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.

Race with Friends: ASF 5k/10k Race for Education

Tania, Melissa and Kate before the pain

  This past Sunday was the ASF Race (5k and 10k) for education.  I had a number of runners from the ASF running club participating, Tania would be running, as well as many friends and colleagues. Usually when I show up at a race I am alone, so it was good to run with some friends.  I hadn't been focusing on 10K's, and I didn't taper for this race, but took it as a tempo run.  I only started including speed in my workout a couple weeks ago, as I am following an adapted version of the Hanson marathon training method for the two marathons I have on the calendar: the mountain/trail marathon (Maraton Rover) on August 12, and then the traditional Mexico City Marathon on September 2. 

  As road 10k's go, this one is tough, as the big climbs are at kilometer 7/8 and the final kilometer back up to school.  My goal was to keep it at 5 minutes per K for under 50, but I hit 5:30 on both the hill sections.  I had some time in the bank from the early kilometers, but not enough, and I finished at 51:13.  However, that was enough for a PR (previous: 51:40), and I felt pretty good about the race.

  More importantly, a fun time was had by all.  Later that afternoon I went up to Desierto with Dean for a hike to the top. Great way to finish the day!

Dean-O-Mite

Tania's pre-race assessment

Leo and Dean: straight outta' retirement.  That's Dean's race form tucked into his shorts in lieu of the race packet he was supposed to pick up the day before.  

ASF RUNNERS getting ready to rumble...

More ASF RUNNERS at the start!

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. 

 

En Las Huellas de Quetzalcoatl: 14K race in Tepoztlan

Tepoztlan, Morelos

   

  If your idea of a great race is sure footing, super swag bags and well stocked aid stations, skip this one.  However, if you love lots rocky climbing and descents, winding, incredibly narrow singletrack and panoramic views of Tepoztlan and the surrounding cliffs, this is your race.  It's 2,800 feet of climbing in 14k. 

The race started with a climb up here

   Tepoztlan, about an hour or so from Mexico City, is a popular tourist town that fills up every weekend.  Famous for the "Tepozteco," the ruins on top of one of the cliffs, Tepoztlan is popular with both well-to do weekenders and new age types who speak of the "energy" of Tepoz.  If by "energy" they mean the incredible natural beauty of the place, then they are right on. 

Rocky climbs like this were par for the course

   The race was supported by solo para salvajes, but was independently organized.  It was a simple race, but all the essentials were done well: the course was well marked, the race started on time...and did I mention the single track up on the ridge?

  The race started out at the small zocalo in the centro of Tepoztlan.  We ran straight to the entrance to the Tepozteco where later in the day throngs of tourists would be hiking up to the top.  We quickly veered off this trail, and basically went rock hopping for a long climb until we emerged on top of the cliff.  Note for next year: fly like the wind during that first kilometer before the climb begins.  Once we hit the rocks it was basically a conga line to the top and very few opportunities for passing.

  We then began the first of the single track sections.  This was a relief after the long climb, some of which required the use of four limbs.  There is a lot of scrambling in this race.  You will climb on all fours, climb over fallen trees, traverse ditches, go under other trees, and often be one misstep from a scary slide down the hill off the trail.   Also, because of the steepness of the climbs and the boulder hopping, there is quite a bit of fast hiking as well.  I estimate that I hiked about 30% of the course.

  The first section of single track led gently down and finally, sadly to a fire road.  The aid station consisted of a few guys handing out plastic baggies filled with water.  I had my hydration pack so I used these on my head.  The race starts at 9:30, so it gets hot.  I saw lots of people carrying nothing, which I think is a huge mistake.  At a minimum, carry a bottle.  I recall three aid stations, although there may have been a fourth.

A small stretch of some of the more runnable trail

  After running some roads for a time, we cut over the main trail leading up and hit more single track, but this time with significant climbing up to the top of another cliff.  This section was not quite as runnable as the first section of single track section as there are lots of boulders and sudden steep inclines to deal with.  Finally, we came out on the roads that would lead us back into town.  The ambulance guys were here and one of them commented: "almost there, the worst part is over." Actually, he couldn't have been more wrong.  We only had 3.5 kilometers to go, but for me this was the worst part: wide open running on the road in the sun.  And then to make it worse I made the classic mistake of following the people in front of me and not the trail.  At some point I knew we were wrong as the runner ahead of me kept asking directions and I hadn't seen a trail marker.  Running out on the main hot road into town was miserable: no shade.  We finally met back up with the trail --after running through some sort of procession-- and ran the last kilometer in.  In theory, I didn't officially finish the race as I should have backtracked to the point we went off the trail.  However, that seemed beside the point: I had an incredible experience running up in the cliffs of Tepoztlan, and I really didn't care if my finish ends up being unofficial.  

