UTMX 2017: What I Remember

                          Heading down into the Canyon                               Photo: Fotografix.com.mx

UTMX 2017 has come and gone. Since then, I’ve indulged in brownies every day at work. Bought a giant box of Fruit Loops at Costco today on a whim. Lingering gummy bears/worms that formed the core of my late race nutrition “strategy” have been scraped from the pockets of my Nathan hydration vest. I haven’t run a step since 23:15 on Saturday night and I have no plans to do so on the near horizon.

I do find myself looking for a summer adventure. This looks pretty nuts.

Fruit Loops

 The fact that I’m searching for a race proves (again) that memory is a poor servant. Memory simply refuses to properly remember pain. It’s inadequate. Sure, I can recall in the abstract that at kilometer 60 I was a little afraid to continue down into the canyon (Barranca de Metztitlan). The sun had baked and hobbled me and I simultaneously wanted to but couldn’t vomit. Needed to eat more but couldn’t. I can remember those ideas floating through my head, I can now recall those concepts roughly expressed as words on this blog, but I can’t come close to recapturing that vomity/mixed with heat exhaustion feeling wrapped up in that stubborn question that always makes its appearance in the latter half of any long race: “why, why, why am I doing this again”?

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 Some fellow runners joined me this year. Wendy, Scott and Sue all decided to give UTMX a go. Scott and Sue flew in from the US. Wendy and Scott are seasoned 100 milers. Sue is a recent convert and probably the only other professional bassoonist who is also an ultrarunner. Wendy is the other one. That’s right: both of the world’s professional Bassoonists who are also ultrarunners were at UTMX this year. And then there was Scotty and I, and 496 other runners ready to test ourselves against a 100k loop in Hidalgo, Mexico. Last year 193 out of 500 finished.

 You think that last stat might have been a clue for the ole’ memory chip?

 Wendy asked me about that number, and I rationalized it as follows: “lots of inexperienced people out there last year, there was no pre-requisite like there was this year.”

I had raved to them about what I remembered about the race: the beauty of Vista Alegre and the Sierra Navajas, the rugged challenge of the extraterrestial terrain of the Canyon, the world-class race organization, the charming pueblo, the refreshing rivers, the amazing people, the tender barbacoa…

In all that reminiscing I somehow forgot about how relentlessly technical many of the trails are, and I certainly didn’t remember wet feet for 18 hours. I think I told them there were 3 river crossings. Turns out there’s like 30 between kilometer 4 and 45. And then there are three more waist deep river crossings. And then there is ankle deep trudge around the presa in the final kilometers.

 I also had somehow nurtured the idea --despite running the 100k in 2014, 2015 and 2016-- that is was a “fair” race, but not a ridiculously hard race. Two years in a row it’s taken me more than 18 hours to finish. And I haven’t had bad races here. Yeah, there were very low lows, but many highs as well and long periods of good energy. And it still took me 18+ hours. On two pretty solid race days. Maybe I should write that down here so I don’t forget.

             Another River Crossing                                           Photo: fotografix.com.mx

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Standing on the rim of the canyon filled with doubts and nausea,  I followed my own best piece of advice for finishing the UTMX 100k: get yourself down into the canyon, because then you’ve got no option but to get yourself back out. After that, you just need to get yourself back to town and the finish line. So simple. So inadequate.

 I began the long, technical descent which includes one of the most spectacular views of the race, second guessing my decision to fill my third bottle with coca-cola instead of more water. Just get down the river and the rest should take care itself. Prior to the race I had focused on the two steep climbs within the canyon, sort of neglecting the tricky descents that follow both climbs. I thought of the runner I saw descending Baden-Powell at this past August’s Angeles Crest 100: her knee looked like it had been split open by a hatchet wielding madman. Eventually she was airlifted out.

 As I tried to moderate my speed on the second descent, I saw plenty of spots that might create gaping wounds, but was unsure where the airlift might come from. The race did have several people --both race staff and locals from the pueblos in the canyon-- along this section of the course. Not falling in this section is key.

 There is a final river crossing in the canyon and then a pleasant jog on well-worn single track into the pueblo of San Sebastian. The sun was low in the sky. I remember feeling good, feeling at peace. My stomach had settled down. The coca cola bottle was the right choice and I hadn’t run out of water. I was feeling like maybe I could run up the endless road to the top of the canyon like I never do any year that I’ve done this race but always think that I will.

 Maybe I’ll share those memories with Wendy, Sue and Scotty next year when I try to talk them into the race again.

