A River Runs Through It (Travels with Martin): Sierra Gorda 50k "Race" report

Sierra Gorda 50k:    Photo by Martin Forstmann of Fotografix.com.mx

 No way I was pitching a tent in a parking lot.

  Forstmann –of Fotografix.com.mx fame-- and I had driven about 4 hours to the tiny, remote town of Higueras de Peñamiller for the Reto Sierra Gorda 50k. We stopped for carnitas in Peña Bernal, a well-known tourist trap where people go to look at a big rock, and then we drove about an hour into the semi-desert, mountainous region known as the Sierra Gorda.

Peña de Bernal: Keep driving and send your last texts

  Higueras is no pueblo magico. It’s a dusty outpost without so much as a single restaurant. But it’s surrounded by the pristine Sierra Gorda. But the race has to start somewhere and so a big dirt parking lot that doubled as the center of town would be that somewhere. The promised “camping area” was a corner of this dirt parking lot offering an evening of Dusty, Loud and Hard. There was also zero shade.

The sun would go down and eventually someone would turn off the music, but dusty and hard weren’t going away. I was prepared to drive up into the hills and find a place on the side of the road.

  After asking around a bit, we heard that “the Oasis” was a nice place to camp and not too far, so we drove up out of the town and on a dirt road inside a canyon. Someone had painted “Oasis” and an arrow on the side of the canyon so we headed down an even narrower road would soon turned into a river. Wondering how wise it was to be driving down a river as the sun set, I stopped the car and ran ahead to check out the road/river. A guy with a machete popped out of the woods, and I asked him about the Oasis and he told me to keep on driving down the river.

The "road" to the Oasis     

  And so we did.  And sure enough, the river flowed down to the left, and a sort of path led to the right and up to a red gate: inside was grass, tents, pools, and a little tienda that I later found out sold Victorias for 17 pesos.

  After setting up the tent, Martin made his magical camp pasta sauce which we enjoyed with the Victorias. I was so happy at the Oasis that I momentarily forgot that I would be running a 50k the next morning after the 5 weeks of rest, easy jogging and pastries that have been my focus since running UTMX on October 10.

Chef Martin

 

Martin’s Magical Camp Pasta Sauce

Preparation and Cooking Time: 2 minutes, 41 seconds

1 Jar of Pasta Sauce

1 can of black olives

1 can of tuna

1 yogurt size jar of cream

Recommended Beer Pairing: 17 peso Victorias. 

 The meal and the beer put me in a great mood, and I set out to prepare my stuff for the race while Martin took some night photos.

Under the moon at the Oasis                Photo: me

It was tough to say what the course would be like. Martin went on a reconnaissance mission and talked to some of the other campers. He returned and I asked him what he found out.

He laughed. “Nadie Sabe Nada.”

Well, we all love a good mystery, and I had just driven my family car at dusk down a sketchy canyon road into a river in an area that was at good hour from cell phone reception, and stumbled upon the Oasis, so maybe the race would work out as well.

  However, just in case the race didn’t work out, I opted for my pack (something I don’t even use for the 100 mile distance) to make sure I had what I needed in case aid stations didn’t materialize when they were supposed to or the course wasn’t properly marked.

 After a terrible night of tossing and turning and looking at my phone 19 times to see if it was 4 AM already so I could just get up and get this over with, I looked at my phone for the 20^th time, and it was 3:37. I stayed horizontal for 23 more minutes listening to the sounds of the river and then we both got up, packed up, made a coffee and hit the road/river. My car made it back up the river/road without issue. Things were looking up.

 We arrived back at the dirt parking lot and were among the first to arrive. Suddenly I was freaking exhausted. Martin trudged back up the hill and back down to the Oasis. Apparently, the race would head right down the river. Neither of us recalled seeing any course markings.

