Rover Marathon Race Report: The Ups and Downs of Running from DF to Cuerna

Rover Marathon: Mexico City to Cuernavaca

  I slept soundly until three and then tossed and turned until my alarm at five. It was raining steadily. Rain in Mexico City is a daily event, but almost never in the morning. Hurricane Ernesto had other ideas. I unpinned my number from my short sleeve shirt that I had so carefully prepared the night before, pinned it to a long sleeve and then hesitated over my gore tex rain jacket that is most definitely a hiking jacket, not a running jacket. The thought of being up at 3,000+ meters under a freezing downpour convinced me to put it on. That and it was really cold out and I had to walk about a mile to the metrobus station, and I didn't want to be wet and cold before the race started.

  

  The adventure started a bit earlier than I would have liked. I arrived at the metrobus station only to wait ten minutes for a bus to show up. It was packed with people and there was no way I could have squeezed in. I was starting to get impatient and worry about missing the start of the race when finally another bus showed up. I haven't seen any form of public transportation so crowded since I lived in Tokyo and white-gloved men in suits would literally shove the passengers into the train so the doors can properly close. So I exited the station and caught a cab, which turned out to be a brilliant move and the best 100 pesos (7 bucks) I ever spent on a cab because I made it to the race start just in time to hit the bathroom at the Pemex gas station.

  

 I was still waffling over the jacket. There were people in short sleeves; there were folks more bundled up than I was. There was a "guardaropa" service that would haul any clothes you put into a trash bag to the finish. The deciding factor was that the line for the "guardaropa" was endless and the race was about to start. There is no chip time in these events: they are timed by hand. I started trudging uphill with a few hundred other people. I was already getting hot in my jacket.

Heading up. A rainy start.

  The Rover Marathon is the oldest marathon in Mexico. It starts in the south of the city, and climbs up over and down the mountains that divide Mexico from Cuernavaca.  According to my Garmin Data the course climbed 4,100 feet and descended for 6,000 feet (Cuernavaca is lower than Mexico City) A basic course description would read as follows: Run (ha!) Hike up for 20k, Run down for 20k. Somewhere in there is about 2k of flat. Try not to get lost. 

Runners in the mist.

Maguey.

  Without knowing the course, it's really hard to pace in these events. I started conservatively as I almost always do trying to feel things out. The course just went up and up. Finally the neighborhoods thinned out and we were --finally-- in the woods on trail. I would estimate the first 10k was 80% hiking. I hiked all but the shallowest grades and ran anything that was runnable, but it wasn't much. I started to get a little panicky: my marathon moment has arrived and I'm hiking?? At about 10k was the first aid station. They had small cups of gatorade.

  Advice #1: Despite the advertised aid stations, this --and every other mountain race I've run in Mexico (5 and counting)-- are essentially self-supported races. Unless you can run for 4+ hours on an hourly cup of gatorade or water (and the next aid station only had water) and the rare quarter slice of banana, carry what you need. The good news is that this marathon cost me 250 pesos (not quite 20 bucks) to run, which is the going rate for these types of races. What are they charging for the NYC Marathon these days? 250 bucks?? Ok...back to the race

Between 10 and 20k I started getting into my groove. I felt good and was starting to run up any hill that was remotely runnable. I passed a lot of people this way. At one point I lost some position because I had to duck in the woods for a moment. I discovered that I had 2 squares of toliet paper. One-ply. Do the math. It wasn't pretty. With a mental reminder not to shake anyone's hand for the next few hours, I got back on the trail.

The rare aid station.

Advice #2: Buy two-ply toliet paper. You might thank yourself one day.

 At about 20K we arrived at the top of the course. I grabbed a cup of water (to conserve the water I was carrying, which turned out to be stupid) and began running downhill.  There was some cool singletrack in this section and it was a very enjoyable section of the race. However, run downhill for long enough and a very strange thing will happen: you will start wishing for uphills. As we descended into Tres Marias, the course flattened out for a bit, and for me this was even worse. I'm not fast; I don't have a lot of leg speed. I have never broken 50 minutes for a 10k (PR: 51:19). So the second most miserable part of the race for me was the big, fat, flat road that we had to run into Tres Marias.

  The good news here was that Tania, Dean and Amanda had made the drive out to Tres Marias. This provided me a huge mental boost and kept me moving on that miserable road. The other great thing was that I had carried my phone for photos and sent a frantic text to Tania early in the race: Plz bring handheld bottle! I dumped my Nathan pack with my gore tex coat tied on to it and grabbed the bottle. Man, this was how I should have been running....

Shedding the Nathan Pack in Tres Marias    Photo:Tania

Big Boost from seeing Tania, Dean and Amanda at Tres Marias.   Photo: Tania

  About 11K to go but the descending continued through some really cool trails that were also treacherously slippery and washed out. This was another very enjoyable section but I had left my phone with Tania so I have no photos of the trail. At about 39 K we emerged into the city. Mercifully, this pavement section was all downhill. I'll be honest, if there had been an uphill in this section, I would have walked; if there had been a flat section I would have cried. My knees were done, but I could smell the barn. Jose Luis and I had been leapfrogging back and forth all race and I thought I had finally put him away in trail descending from Tres Marias. But there he was on the other side of the road cruising. They don't close streets for these races; we run with the cars. I was too tired to care, and the thought of being run over by a bus was not entirely unpleasant at this point.