  I felt strong this race, despite the typical drag at the end when I really needed to pick up the running.  I climbed well, passed (when it was possible) lots of folks on the single track and felt strong throughout the race.  I need to hit the track once a week and focus on speed. 2:28.  I thought this would be a faster course, but it turned out to be much tougher than the 16k I ran back in March in Real De Catorce.  This is not a fast course.  If you love to run but hate to power hike, look elsewhere!
   

Tepoztlan from high up on the trail

   Next Race: School 10 K (ASF run for education) on May 20 and then the Picacho 21K, a half marathon that goes up one side of the hill and down the other, on June 24. 

  Goal Races: 58th Rover Marathon, August 12.  This is a trail marathon that starts in the south of Mexico City, climbs 33k to Tres Marias, and then heads down into Cuernavaca for the last 9k or so.

    Mexico City Marathon, September 2.  This is a classic city marathon, which means it will be flat (ish) and fast.  I need to start working on speed or it's going to be a long, painful slog.

Where to run in Mexico: Bosque Del Tlapan

Unmarked, but easy to find are short singletrack paths like this one that link up the more prominent routes. 

  If you find yourself in Mexico City, where are the best places to train and run?  While the best training ground is undoubtedly Desierto De Los Leones (which is neither a desert, nor are there lions...story for another day), Desierto is a bit of a drive (an hour each way during the week unless you leave at 4:30-5:00 am) and technically it's not even in the city.  I'll feature Desierto in the future, but for now I'd like to focus on what I think is the best place to run in Mexico City: Bosque Del Tlapan.  If you know of another place to run that offers more than Bosque, please let me know, as I'd love to check it out.
  Bosque, located in the south of the city near the upscale Parques del Pedregal and Bosques del Pedragal neighborhood offers a lot:

•It has something for every runner.  Pavement, smooth two tracks, steep and relatively longish climbs, technical trail and even a tree-lined dirt track.

•Many people run here on the weekends, so there are lots of places to eat, order a fresh squeezed juice, buy some shoes or other running gear, or meet other runners.

•If you just want to be alone and run in the woods while seeing very few people, it has that too.

•It's easy to get to.  Take the Metrobus that runs north and south on Insurgentes (the primary north/south avenue in the city) to the Villa Olimpica station.  Get out, go south towards the modernesque Elektra buildings (one has a Banco Azteca sign) and take your first right on Camino Santa Theresa.  There is a Mercado on the corner dedicated to carpentry (a good place to buy furniture or have furniture made for you at a reasonable price), turn before you pass the mercado.

The "Hamster Wheel."  Most runners don't see much more of the park than this.  As dirt tracks go it's tree-lined and has a decent climb.  Not a bad place to finish off your run if you come down the hill slightly short on mileage but don't want to make the trek back up.  It's a 886 meter loop.  Guess they couldn't squeeze those extra meters in to round of the kilometer...

Here's the "map."  Better to just explore.  The park closes at 5:00pm.

  There is a "map" of the trails (see above) but the best way to discover the place is to explore on your own.  It's a big park, but it's not that big.  You can't really get lost (for long).  Just go down and you will end up back at the entrance.  What follows are some photos of one of my favorite routes which will also provide an idea about the variety of terrain the park offers.

One of the many climbs: This one is rocky but with great traction.

Many of the trails are wooded.  All of them are hilly.

The photo doesn't quite do justice to the grade of this incline.  This is on the way up to the top.  The rock is volcanic rock that is everywhere in this part of the city.

Lizard Alley.  Lizards scurry across the path every time I run through here. My favorite trail in the park.

In conclusion: Bosque del Tlapan is a great place to get a long run in.  I came out here today to do 30K, and although I did repeat some sections, it never got boring, and I was able to get in a decent amount of vertical (2,146 according to my Garmin) in that distance.  According to Garmin the elevation starts at 7,589 and tops off at 8,133.  Here's a link to my painfully slow run: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/170907089.  At least I got the miles in.  The vertical was only about 500 feet short of the 2,753 I climbed last Sunday in the race up to Nevado de Toluca, so the potential is there to get some vertical without traveling outside of the city.  Note: my Garmin's readings tend to be less than published elevations, so keep that in mind.

