Photo Essay: Evening Hike/Run in Desierto with Dean and Dogs

Desierto de Los Leones

  Second time up to Desierto this week. Above is the view from the trail going up to the ridge that lies west of the peak. This route is a much more gradual climb than my normal route (which goes straight to the top) and is --in theory-- runnable, though I was dogging it (hiking) up most of the climb. We discovered that the road eventually swings around the back (north) side of Cerro de San Miguel. We bushwacked a bit off trail to circle the summit and then head down. A dark descent. Just over 20k, 3:27. Can't find my "ant stick" so no garmin data...

The "short-cut"

Lola in the dark

No bad days in the mountains: Camino Largo y Sinuoso 33k

The start (I know what shirt I want for Christmas) and Dean coming down to the finish  Photo of Dean: Virgilio Regalado

  This race got lost in the shuffle of all the other races. I was focusing on the trail marathon that took place on August 12 and then the Mexico City Marathon at the beginning of September. The next big race was the UTMX 40k on October 20. But this 33k I didn't want to miss. I knew part of the route would be up around the Cerro De San Miguel where I have been running when I can get out of the city, and I thought it would be a good way to learn some new trails.
  I felt that I recovered nicely from the marathon in September, and the race was only 33k? How hard could that be?
  Pretty hard, it turned out.

                                                                 Photo: Virgilio Regalado

What I neglected to remember is that I haven't been able to squeeze in too many mountain runs. In fact, I looked back and since the August 12 Marathon (4,171 feet of gain) I've had one 3,000+ run (Sept. 8) and another that was 1,600. Nothing else over a 1,000 feet.
 The numbers don't lie: I haven't been running in the mountains.
  This race has a very simple profile: up and down, then up and down again. Starting at 10,500 feet it goes up to 11,900, back down the back side of the Cerro to 10,300 and then back up to 11,900 again. And then back down again. I thought my time would be around 4:15 because that was my time at the 33k mark in the Rover Marathon which had similar (a few hundred feet less) elevation change.
  The course starts on a narrow winding singletrack that climbs up to the first bit of open, flat trail that runs around a ridge. This single track started about 20 feet after the start so there wasn't any passing here. I saw a few goons trying to pass in the thick brush that surrounded the trail, but I just took it as a warm up and followed the line to the top, moving at a fast hike/jog. It felt effortless and I tried to enjoy.
I knew it wouldn't last.
  After almost 19 minutes we arrived up to the flat ridge trail people started moving. Too fast I thought. I knew what was coming. Lots of folks went flying by here, and I saw Dean who was running with his dog Waky. Lola had already disappeared. This was a very runnable section with a couple stream crossings but nothing that necessitated getting wet. At the 49 minute point I hit the bridge that brought us into Desierto de Los Leones and the long road to the top. I tried running sections of this but it just didn't make sense. I would run for a bit and realize that for all the added effort I really wasn't gaining anything worthwhile.
  I saw Dean here at the aid station and I remarked that I thought people were moving too fast. Little did I know that was me. I climbed steady but not crazily. Dean was moving a bit faster, but was in sight. I didn't try and catch up as he was in the 23k race and this would be his last climb of the day. I felt certain that the real test would be the second climb. I reached the top feeling good at 1:34.
  I then descended the most technical trail of the day. Rocky, loose, sometimes cut between rocks, this trail that wasn't really a trail was awesome and as usual on this type of terrain I was passing people. Unfortunately, it didn't last more than a kilometer and we were kicked out onto a two track which flattened out for a bit and then headed down to what would be the halfway point. Another long road down to about 10,300 feet. This was the turnaround point. 2:13. So I was hoping for 4:30. Ha!
  I didn't have any illusions about running any of the climb. But I was hiking well, so I thought I could keep a steady pace. I hate being passed on a long climb by people who were heading down while I was headed up. But I soon felt weak. I kept eating gu, trying to maintain some energy. Trying not to worry about letting the people in front of me go. I was alone for a while. But then the footsteps started coming. I was slowing down. People were passing me. Not a good sign. This would be the tale of the climb.  Even on the flat area I couldn't manage much more than a jog. More folks passed. It wasn't an all-out bonk: I was still moving, wasn't sitting down or lying on the side of the trail. Just kept moving and eating and hoping to start feeling better.
  At the top I took a few moments at the aid station, drank a couple gatorade cups and talked to the aid workers. I knew I was in trouble when even the down hill felt like work. Stomach still felt terrible so I ducked into the woods to try and find some relief, which didn't really do much other than lose me another few minutes. Finally got down to the bridge and what I had remembered as a flat section along the ridge was actually slightly uphill. Damn. Mixing walking and running. Waiting for footsteps. All alone trying to move as fast as possible, thinking that the last few kilometers would be down hill on single track which would be fun to run fast. But it took forever to get there. This section seemed three times as long as I remembered it from four hours ago. Three people passed me on this trail and then two more flew by me on the final single track. I tried hard to catch them and when I emerged from the woods for the final stretch they were in sight, but not close enough. I ran it in for 5:01:19.
  Didn't see that one coming.
I was fit, but I need to get out to the mountains more frequently to do better in these races. It was great to learn new trails, and it was a good experience to gut it out all day even though I was never really feeling it. The single track sections are awesome, but there is too much two-track running for my liking.   I don't feel like I went out too fast, but my splits say otherwise.
 I didn't give this race its due, and it showed. My quads were very sore from all the descending and I didn't run Monday or Wednesday and just some slow stuff on Tuesday in the AM (4k) and then another 3k and some walking in the afternoon. It was Thursday before I got a decent run in, but even that tempo run was significantly slower than what I have been doing.  The big bummer of the race was not my mediocre performance, unfortunately, but the disappearance of Lola. One of Dean's dogs ran off during the race and he hasn't been able to find her. We go back on Saturday to take another look.
  The UTMX 40k is coming up on October 20. Trying to find the right balance of rest and maintaining fitness. That race will have significant elevation as well. My goal will be to start very, very conservatively and see what I have left in the tank at 30K. If not, well...I know I can finish and I'll enjoy the scenery of the new trails in Hidalgo.
There are no bad days in the mountains.