  I didn't think I could match Jose Luis's pace, but as we turned into the stadium I saw the finish line and got a burst of speed and I was gaining on Jose Luis...

  ...And then I realized it wasn't the finish line but I had to run all the way around the track. This was the worst moment of the race. Seems silly in retrospect, but at that moment it was crushing. Dean was there taking photos and I actually started walking for a moment. Jose Luis was gone. No one was behind me at this point, but walking in was ridiculous, so I picked up the pace and finished the race. 5:33:55 according to my watch.  It will be at least a few days before official results are posted.

Entering the stadium, closing in on Jose Luis...  Photo: Tania

What? I have to run all the way around the thing? Jose Luis finishing and I'm way back now. Photo: Tania

Done.                                         Photo: Tania

  Incredible experience, from beginning to end.  Now I have two weeks to the Mexico City Marathon. This is going to be a completely different beast, as I won't be weighed down, there is no real climbing, but that means I am going to have to run the whole thing at a real running pace. It will be harder than this race, strange as that may seem. My knees felt terrible earlier today, but they are better now. I'm supposed to do a 10 mile Marathon pace run on Thursday, which at the moment seems about as daunting as going back over to Cuernavaca.  I will stay flat for the next two weeks and see how the legs feel. My goals for that race are:

1. Don't get injured

A goal: sub four hours. The Mcmillan Running Calculator predicts a 4:05 finish, but I think I can best that. 

B goal: 4:00

C goal: Finish

Running Geek Stuff:

Garmin Data

Smart things I did: 

   •ate a gu every 45 minutes. Never came close to bonking, except my mental bonk at the end when I realized I had to run 300 meters around a track.

   •slow start, but started running hills at 10k. 

   •ran all the flats and downhills no matter how miserably slow I was moving.

   •Stayed on course. The course was erratically marked. At times it was over marked, and you would find three orange ribbons in a 100 meter section, but there were at least three key forks that were not marked. Twice I had to wait a moment for someone to catch up who new the course. 

   •Brought the gore tex jacket. Even though I never needed it, I think it's usually smart to respect the mountain.

 Dumb things I did:

  •I loaded my Nathan pack with 2 liters of water. When I dropped it off with Tania it still had 1 liter of water left, which I needlessly humped over the mountain. Yeah, I need to drink more, but if I'm not going to do that, I need to carry less. Two handheld bottles would be the way to go in this race, as they could be refilled at the aid stations. Refilling a Nathan Pack is also possible, but takes too long.

  •Neglected to order a Patagonia Houdini Jacket when Dean was in the U.S. This would have been the ticket. Enough protection from rain, provides some warmth and can be compressed to the size of my fist.

  I wore Brooks Cascadia 7's with Smart Wool PHD socks. No foot problems.

Pre-race thoughts: The Rover Marathon

  Yes, I've neglected my blog. Fortunately, I haven't neglected my running. The summer began with two very different races. The first was the 32nd edition of the Dia Del Padre half-marathon in Mexico City on June 17. This was a popular race that attracted 14,000 people. The course was straightforward: we ran slightly downhill for the first 10k and then climbed up an exit ramp that took us back up to the finish on a slight incline. I ran steady and in control, and with the exception of a bit of laziness and mind wandering at kilometer 17 and fumbling for my phone to try and make a call so that my daughters would know that I was coming through at kilometer 19, my pace was steady and I had some reserves at the end. I finished in 1:56 and change and probably would put my effort at 93%.  The following week I ran a race that traversed the Sierra De Guadalupe in the northern reaches of the city. This race is yet another classic of the solo para salvajes mountain running circuit and took us through a rugged, point to point course that was 20.8 kilometers long. There were some steep hiking sections, but most of the course was runnable, albeit slowly. It took me 3:01 and change to complete the course. Here's the Garmin data for the race. Again, I felt strong at the end  which made me feel that my training was in a good place for my goal races for the summer.

  And now those goal races are here. The first race is the Rover Marathon, a race that according to my math will climb 3,700+ feet from Mexico City up over the mountains and then down into Cuernavaca. Here's a map of the race:

This will be my first marathon. The second one will be the more traditional city-street style Mexico City Marathon which will be run on September 2. After tomorrow's race I will have one more hard week of training and then a week of tapering. I followed a training program put together by the Hanson's brothers. I modified it a bit by including lots of climbing and hills and a couple extra long runs. My hope was that I could get "two-for-one" with this program if the marathons were close enough together.

After tomorrow's run I'll be able to report back on the folly of that idea. I'm bringing the phone for this one so I should have some lousy pics to share.

  The hay is in the barn, as they say. I hope it's enough.

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.