 

  I tried to sleep fitfully in the car until it was time to line up. The sun was coming up and I cursed the organizers for requiring a headlamp for a race that starts at 6:30. And then I cursed myself for being such a rules follower, stuffed the useless headlamp in my pack and we were off…

  We headed down the same river/road that led to the Oasis, and then followed the river further down.

  A kilometer or so later we took a left out of the river and started heading up a canyon. Here there were more water sections, including one that came up to my neck if I stood on my very tippy toes. We followed this river for a while, and then, mercifully headed up out of the canyon onto a trail.

Tough to keep the shoes dry through here

  Sadly, the trail didn’t last long and then we were running in a dry, rocky river bed, heading up. This went on for maybe an hour? I tried to occupy my time by checking out what packs people were wearing and what they were carrying. One guy had a tube of Neosporin I could see through the mesh of his new Salomon pack. Why?

 In the distance I could see the clouds covering some mountain peaks. I really hoped we were heading up there, as it looked awesome.  Also, I’d about had it with rivers.

Heading up to the clouds      

 

Climbing up to this....cool.

  The course climbed out of the river bed (yay!) and started heading up a dirt road (boo) that looked to be heading straight up to the peak (yay!).  As we got higher the road turned to trail (yay!).  I was feeling good, back on familiar terrain. Near the top I stopped to read a bit about the Mission Bucarreli and I took a photo of this map.

Hey, a map!

 On the back side of the mountain, the trail turned to single track cut out of the side of the mountain (double yay!) and it reminded me very much of the Sam Merrill trail in the San Gabriel Mountains in Southern California.

  We took this single track down for over an hour. Definitely the best part of the race for me. Something like 9 kilometers of downhill. I was passing people and feeling good. At one point I saw a group of people gathered a few switchbacks below. Perhaps someone had twisted an ankle?

  When I arrived I knew there were too many cooks in the kitchen but it didn’t feel right just to blow by. I stopped and asked if I could do anything to help.

  Holy shit. A woman had clearly fallen and her face and one had were badly cut up. Wait, I suddenly remembered the Neosporin guy, couldn’t be too far….

  Then I noticed the Salomon pack. Neosporin Guy was right next to me saving the day. She still looked a bit shocked, but the group assured us they had the situation under control and so a few of us that had just arrived kept running. 

Long descent on singletrack like this...

  As the trail began to flatten out it got really hot, and I started to struggle. Things slowed down. A few of the folks I’d passed on the downhill passed me here. We arrived at a grassy paradise that was out of place in this desert terrain. I drank a terrible tasting electrolyte drink made for babies with diarrhea here and kept moving.

  And once again: a river crossing. My feet had finally dried so I stupidly tried to step across some rocks to keep my feet dried. Note to future runners: don’t bother…the next hour or so was crossing the river, running along the river or running in the river. Amazing views here, and though I felt low and was moving very slowly, it was worth the effort to see this canyon.

  A while later I finally came upon Martin taking photos. I pretended to run for the camera. I’d been doing a lot of walking in this section. It’s hard to run in a river. It’s also hard to run when you are really tired, but it’s more satsifying to blame it on the river.

                                                         Pretending to run                                        Photo: Martin Forstmann, Fotografix.com.mx

  

And then we ran through some small settlements before we descended, for the last time into –you’ll never guess—a river.  After a short bit I realized this was the same damn river we started on. This thrilled me for a couple reasons:

1.     It was the last river I would run in.

The final stretch of river (again)

2.     The race was nearly finished.

And the dirt parking lot came into site.

Damn I’m glad we didn’t camp there.

Other Random Thoughts:

   Incredibly beautiful area to see and if you are looking for a race that breaks the mold, this might be the one. I don’t mean to be a grump, but for me the river running did get a bit old. The mountain pass was fantastic, however, and would make for a great run from the Oasis. My fears about the aid stations and/or course markings were completely unfounded paranoia: course was marked relentlessly, and the aid stations were Spartan, but sufficient. 