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 My drop bag was in San Sebastian, kilometer 70. I had a fresh pair of socks and shoes. I didn’t put them on because it seemed like too much work for two hours of dry feet. I walked all the way up the road. I ran once or thrice for like 15 meters at a stretch. Just like I do every year even though I swear I’m running up that thing one of these years. Oh yes.

 I’m also going to have a really good section between kilometer 50 and 60 like I never have.

One of these years.

This year I covered those 10k in a blistering hour and 45 minutes, getting angry at myself for not running, (but not so angry I actually started running.)

Bridge Over thePrismas During the Day                 Andres Valencia Photography (official race photograph)

 I did finish well, as I’ve done every year. I love when the sun goes down and it’s night time. I love the river crossing at the bottom of Ahuacatitla. I love the crazy, lonely climb up from the river in the dark hobbit forest that just never seems to end and I have to sit down on a rock to look at the night sky which is really  just a pretext to sit down because I’m utterly knackered and just need to rest for a spell, time goals be damned. I love finally coming up to the top of the climb and the local guy hired as a course marshall is sleeping beside a fire he built but I’m glad he doesn’t ask me why I’m doing this as I don’t have an answer. I love running through the final aid station just across from the Ex-Hacienda de Santa Maria or maybe some years just stopping for a swig of coke except for this year where I only imagined I just stopped for a swig of coke because in reality I sat myself down and ate some soup, stuffed some more gummy bears and worms in my Nathan pack --just in case, as I couldn't get GU down-- and drank some coke sitting there (too long), thinking: one more little climb, enter the Prismas Balsaticas, cross the bridge, head left out to the cobblestone road, and then across the swampy presa, try not to lose time looking for markers and then finally out to the road, and this year --straight into town-- head down, pushing hard, no chance of sub-18 but trying not to get caught from behind so late in the race (and I don’t!) and then there’s the town and I hear Lalo yell my name with his unique take on it’s pronunciation (Gooey!) and then I see Natalia, and Tina is running with me and jumping all over me. And then the finish line, and Scotty and Wendy are there and they don’t seem to hate me even though their races ended earlier than planned and I’ve spent a good portion of the past 18+ hours wondering if I completely misled them and maybe they're pissed and then I remember the whole race clearly from the beginning to end. Not just the 2017 race which I just finished 10 minutes faster than the previous year, but also the 2016, 2015 and 2014 races.

And all the memories are perfect.

 

And of course I’m coming back next year.

Along the Presa (during the day)

Because I remember all the things I want to remember and all the suffering and nausea have faded into concepts which have no real feeling behind them and the next morning Natalia and I will eat barbacoa in the market and I’ll be reminded about how much I love this race, this place, these people.

                                                                                                                                       fotografix.com.mx

Ultra Trail Mexico: Take Three

Not much to do now but wait...

 Here we are again: UTMX take 3.

I received a text from my brother-in-law yesterday (he came down to Mexico last year to run the race) asking: You ready for UTMX? Part II answers that question; part I is a review of the race in its third edition.

 

I. UTMX overview from a middle to back of the pack perspective:

This is year three, and the race has grown up. There are 497 people starting the 100k distance. That growth is good for the long-term stability of the race, but it’s going to slow things down for the middle to back of packers in the first kilometers. However, that’s ok because every year this race goes out way too fast. It’s a 100k; it’s not a race to El Zembo, the first aid station. I’m anticipating some standing around breaks in the early part of the race before the pack splits up. I hope those easy early kilometers will pay dividends later on when climbing up to the Mirador from San Sebastian.

  Take a look at last year’s splits. Lots of folks have stellar runs to the 50k point and then tank in the latter half. Also, this year there is an added mystery bonus: The course is 2 kilometers longer and it looks like most of that distance is gained in the canyon. Comparing this year’s course profile with the previous year’s course profile, it looks like there will be more climbing in the canyon as well. Times should be slower this year.

 One takeway from the last two years is that the first 40+k of the race is mostly cool and covered. You won’t need to drink as much here. I carried two bottles, but only filled one up at the aid stations. However, when I got to the highway crossing at 49.3k, I should have filled up both bottles and drank at the aid station. The next section is hot and exposed all the way to Peña de Aire, where the course goes down into the canyon. You definitely don’t want to go down into the canyon behind on hydration: especially with the canyon section being longer this year.

