The Javelina Jundred - Jopes And Jardships

What is failure? That is a question I had a lot of time to ponder out in the Arizona desert. Eighteen hours and fifty-eight minutes, to be totally accurate.

Mas Loco Sandwich

In a way, the Javelina Jundred represented the crowning of my ultra running season, a unique moment in my life where I spent months traveling and running events all over the Southwest with some of my favorite people in the world. It was, for me, the best possible chance I had of completing the titan of ultras, the 100-mile distance. All my friends would be there, I had a lot of inspiration and I had been told by many that the moment was right, that my time had come.

But the truth is, I had my doubts from the very beginning. My body, although solid and healthy, was tired and worn from the many other races I had done. From my altitude training spree in Boulder to Nine Trails to Javelina Jangover to Water is Life to Hunter Gatherer to Canyon de Chelly, I didn't have a lot of time for a key element; rest and recovery.

Only a week before J-Day, I traveled back to Montreal to be with my loved ones; this proved to be an unexpected emotional roller coaster from which I haven't really come down yet. I'd also suffered a slight injury to my ankle and, although my Medicine Woman had taken care of it the Wednesday before, I could still feel the echoes in my foot and lower leg.

This man?
He's my pacer, Officer.

Since Javelina is such an awesome event, filled with creativity and crazy cool people, I focused on the fun aspect more than anything and thought I could draw a lot of inspiration and motivation from it. I had also the immense privilege of having one of the finest ultra runners and bloggers in my world, Patrick Sweeney, as my pacer for the later miles. His friendship, experience and devastating sense of humor were a promise that my last loops would be memorable. My friend Caleb was around, too, and offered to take the second night shift if Sweeney wanted to pace another runner. Things couldn't be any better.

Slamtastic
Michael Miller

From the moment I met my friends to drive up to Fountain Hills until the time we hit the starting line, I had a big smile on my face. It was time for discovery, for an adventure out of my comfort zone and for a test of my endurance. I wasn't the only one in questionable shape, either; Mas Loco Michael Miller had a bum foot and my brother Tyler had a knee issue and looked all serious and worried. Many more runners shared they felt ill-prepared or nervous. We were all in the same boat.

I hit the trails with La Mariposa, determined to not go out too fast and enjoy my journey. We shared almost the first half of loop 1, then I slowly drifted after abundant hugs and good wishes. I wasn't running a lot, trying to keep my energy for later. I ran flats and downhills, but walked all the uphills. The strategy seemed to work really well and I had a lot of energy, aside from a slightly upset stomach I blamed on my plan to take electrolyte pills from the very beginning.

My first loop ended in good spirits, running with lots of cool people and having fun doing it. Sweeney was hanging out at the Javelina Jeadquarters, dressed up as a mariachi. Flamboyant. Things were going well.

The ever-so-lovely
Kimberley Miller

Kimberley Miller was at the turnaround aid station, and gave me critical advice for the day. «Loop 1 is done; now what you want is take it easy for loop 2 to have energy for loop 3, which is the hardest in your whole run.» I ate some fruits and a burrito, and on I went.

The first half of loop 2 was pretty uneventful, as I shared the trail with more interesting runners. My hydration was good and I was eating decent amounts of calories, too. I crossed Hal Koerner and the other front guys, but the one I was keeping an eye out for is Ian Sharman. When I saw him earlier, he looked fresh and on top of things, a sight that made me happy. We said hi quickly and he just whisked by, light and efficient.

After Jackass Junction, the halfway point in the loop, the desert sun started to hammer down. The heat rose quickly and sharply, and soon everyone seemed to slow down and feel heavier. I am not easily affected by heat, so I just smiled, soaked in the warm rays and kept going. I was walking more than I would've wanted, but I thought there was no point in trying to run more and blow out. As long as I kept moving, I thought, I should be fine.

Tyler Tarzan
in the desert sun

I crossed Tyler for the second time around that point, and he looked worried. I asked how he was doing, and from his tone, I could tell he was thinking of dropping down, or out. He told me Michael Miller wasn't feeling any better, which the man confirmed himself moments later. It seemed like no one was having a good day; I was definitely not the only one feeling it.

I finished my second loop in much worse a shape than I thought. Out on the trails, I felt hot but all right, but when I hit the aid station, I realized I was incoherent and disoriented. I walked to a big plastic tub and a really nice guy splashed my head and neck with ice cold water until I started making sense again. I knew this couldn't be good. I grabbed some food, a couple fistfuls of ice and chilled out for some minutes.

Then I took my first really bad decision of the day. I changed my shoes. I went to my van and grabbed my Skechers GoTrail, which fit snugger than my other shoes. This was made worse by the fact my feet had swollen and that I was wearing two layers of socks. Stupidly, I thought I'd spent enough time fooling around already and had to go back out. This would fix itself up by itself on the trails, right?

As any runner with half a brain already knows, it didn't. My feet started hurting really bad, and there was simply nothing else I can do than tough it out for 15 more miles, on the notoriously critical third loop, in 100+ degree weather.

I'd also grabbed my walking stick to try and lessen the impact of my running and walking, and the change of form it caused was pleasant. People on the trail started calling me StickMan, which I thought was cool and funny, and partly took my mind out of the hurting spiral I had gotten myself into.

I spent many miles with Tess, a really nice and experienced Javelina runner. She provided a lot of advice and corrected some hydration mistakes I had done by having me swallow several more S-Caps to prevent cramping. She also calculated that, at the pace we were both going, we would be in very good position at the end of the third loop to be 100-mile finishers. «We need to keep this pace up if we want to have more wiggle room later on in the run». But I could feel she was slowing down, ever so slightly. We remained together for some more time, but eventually, I realized she had dropped behind.

Oppan Gangnam Style!

By the time I hit Jackass Junction again, things were looking pretty bleak. I was exhausted, overheated and pretty much unable to run. I tried to stay in good spirits and kept a smile on nonetheless. I had a lof of fun at the station with Justin, who was reviving zonked runners and distributing quirky words of encouragement left and right. I even broke a little Gangnam Style dance before taking off.

