and Blues Brothers dallied, and danced with us before
continuing on their way. My favorite, the zany lawn chair brigade, would stop in
front of us and go through their display of synchronized maneuvers.
Our group was asked to perform in the C.U. stadium as part of the 1986 post-race
festivities. In keeping with the spirit of the Bolder Boulder, running shoes had by
that time become part of our costuming tradition (incongruous and rather comical
with our jingly outfits). But we decided to dance barefoot in the stadium - better
for performing choreographed dances. As everyone in this town knows, the weather is
very unpredictable on Memorial Day weekend, and that particular race day was hot,
hot, hot. Before our first dance was over, our feet began to burn on the sizzling
astro turf. We put shoes back on, finished our performance, and headed off to soak
our blistered feet in tubs of cold water. What a memorable Memorial day that was!
The 1987 Bolder Boulder was particularly significant for me. I was in the last
stretch of pregnancy, and "sat it out," playing music with the drummers, as dancers
danced and runners ran. All that drumming must have encouraged my babe to come out
into the world and see what was going on, for he was born the day after the race. As
a personal ritual, Zander and I ran the race together when he turned thirteen.
I rejoined the Tribe the following year and continued on until 2002 when we
celebrated the twentieth anniversary of participation with the Bolder Boulder. One
of the original dancers, Nara, was with us as always. She was the most dedicated
member of our group, who never missed a race in all those years I cancelled once
when it rained, but Nara showed up anyway.
After our celebratory year, I turned over the helm of the Tribe to my dear friend
Lisa, who continues to organize the eclectic gathering of dancers, drummers, and old
friends who show up each year. I often run the race now, just for fun, and enjoy the
entertainment from the "other side." Reluctantly running up that tough hill on
Folsom, the sound of drums and cymbals spurs me on. As I reach the top and come upon
the colorful Tribe in running shoes and wild sunglasses, I always ask myself why I'm
working so hard - I could be dancing instead!