 For me, the two most important aid stations are 49.3 (usually run by Pedro Fletes and the Solo Para Salvajes crew) and Peña de aire at 60k. I don’t like to waste time hanging out in aid stations, but it’s worth spending a few minutes in each of these to make sure you’ve eaten and drank what you need to.

 The canyon is by far the most technical section of the course and it comes at the point where runners are getting fatigued. My suggestion is to enjoy the beauty of the canyon, because the biggest “suck” of the race is coming: the 6k climb out of San Sebastian back up to the top of the canyon at Mirador aid station. This is an exposed road, hot and dusty. It also goes on forever. I’m not sure if Ferro just enjoys making us suffer or there really isn’t any single track climbing up out of the canyon in this area. This year I hope to get to Mirador more or less in one piece and keep moving. Last year I was wrecked at the top of this climb and had to sit down, wasting a few minutes in the aid station feeling sorry for myself and trying to recover. In 2014 I climbed well and arrived at the top to find Marcos Truyols, who I had been chasing after running with him for the first 45k. He pulled away and put lots of time on me before the finish. This serves as another reminder that a lot can happen in this last 23k or so of the race: don’t spend it all getting to Zembo or even to the 50k mark...

 The good news is that after mirador there is only one more significant climb. After some flat road running to Ahuacatitlan, the course goes straight down to the river. It’s so steep (and so late in the race) that it can be hard to go fast here. Gravity helps, but is somewhat limited by how thrashed one’s legs are. At the bottom is the major river crossing of the race and then straight up a winding goat trail. At the top the course flattens for a bit and then eventually heads down to the last aid station (Santa Maria Regla...it’s right across from the Hacienda). Last year I was feeling great here and stopped for less than 30 seconds. However, in 2014 I was beat and had to sit down for a few minutes and drink a Red Bull. The dream is to have enough water in my bottle and just run straight through.

 After this there is a short climb up to the Prismas Balsaticas and we enter the park through a back entrance, run along the cliff, cross the swinging bridge and then head out of the park, around the presa and through the back streets of Huasca before arriving at the finish. There is a little hill in here about a kilometer or two from the finish. If someone is chasing you at this point, that hill is where you can lose them.

 Enjoy the finish: it’s one of the best.

Part II.

 Back to the questions Jeremy asked me: am I ready? Sure, I’m ready to finish, and I’m mentally prepared as well. My training has been consistent, but the miles haven’t been huge, and as always, getting climbing in is difficult: midweek I run in Parque Hundido and then on the weekends I get out to Bosque del Tlapan, Desierto or Ocotal. I did do a few tune up races. I’ll log them here because depending on how things go on Saturday I may do it differently next year.

August 20: 20k Arcos de Sitio in Tepozotlan.

 This is a newer race in the Salvajes line up and it’s awesome: very technical and hilly, lots of rocky single track, plenty of climbing and a cool finish across an ancient viaduct. I had a great time running, but my time was something like 15 minutes slower than when I ran in 2014.

August 28: Mexico City Marathon

 Each year I sign up for the marathon and then hem and haw about whether or not I really want to run it. For me to run a marathon well I need to do long runs on pavement, and I just don’t do it: on the weekends I head for the hills. I convinced myself about three days before the race that I was going to sell my bib and go run long in desierto. But then the guy I was going to sell my number to already had found one so I decided to run it. I ran slow, but steady splits until the final 10k where I fell off the pace a bit, but it was still faster than my time from 2015. However, it took me forever to recover. Marathons are brutal. I lost 4-5 days of training, and I wonder if the marathon was a mistake. Always fun to run the race however.

Sept. 11: Ultratransnavajas 60k

 Five weeks before UTMX, I thought this would be the perfect long effort. I was a bit worried about the extra 10k, as the previous year it was 50k. The smart thing to do would have been to run a hard 35k. Apparently I can’t seem to do the smart thing very often. As it turned out, I should have been more worried: this race was an absolute beat down. I ran 7:26 for 50k last year so I thought I’d run around 9 hours. Andoni loves to make brutal races with ridiculous climbs. Just over 11 hours later --totally humbled, and feeling stupid for telling a few people I thought I’d finish in 9 hours-- I stumbled across the finish line. My one positive take away from this race was that when things go bad --it felt like work right from the starting line-- I can gut out a finish. But man, I’m not going to lie: I hope UTMX goes better.

 I’ll find out on Saturday...