Leaving the aid station, however, led me back to my solitude and my lingering thoughts about my ability to finish. I'm grateful I had a lot of time on my own, so I took a long, deep look at my day and my goals, and I asked myself honestly if I thought I could make a 100-mile finish. There were 4 more loops to run at that point (1/2 to finish my third, 3 more, then a final half-loop); My question pretty much answered itself.

I was unable to finish my third loop in daylight, which meant I had covered less than 75K in more than 12 hours. That was both disheartening and hard proof that my coveted belt buckle was definitely slipping away. Coming into the final stretch of my third loop, Tess caught up to me and I was really happy. I had picked up Luke, who at that point was probably the most zonked-out runner I had ever seen. He was delirious and incoherent, didn't have a light and couldn't make much better than 3-word phrases. There was no way I was going to leave him behind in the dark, so we walked together to the aid station. I tried to get some life back into him a little bit by offering stuff to eat, electrolytes or some water, but he said he couldn't keep even a single sip in. As we approached the aid station, I asked him how long ago was his last bite of food or drink of water. «Six hours», he answered. His race was over. He sat at the aid station and Tess and I hit the last stretch together.

Which way, again?

«You know,» she said, «You've got plenty of time to at least make it to a 100K, and you'll get a nice belt buckle for that, too». I was ready for that decision. I told her I was happy that I would at least make it that far, and that I'd do some of it with her. «Dear, the last thing I need is another 100K belt buckle. I have 3 of those already. I'm done, but you go get it.»

We walked in the Jeadquarters together, where a semi-worried Sweeney was waiting for me. «I'm not going to impose a death march on you, man. This loop's gonna be a zombie walk. You stay here and party, I'll be fine on my own.»

His answer? «No way!»

«Get your stuff together, go change your shoes, freshen up and meet me here in 15 minutes». He jumped out of his mariachi suit, put some running clothes on, and I threw away my Skechers and put on a third pair of shoes, with a change of socks. My feet suffered some damage, but they still were in decent shape.

It's amazing the effect of having a fresh runner by your side, when you feel so down and out. Sweeney was patient and joyful, and didn't go for a drill sargeant routine, instead choosing to just talk smack and laugh with me while we walked the long up to the half-way point. This made me feel really good, to have a good friend by my side, and to feel he wasn't disappointed in any way. We talked a lot, laughed a lot and, at one point and to my great amazement, I took a couple running steps that felt really, really good. So I kept going.

«Frenchie, you've managed to make me sweat!»

With a smile back on my face, I ran and power-hiked all the way to Jackass again, and decided to take a longer break to try and gather as much energy as I could. I ate tons of noodles, squeezed a gel or two and relaxed while Sweeney and Justin drank beers and had fun.

Heading back out proved extremely difficult, and my body was seized up. From that point on, I knew there was no way I would go further than the 100k, and that thought actually made me happy. I was still out here, in the dark, pressing ahead after many, many hours, and I would still manage to complete a distance I had only run one time before.

I eventually loosened up and managed a couple decent running stretches, but I knew that, as soon as we would hit the rocky downhill patches, my feet would hurt too much and I'd have to walk. As expected, the stretch took a long time to go through, and when we finally hit the last aid station, I was weak, beaten down and starving. We had planned to just walk through and keep going, but I had to sit down and slurp some more noodles.

I finally got back up and on the trail for one last time. At that point it was past midnight and I had been on my feet for more than 18 hours, but I promised my friend we would come in running for the finish. We kept talking and joking until we hit the road crossing, at last, and I broke into a little jog, that sped up to a decent running pace. After all that time, it seems that I still had some energy in me after all. I passed the finish line at 18 hours and 58 minutes while Sweeney looped around the chute and welcomed me home with a big hug. Having him with me on the trails meant a lot, and the emotions started to flow.

I then walked to the officials' tent, looked Nick Coury straight in the eye, smirked and said «I hereby request to be dropped down to a 100K.» He winked at me, handed me my belt buckle and said «You know, running a 100K is no small thing. Congratulations!»

I turned around to a big hug from Aquaphor Girl, AKA Volkswagen Runner Girl, AKA Deborah Goodwin and many congratulations from my friends who had already finished or called it a day. I sat down on a chair and finally enjoyed some rest, some great food and great conversations before finally passing out dead in my van for a couple hours.

I really didn't consider my Javelina Jundred to be a failure. I went out there with all I had, gave it my best and had the wits to know when to stop before causing any damage. It was a good day to be alive, a good day for a desert adventure and a good day to realize I had still some learning to do before I could be among the Big Buckle People.

100 miles, it seems, would have to wait.



Je n'ai pas couru 100 milles, cette journée-là, parce que ce n'était pas l'aventure dont j'avais besoin. Celle qui m'attendait s'est déroulée loin des sentiers, et va ma ramener à la maison, le coeur débordant.



Photo credits : Patrick Sweeney, Justin Lutick

Review : Bison Survival Products

My Survival Pod follows me everywhere

• Type : Survival gear
• Use : Any outdoor activity
• Price :
• BukaLite $22.00
• Flint and Steel $28.00
• Survival Pod $17.00

Introduction
I discovered Bison Design products at the beginning of my sabbatical, while running with friends. The idea is simple, yet clever : you wear gear made of sturdy para-cord that you can unbraid and use if you get in trouble. After trying out the classic safety bracelet, Bison offered me to take some of their other accessories for a real test in the Texas outback; the Hunter Gatherer Survival Ultra.

Test
The gear check at the Hunter Gatherer was not as strict for ultra runners as it was for survivalists, so I clipped the Survival Pod on my hydration vest and carried it with me without a worry. I wanted to see how well it would resist to all the swinging and banging of a 50K outing, most of which is off-trail bushwhacking through thorny bushes and cacti. I needed to make sure the pod would stay braided tight and not open up while on the run.