Some photos I took during the race:

Lola

The everlasting itch: exploration runs (Acapulco, Mexico).

 "I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote"

            --from Moby Dick

 On most days, we all run the familiar paths. On the trail, on the road: we know the turns, we anticipate the key landmarks. We are aware of past splits; we know if we started too hot or too slow. On some trails we know every root and rock.  When we do run a new route, it's usually a path that a friend has shown us. We add new paths slowly, running and learning them, incorporating them into the fold of the familiar. 
  In life it tends to be the same. We are creatures of habit and comfort. I imagine this is a survival trait. If we expended all of our energy always finding new trails to run, or endlessly seeking new experiences to live, we would wander endlessly.  

 And yet despite our penchant for the known, there is paradoxically within runners (and non-runners) the craving for the new, the unknown. The new trail to the peak. A new race. The new experience, the new job, the new town.

 Like most runners I enjoy running known trails because it's a way to experience the outdoors and it's also an effective way to train. In contrast, running a new trail --especially when running alone-- takes extra energy away from the run. It's also impractical to always be running a new route.

 However, the runs that are most memorable are these rarer runs into the unknown. I had this experience a week ago when I finally went to Desierto de Los Leones to run. I arrived at Desierto with some directions about where to start. After finding the Cruz Blanca entrance, I was on my own to find a way up the mountain. I followed a few simple rules: keep running up, keep running in more or less the same direction, and try to stay off the main paths in the search for the most remote and/or the most technical trails. From a training point of view, this was not the most productive run. There was a lot of backtracking, sightseeing and cautious foot placement that was involved.

 I finally found my way to a path that clearly went up to the peak, or seemed to. But on that day the mountain was covered in clouds blocking any views. When I reached the base of what I thought was the peak, I got off the trail and followed a line of rock formations that sliced their way to the top. At this point I was climbing, not running, but I didn't care. The excitement of finding this new terrain was more important than pace or tempo.

  I missed the actual summit that day, the peak I climbed is a bit lower than the actual summit, El Cerro de San Miguel. I didn't realize it until I returned to Desierto on a sunny day a few days later and made the same climb.

 Another exploration run took place a month ago while I was in Pie De La Cuesta, a small beach town about 20 minutes up the coast from Acapulco.  The town was familiar to me. It is the first place I ever visited in Mexico back in 1998, a trip that led to my life in Mexico today. As beach towns go in Mexico, it leaves something to be desired, but it's the closest beach that is not Acapulco to Mexico City. I had brought my running stuff, but I despise running on the beach and the long, straight, flat run to the end of the lagoon wasn't appealing either. In my handful of trips to Pie De La Cuesta over the years, I've always been compelled by the mountains that seem to rise out of the ocean, and yet I never considered going up there as they are residential, not tourist areas, and also perhaps because I know that in Mexico the highest houses on the hills house the most impoverished Mexicans, and I had a sense that this was not my place to visit. However, my curiosity overwhelmed my caution and I could see a ridge line that I was sure would take me up through the residential area to the peak above. I had no idea if there were trails up there, but there was one way to find out. I thought it would also be interesting to run from sea level and see how high the mountains climbed.

  Because of the humidity and the heat, I left early from the hotel on the beach. I ran up the road out of Pie De La Cuesta. I tried to keep the peak up on my left, and when I found a road that looked like it would take me to the top, I started climbing. It was steep and I ran slowly. I made a few false turns and I avoided one climb that would have taken me to a row of houses --shacks, really-- that lined the top of a narrow ridge that showed signs of severe erosion. I finally arrived at a dirt road that seemed to separate the houses from the forest of the mountain. There were no structures above the road, only trees and rocks. There was a sign placed by the government warning people not to construct their homes above this point. The illustration on the sign was of a house sliding down the hill onto another house.