Ultra Trail Mexico 2015: A Family Affair

Signature Wildflower of UTMX                           Photo: Jeremy Hardy

Not Photoshopped. Magical Photo in a Magical Place by Martin Forstmann of Fotografix.com.mx. 

  For the past four days I've eaten ice cream and/or cheesecake every day. Today as I walked by the park (returning from Santa Clara --again) I saw people jogging. Looked like work to me, and I probably won't be doing that for at least another day. Guess I've got the post-UTMX blues. Since May, 2015 I looked forward to that race like a 10 year old boy looks forward to his birthday. 

And now it's gone.

Natalia and Jutta just after her first 50k finish!

  

Early Creek Crossing

  As I wrote in a post from a few weeks ago, UTMX is my favorite race of the year. In it's second year, the 100k is a classic loop through the unique and challenging terrain surrounding the Pueblo Magico, Huasca, UTMX has become the big trail running event of the year in an ever-increasingly crowded trail and mountain running calendar in Mexico where a new race in a cool place seems to pop up on Facebook almost weekly. Internationally the race has grown as well. These trends will continue. The race will sell out quickly in 2016.

  Why?

  1. The course is tough, and mountain runners are drawn to the harder courses. There are several steep and technical climbs; there are long, rocky sections where it is difficult to establish a good running rhythm and even when there are a few deceptively "runnable" sections, they are so exposed and hot that it is a constant mental struggle to maintain a jog.

  2. The course is not contrived. There are no "out-and-back" sections to add meaningless miles. 

Meggin and Oriana Celebrating their 15k Finish!

Jeremy on top of the Canyon    Photo by: Martin Forstmann of Fotografix.com.mx 

  3. The course is varied: Smooth singletrack, rocky singletrack, climbs up endless dirt roads, climbs up a giant slick rock; ridge running up high along the Peñas Cuatas; descending down into the Canyon. The trail crosses several rivers and the final river crossing is roped, as is the descent down to that crossing. There is also: Off-trail cross country running, cobblestone village running and even a little pavement pounding. And I'm still forgetting sections. I thought I remembered all the cool parts of the course, but when I was running this year I kept coming across amazing and varied terrain that I had forgotten. What Santa Clara is for Ice Cream, this course is to mountain running: they've got all your favorite flavors, including many you didn't even know about.

Another view of the Canyon                       Photo: Jeremy Hardy

  4. Organization. The course is so amazing that even if UTMX was a poorly run race with 9 to 12 runners, confusing course markings, and staffed with bored volunteers slinging unripe bananas and Sam's Club Cola in all its aid stations, it would still be on my list of races to run.
  But, as everyone now knows, UTMX is a world-class event. Volunteers were encouraging, helpful and everywhere they needed to be. Packet pickup flawless and quick (but it helps to get there early), and just every single race detail was dealt with efficiently. 

Jeremy and Natalia at the finish. Jeremy got lost and was behind me 1 hour and 20 minutes into the race. He went on to finish in 13:34. I think he can run 12 hours here. Natalia's training was very light: she could run 7 for the 50k in 2016.

5. A fun place for everyone to visit. Huasca de Ocampo and the surrounding areas are worth visiting even if you never plan on running so much as a 5k in your lifetime. There are ex-haciendas, stunning natural beauty, cool geological rock formations,  a freaky zip-line over the canyon (tirolesa), homemade pastes, beer, barbacoa and more. Bring your family; bring your non-running friends. Everyone will be happy.

Flying over the Canyon (Oriana and Dalva) the day after the race

My 2015 UTMX Experience

  Hiking up out of the Canyon from San Sebastian  and my race felt like it was falling apart. Actually, it felt like my race had been falling apart since leaving the mountains and entering the Solo Para Salvajes aid station at kilometer 50. On paper the section between this aid station and the descent into the Canyon should be the easiest on the course. On paper. In reality, it's more like a mental toughness chess match. I made a critical mistake at that 50k aid station, only getting a bottle of water filled and the other half filled with Coca Cola. In the cooler mountain section, I wasn't finishing both bottles between aid stations, but I had forgotten how hot this section was. I struggled to maintain a jog, fighting a relentless urge to just hike. I was quickly very low and rationing water and freaked out about getting dehydrated. My goal was to get to the Canyon (Peña de Aire) without inflicting too much damage on myself and reboot: drink and eat. I got passed by a lot of people in that section.
  The excitement of arriving at the Canyon got me back in the game, and I enjoyed the relatively cool descent in the shadow of the Canyon wall. But then things turned sour again, and I could not get my energy levels back as I struggled through the rocky single track of this section and runners kept passing me. I finally made it to the San Sebastian aid station, pleasantly surprised that I didn't have to wade through a swampy section of the river to get there, as we did last year. I had my pack in my drop bag, didn't bother to change shoes as my feet had dried, and I headed up the long climb to the top of the Canyon. My dreams of running this section were smashed and I settled for a hard hike. There was no shade anywhere, and I started thinking about curling up on the side of the road or jumping in the back of one of the trucks that occasionally drove past me.