For clarity's sake, here's a rundown of the various pieces of Bison Gear that were brought on the trails :

 

Side Release Cobra Braid bracelet
This is the one I've been wearing non-stop for about 3 months now. Its a simple braided paracord with a clip buckle. If needed, it will provide 9 feet of 550 para-cord.






BukaLite bracelet
Same idea, but with the added feature of a micro LED flashlight in the buckle. Race director Josue Stephens has been wearing it out on the course while preparing his event and on various outings since.





Flint and Steel
My favorite! What a name ;) The Flint and Steel is not only a bracelet, but also a knife and a fire-making kit. The loop buckle is actually the handle of a micro-knife that is buried in the paracord, and the toggle is a 1'' flint. Unbraided, the bracelet provides 15 to 17 feet of para-cord






Survival Pod
This is the most bang for the size. You get a serrated and smooth double-edge micro-knife, a fire-making flint, 6'' of tinder and 3'' of duct tape, just enough to patch up a wound or a tear in your gear. All that wrapped in 4 feet of bright orange-colored para-cord.





Analysis
It's pretty simple; Bison gear works, and it stays tight even when you carry it in everyday outings. It needs no maintenance and offers peace of mind to you and your loved ones by knowing that, if push comes to shove, you can count on a compact survival kit that just might tip the balance in your favor in a critical situation.

Conclusion
Considering the retail price and the wide variety of products offered, there is no reason for an outdoor enthusiast to not get at least one Bison accessory. They are ultra-compact, easy to carry and can help you get out of trouble when it counts the most.

High points

• Rock solid
• Stays tight
• Affordable
• Can be re-braided

Low points

• Kits with knives cannot be carried on airplanes

The equipment for this personal review was supplied by Bison Designs free of charge, without any conditions.

A New Frontier

I've been running for over three years now. Every time I go out, I learn something new. I've done 5K's, 10's, half marathons, marathons and ultras up to 100k. In my relatively recent running life, I've probably run 5 or 6 marathons and about a dozen ultras, which doesn't exactly make me a seasoned ultra runner, but I feel like I've been around the block a couple – thousand – times.

They say you should do something that scares you every once in a while. Something out of your comfort zone. This Saturday, I'm about to try something that's about three light years away from that zone.

This Saturday, I'm about to try and run a 100-mile ultra.

I feel like I know nothing about running anymore. I feel like my training has been so inconsistent and random that I have no idea what I can do or how far I can go. I feel unsure if I can chew all of that big bite. I am worried, nervous. To be totally honest, I'm scared shitless.

They call us virgins. Runners who've never crossed a 100-mile finish. Some envy us for the discovery we're about to make, others think we've gone batshit crazy and need an intervention. My soul trembles at the mere idea of the sheer distance this represents, and my spirit doubts.

But sometimes, for a short moment, a warm wave of something rolls across my body. I think it's hope. It's a dream, an idea that maybe, maybe if I stick to my goal and grind away, happily, mile after mile, some sort of miracle of endurance will happen.

I will be surrounded by the absolute best people in the sport, after all. I will cross the path of people who inspire me in unspeakable ways. My spirit is accompanied by roaming souls of legends, ancient blessings and benevolent thoughts for the four corners of the world. I'm a lucky man.

Saturday, I will draw every last atom of inspiration I have gotten from all of you, in many different ways. I will spend long hours by myself, connecting with the ones who give me the strength, energy and resolve to move me forward and elevate my will.

Saturday, I will follow the sun and the moon through a complete cycle in the magnificent desert, through moments of elation and despair, vitality and exhaustion. But no matter what comes my way, I will keep taking a step forward. And all of you will be with me.

I will keep going.


I'll see you on the other side.

Review : Emergen-C Immune + Mix

• Type : Nutrition / hydration
• Use : Dietary supplement / Running fuel
• Price : $18 for 30-packet box

Introduction
As part of a prize package at Hunter Gatherer in Texas, I received a box of Emergen-C Immune +Mix. The idea is that it boosts your immunity while delivering an extra dose of vitamins and minerals, three things any distance racer should consider in their nutrition / hydration startegy.

Test
I dissolved a packet in water and was pleased with the taste and the refreshing feel of the fizziness. It is hard to actually tell exactly what benefits I received from the product and the website, although hilarious (It has phrases like «Get a dose of Kapow!») does not provide a lot of hints as to what exactly, aside from the supplement itself, the benefit of the mix might be.

Analysis
I do know for a fact that an overdose of vitamins is rarely harmful and that any unused volume of it will end up where it should be, filtered by your kidneys. Runners need a lot of vitamin C, which Emergen-C packs up. I am not so sure about the vitamin D, since we spend so much time outside; this is something that made me think the immune mix is probably not a running-specific product.

However, if there are immune system benefits to the product, this would be a good thing; endurance runners are always more at risk of catching a cold or some other ailment after a long event; boosting your immune system after such an event is definitely a good idea.

I will keep experimenting with Emergen-C, but will focus its use mostly on post-run drinks as an immunity booster.

High points

• Tastes good
• A shot of fizzy drink always feels better than a pill
• Boosting your immune system after a long run is a good idea

Low points

• Hard to tell if product really works
• Several ingredients (beta glucans, arabinogalactans) are not explained and sound like they come from outer space

Running With The Navajo - Canyon de Chelly Ultra

«Welcome, my People, my friends, ma family.»

Race director Shaun Martin

«Ya'at' eeh. As is Navajo tradition, please allow me to introduce myself.»

Shaun Martin doesn't speak like everyone. Tall, calm with vivid, fiery eyes, you couldn't miss him in a crowd of hundreds. He stood proudly in front of the runners, and went on to recite his name and his family background, in Navajo language.

«What I just did is state my name, my clan and my origins. I started by saying Ya'at' eeh. Translated to English, it is a salutation which basically means that you and I, we're good».