One can't go too far in Mexico without encountering the image of the Virgen of Guadalupe.  This one is hidden in the woods alongside one of the more remote trails.

Skyrace: 26K. 15,000 Feet Up

The group “Solo para Salvajes,” run by Pedro Fletes Omaña puts on a series of annual mountain races in Mexico.  They run at least two races every month.  Three weeks ago I ran the Reto Del Real de Catorce, which, in its fourth year, is a new run for the group, and it’s also the farthest away: 8 hours north of Mexico City, making it a small race of about 140 people.

  In contrast, the Nevado de Toluca Skyrace or “Mexiquense” is in it’s 16^th year.  This year nearly 700 runners lined up at the start.  For the Mexican mountain running community, it’s a classic.

  The original name of the volcano in Nahuatl is Xinantecatl and its elevation of 15,354 feet (4,680 meters) makes it the fourth highest peak in Mexico.  No longer active, Xinantecatl last erupted in 1350 BC.
 So there was one thing I didn’t have to worry about.   

  Located about an hour and a half (on a weekend morning with no traffic) outside of Mexico City, Xinantecatl provides a great opportunity to train, as even in January one can run in and around the crater of the volcano with running tights and a few basic layers.

   I thought I knew what to expect in this race.  The distance was familiar: I had just run 26 k in the first leg of the Reto Real De Catorce three weeks ago.  And the course was familiar as well: I’ve hiked Nevado de Toluca a couple times and I was here in January with the RunMX crew for a training run.  That run in January was when I knew I wanted to start racing in the mountains.

  In that training run in January, we logged only 11k and ran and hiked around the crater.  The long winding dirt road to the top we drove.  So I had an introduction to the course and I knew how sluggish it could be running at 14,000+ feet.

Course map with altitude

   After my bonk in the final kilometer in Real, I was ready this time with water and plenty of GU.  I wouldn’t have the heat to contend with, but there was more climbing in this race.

  The real unknown was the altitude and my lack of training at this altitude other than that run back in January.  It’s not that I train in the flatlands: Mexico City and the surrounding areas where I run range from 7,000-9,000 feet, but things get weird after 13,000.  The Nevado de Toluca Skyrace, or “Mexiquense,” starts at over 12,000 feet,  the same altitude that was the high point of the race in Real de Catorce.  The climb on the back side of the crater tops out at over 15,000 feet.  Also, there would be almost no flat sections except for the short jaunts around the two lakes inside the crater of the volcano.  The course climbed up a two track dirt road for about 8 kilometers before it climbed at a more steeper grade to the lip of the crater.  At that point it descended into the crater, around the lake of the moon and then a slow, brutal trudge (at best) up to the Pico de Fraile (friar’s peak), the high point of the race .  The trail then went straight down to the crater.  No switch backs: just sliding down loose stones for 1,000 feet, which absorbed the blow of the descent but made stopping difficult.

Straight down into the crater.

   My plan was to take it easy but steady on the first part of the course which was a runnable dirt road that steadily climbed up to the pass to the crater.  At that point I knew it would be hiking up into the crater, running down and around lake of the moon, and then the long slow hike up to the peak.  I believed that after that ascent I would fly down into the crater, run around the bigger lake of the sun, one last hike out of the crater and then blast it down the hill at around 10 k pace.  Solid plan except for that last part about 10k pace.

El lago del Sol

 I learned that downhills aren’t for free.  My plan worked like magic for a while.  Running up the road I ran for a while with Martin, a runner I had met briefly in Real.  I would continue to see him until I summited the pico de fraile. I arrived at the top of the run at exactly 2 hours, just as I estimated.  My mistake was thinking that the rest of the race at that point was just a formality.

   I negotiated the skiing section of this course down into the crater with only one fall.  However, that fall scared me and slowed me down.  Once down in the crater I sat down with all the other runners who didn’t have gaiters and removed the rocks from my shoes.  Then a slow run around the lake at 13,800 feet.  There were guys taking a dip here.  Nuts.  I wasn’t expecting to make time here, as I knew how difficult it was to run fast at this altitude even though it’s flat.  I just wanted to keep running.  At least I would make better time than the swimmers.  I ran to the hike out of the crater, down the pass and hit the aid station at the road.  A cup of Gatorade and then began the run.  There was a reason the road seemed so runnable coming up: it’s not that steep.  I was running, but couldn’t get any speed going.  I was haunted a bit by the end of my last 26K, which took such a sudden turn for the worse that I didn’t want to repeat that, so I just plodded along.  I had been eating a GU every 45 minutes, and I felt ok, just sluggish.  I maintained a slow jog, trying to enjoy the scenery, reminding myself  not to stop, but it didn’t get any easier.  Even when I dipped below the tree line and the downhills were a bit steeper, I couldn’t pick up the pace.  I was alone for much of this time, but quite a few runners caught me and passed me .  I was miserable enough that I didn’t pick up the chase, though I kept trying to push it.  How was it possible the road seemed longer going down than going up?  Finally, I could see cars lining the road and hear cheering.  I knew I was close.  The guy shuffling behind me picked up the pace and I found myself in what I felt was a silly sprint to the finish. 3:53.

