Glenwood Springs Man Honors Brother With Annual Flat Tops Run

What does it cost to keep a memory alive on a gravel road in New Castle?

It costs a drive up to the Flat Tops every August 12. It costs a stop at Jim Fletcher’s land for firewood that’s already cut into small sections. It costs the quiet ritual of sitting at a blind corner where a brother didn’t make the turn.

That’s the price of Dicky V’s Run, a tradition that has become less about exercise and more about geography and grief. The writer, known in the community simply as Coach V, drives up New Castle-Buford Road each summer. He does it to run. He does it to remember. And, increasingly, he does it to sit still.

The accident happened in 2022. It was near dark. A smattering of light rain had settled the dust on the road, turning the familiar gravel into something slicker, something unpredictable. His brother, Dicky V, had driven that corner hundreds of times since high school hunting trips. He knew the road. He knew the turn. On this particular evening, he didn’t make it.

The details are still settling, much like the dust on New Castle-Buford Road.

Was there an animal crossing? A deer? A bear? Or did he just take his eyes off the road for a quick instant? The writer doesn’t know. He says he will never know. That uncertainty is what makes the run necessary. If he can drive the road, stop at the site, and sit for a while, he can try to reconstruct the moment. He can try to understand why a man who could handle any court or field couldn’t handle that one blind corner.

Dicky V wasn’t a runner. He thought distance runners were a "strange breed," a fact he made sure to communicate often. But he was a heck of an athlete and an even better basketball coach. He coached the Longhorns and the Demons, talking glowingly about the boys he trained. He wasn’t a big talker, and he didn’t tout his own accomplishments, yet the writer has several of his coach-of-the-year plaques hanging in his garage.

The relationship between the two brothers shifted over time. In the beginning, Dicky looked out for the younger sibling. In the last few years, the roles reversed. The writer admits he could have done a better job looking after his brother when he was going through tough times. Now, the run is the apology. It’s the hello. It’s the way to say, you are missed.

Jim Fletcher, one of Dicky’s best buddies, owns the land now. He lets the family go anytime they like. He has the firewood stacked and ready. It’s a small kindness that keeps the tradition alive, allowing the writer to load up the wood and drive home safely, keeping the danger of the road at bay until the next August.

This isn’t just a personal ritual. It’s a local marker. The run happens on Aug. 12. It’s a date etched in the writer’s mind, visible to anyone who knows to look for the single car parked at that blind corner, engine off, driver sitting in the silence.

And if you’re in Glenwood Springs, you might catch the echo of that memory in a different context. On Saturday, Aug. 15, the community gathers at Two Rivers Park for the annual Dog Day 5K. Registration begins at 8 a.m. Runners and walkers will move through the park, dogs barking, neighbors chatting. It’s a celebration of life, of movement, of community.

But out on New Castle-Buford Road, the dust is still settling. The firewood is still stacked. And every August 12, a man drives up the hill, stops at the corner, and sits there for a while.