Running with Sherman

“[Y]ou can’t just stick a ribbon on his tail and leave him standing in a field like Eeyore. He’s been abused and abandoned, and that can make an animal sick with despair. You need to give this animal a purpose.”

The advice Tanya gives McDougall here resounds throughout the book. The notion of a purpose conferring self-worth is vital to the healing process of both Sherman, and later Zeke, and it is this which inspires in McDougall the idea of running the World Championship. Most important, however, is Tanya’s urging to look at the world from Sherman’s perspective. This compassionate advice is what finally allows McDougall his breakthrough with Sherman.

“The Tao of Steve wasn’t pickup-artist stuff; it was more like a guide to better living through impulse control, based on the premise that you get what you want only when you stop wanting it.”

McDougall introduces his Tao-like philosophy in its proto-stage. His early conception of it is stunted by its selfishness, as he describes it as a method for securing a desire. This will shift as he begins to apply the philosophy to training the donkeys: He realizes he must discard his ego, or his desires, to gain a full connection with Sherman.

“The miners who worked beside them in the darkness bonded with the burros and treated them like personal pets […] Eventually, they said to hell with the fence and began busting the burros out, taking them for hikes in the mountains.”

In recounting the historical circumstances that led to burro racing, McDougall offers an example of the pre-modern and post-modern split he describes in the following chapters. Humans, intertwined with their work animals, form deep connections. It is because of this that they can recognize the need for the penned-up donkeys to exercise, and, in exercising themselves as well, create a positive circle of human-animal connection. The lack of these connections has led to a breakdown in human-animal relationships due to The Role of Animals in Modern Society.

“Leadville’s mayor let ’er rip with both shotgun barrels, and Harrison Avenue turned into Pamplona.”

McDougall, in his description of the first burro race he sees, evokes the famous running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain, in which dozens of goaded bulls charge through the streets of Pamplona while competitors attempt to outrun their frenzy. By drawing this comparison, McDougall is linking burro racing with a deeper tradition of human and animal connection through competition. Note, as well, McDougall’s use of “’er” rather than the word “her,” which is characteristic of his plainspoken, informal mode of narration.

“Maybe Stewart got lucky. Or maybe he was a world-class bullshitter who knew how to spin a good yarn. But isn’t it just as likely, as I tend to believe, that the same empathy and imagination that made him a great actor also allowed him to connect with other creatures? To communicate with them as equals?”

In his examination of the actor Jimmy Stewart’s reputed connections with animals, McDougall offers the two vital ingredients to connect to other animals: empathy and imagination. Both are required in order to properly understand the world from an animal’s perspective, and how McDougall makes use of these elements to understand Sherman makes up most of the book’s narrative. McDougall also includes a vital third element to full connection: the importance of recognizing animals as our equals.

“If the animal-human bond improves our lives in every way—if the sick get stronger, the traumatized feel safer, our children learn faster, our prisons become safer—then the reverse is also true: Without animals, we’re weaker. We’re sicker. We’re angrier, more violent, more afraid.”

The human-animal bond is a major theme of McDougall’s work, and here he makes one of its most important elements clear: reciprocity. In intertwining ourselves with animals, we have anchored a part of our psychological selves in them as well. The implication of McDougall’s statement is also clear: Humans suffer when they forgo, or lose access to, The Restorative Power of Connecting with Animals.

“I glanced around and tried to Temple Grandin things out, searching for anything that could be spooking him.”

McDougall, in his characteristic way of turning names into verbs, uses Temple Grandin to suggest that he is evaluating the environment for stressors that could be altering Sherman’s behavior. This method was developed by Temple Grandin (See: Background), and it will eventually be the secret to McDougall’s success. Here he tries it for the first time.

“There was no way I was going to out-donkey a donkey, especially not a damaged one like Sherman. Years of captivity had seasoned him into a hardened resistance fighter who could outsmart, outlast, and outmaneuver anything I threw at him. For Donkey Tao to work, I couldn’t push; Sherman had to pull.”

This is a vital moment in the evolution of McDougall’s Tao-like philosophy. The act of renaming it “Donkey Tao” goes a long way in the removal of the human self, and it signals McDougall is on the path of letting go of his ego. He identifies Sherman as “damaged,” acknowledging the truth of the donkey’s perspective, while his peering through that lens culminates in his realization: He must establish a ground of equality with Sherman to win his trust.

“You’re not his slave driver. You’re his leader. Sherman has watched out for himself his entire life. He’s not used to relying on someone else, and he’s never, ever going to rely on you unless you deserve it.”

This passage is McDougall’s summation of Tanya’s advice after watching Sherman herd him off the road. Tanya is again presenting Sherman with a focus on his psychological state. She also signals a change that must happen within McDougall, who must accept the paradox of both leading Sherman and attempting to be his equal.

“In the photos, Sherman has the same delight in his eye that the girls and I had seen when he gazed back at us on the trail. He wasn’t trying to flee; he was trying to play.”

Two things happen here: McDougall is learning to recognize Sherman’s psychological states, and Sherman’s personality is reawakening. McDougall’s attentiveness to Sherman’s emotions gives him a further insight in how to train him, while the narrative gains positive propulsion in the image of the once- downtrodden donkey now happy enough to “play.”

“Patience and kindness don’t show up on demand; they’re disciplines that require constant practice, and there is no better boot camp for learning those skills than hitching your survival to your ability to discern—and respect—the needs of another creature.”

McDougall, in looking for analogues to his narrative, finds a fundamental example amidst his Amish neighbors. McDougall praises them for their forthrightness, recharacterizing the orthodoxy of their lives as a positive tool-kit for developing discipline, as well as providing a portrait of the human-animal connection of the Pre-Industrial Revolution eras.