  Aside from a disappointing last part of the race, the experience was incredible.  Driving out to the volcano in the morning made me realize it’s really not that far from Mexico City, and I need to get out here more frequently.  I would like to return to hike/run around the rim of the volcano, which is more appealing for me than running up 9 kilometers of dirt road.  The running and hiking around the crater is incredible. 

    If you like to run mountains and find yourself in or around Mexico City, the trip to Xinantecatl can’t be missed.

The road to the crater

Next Race:  May 6, Tras Las Huellas de Quetzalcoatl in Tepoztlan.  16K.  A run up into the cliffs surrounding Tepoztlan and then back down. Short and steep.


Note about photos: Except for the photo of my race bib, all the photos were found online in the public domain.  If you recognize your photo, drop me a note and I'll credit the photographer.

First Race in the Mountains: Real De Catorce

Our Hotel

Day 1: 26 Kilometers.  2:30pm

    Lots of firsts: My first trail race, my first mountain race, my first race over 25 kilometers, my first time racing two days in a row…. and all in one of the most incredible locations in Mexico: Real De Catorce.  A tiny town located far from nowhere high up in the mountains looking down on the altiplano (high desert) below.  Surrounded by the ruins of the town's silver mining heritage, Real is known for it’s incredible beauty and perhaps most famously for Wirikuta, the sacred site of the Huicholes, and for the peyote that grows down in the desert.  Real de Catorce attracts a diverse crowd: intrepid European tourists, well-heeled families from Monterrey and lots of seekers who come in search of visions in the desert.

The trail down to the desert

 Tania and I arrived Friday morning, so there was time to wander the town and we managed to spot a few course markings.  The town would soon fill up with racers, as just about every hotel room was booked.  It doesn’t take much to fill all the hotels of Real: about 250 people.

  The first day of the race started at 2:30, which made for a long, jittery morning and I fretted about what to eat.  I skipped my usual chilaquiles breakfast and opted for hot cakes at the Meson De Abundancia.  Later I ate some bread and a banana.  Much later I realized my error.  But first, the race start.

  About 200 racers lined up near the small zocalo.  I had forgotten my hydration pack in my car at school so I had bought a Guatemalan style fanny pack in the local market.  Aside from the fun of saying I was racing with a fanny pack, there was the practical angle of having a place to put some money and Tania’s camera.  In my hand I carried a 600 liter Gatorade bottle filled with water.  The course had two aid stations: one back at the zocalo at 11.5 kilometers after an out and back and than another at tha bottom of our run, at 18.5 kilometers.  Also, the race instructions warned that the aid at kilometer 18.5 would be available "if God permits."  Therefore, it was essential to carry what one needed.  Not the race to forget my Nathan pack.  
  The one bright spot, ironically, was the day was cloudy and overcast  Usually the sun is brutal during this time of day, making hydration even more crucial.

Pedro Fletes Omaña, organizer of this race and many, many others through his group "Solo Para Salvajes." If you want to know about trail running, mountain running and/or skyracing in Mexico, this is your guy.  Check out the site: www.parasalvajes.com.mx

  Because I’d never run a race in the mountains or on a trail (nor run uphill for nearly 8 kilometers) I started conservatively.  Our run headed out to the mountains, past Rincon Magico and the cemetery, for those who know the town.  We cut left and were running on rolling hills, lots of little ups and downs.  I ran the flats, blasted the downhills and powerhiked the ups.  I knew the race would really start at 18.5 Kilometers and the long run/hike back up to Real.  I needed to save some energy for that climb.

  I was feeling fantastic 11.5 kilometers after this first out and back, and ate half a banana and chugged some Gatorade with Tania at the aid station.  And then a short jaunt before the runners turned off the road and were directed down the “zigzag” single track that would take us down to the main canyon road that is primarily used for horses and the 4x4 Jeeps they call “Willy’s” here.