The Sierra Gorda: A spectacular place to run

 

  I don’t know if I’ll be back for the race (though I probably will be), but I’ll definitely return to camp at the Oasis and drink a few Victorias.

The Mountain Challenge: Oriana's First Mountain Race

Photo stolen from Martin Forstmann (yo te debo!)

Let's hope we run better than we pose for photos!                

If you only read one sentence of this report, read this one: Trail Run Hidalgo's Mountain Challenge (Race Director: Andoni Jardinez) is a fantastically organized race on beautifully technical single track around the magical town of El Chico; meter for meter, foot for foot, this was one of the most beautiful races I have run in Mexico anywhere. 


 Looking for a long run with lots of climbing and a fun weekend outside of the city for the family, Trail Run Hidalgo's Mountain Challenge (17k and 32k) was perfect. The race would start in the Pueblo Magico of Chico, and climb up into the mountains that surround the village.
  Oriana and Natalia would run the 17k. The 32k was shorter than what I wanted as a long run in preparation for the Bighorn 100, but with 2,800 meters of climbing, the time on my feet would suffice for a proper long run at --I hoped-- a decent pace. I really struggle to push the pace when I'm training alone. 

  But the night before the race the worry began to creep in: not about my race, but about Oriana's. I was worried about the course conditions. On saturday night we sat on the terraza overlooking the quaint downtown of Chico and it poured rain and hailed for at least two hours in Biblical intensities. The main street is at a steep incline and it was a raging river. Ori would be wearing road running shoes and I wondered if she would be slipping down the mountain.
  I was also a bit freaked out about the amount of climbing. There was something like 1,200 meters of climbing in the 17k race. Ori is fit and runs daily at school on the track, but she doesn't train for extended climbs. Additionally, she had never run with a pack, but I didn't want her to run with a handheld bottle because I thought she would need to use both hands in the technical and slippery terrain. It would also be her longest race.

  The night before the race in our hotel I had her pack and repack the Nathan pack until we were both convinced she knew it inside and out.

  I hoped for the rain to stop.

  I questioned my pre-race diet of roadside barbacoa.

  Natalia, Jutta and I went across the street to get some beers so we could sleep.

Almost time to go!

 The race started and we began walking up the steep incline out of town. The 17k and 32k started together, and even if we had wanted to run at this point, there were no good opportunities to pass people until the trail turned on a cement road heading up into the mountains. At this point I wished Ori and Natalia a good race and ran ahead to try to get in front of some of the crowd before we hit the single track. The course followed the road for a very short stretch and then turned straight up the mountain. This section needed to be navigated on all fours, but it quickly linked up with a more established trail that headed up into the mountains.

  I found myself wanting to take pictures of everything on this route, but it was so difficult to pass people on this opening climb (8.5 kilometers) that I took three photos and put the camera away for good. The rest of the climb was spent doing three things:

1. Marveling at how awesome the route was and silently extolling the trail-finding/race-organizing genius of Trail Run Hidalgo (gracias, Andoni!)

2. Worrying about how difficult the route was and wondering if Ori would make it to the top.

3. Trying to pass people when there was an opportunity...

A note to runners considering this race: I hate starting a race fast, but on this course that strategy makes sense: try to get to the singletrack before the crowds to avoid wasting a lot of energy trying to pass runners on the opening climb.

Also: while the organization of this race was flawless, one suggestion: start the 32k an hour earlier than the 17k race to avoid some of the crowding on the trail.

