Estes Park Massage Therapist and Fort Collins Hairstylist Battle for Colorado 2nd District GOP Nomination

The air in Estes Park is thin enough to make your head spin, but Kelley Anne Dennison isn’t dizzying from altitude. She’s dizzy from the sheer improbability of her campaign. A 27-year-old massage therapist and business owner, she’s trading chair time for campaign stops, trying to convince the north-central part of the state that a woman who spends her days working out knots in strangers’ trapezius muscles is the one to untangle the federal government.

She’s not alone in this odd-couple primary.

Fort Collins hairstylist Christina Blunt is also in the race. Both are first-timers. Both are Republicans trying to flip a district that has been solidly Democratic for more than half a century. They have until June 30 to win the primary. The winner then faces incumbent Rep. Joe Neguse in November. Neguse is running unopposed. He’s the safe bet. The establishment pick. The guy who replaced Jared Polis when Polis became governor in 2018 and never looked back.

But here’s the thing though: flipping Colorado’s 2nd Congressional District isn’t just about picking the right horse. It’s about fighting a geography that hates you.

The district is a sprawling beast. It covers Boulder, Larimer, Jackson, Jefferson, Clear Creek, Gilpin, Eagle, Grand, Summit, Routt, and Weld counties. That’s a lot of square miles. It’s a lot of diverse landscapes, from the high-country peaks near Estes Park to the urban sprawl of Fort Collins and the foothills near Denver. It’s home to roughly 728,000 residents. More than 519,000 are active voters. And here’s the kicker — more than half of them are unaffiliated.

Only 15% are registered Republican. 31% are Democrat.

That’s the math Dennison and Blunt have to solve. They’re banking on longstanding frustrations. They’re betting that the average voter in this deep-blue district is sick and tired of being sick and tired.

“I think people are hurting in the wallet and desire fiscally responsible leadership,” Dennison says. “That is what I hear over and over and over again, left, right, center.”

It’s a bold claim. To say you hear it from the left, right, and center when you’re a Republican running in a district that voted 20% more Democratic than the national average in the last two presidential elections is to walk a tightrope. The Cook Partisan Voter Index calls the 2nd District the 56th most Democratic in the nation. It’s not a purple district. It’s a blue district. A deep one.

Blunt sees it slightly differently. She’s got the salon chair perspective. She sees the faces of people who vote Democrat out of habit, not passion.

“I have Democratic friends; they’re not happy with numerous things that are going on,” Blunt says. “And some of them are going to hang on to the blue, and some are letting it go, because they’ve just gone too far.”

“Going too far” is the operative phrase. It’s vague. It’s subjective. It’s exactly the kind of language that wins primaries and loses general elections if you can’t define it.

Dennison’s political resume starts with Adam DeRito. You know DeRito — the Fort Carson-based Army Reserve captain locked in a legal battle with the U.S. Air Force Academy over misconduct allegations he claims were politically motivated. DeRito ran for Colorado’s 8th Congressional District primary against incumbent Gabe Evans. He didn’t make the June ballot. Dennison was his staffer. She learned the ropes in the trenches of a local primary, watching how a candidate with a national profile can still get tripped up by local mechanics.

Now she’s the candidate.

The challenge for both women is that Neguse is running unopposed. That means the real contest isn’t in November. It’s right now, on June 30. It’s a battle between two unknowns. One is a massage therapist from the mountains. The other is a hairstylist from the foothills. They’re trying to convince 519,000 voters that they’re the change the district has been waiting for.

It won’t be easy. The district has been Democratic for more than 50 years. The odds are stacked. But in Colorado, where the weather changes faster than a politician’s stance on spending, anything is possible.

Picture this: a quiet evening in Estes Park. The sun is setting behind the peaks. Dennison is probably still working, or just finishing up a shift. The smell of lavender and muscle rub hangs in the air. She’s thinking about the primary. She’s thinking about the odds. She’s thinking about the 15% of registered Republicans who might not show up, and the 50% of unaffiliated voters who might.

It’s a long shot. But it’s her shot.