These are vintage jeeps are somehow still running and serve as the primary mode of transportation to bring people down to the desert and back up to town.  Click this link to see a Willy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/50484247@N00/3683830994/

  I realized quickly I was moving more quickly than the other runners on the downhills.  The zigzag, as they called it, was a lot of loose rock and dirt, steep drop-offs and cactus-lined, but I flew, passing more people in this section than I passed all race.  At one point in a moment of exuberance I jumped up on a rock to pass a racer and descended past him.
  That rock would play a very different role for me two hours later….

Tania and I returned to the scene after the race: the beginning of the "zigzag"

  Too soon (this part was fun) I hit the two-track road that winds down the valley and I slowed my pace a bit as it was going to be a long, quad-pounding downhill for the next 6 kilometers or so, with only a couple short flat sections and one or two short up hills to change up the pace. 

  I reached the turnaround where there were a handful of simple dwellings,  and local kids came running up with Gatorade, coke and water.  I took a shot of coke, drank some Gatorade, refilled my water bottle, and started heading up.  I was excited and I felt good. Most of the running was done, it was just a 7.5 kilometer power hike back up to town.  I had trained for this, walking as fast as I can on the treadmill cranked up to 15.  Also, because the section was out and back I knew exactly who was in front of me and who was behind me, and I didn’t think there could have been more than 25 people in front of me.  I felt I had a decent chance of having a good race.  And if I had something left to run the final kilometers, even better.

  The hike started great.  Two runners that I had passed on the switchback downhill  --“The bumblebee couple” I dubbed them because they were wearing matching black and yellow outfits--  did pass me, but I kept them in site about 80 meters ahead.  I thought I would keep them there, pace off them and see what I had left to pass them during the last part of the climb.

  Another guy I passed on the downhill, the tall man with the yellow hat, also passed me, but I was able to reel him in.  He was doing this weird shuffle run and seemed to be working very, very hard to move very, very slowly.  I passed him hiking.  Thirty seconds later I heard him retching pretty hard.  But he kept moving.  I didn’t think I would see him again.

  I ran the one downhill and flat that this section has going back up to Real, but then my stomach started knotting up.  My pace slowed.  Suddenly I wasn’t having fun, but I was moving.  I should have stopped for a snack or a coke, but I kept going and I passed the last of the little tiendas where one could buy a snack or something to drink. 

  This all happened at about 23 kilometers.  I thought I would hike through it and start to feel better, but I was cramping bad, and worse, my energy was fleeing.  My pace slowed some more.  A few people passed me.  I gave up on reeling in the bumblebee couple.  But I kept moving, slowly.  Things got worse.  I was desperate for a coke, thought I needed salt.  Shuffling.  One foot in front of the other, just keep moving.

  Eventually, the tall man with the big yellow hat passed me.  He could see I was hurting and told me that I should ask a passing “willy” for a coke.  I thanked him and shortly thereafter a “willy” did come by and in what probably sounded like desperation I asked them if they had “algo con sodik?”  They had little plastic bags filled with coke and Gatorade.  I don’t know why I just took the coke.  I thanked them profusely for the baggy of warm, flat coke, and tried to drink it.  My stomach didn’t want to take in anything, but I knew I had to force it down.  I sipped from it as I shuffled, more slowly now. 

  Thoughts about placing and a good time were replaced by a desire to just finish.  And than for the first time I stopped, and kneeled down, staring at the dirt in front of me. I didn’t sit.  Yet.

  I made it to the zigzag where the climb became much steeper.  I sat down for the first time.  Head in hands, not sure what I should do.  I had seen a guy earlier stretched out on a rock, trying to sleep.  I checked to see if he was ok, if he needed anything. His symptoms seemed the same as mine: knotted stomach, no energy.  I wanted to lie down, but thought if I did I would never get up.  I kept shuffling.  The sleeping guy would later pass me. 

 I slipped into a mode of walking 20 meters and then sitting down.  All the people I had passed began to float by.  At one point I perched upon the very rock I had soared of off while descending.  I was down, but I kept it positive, and even when sitting gave each person who passed by a little cheer. 

  The other runners could see I was hurting and soon people started offering help.  A woman gave me a couple red electrolyte beans with some sugar.  I chewed those, even though I didn’t want to, and walked a few more meters.  An older gentleman came by –the eventual winner of the 60-65 category, to give you an idea of where my time was heading—and gave me a capsule with electrolytes, “the same as Gatorade, he said.”  I walked a bit more.  One of the top finishers came down the hill to scout for his friends and help others out and he gave me a few swigs of coca cola.  He wanted me to walk with him and his friends, but I couldn’t.  Too dizzy, too weak.  I thanked them, told them I was ok, sat down and watched them go.  My Garmin wasn’t even reading a pace at this point.  Runners that I hadn’t seen since long after the turnaround began to catch me, runners that hadn’t been near me all race. 