I felt immediately at ease. I'd traveled to Navajo Country with my friend La Mariposa and we'd arrived in Chinle, Arizona, just as the sun set over the distant horizon. The sky is large, here, the land is vast and the air is crisp. Sitting in an outside amphitheater, surrounded by runners and listening to Shaun, I was right at home.

A sacred place of magnificent beauty

Canyon de Chelly (promounced «De Shay») is a place of legends. This space is sacred for the Navajo, and its access is strictly prohibited to anyone unless their clan lives inside the tall red rock walls. Visitors and tourists may glance at it from top lookouts, in the distance. As a world first, on October 12, we runners would have the immense honor of being allowed inside the Canyon and the great privilege of running its entire lenght.

After an evening of connecting with participants and organizers, where my imagination took flight with canyon legends and my heart filled with a deep sense of kinship, we went to sleep for a couple hours among the distant howls of the coyotes and the neighing of the wild horses. The next day, before first light, we made our way into the dark to a warm bonfire where a traditional breakfast of blue corn mash was awaiting us.

There, in the biting cold late-night breeze, gathered in a circle around the fire, we participated in a prayer to the new day and received an intimate blessing of cedar smoke, from a shaman who spoke to all in a mix of Navajo and English.

Blessing ceremony

«You are about to perform a sacred act in the Navajo culture, called Dàghààh. Your footsteps will touch the earth while the sky awakens and sends its first sunlight. As you enter the mouth of the Canyon, the walls will slowly rise; this represents Mother Earth's arms opening to invite you, then rising up to take you to Father Sky.»

We left the warmth of the fire and took a couple steps to the starting line. Shaun stood at the front. «While you travel inside the Canyon, you are welcome to follow Navajo tradition and holler out to your heart's content. The more, the better. Your howls will echo along the rock walls and be heard from a great distance. Canyon residents and visitors to the rim are going to witness a very rare, awesome display of running today.»

Without any need to say more, both Shaun and the crowd united in a huge, wild, primal howl and the runners burst out in the early light. The moment was unique, magical, electric. A long line of awe-struck runners formed as we slowly left the low sand wash and entered the Canyon. Every step took us further in, swallowing us whole in unspeakable beauty.

As the rock walls rose around us, so did the very first sun rays. They painted the sky a deep blue, without a single cloud to cut through. The Canyon floor remained dark and mysterious for long moments before the light was high enough to spill from the rim, splashing vivid swaths of red, orange, yellow and white on the sheer cliffs and revealing ancient drawings and petroglyphs of prancing horses, wild deers and other traditional symbols scattered from low-hanging ledges up to unimaginable heights.

Trevor Williams

I crossed the path of another runner, Trevor, whom I associated right away with the strength of the Great Bear. Joyful and soft-voiced, he shared many miles with me and his vision of running as a way of enlightenment. Many words and footsteps later, we were running together as brothers.

To the sound of wild howls and excited shouts, we kept venturing further inside this low valley at the bottom of the high plains. Canyon de Shelly twists and turns, and takes you in different directions as you go. By doing so, it offered me dozens of mesmerizing sunrises that morning. Each one unique. Each one imprinted in my soul forever. This is a place of undescribable beauty, to which no word can truly pay tribute.

800-foot tall Spider Lady

After slowly parting from Trevor, my journey took me from sandy washes to creek crossings to cliffsides, along Puebloan cave dwelling ruins that date back to thousands of years and the traditional houses of modern-day clan members who live in this marvel of our world. With many footsteps behind me in the sand, I made my way to the deepest end of the Canyon, where its grandest jewel lays. Spider Rock stands straight, hundreds of feet in the air, like the giant needle of a timeless sundial. From the first moment I rejoiced to the sight of its tip to the instant I humbly passed at its very bottom, at least half an hour had elapsed. I lifted my head and gazed at its peak, in high reverence, then left the sandy grounds for the red earth of the single track that climbs all the up to the top.

Bat Trail marked my meeting point with sister runner Wendy, a cheerful Boulderite who was more than excited to tackle the great climb to the rim. Strong and nimble, she made fast work of the steep rocky trail while sharing stories of happy travels and inspiring moments. We ran as one, reaching the top in what seemed to be mere minutes.

We were welcomed at the summit by smiling aid station staffers who made sure we took a moment to turn around and breathe in the astonishing wide view of the Canyon we had just traveled. In the late morning sun, the whole valley was glorious with green patches cutting through a sea of sand, walled in by swirling, multi-colored cliffs. It was unbelievable.

Wendy Drake

I spent many more miles with Wendy, sharing stories, snacks and laughs. While the descent and first miles of our return felt breezy and exhilarating, the second half of the way back started to take its toll as the heat rose, the deep sands made our feet roll and the creek crossings filled our shoes with heavy, caky mud.

I found myself in meditative solitude again, but slowed to a walk while I was trying to revive my body and refresh my legs. My spirit, unaffected, was soaring high and wide. The last miles of my journey proved the most taxing and difficult, as my feet seemed to sink in the loose sand without the ability to push off. Progress was slow, but my resolve was strong. I kept moving forward, taking advantage of many marvelous sights and noticing details that had escaped my attention earlier.

Navajo runner Will Yazzie

As the arms of Mother Earth slowly lowered from the Sky and reopened to release me to the celebration of an incredible adventure, I had a moment of sadness for leaving this sanctuary of magic and wonder. As I've done before, I left a part of my soul there, but took a piece of this treasure with me in return.

I came out richer than I went in, humbled by a run among the Ancient Spirits and overwhelmed with the encounter of yet another clan in the world wide tribe of The Running People.

Coming to the final line with finishers and spectators screaming my name and cheering, I stopped and faced a beaming, proud Shaun Martin who offered the heartfelt hug of a brother and attached a traditional Navajo turquoise necklace around my neck.

Peace, joy, kinship and connection were victorious that day. And among the moments of elation and amazement, at the height of everything, a running experience that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

You were right, Shaun Martin. You and I, we're good.




