Runnin’ Indians

Browning, Montana. In the heart of the Blackfeet Reservation, the boys cross country team built a legend. Since the early 1970s, the Runnin’ Indians have piled up 23 state championships. Eleven of those came in a row during the 1970s, when nobody in the state could touch them.

It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t easy. It was miles in the cold. Miles in the wind. Miles before the sun came up. Generation after generation of kids lacing up shoes, chasing each other down dirt roads, pushing harder than the day before.

This painting is for them.

The lead runner in red isn’t just one kid. He carries all of them. Every champion who wore the words Runnin’ Indians across his chest. Every teammate who pulled the pack along. Every coach who believed. Every family that lined the course and yelled until their throats were raw.

And he carries something even older. The Blackfeet have always been runners. They ran after buffalo on the open plains. They ran hard across country to raid horses from the Crow. They ran to deliver messages, to carry news, to endure. The land itself shaped their endurance, and that spirit still lives in every stride of the Browning boys.

Behind him, the shadows of teammates reach back through the years. You can almost hear the footsteps of the 1970s dynasties still pounding the course. You can feel the pride of a whole community in each stride.

The Browning boys didn’t just run races. They carried tradition. They showed what it means to push past limits, to turn miles into titles, to turn effort into legacy.

This painting is my thank you—to the past champions, to the runners of today, and to the kids still to come who will keep the story alive.