  And then I could see the town.  I could see the Rincon Magico.  I could see the house I rented with some friends one weekend a couple years ago.  I started to feel a bit better.  Still wanted to vomit but couldn’t.  I shuffled up the trail and onto the road, finally.  One small climb and then a downhill to the finish.  Less than 300 meters.  I couldn’t walk it all without stopping.  I didn’t sit, but stood in the road with my hands on my knees.  Couldn’t even give the token run at the finish, which was downhill.  There was Tania.  She had Gatorade.  I had finished in 4:02. Kilometer 24 took me 22 minutes. 

  Kilometer 25?  Forty-four minutes.  And then 18 minutes to walk the last 400 meters.

I drank the Gatorade and started to feel ok again.  I had finished the first day of the race.  Now I needed to recover and find the will to run the 16 kilometer race on Sunday which would take us up over the mountain behind the town.

  After a dinner which consisted of a coke, a beer, a salad, lasagna and the entire basket of bread (I think Tania had one piece) I felt tired and sore, but great.  I realized my mistake of not eating enough before and during the race.  I really don’t think I burned myself out on the downhills but just flat ran out of fuel.  Tomorrow would tell.  The second stage of the race would start 13.5 hours after I finished the first one.

After day one, contemplating the "bonk."

Day 2: 16 Kilometers. 8:00am

  I opted out of the fanny pack, so no camera for this race.  I carried two bottles: one was half water and half electrolyte (what they give dehydrated babies) and the other was Gatorade.  I had a chunk of bread in my back pocket.  This was overkill, I knew, but I wasn’t taking any chances after yesterday’s bonk in the final kilometers of the race.  The second leg of the race begins with a climb up the mountain behind Real, flattens out for a bit of ridge running, and then climbs a bit higher to the high point of the race: 3,000 meters.  After that it heads downhill until we hit the 2.5 kilometer tunnel that is the entrance to the town.  We would run out of the tunnel, back through and then back to the start. 

   I started climbing conservatively, powerhiking, not running, but when I looked up and saw the single line of climbers I tried to pass as many runners as I could before it would become difficult to pass on the singletrack up the mountain.  We hiked up to the ridge and then ran about a kilometer out and back before heading the other way on the ridge.  The view from this point made me wish I’d brought tha camera: misty mountains as far as the eye could see.  The ridge began to climb and we passed under the antennas that one can see from the town.  I talked briefly with a woman about her experience at the Rocky Racoon 100 in Texas, and then she passed me on the flat ridge.  A guy asked me for a swig of Gatorade, and he informed me it was all down hill from here until the tunnel.  So I hit it.  We ran down past the two “puebla fantasmas,” the remaining ruins of the silver mining glory days of Real, and continued down the road which, like most of the roads in Real consist of stones polished from centuries of use.  Not great to run on, and crushing on the down hills.  I didn’t care, and passed by the woman I had been talking with along with many others.  Again I was surprised at how slowly people took the downhills.  I did not want to be passed by them when I hit the tunnel, which was a 5k: 2.5k out to the entrance, 2.5k back into town and then a little less than a kilometer into town.  Running back through the tunnel I saw lots of the faces that passed me yesterday on the hill, and I didn’t want to let that happen again.  There had been nothing but some token flat running all race until this point.  I kept at it in the tunnel and forced myself not to look back and concentrated on turnover.  When I emerged from the tunnel, I pitched my last bottle and gave it all I had left.  The market was filling up with people and we ran right on through, folks stepping out of our way.  I finally looked back: no one in sight.  One last little climb to the zocalo and I was done.  1:52. 

   In retrospect, I believe I could have climbed more aggressively and still finished as strong, but considering what happened on the first day, I was satisfied with my race.

Last little hill and then into the finish

Epilogue:  Tania and I stayed in town Sunday night, which meant we were basically the only tourists in town.  We had the hotel to ourselves.  After a rest, we walked back to the zigzag singletrack from the first day of the race and hiked down a bit.  I pointed out all the rocks I sat on, and we enjoyed the spectacular views of Real de Catorce as the sun went down. 

Next Race: Nevado de Toluca Skyrace.  26K, April 16  A run up into the old crater of a volcano...and then all the way back down. 15,000 feet up!