Photo credits: Benedict Dugger, Maria Walton, Chip Tilden

Review : Saquito Mix

 

• Type : Nutrition / hydration
• Use : Running fuel
• Price : $22 for 8-packet box

Introduction
Since the world discovered the Raramuri (Tarahumara) runners with Born To Run, every aspect of their culture and tradition was scrutinized, in search of their «secret». The real, raw, awesome truth is : the Raramuri have no secret. They simply have a lifestyle that is radically different from ours and they use their body in ways we, the Westerners, have forgotten. They work very hard physically every day and their feet are their main means for locomotion. Try that for 365 days a year, a couple years in a row. Then show me how you run.

The grossest and most common misconception about the Raramuri, aside from the belief that they run barefoot, is that they use chia seeds in their diet. Let me be perfectly clear; in 4 trips, 12 weeks and numerous miles running with many Raramuri, I have not seen a single one of them use chia, and I have not been able to find the seed itself in any store in the Barrancas nor anyone who knew what the hell I was talking about.

With that said, some of the traditional Raramuri do carry a little pouch with them. It is filled with a very simple, hand-ground corn powder that smells like popcorn and is called pinole (pee-noh-lay). They have been using it mixed in water as a sports drink, and it can also be served hot as a kind of breakfast oatmeal.

Now that we have this straight, let's talk about chia, and more precisely, Saquito Mix.

Sampling
I had my first taste of Saquito at the Leadville 100, crewing for their sponsored athlete Tyler Tomasello. It was late at night, I was tired, I had not eaten enough that day, I was not doing too well with altitude and my shift as a pacer was coming up. A fellow crew handed me a pouch of Saquito to try, and I ate it without a second thought. Within about 15 minutes, I started to feel the effect. I was more alert, felt energetic and actually looked forward to my runner coming in the aid station. I was also satiated and felt just like I'd had «real food», not some quick gel or energy drink. I was impressed.

Testing
But that, really, was anecdotal. However, the same thing happened again at the Nine Trails Ultra a month later, when my friend Nancy gave me a pouch as a post-run snack. I was intrigued.

Then, I traveled down to Texas to run Josue Stephens' brutal Hunter Gatherer Ultra, which had Saquito as one of their main sponsors. Runners could have their choice of one pouch of Saquito, or a bison-based meat bar called Epic at various points on the course. Being more of a vegetarian than a paleo, I obviously opted for the former. The result was very clear; Saquito works, and it works very well.

Analysis

Taken from Saquito's Facebook page

The mix of chia and hemp seeds, coconut flakes, goji berries, cinnamon, vanilla beans and other ingredients is 95% organic, vegan, is low in sugars and high in protein and fibers. And that, I think, is the key; no quick sugar buzz, no crash and a long-lasting effect of satiation. The mix itself is simply a bunch of grainy stuff with a couple dried berries that you can chew on and rince with water. Surprisingly enough, it tastes pretty good; moreover, and contrary to many other fuels like gels, it still tastes good after many hours out on the trails.

If the grainy texture doesn't appeal to you, you can bake the mix into cookies or cakes. Since I am fully satisfied with the powdery mix, I haven't tried any of that fancy stuff. Saquito's Facebook page features some pretty yummy-looking images, if you're looking for inspiration, although no recipes are provided.

Conclusion
Saquito works. It wakes you up, gives you energy and provides a long-lasting sense of satiation without any crappy chemicals, high-fructose syrup or even caffein. That's pretty impressive. In a market full of sorbitols, xantham gums and other questionable compounds, Saquito offers a simple, natural and very efficient product based on quality ingredients, complete proteins, omega-3's, high fiber content and low sugars. For the health-conscious runner, it doesn't get any better than that.

High points

• It works for real; try it
• All natural ingredients and 95% organic
• Easy to eat and incites you to drink
• Tastes good, even after many hours
• Pouches are re-sealable and biodegradable

Low points

• At $3 a pouch, it's not cheap

Review : Skechers GoRun Meb Speed

• Type : Neutral shoe
• Use : Road running
• Price : 110$

Introduction
Meb Keflezighi is seriously fast. He's been working with Skechers for a while now, first in designing the GoRun and then his own signature shoe, which resembles a racing flat version of the typical Skechers models. The shoe is low, super light and looks like it's on fire. Will it make me faster?

Road Test
My favorite Skechers shoe, design-wise, was the GoBionic. I thought it offered the lightest, fastest feel of the family - until I tried the Meb Speed. This shoe is very, very light, but it offers some interesting features which add a certain stiffness to it that I really like.

I took my Meb's out for several shorter runs on road and concrete pathways. They are light and feel fast, just like agressive racing flats. They offer a little bit more cushioning, too, which makes me thing they would be a better choice for a longer run, like a road ultra.

Once again, the Resalyte sole material delivers fully, as it offers great flexibility and proprioception, yet cushions your foot just enough for great comfort. The overall weight of the Meb Speed is a featherly 6 oz and the upper fabric feels breathy and light.

The outsole features a pod system called GoImpulse Sensors that resembles other Skechers models, but is much lower and less in the way. The big difference with the Meb Speed is the «stability plate» located under the arch, which attracted some negative comments from other runners and bloggers. In all honesty, I can't even feel it; the only thing that bugs me a little bit is the gaping hole under the plate, which acts as a rock sucker. But other than that, the shoe feels awesome.

Analysis
The Meb Speed is a fine addition to Skechers' line of running shoes. It offers the best of a racing flat while still featuring minimal cushioning for long road rides. The fit is perfect and the shoe feels fast and solid. This is definitely my new shoe of choice for road racing. On a slightly irrelevant sidenote, I wore my Meb Speed's for a desert ultra marathon a couple weeks ago... and they are not a trail shoe.


High points

• Resalyte. 'Nuff said.
• Light and fast
• Solid feel

Low points

• Outsole hole is a rock sucker

The equipment for this personal review was supplied by Skechers, free of charge, without any conditions.

Hunter Gatherer Survival Ultra - Race Report

There are a lot of events out there who play the «badass» card. They have macho names, scratchy graphics and mud splats, and they make for awesome water cooler one-liners.