I also think it would be awesome to have a 64k option: run the loop twice, first clockwise, than counter-clockwise. 

blurry photo I took and yes, this trail is that awesome

heading up....

and up....

finally emerging from the forest, near the top (I think)

I didn't know this at the time but Ori was rocking it near the top of the mountain!

mountain selfie

Oriana, Natalia, Rock

  
Finally the trail flattened out a bit, we entered a meadow and here was the 8.5 kilometer aid station. The 17k runners would turn around here and head back down. For the 32k route, things flattened out a bit and the crowds were gone. Finally I was alone and able to run. We were still on singletrack but less technical than the first section of the race. I knew there was one big climb left up to the peña del cuervo. After running some varied terrain, the trail went down into a canyon and then finally started going up on the rocky goat trail that is the final sustained climb of the race. I had done this climb before in a race back in November, and I knew it was steep but not that long. Finally we reached the peña de cuervo and went left on a wide two-track road that continued to climb. Other than leaving the center of town and arriving in the center of town, this is it for terraceria in this race: everything else is singletrack. I started hiking but felt good and started to run, catching a few people as we arrived back at the aid station.
  The final 10k of the race is a long descent back into town on very runnable singletrack. This race definitely rewards those who have something left in their legs, as this section could be run very fast. In fact, it begs to be run fast as these are long, gently rolling and descending switchbacks. My legs were a bit heavy, and while I couldn't fly like I wanted to, I maintained a decent run for this section, gaining a few positions in the descent. 

  Finally we hit the town and I thought we would have to run the long way around to the centro; however, we were told to head straight down the main road. Wow, the race was over! I looked for Oriana and Natalia as I crossed the finish line. My plan was to immediately tell Oriana it was ok if she didn't finish, as I thought she might have had to turn back. 

  But she finished strong, completing her first true Mountain Race.

Strong Finish.    
[otro photo robado de Martin Forstmann....Martin: voy a pagar gas, caseta y post-race chelas en Real de Monte!]

  Trail Run Hidalgo definitely put themselves on the map with this race: fairly priced, world-class trails, professional organization, and located in the magical town of Mineral del Chico. We will be back!

Every Fool Has His Day: Travesia de las Sierras 50 mile race report

  If a good race results in a bad race report, the following report will be terrible. This was my first visit to Villa Del Carbon, a small town tucked into the mountains an hour or so out of the reaches of the sprawling (and, frankly, ugly) northern part of Mexico City*. Villa del Carbon is beautiful and worth the trip. Seeing how people live up in the hills makes one wonder why they would move down to Tlanepantla. Economics of course. Not everyone has a plot of land in the hills to farm and live off the land. The contrast between the congested, gray-drab cement structures of the far reaches of the city (*technically, not a part of Mexico City, but it all blends seamlessly) and the remote, lush green of Villa Carbon was both profound and disturbing.

  I was fortunate to hook up with the members of the Mytikas running group and we fought Friday traffic (including a chase scene that involved 4 police officers and a warning shot fired --we didn't stop to ask for details). I was definitely not in the familiar center of Mexico City that I know and love.

                                                           The Early Conga Line                              Photo: Martin Forstmann

The "lobby" of the hotel was filled with runners catching up and waiting to get their packets. I took a little nap, grabbed my race stuff and walked into town with the Mytikas crew to grab dinner. Luis was running the 100 mile race, and Oswaldo, Rentato, Hugo and Israel were running the 100k. I would be doing the "short" race (80k) as my plan was to recover quickly and get back training hard for the AC 100 mile race on August 2 and 3.

  During dinner I was thinking of ordering quesadillas and chicken soup, as my stomach was its normal pre-race dainty self (including nerve-induced diarrhea, which, just as it did before Zane Grey, disappeared the moment the race started. Weird.), but when I saw everyone else ordering full meals I went with the house special Enchiladas Chiripas. Huge plate and I polished it off with a Negra Modelo. I left it to fate to see how that would play out...
  I woke up with a bit of a panic as I remembered that I only had hotel reservations for one night, and I couldn't leave my stuff in the room all day. I loaded everything in my car and walked the two blocks to the race start. Everyone snapping pictures and chatting it up. I find it very hard to be social before a race, as I just want to be alone in my thoughts, but I ended up in a few of the approximately 128 group photos that are always taken before every race in Mexico. Here's one:

               Pre-race group photo #112: With the Mytikas running group (and others) at the start                             Photo: ?