“I wanted Vella Shpringa to teach me about donkeys, but they taught the donkeys something about Vella Shpringa. Sherman had discovered the joy of running in a community.”

Another strong undercurrent in Running with Sherman is the development of community. The story of Sherman’s success is the story of building a strong community around him while also indulging in The Therapeutic Aspect of Sport—in this case, running.

“If you’ve ever heard a donkey bray, you never again have to wonder what the souls of the damned twisting on the pitchforks of eternal torment sound like.”

McDougall employs heavy hyperbole in order to depict the absolute misery of Flower’s dismay as she is left behind. His thickly applied imagery evokes the over-the-top performance Flower is delivering in order to make her point: She wants to come on the run.

“For months, we’d been struggling to train Sherman as my running partner, but maybe there was a simpler fix. Instead of changing Sherman, we could change the world around him.”

As Zeke is added to the team, McDougall recognizes better ways their talents might be deployed. This is a result of the broadening community emerging around Sherman’s training, and suggests that, again, McDougall is thinking beyond his own selfish desire to run with Sherman, instead now acting in Sherman’s best interests.

“There’s always been a dim awareness of a post-glory-days slump, but it was written off as nothing more than an ego bruise, an overdue dose of humble pie […] Instead, it could be something far deadlier: a dangerous chemical imbalance caused by a sudden drop in dopamine.”

McDougall introduces a major concern of his that is best personified in Zeke’s story of depression and attempted suicide. The hard fact of this side-effect of withdrawal from extremely focused training is never far from McDougall’s mind, and he seems to advocate continued exercise as a way to mitigate the effects, even if the exercise activities change over time.

“Zeke was perfect. Somehow, he sensed exactly how much force to put on the rope and where to position himself alongside Sherman’s head.”

The connection between Zeke and Sherman deepens, embodying The Restorative Power of Connecting with Animals. McDougall emphasizes the ethereal aspect of this connection with his use of “[s]omehow” and “sensed,” giving the impression that Zeke and Sherman share an intangible relationship. Zeke is healing and, in turn, helping Sherman heal.

“People like Rowan and her, Temple explains, think visually. So do animals. That’s why ‘animals, especially for autistic kids, can often be the connecting point between the autistic and the ‘normal’ human world.’”

McDougall quotes Temple Grandin after visiting Hal Walter and learning of the benefits of equine therapy. His understanding of Grandin’s teaching is expanding, as is his conception of the human-animal connection.

“We couldn’t just train the donkeys anymore; no matter how well prepared they were, we had to keep one step ahead. We had to be a little stronger. Always.”

Reinvigorated by his visit to Hal, McDougall attempts an ambitious run, but is foiled by his own lack of ability. His statement here is a realization that he must focus on himself, his role as part of a team, and take responsibility for his portion. However, he speaks in terms of “we” rather than “I,” suggesting an internal maturation—speaking of the self in the language of a team.

“All you need is a few quiet commands. Burros give you a lot of signals, so you have to be in tune with that. Hal has that. Curtis has that. Burros have such big hearts, and that’s what makes this sport so special. It’s all about bonding.”

Barb’s advice to Lynzi contains the kernel of the approach McDougall eventually develops with Sherman. It speaks more to companionship, rather than a hierarchical relationship, in which the primary job of the human is to read the behaviors of the animal and react accordingly. The need to hold each other as equals is implicit.

“[T]hat morning, I discovered Flower needed a little more reassurance. All she wanted was a touch of my hand, or a snort from Matilda, to let her know that when she was out there in front, she wasn’t alone. When I kept my distance, we lost the connection. But when Flower knew I was near, I could disappear.”

This is the culminating moment of McDougall’s Donkey Tao. He recognizes that once he and Flower are running harmoniously, they become something larger than their own selfish desires. McDougall experiences this communion, transcending his petty wants, and experiences it from Flower’s perspective as well. He is finally in the right headspace to listen to Sherman as deeply as he should.

“‘Animals don’t do things out of spite. They’re not trying to teach you a lesson […] You gotta get yourself out of the picture, and then you’ll understand what’s really going on.’”

Karin’s sage wisdom encapsulates the underlying message of the Tao—to release oneself from the desires of ego—but does so in her characteristic plainspoken manner. She opens her explanation of Sherman’s behavior in this way, preparing McDougall for the final lesson of looking at an animal as an entity with its own history and autonomy. This is how she is able to determine that Sherman is not stubborn, but scared.

“Power and possession, strength and domination: that’s American sports in a nutshell. Then along comes this scruffy crew who give a finger to all that. Burro racing was inspired by prospectors and jackasses, the true American misfits, and it flips everything about modern sports on its head.”

This singling out of the tribe, something McDougall likes to do often through the book, positions burro racing as a sport of total outsiders. McDougall’s descriptions are often hyperbolic and filled with colorful descriptions of characters, giving him an opportunity to try out his comic imagery. Each time he speaks of the motley crew of burro racers, however, it has the effect of making the sport seem more inclusive, rather than increasing its exclusivity.

“[Sherman] puffed his lips, like a tenor loosening up, then erupted in a yodel so thundering and soulful, it seemed to tell his entire life story. His tribe was here. Gathered to greet him. At last.”

Before the race even begins, Sherman is allowed this tremendous victory. He began in darkness, a sorry shadow left alone to die, and over the course of the book has become a donkey capable of running a marathon. His great discovery in finding his “tribe” emphasizes how Sherman has healed through sport and community.