«Yeah, I ran the Bloody Gladiator last weekend...»

But for all the barbwire and mud pits these events feature, the truth is, they are not really difficult. They are still aimed at the general public and are very safe for weekend warriors of all calibers. Don't get me wrong; I have run some of these events myself and loved every minute of them. But although it's always a blast to roll in mud and jump all over the place, they are just not that challenging.

On the other side of the spectrum, there is another breed of events that are growing in popularity among the crowd of mean cross-fitters, tough ultra runners and survivalists. They basically throw you in harsh environments, offer little to no support and make sure the finisher rate will be as low as possible – including zero. There's one man at the center of this new trend; race director Josue Stephens. In an interview a couple weeks ago, I asked him what to expect from Hunter Gatherer. He said «The basis of this race is the Hunter Gatherer way of life. So our challenges will strip the athlete down to the nitty gritty basics and put them in survival situations through the entire course.»

Camp Eagle. Where everything wants to kill you.

I had these words in mind when I arrived in Rocksprings, Texas, last week. You know, although I'm pretty hard-headed and simply refuse to quit, I don't consider myself a tough guy. My sense of self-preservation is higher than my pride and testosterone, so I really expected to reach a point in the race – say, a hundred feet – where I'd just turn around and go home.

The group at Eagle Camp was awesome. About a third of the field was Mas Locos from the Canyons, and most of the others were from the survival scene. A lot of paths had crossed before at Fuego Y Agua in Nicaragua last year, and whatever remaining ice was broken in seconds at the Beer Mile that evening. It was obvious, we were among family.

Packet pick-up at Hunter Gatherer is no walk in the park.

The night before the race, runners got to cheer on the Survivors (the racers who would take on the various obstacles) whose packet pick-up consisted of carrying a log half their weight around and up a jagged mountain. Witnessing them at work chewed away at my own confidence, knowing that I would have to navigate the same terrain the next day. The cactus I kicked in my sandals on the way to the ridge also convinced me of two things; the run was going to be very rough... and I would run that one in shoes.

After a short night's sleep, we woke up at 3:00 am to get ready to cheer for the Survivors' start at 4:00. Instead of the usual busting out through the starting chute, they had to sit down with a knife and make their own sandals and backpack, then hit the trails. Looking at them tinkering, I was very thankful I would be wearing my rock-plated trail shoes for the day.

A little hour later, it was our turn to line up at the start. It was still dark and we had to run with lights, but we were allowed all the gear we could carry. There would be no food at aid stations, and we were only allowed to take water from various points on the course, so we had to carry a water filtering system. I personally went minimal and brought chlorine pills and a Buff to filter out scraps.

These people's idea of fun baffles me.

No more than 15 steps in the run, I came across my Mas Loco brother the Happy Badger, El Tejon Feliz, Tom Norwood of Luna Sandals. I was very happy to share some moments with him and recall his epic run in the Canyons last spring. Another runner joined us for a bit, and introduced himself. Tim Burke from Missouri. We agreed to run together for a while, and the first miles went really well. We went around and up the mountain, came back down, crossed a river and headed for the bushes through a rock path by the river bank. We cheered our lungs out for the Survivors who were swimming in the river, carrying their logs with them. Tough people, I tell you.

We hit the trails with high spirits and a good pace. It was still dark and we were making decent progress. Tim wondered if we were going too slow, and we agreed that we must've been about midpack, which is exactly where I wanted to be. My legs felt great and my energy even better.

Daylight slowly arose as we kept climbing along the switchback trails, which soon turned into... the wild. With only tape and reflector flags to follow, we left the single track and headed straight into the bushes. Naturally, we developed a really good navigation system; the runner in the front would lead the pack and follow the flags, until they lost sight of the next one. They then would say they lost the trail, so we would stop and all look into every direction in search of a clue. Whoever found the way headed towards the next flag, and the two other ones would fold back in line.

Using this very efficient technique kept us constantly moving forward, and we made good progress without any frustration. Soon enough, we emerged at the ridge and followed a trail that took us to the first check-in station, the windmill. We got there and unpacked some food, chatted a little bit and took it easy. Two runners were already there when we came in. One of the staffers then said something that took quite a bit of time for me to register.

«You're pretty relaxed for the leading pack».

Wait. What? «Well, there was this running couple, then this beautiful blonde girl.» Yeah, Stephanie Gardner. We know her. She kicks ass. She's awesome. And then?

«Well, then it's you guys.»

Silence.

We exchanged looks of both confusion and amusement. The two other runners quickly packed and left on the trail. But I was worried. Being in the lead at any point, furthermore that early in a race, was a baaaaaad sign for a runner like me. I consulted with Tom and Tim, who were as surprised as I was. Everyone felt good... and, since there was nothing else to do than keep going and see what happens, we packed and left.

Thorns. Spikes. Standard Texas terrain.

I guess from that point on, there was a little extra snap in our steps. I was trying very hard not to think about what just happened, but I couldn't help the excitement. No one was talking at that point, but it was eminently clear what everyone was thinking. We just kept a solid pace, ran when it made sense, fast hiked the rough patches and navigated the bushwhacks.

Soon enough, we hit a clearing with a good exposed climb, and we saw the two runners who took off ahead of us at the check-in station. They were still moving, but they were showing signs of struggle. The first guy we passed said he was having a rough patch, and the second was having knee issues and was now walking with makeshift wooden walking sticks he'd picked up.

We passed ahead and kept going. We had a good rhythm and all three of us were surprised that we could stick together that long without any extra effort. After a while, we caught up with another runner, Jason, who was filling up on water and didn't look too fresh. He had some scratching and a small bloody gash on the top of his head, so I figured he must've taken a tumble. A couple hundred yards later, we arrived at another check-in, called the tee-pees. It took us some time to realize this was the half-way point, and when we did, Tom rushed to get his drop bag. Neither Tim nor I had one, and Tom generously opened the big Ziploc blag and said to grab whatever we needed. I took some fruit puree, which tasted amazing.