  I had considered running with the Nathan pack, as the aid stations can be a bit unreliable in these races, but in the end I went with two hand helds and the Jurek Essential. My plan was to eat a vanilla GU every hour along with potatoes and salt, all of which could be stuffed into the Essential and the handhelds.
  The race started (a bit late, as usual) and we descended about a kilometer through the town until we crossed a road and headed into runnable terrain in the forest.
  Coming into the race, I didn't have high expectations for the course. It was out and back (for a total of 50k), and included a 5k section of pavement which I would see four times. Not really what I'm looking for in a mountain race. There was a bit of climbing (just shy of 7,000 feet), but I would have liked more for proper AC 100 training.
  However, I was pleasantly surprised: the variety of the terrain kept things interesting: there were some short, steep climbs, stream crossings, technical single track, and rolling, grassy trails between corn fields. And the road was nearly empty and rolled through tranquil countryside with great views.  I enjoyed the pavement section: it provided an opportunity to stretch out the legs, get into a rhythm and push. Life dictates that the majority of my runs are on asphalt, so I was prepared to grind it out on the road. The out-and-back style had other advantages: it allowed for interaction with all of the other runners. This is always helpful in a long race. Encountering Hector Mendoza --the Happy Face Runner-- with his whistle and endless good cheer and positive vibes (I've never seen that guy looking miserable during a race) is always a boost. Every time I see him he reminds me to smile and he usually snaps a photo. Aside from runner interaction, it also gave me course knowledge so I knew where to push and where there would be hiking breaks to shovel potatoes into my mouth. I love exploring new trails, and my favorite course layout is the point-to-point, but out-and-backs have advantages as well. For one thing, I could see how much time I was putting on runners behind me.

           Hector "Happy Face Runner" Mendoza who reminded me to be happy when I started getting grumpy about the lack of trail markings.        Photo: Martin Forstmann

          On the Road in the Morning Dew: Juan Pablo (L) and Martin Forstmann (R)      Photo: Hector Mendoza (??)

  Which brings me to how well this race went.
I started slowly in the morning and my plan was to keep it that way until the 25k mark. However, at about 10k I felt great and decided to pass a couple of runners that have finished ahead of me in the past few races. I knew it was way too early to be making any sort of move, but I figured if I felt good I should use that energy, as there would certainly be lows later in the day. There were some major route-finding problems on the climb to the high point of the race. The course simply wasn't marked for about 6 km. However, I had the course description in my pocket and using the GPS mileage of other runners around me we puzzled it out without too much lost time. It's pretty unnerving to arrive at an unmarked three way fork in the road during a race...

                                       Through the fields...                                                                   Photo: Martin Forstmann

  Arriving at the 25k mark at the high point of the race, I was relieved to run into Pedro Fletes, the race director. He was re-marking the course and glumly commented that "everyone got lost." I ran downhill with a new confidence and practiced my AC 100 strategy: run downhill steadily (but not recklessly), hike the ups hard and run the flats.

Chespiro to the rescue! Marking the course(again)...better late than never!               Photo: Martin Forstmann

