Race to

Robie Creek

"The Toughest Half Marathon in the Northwest"

In 1975, Jon Robertson invited 25 friends on a hot August night's fun run up Rocky Canyon to Robie Creek near Boise, Idaho. The winding, sand-gravel route through sagebrush-covered hills, the old stagecoach road to Idaho City during the gold rush of the 1860s, measured about 13 miles, an eight-mile climb to 4,797-foot Aldape Summit and a steep, five-mile descent. When Robertson was a kid, he panned for gold in the area with his father.

Today, the "Race to Robie Creek," a grueling half-marathon promoted as one of the toughest races in the Northwest, is a 23-year-old rite of spring, a test of stamina for about 3,000 walkers and runners, an excuse for a big party, and an important source of revenue for charities benefiting children, families, ethnic groups, and even wildlife.

Robertson has moved on to other pursuits, but the race he started and directed for six years, inspired by the lore of marathons he read about in Runner's World, continues to grow in legend.

Early in January, local runners and walkers look toward the third week in April and ask each other: "Are you doing Robie?" The answer is usually preceded by a groan, then a sigh, and finally a grudging smile.

"I think it's the toughest long race in the Northwest with as many people participating, the rough terrain, and the need for good, logistical support," Robertson said. "If you train for it seriously, it's as difficult as a marathon on the flat."

Jack Kaper, a social worker with the Idaho Department of Health and Welfare, has been involved in organizing Robie since its third year. A miler in high school, he has run the race more than a dozen times, his personal best was one hour, 39 minutes.

The vision in the 1970s was to have a demanding race with a free party at the end for participants, their families and friends. And by Robie IV, organizers decided to institute unusual starts.

Kaper remembers, "Glen Woods, our 1962 state discus champion, threw a discus in the air, and when it landed in the middle of the road, 80 feet in front of the runners, the race began."

What's unusual about that? The composition of the discus for one thing, fashioned from flour and the ground-up remains of toads found in Rocky Canyon on the road to Robie Creek, so flattened by passing motor vehicles they could be picked up and sailed frisbee-like through the air. And so the Rocky Canyon Sail Toads, the group which produced the race, started a grand tradition.

The Robie logo, an uncrossed "A" that many racers think is a fair representation of the tough course, is a Japanese slash created by Boise painter/runner Nunzio Lagattuta. Many of the poster and T-shirt versions year after year are produced by Sally Stevens, an artist and prior director of the printing and graphics department at Boise State University.  Now owns her own business and still she wants to help us!!!!  GO FIGURE?!!!!  she is now owner/operator of Idea Monger, and she is also president and co-owner of the new coffee shop Lucy's on Broadway.

Sail Toad Kaper is still in charge of fun starts. "We begin at the Boise Community Center, then make a long loop before heading uphill. We try to generate an energy so walkers and runners make that first loop with smiles on their faces."

Over the years, unique and entertaining starts -- always closely-guarded secrets -- have featured an exploding, feather-filled balloon, Native Americans dancing in a drum circle, a 300-pound Samoan jumping on a flip board to launch a coconut, Jell-O-filled papier-mâché toads dropped from a high platform, a wedding, and a giant Hollywood director's scene-take board cracking the beginning of "The Race to Robie Creek -- The Movie."

Kaper's favorite? "The year we had parachutists. One guy jumped from 7,000 feet and landed with both feet on the target zone. That got the crowd energized!"

One of the wildest was 1992's start. The theme "Wild Thing!" was carried out by the rumbling entrance of Boise's motorcycle gang, Brother Speed, nine bikers riding classic Harleys to the blaring sounds of Steppenwolf's 1960s hit, "Born to Be Wild."

A specially-assembled rock group, "The Croakettes," including Stevens, race director that year, entertained the crowd with an inspired rendition of the Troggs' hit, "Wild Thing!" A vintage pink Cadillac delivered the leather-and-leopard-attired singers to the stage. Some walkers and runners went the distance in costume, including bunny visors and odd-shaped sunglasses.

Following the races, the fun continues at the Robie Creek Picnic Area for participants, families and friends, with distribution of purple T-shirts, a catered picnic for 6,000 with hot dogs, Idaho potatoes, special beer, and a ceremony with awards and fun gifts. Prizes in the past have included trips, dinners, and $100 bills to vasectomies and divorces.

While the "Race to Robie Creek" is meant to be fun, there is a serious side to the proceedings. Thousands of dollars are collected from entry fees and contributions by local businesses and corporations.

From the beginning, the race committee has included social workers dedicated to helping people in need. "By Robie Creek VII and VIII, we wanted to know if there was any way we could support different charities, including Hays House, a home for abused children," Kaper said. "We wanted to give them $1,000."

US West, the telephone company, donated that amount. Then Morrison-Knudsen, the construction company, United Cable Television (now AT&T Cable Services), Pepsi, and others followed suit. Charities split thousands of dollars, including Hays House, Parents United, a self-help family treatment program, the Idaho Wildlife Foundation and others.

It's a two-way street. Kaper works in a day treatment program for kids addicted to drugs and alcohol. "Everybody in my group works on this race," he said. "We are all addicted to something, some are positive addictions, some are negative. With these high energy kids, we try to addict them to positive things, like getting high on natural endorphins produced in the body by running or just helping with the race."

Kaper said, "This race has always been known as fun and open. I remember how we cheered when entries reached 100, 500, then 1,000. We didn't think it would get this big (now nearly 3,000)."

Kaper continues to think about unusual starts for the "Race to Robie Creek," including the 100th running. "We won't be here, of course, but the original Sail Toads have discussed one idea. We could be cremated and our ashes spread on the ground for the starting line. What do you think?"

First Sail Toad Robertson is amused but will not participate. "My body fluids and other essences are all over that course. I have already contributed body molecules to every square inch. I'll take my chances with Morris Hill Cemetery!"