  I second guessed my start. I thought I had kept things in control, but I was further up in front of the race with runners that I don't usually see until I get to the finish line. Had a started too fast? Was I going to have to walk all the way into Huasca?
  I finally made it to the liquid-only aid station (Mirador) at the top of the climb and fell into a chair. I had been spending almost no time at aid stations all race, but my plan had crumpled and I needed a good sit-down. There was no Coca-Cola but a volunteer handed me a can of Red Bull and I sat and drank. After a few minutes the volunteer --the gentleman who I believe headed the incredibly difficult race in Oaxaca a few years ago...the race I DNF'd-- got me moving reminding me of what I knew to be true: sitting there would make things worse. I couldn't run, so I walked out of the aid station toward Ahuacatitlan and another descent down to the famed river crossing.

  Again, people passed me, but I couldn't help but notice that the sun was high in the sky, and last year I was running this section as the sun began to set, and I had crossed the river in pitch blackness. Maybe my race wasn't lost. I don't run with a watch and I had no idea what my splits were from last year, but the position of the sun told me that I was in a good place, even though I felt like dung.

 Martin was taking photos at Ahuacatitlan, and Hugo and Ivonne were there as well. This put me in good spirits as I headed down. Downhills had been good to me during the race. I was getting passed on "flats" by everyone, and was getting passed on the climbs by some. But my spirits and my energy levels lifted as I descended down to the river. I was looking forward to the final crossing, which really signals the last section of the race. 

Descending to the River. Hugo Chilling in the background.                          Photo: Martin Fortsmann

   Crossing the river in the daylight I knew my time was at least an hour ahead of last year. I climbed well up from the river, curious to see what this climb looked like in the day time. Last year it was pitch black and slowed me down considerably. Emerging from the last big climb of the race, I felt good and was ready to run hard to the finish. Darkness finally came as I entered the final aid station. I gulped down a cup of broth, some Red Bull and headed out. Once again I passed several runners who were lingering in the aid station. I'm not sure what people do in aid stations for so long, but I didn't want to hang around and find out. 

  One last climb up to the Prismas, across the swinging bridge, and then only two short sections remained: crossing the presa --the swampy edge of a reservoir, and then pavement pounding to the finish. With three or so kilometers to go, I was running with two other runners. We went back and forth, until one dropped back. Me and one other guy: he would sprint past, but then walk and I would catch up. I finally made a little move on a final climb I had forgotten about, running as hard as I could up, and then down into the cobblestone alleyways that lead to the center of Huasca. I didn't look back until I saw the crowds: no one was there. and that was the finish. Looking back at the clock, I thought it must have been a mistake: 15:41, almost two hours off my last year's time. 

Take Aways from the race:

•I ate well. At Bighorn in June I didn't eat on schedule and I paid the price with wild fluctuations in energy. Alternating between Gels (Hammer) and Arewa bars worked well. Also, carrying my own food allowed me to get through aid stations in a minute or less

•I started well and finished well. My start was not too fast, and I still had gas in the tank at the end.

•Struggled in the middle sections. 

•My biggest victory was aid station time. There are probably 15 runners who finished behind me who are faster than me but spent too much time in aid stations.

•I think I can run 15:00 hours on this course, but I'll need to find those 41 minutes all between Kilometer 31 and 80. I looked at some other runners who ran 15 hours and our Kilometer 1-20 and 80-100 splits were the same. But the hot transition section (50-60) and the canyon section (60-67) chewed me up. I finally recovered at 80, but the damage had been done. 

•Training: I did my long runs (Rover Marathon, Mexico City Marathon, Trail Run Hidalgo 50k and a few back to backs in Desierto), but my midweek running was lame: 11 minute miles in Parque Hudido for an hour or so twice a week. I'll need to do speed work and a longer tempo each week and some hill repeats to run 15:00 hours here. Something to think about for next year.

I'll be back.

Time to knock out the cheesecake and go for a run. 

Dalva Peers Into the Abyss