Once again, we were told that we were respectively runners 4, 5 and 6 at that point. The excitement grew a little more. We quickly took off and started having a conversation I never thought I would have in my whole running career. «Sooooo... what are we gonna do? Battle for this?» It didn't take long to figure that one out. Hell no. We're a trio on this, and we run free. We all cross the line together.

Bushwhack after trail after rock climb after ridge, we kept going with great energy and motivation. Spirits were high and bad jokes were flying by, as was the time. This was going really well. After another check-in point, a high cabin on top of a rock wall, we started heading down and hit some pretty neat single track. But after a little while, Tom, who was in the lead, stopped. «I haven't seen a flag in some time now, have you?». Nope. «Tim?». No.

Crap.

After some hesitation, we tracked back. We hit the last visible flag and tried to figure out if we were on the right trail... Then Stephanie shows up! «What the fuck?!» was the general greeting. «Are you guys ahead of me?», she asked. Of course not! She was not on the same trail, but literally 12 to 15 feet below, on another segment. We all guessed that everyone was doing OK, after she confirmed she'd been on the same trail we were, pressed on and hit a check-in station lower down by the river. But that was confusing, and time-consuming. We hit the trail again, trying to make up for time lost, but Tim fell out of rhythm.

When the sun came out and the temperature shot up, I stopped hearing Tim's footsteps behind me. I started having a rougher time, too, but Tom was doing great. When it became clear that Tim was not following closely anymore, we agreed to keep going, but wait for him at the check-in station.

When we reached it, a very excited Zac Wessler was waiting for us, cheering. «Guys!!! You are doing AWESOME!!!». Like us, he couldn't believe the kind of day we were having. Without saying much, Tom and I quickly prepared what we needed and got ready to get some water. Zac pointed us to where we should go... a murky, mossy river about 75 feet below us, down a rock wall descent. It took me the best part of 5 seconds to make my decision. Fuck it. I wasn't going down there. I'd just go and use the water I had. I looked at Tom, and knew right away he was thinking the same thing. «How much have you got?» One full bottle and two half-full handhelds. We were both OK to take the gamble.

Then Tim reached the check-in. He was still moving, but looked tired and was in need of water. When he saw where the river was, he immediately understood the pickle we were in. «Go ahead», he said, «There's no way I can make it to the next water point, and this is gonna take me some time. You guys are looking great, just go».

I felt really bad, but I also knew that if I was ever to do well in a race, my best chance was probably right now. We hugged, Tim wished us good luck and we took off.

OK, let's make sure we take THIS step
at the same time...

My energy was coming back, after my low point, thanks in no small measure to Saquito. The chia/goji/hemp seeds/vanilla mix simply worked magic, satiating me and giving me awareness and energy without feeling wired. It was the first time I was trying it in a race, and I can tell you it's not the last. I'm very impressed.

Tom and I spent the next following miles running at a good pace, power hiking the climbs and making good time. The sun came up a couple times and made things quite harder in the open, but we almost never stopped, always moving forward.

We reached the last check-in, called the zip line, tired but ready to finish strong. We took very little time and pressed on, after being told we had «only 3.5 miles to go, and it's all downhill». We went down for a while, true enough. But whether it was just a mislead comment from an ignorant staffer or a deliberate mind game to play on the runners, our path switched to bushwhacking again, then started going up. Several miles rolled by and we were still not finished; this was starting to weight down on us. We slowed on the last section, not knowing how far out we still were and unable to figure out when the home stretch would begin.

When the dirt road finally appeared, Tom and I both smiled to tears. We knew what this meant. There was no one behind and no one ahead. We had this. With wings under our feet, we flew down the steep downhill and the dirt road that led to the pavilion and the start/finish line. One step before the line, we stopped, counted to three, then took the exact same last step over the line. Perfect ex-aequo. We had placed 4th overall, and 2nd males. We might as well have won the Olympics. It was simply unbelievable.

The looks we exchanged spoke more than words at that point.

Neither Tom Norwood nor myself are elite runners and never even came close to finishing at the front of any race, let alone a survival ultra. But somehow, that day, we were granted the gift of knowing what it feels like, once in a running lifetime, to live the excitement of the chase, push through, and taste the ecstasy of victory.

Javelina Jangover Night Run - Race Report

Nick and Jamil Coury are awesome runners. I've had the chance to see them fly on the trails on a couple occasions, and I will always remember how kind and nice Jamil was to me on the eve of my first 50 miler in the Copper Canyons. «Take it easy, enjoy your day, and remember where you are and what you are accomplishing.»

The Coury's are also the proud owners of one of the best running companies in the States, Aravaipa Running. They create and organize races that are recognized for their awesome ambiance, great people and dreamy aid stations ripe with home cooking and goodies to keep you going all day, and in this case, all night.

The Javelina Jangover is the baby sister race of the famous Javelina Jundred, one of the most sought-out 100-mile races out there. It's a known hang out for Mas Locos, fast runners and fun lovers. With many wearing funky costumes and creative outfits, it's become the Halloween of ultra runners.

Javelina Jangover is the best practice you can imagine for a first-time Jundred runner like me. Not only is it held on the same course, but it includes both day- and nightime running in the great Arizona desert in Fountain Hills. To me, it was a dress rehearsal for my big day, and quite the reality check, too.

A Green Pea, a Redhead, a Stud and a Butterfly

I'd run the Paatuwaqatsi – Water is Life Ultra the week before, and had a hard time with the wet, loose sand of the Hopi prairies. I walked almost all the last half of the 31-mile course, with an angry right knee that awfully felt like the dreaded IT Band syndrome. I was uplifted with the spirit of the event, however, and looking forward to more inspired running with my friends Maria Walton, Kimberley The Redhead Miller and her husband, Mr Stud in person, the ever-awesome Michael Miller.