 I followed the dirt road and kept looking for trails. Sure enough, after about 600 meters, there was a narrow, but well-trodden path to the left. Why not? This trail took me winding through the forest, and then it became a wider path that had been clear-cut and led straight up. I kept climbing. The peak was in sight and I followed the trail to its end, but I still needed to make the final ascent. I back-tracked to eyeball the peak again and then began bushwhacking up. It was like a briar patch, with vines and trees literally tying me up, holding me back, thorns sending me back to find another route. My Garmin read no pace, meaning I was somewhere north of 40 minutes a kilometer, but I kept pushing up, my curiosity overwhelming my desire to keep my heart rate up and get a decent workout completed. I finally arrived to a small plateau, but there were trees all around me and I couldn't tell if I made the peak or not. My Garmin map suggest I didn't. There was a small path continuing on, but the sun was coming up and I had taken over an hour to go 5k, much of which was just struggling to go a few hundred meters. I descended, and along the way was treated to some incredible views of Pie De La Cuesta, which is just a small strip of land stretched out between the ocean and a lagoon.  Despite the 40 minute bushwhack, and my doubt about whether I'd actually reached the peak I saw down on the beach (El Jardin, one of the workers at the hotel informed me), it was a satisfying run, as exploration runs always are. 

 

 Here are the few photos I took with my phone:

  

Part of the trail up El Jardin.

Pie De La Cuesta: view from El Jardin

Where the trail ends... and begins.

Desierto De Los Leones: The best place to run in Mexico City

Trail gets rocky as it approaches the top

Looking down from the top

  If you are looking for natural beauty, the best place to train for mountain running, or both, Desierto De Los Leones is the best place to run in Mexico City.  I've made two runs and one hike out there in the past week in search of the best trails to run to the top.  What follows is hardly a full description of all the trails, but I'll share what I've learned in these past three runs which is more than enough to get you started (and to the top of Cerro San Miguel) if you haven't been out there yet.

  When running in Desierto, it's easy to forget you are in Mexico City. The air is clean, the views are spectacular...and the climbing is relentless.   In fact, I don't think there is a mountain race in the world that a committed runner couldn't prepare for here. The premier Mexican ultramarathon runner, Luis Guerrero Marron, trains here, and he has multiple Leadville 100 finishes (along with a zillion other long distance races), placing as high as second.  So if you live in Mexico City and want to run in the mountains, this is the place.

   The climb begins at 9,800 feet and then goes up to 12,328 feet (measured by my Garmin, anyway) in 5 miles to the Cerro de San Miguel.  Alternatively, you can stretch the climb out to nearly 7 miles and run up (or down) the road.  I explain these two routes below.

  The place to start is from the Cruz Blanca trail.  You will see the sign on your right a few minutes after passing through the "town."  Follow the road up.  Along the way there are sections of trail off the dirt road.  Trails aren't marked here (are any trails in Mexico marked?  I haven't seen any), but the trail heads are marked and the trails are easy to follow.  I just kept going up, followed the trails that looked the most interesting and I found my way to the summit despite being totally fogged in on my first ascent. It wasn't until my second ascent that I saw the spectacular views of the city far below.  On my third trip I found a way to make the entire run almost entirely on trails, using the dirt road sparingly (less than 300 meters total) to link up with other trails.

Turn up the dirt road to your right. Also, look closely and you will see that no one is taking the "no animals" rule very seriously

  Depending on what kind of training you are looking for, there are two primary routes to the top:

the technical route and the "rocky road" route.  The technical route is my favorite, but it has a couple drawbacks.  One, most runners won't be able to run everything.  It is very steep in parts and involves some boulder hopping and some fallen trees to work around.  Also, one of the main climbs is a favorite downhill area for mountain bikers.  However, there is plenty of room to avoid the bikers coming downhill. However, if you are looking for technical downhill or uphill practice, this is your route.  The road route is not a smooth dirt path, it is a bit rocky, but it's completely runnable, and it's also a bit longer mileage-wise than the technical ascent.  If you are looking for a longer run and want to run the whole time, this route would be the better choice.

    

On my second run I went up from the Cruz Blanca sign, taking paths in the woods when I could. The photos below will give you a preview of the varied terrain and rugged beauty of Desierto De Los Leones. 

25 million people down there, but only one up here

 At the very top of the climb there is a cement structure that houses an altar where I took the above pictures.  There is also an observation tower that is fenced off, but it doesn't look like it would take too much effort to hop the fence.  Here is my Garmin information which follows the trails up and the road down.  Hiking to the top will take around 2:15.  It took me 1:42 with a mix of running and hiking and stopping to take pictures.