  My knee threw a kink in this plan, and when I descended off the road onto the last steep downhill before the flat section of trail that leads back to town, my right knee flared up and I had to limp and try to keep the leg straight as I went down this hill. To simulate this at home, try keeping your knees locked straight and then walk down a stair case. Fortunately, the knee was not an issue on flats or uphills, so I was able to plug away as I finished my first 50k "lap." 7:11 (though I didn't know that at the time as I wasn't wearing a watch). I grabbed my remaining GU's and tied my shirt around my waist as the sun was out after a cloudy, misty morning. The sunburn hurts as I type this.
  I had been thinking about an 8 hour 50k, and while I didn't know how far under that time I was, I felt fantastic, and now it was time to really push. I tried to run everything and I arrived at the 62.5k aid station feeling great. I had to grunt up a boring dirt road for 2.5k and then turn around, and go back down to the same aid station and then back to town. I got into a fairly negative space on that climb as I thought the section was thoughtless and just plain stupid. Why not make the section up along the fantastic trail that follows the river? I ran into the RD Pedro again back at the aid station and politely proposed an alternative for the following year that would avoid this 2k out and back on a dirt road.
  I hit a bit of a low on the climb back up through the fields and to the road, but once back on the road I tried to run everything, pushing on the downhills as hard as I could....trying to get my quads ready for AC...
 It didn't seem to matter how hard I pushed, I just kept feeling better. I had some final, uplifting exchanges with other runners who were heading out in the other direction. Martin Forstmann, whose photos you see throughout this report, was pretty beat up and clearly struggling with a rough day (back in March at the 60k Carrera de Resistencia, he easily dusted me, putting about 15 minutes on me in the final 15k), and I tried to give him some encouragement but I wondered if he would finish the race.
 The knee magically felt better, and I made sure to keep eating even though the end was near. I ran every step of the final steep climb into town and felt fantastic. 11:39:40. A 50 mile PR (previous: Sean O' Brien 12:17). Here's a garmin reading from last year's Travesia 50 winner, Sinhue Fletes.
  I hung out at the finish line and enjoyed the Caldo de Pollo and potato quesadillas (with the tortillas fried in oil) a couple of things that make these races --despite their casual organization standards-- so fantastic.
  In many ways, the race was a great confidence builder for AC, but I shouldn't crack the bubbly just yet: AC will be hotter with three times as much climbing and descending. 
  
  I should probably also keep in mind it's twice as long... 
  
58 days to race day and still lots of work to do. With school ending I will be able to get up in the mountains more frequently and I've got to log some 20,000 feet weeks or pay a very steep price (pun intended) at AC.
   I walked to the hotel, changed and took a shower and came back to watch finishers.  It was dark when I heard that familiar whistle and I was shocked and thrilled to see Martin running in with Hector. The Argentine looked like he'd been ground up with some burger meat, but he got it done. Awesome, emotional finish. 
  And a clear reminder that any fool can run a good race when it all comes together: high energy, no stomach issues, every step feels good, etc. But to finish on those days when nothing comes easy is the real test.

The next morning, after showering and eating, I sat in the town square eating barbacoa with Renato "111K" Rios (he bagged some extra mileage on his adventure) and watched the hundred mile runners still plugging away. I had shared some miles with some of those runners the previous day. While I slept they were still at it. That was pretty sobering and will serve as a good motivator for the next 58 days.

Post-race thoughts/reminders/boring running details:
    I ate two big meals in the 15 hours before the race and my stomach was perfect the whole day.
    During the race I ate around 11-12 GUS and two ziplock bags of salted potatoes. I drank water and gatorade (orange) for the whole race, and some random peanuts in aid stations. 
    The first trail race I've worn road shoes: The Saucony Rider 6. I bought these in Arizona for road running and I've liked them so much I've been wearing them for everything. Right now they are my first choice for AC 100. My old Cascadia 7's still have another race in them, but the Saucony's feel lighter. Sadly, the pair of new Cascadia 9's I have pull my sock down on my left foot when I run, and I can't stand running in them. Bummer.
  I didn't feel strong on the steep climbs. I need to focus on more hills in the next 50 days.
  I ran more of this 50 than any other 50 I have run. Part of this was the nature of the course, but I've been doing long runs of 4-5 hours in Ocotal where I run the whole time, no hiking. I think this is helping. While I need to get out and do some long hikes up the Cerro de San Miguel, I need to keep long runs in the mix as well.
  The knee pain went away, but I've got to work on that. If I can't run the downhills at AC.....my race will be over before Chantry Flats.
  I felt fantastic after the race, and other than normal post-race soreness, there is no lingering pain. I will rest one more today and then head back out tomorrow.