I chose the 50K distance after some hesitation. I thought it'd be nice and challenging to tackle the 75, but I have a lot of running lined up until the Jundred and I don't want to overdo it. With echoes of my last run still looming, I decided to be conservative and run 2 loops (an out-and-back on the Pemberton trail).

About 30 or 40 runners lined up at the start, and we were soon off in the late daylight. I had packed a lot of food and fluids in my vest, my headlamp, an extra handheld and all the stuff I would be basically carrying in my 100-mile adventure. I took it very easy at first, letting a lot of runners pass me and chatting a couple minutes with La Mariposa while warming up. My energy was very high, though, and I soon started to accelerate a little bit. My legs felt good and my lungs even better. I was chasing the setting sun on the desert hills, the weather was nice and warm, and the panorama was breathtaking. I always loved the desert. Things were going great.

I barely noticed when I started passing runners on the uphills. I was so happy to feel good and to be out here, running, that I didn't remember Michael Miller's words of wisdom. «Although Javelina is not the hardest nor the most technical, it has a surprisingly low finishing rate. That's because the trail is 100% runnable, and it claims many people who go out too hard.»

Race director and Mas Loco Jamil Coury

Hills were rolling, my feet were dancing and my spirit was soaring. As the last rays were setting over the mountain, the sky remained an intense blue that contrasted with the shadows and outlines of saguaros, the iconic cacti that stand proudly on the rocky, sandy hills all around.

I passed the only aid station at the mid-point of the trail and hardly stopped at all, smiling and waiving to the volunteers and laughing with fellow runners as we recalled our recent encounter with a big hairy tarantula that had me jump off the trail and shriek like a 6-year-old school girl. I was drinking generous amounts of water, but I felt no hunger whatsoever. I might have taken a slice or two of watermelon on my way out, but not much more.

Night had settled in, in the meanwhile, and the higher flats that followed felt good. For a while. About 15 minutes past the aid station, I started having a weird grumbly stomach and my legs started to feel weird. It was not my knees, at least; just a dull, numb pain in the hips. It didn't stop me from running, but I felt my movements were impaired.

My bobbing headlamp drove me crazy; I shut it down and shoved it in my vest, and used my handheld instead. It proved to be better, brighter and lit up the trail in a way that added more perspective about rocks, cracks... and numerous scary critters like scorpions, snakes and spiders.

When the gentle dowhills came, I started feeling like something was off. My stride had changed and my hips, mostly my left one, felt increasingly painful. I brushed it off and kept going, thinking of the turnaround point I would probably reach in the next 45 minutes or so.

I came in at just over 3h30, but I was feeling strange. «Can I get you ice?», said the nice girl at the aid station. «For my hip, yes!». She gave me a weird look and handed over two fistfuls of ice that I quickly shoved down my compression shorts. The relief I felt didn't last for long; a couple minutes after turning around, I had to stop running. The slight uphill was killing me, and I knew that couldn't be good.

Something else happened, at that point. I got hungry. Terribly hungry. I wolfed down a Clif Bar, then a gel. Nothing. I felt like an empty pit; I opened a second Clif Bar, then ate another gel. More than 700 calories, a decent dose of caffeine and copious amounts of sugar. But I was still starving. What the hell?

My stomach wasn't getting any better either, and I had to stop by the trail side... two times. I couldn't drink enough to quench my thirst and I could only walk at a brisk pace. Unable to chase away my hunger, I opened another gel, popped an S-Cap and devoured a marsipan from the Canyons offered by Maria before my run.

At that point, both my hips were killing me. The whole side of my left leg was painful, whether I walked or ran. The first half of my second loop felt like a death march, between my starvation, stomach issues and growing self-doubt about my ability to complete a 100-mile ultra, ever, let alone in a couple weeks. It took me forever to hit the aid station and, when I did, the face of the volunteer there spoke volumes about what I must've looked like. «How can I help?», he said, with a pitiful look. «My batteries are weak and I would love some ice, please.» He gave me a pair of brand new batteries that instantly doubled the brightness of my flashlight. When he saw what use I had for the cold stuff, he said «Hey, I got an idea! Here.» He took out a pair of first-aid latex gloves, filled them with ice and tied a knot at the wrist. Personalized ice packs! «You're a genius!», I shouted, running away in the night, still waving at my creative friend.

The ice helped, but the pain didn't recede and I quickly found myself back in my doubts and slow walking. «Running hurts. Walking hurts.» These thoughts led me to remember some passages from Killian Jornet's book, Run or Die, that has been my bedside read for the past days. I find he explains very well how he hit some extreme lows while pursuing various challenges and how his only way of getting out of the rut was to simply resume running, somehow resetting his body and mind.

«What if...?» «Aaahh, Fuck it.»

I took a couple first running steps, and realized it hurt no more than walking. Might as well finish this faster, I thought, as my legs got back into a minimal rhythm. The trail was now going down and was WAY rockier than I remembered, and my very poor choice of footwear (the GoSpeed Meb, which is Skechers' equivalent of a road-racing flat) became ever more apparent. The bottom of my feet felt bruised and battered, but aside from that, things were not so grim.

I passed a first runner, then another. As the hills were winding down, my legs got looser and lighter. The metric half-ton of food I had ingested some hours ago finally pumped back some energy into me and I gained better control of my feet. Surprised by the renewed strength in my legs, my spirit started to lift and I accelerated a little, passing a couple more runners.

When the trail got flatter, I didn't slow down. I kept going, and probably sped up slightly. The more I was going, the better I felt. I ended up coming in at full speed, after picking up another 5 or 6 runners. I had one of my strongest finishes since a long time, and although my legs were hurting, nothing bad happened with my knees and nothing prevented me from going as fast as I wanted.

My home stretch gave me a little bit of a regain in confidence, but just thinking about running 100 miles right now makes me quiver. Some of my experienced ultra running friends say it's a good thing.

I'unno, man. Guess we'll see.






The Javelina Jangover is an awesome night race put up in Fountain Hills, Arizona by the Coury brothers from Aravaipa Running Company. I highly recommend it.