Korima Run Day 1 - Phil Gendreau - Run to the Water

The Korima Run starts today and will last 7 days. I invited you to join me in any way you can, and many have answered. It warms my heart to see we remain connected and we remain united with our Raramuri friends.

In support and in their honor, I will run every day of the Korima Run. And since we live in times of pandemics and separation, I will run every day with - and for - someone close to me in our big worldwide Mas Loco community.

Today started at first light. In support for our friend Phil Gendreau who will run from sunrise to sunset, Karine and I started in darkness and ran south, to the shore of the St-Lawrence river where we were greeted by a display of pink and orange sky.

Phil will donate for every KM ran today, and we wish him resolve, health, a wide smile and light feet. Run Free, my friend!

Inspired by your endeavour, Karine ran her very first full 5K today, an all-time personal best!

First light on the St-Lawrence river

Back From The Barrancas

I had a weird summer, you know. Between hard personal decisions and a nagging little injury, my spirit was weighed down by many thoughts and questions. A lot of those gravitated around a place I love, a place I had come to consider a second home; Urique. I spent many moments wondering how my friends were doing, how the overall situation was and about what the future would hold for this running paradise.

So when the opportunity arose for me to travel back down to the Barrancas, even though for a very short trip, I packed my bag in a heartbeat.

On the road with a truckload of giggling chicas :)

Ever since Michael Miller and I drove out of Urique with heavy hearts, we both swore we would be back no matter what. As the year was slowly nearing its end, Michael told me he had received some positive news from the other side of the border and that there was a window of about a week where not only we could go, but we would also be joined by our good friend Patrick Sweeney, who’d just finished another awesome feat of endurance by running the Chicago Marathon, then running to New York City and running the NYC Marathon as well, Forrest Gump-style.

The positivity started from the get-go. Seeing Sweeney was a real treat, and getting to road trip with two of my best running friends put a huge smile of my face. Even though we red-eyed it all the way, there was still room for happy-hour shenanigans, breathtaking runs and hot pepper shopping.

Beautiful morning run atop Creel

Everywhere we looked, traversing Mexico’s northwest from the Arizona border all the way down to Creel, things seemed pretty quiet and relax. There was only a single roadblock on the whole way, which can only mean that things have cooled down quite significantly.

The magic of the Canyons started for me as soon as we reached Mario’s cabins, nested on a magnificent promontory in San Isidro, where our Raramuri friend Horacio was waiting to take us on an evening run to the rim. Although I have traveled to many places in the Sierra, the canyon top is one of the places I have been the least so I was delighted to discover the trails that lead to Cerro Gallego, the Urique overlook, as well as the gorgeous creek trail that descends into the village of Porochi, where both Miguel and Horacio live. We came back at sunset, just in time for drinks by the bonfire Mario had lit for us. It was perfect.

Cabañas San Isidro, our friend Mario's gorgeous ranch

We set out the next morning, on foot, and descended unto Urique through rugged, ancient trails that are sometimes etched into the boulders by centuries of travel. I was shocked at the amount – and steepness! of the climbs that lead to the rim before the descent begins. On the way, Horacio was generous with information on local farmsteads, connecting trails and meaningful landmarks. Our spirits were high and we felt how specially meaningful it was for us all to be coming again to Urique, on foot, together, using the ancient trails of the People we respect and celebrate.

On the way down to Urique

After a rather difficult hike, we emerged in Urique to the symbolic chant of mourning doves. It brought me a sense of peace and closure, and a strong feeling of being back home. We met with our friends in the government and exchanged meaningful words, united in wishing to perpetuate the running tradition Caballo Blanco created.

Walking to the gate at Entre Amigos almost brought tears to my eyes. The place looks as beautiful as ever, and our friends Maruca and Tomas were waiting for us, all smiles, like they were welcoming their own family. Seeing that beautiful garden once again, and the trees loaded with fruits, was a true joy.

And just when things couldn’t get any better, our friend Prospero and his wife Sabina showed up to give us great news about the Caballo Blanco Trail Project and share even more ideas for the future.

We will be back, Barrancas!

Of course, things are not perfect in the Barrancas. They never were. There are crimes committed frequently all over the Sierra. The people’s struggle with violence is very real and must not be forgotten. But as things stand right now, relative peace appears to have returned, people are back to their daily occupations, and life seems to go on.

Although the race we’ve known and loved will now be an event organized and promoted by Urique, as a runner and as a friend of the Running People, I will be back in March. And so will others.

And that’s a really good thing.



You can follow our work at Norawas de Raramuri on our official website, www.norawas.org

Driving Directions to Urique

I've been asked many times about driving directions for Urique, in the Copper Canyons, and never really took the time to compile the information into a useful, single post. Well I was asked one more time this morning and decided to finally do it :)

Driving from the USA to Urique is a great way to truly experience the Copper Canyons in their remote ruggedness. It's a smooth transition from busy North-American cities to the still quietness and grandeur of the Barrancas. It's also an incredible opportunity for adventure, for meeting great people and for discovering one of the most beautiful countries of the world.

I highly recommend it!

Here's my favorite route to drive down, from Douglas, Arizona :

1. Cross over at Douglas / Agua Prieta (basically drive straight out of the border check point, then take a left, then a right, then you will hit a larger boulevard. This is Route 2. Take a left and you're on your way)

2. Take route 2 to Janos

3. Take route 10 to Nuevo Casas Grandes

4. Some minutes past Nuevo Casas Grandes, you will hit a Y-split. Make a slight right to keep following Route 10, direction Galeana

5. Keep going until Buenaventura. When you come into town, make your way to Av Benito Juarez, which switches into Route 5 out of town. It'll be a right turn.

6. This takes you into a nice ride to Ignacio Zaragoza and through Gomez Farias, then Babicora

7. In Babicora, take a right to follow the road to Route 16. When you hit Route 16, take a left to Guerrero

OPTION - 8A. When entering Guerrero, take a right on main street (Juarez) and keep going straight onto Route 31

OPTION - 8B. In Guerrero, Take Route 110 to La Junta (less scenic, a little faster)

9. Both these ways converge to Route 16 again. If you came from Route 31, take a left on 16 and a right at the turn for Creel. If you came from La Junta, take a right at 16 and a left at the turn for Creel.

10. Stay on that road until Creel. You will cross many towns on the way, the bigger ones being San Juanito and Bocoyna.

11. When in Creel, stay on the main road until the roundabout at the other end of town. There, take the right leg of the roundabout, heading to El Divisadero, San Rafael, and all the way to Bahuichivo.

12. Cross the train tracks in Bahuichivo over to the other side of town. The street will end in a T, take a left. This will take you to Cerocahui

13. In Cerocahui, the road will, again, end in a T. Take a left to Urique / Mesa de Arturo

14. The road will not be paved from this point. You'll start going up. Don't miss the Y-split in the road between Mesa Arturo on the right, and Urique on the left. Of course, you make a left.

15. You are on the road to Urique.

16. Weeeeeeeee!

Additional notes.

There are gas stations in most main towns, but if you want to be on the safe side, you can hit Mexico with a full tank of gas, fuel on the way down when you cross gas stations (They are usually Pemex) or plan a stop in Guerrero or Gomez Farias. Then make sure to refuel in Creel before your way down.

There is gasoline in Urique, bring cash in pesos to pay for it. I suggest you leave town with a full tank, too, just for good measure.

If you want to draw money from Mexico to avoid the currency exchange hassle, you can do so in most main towns such as Agua Prieta, Nuevo Casas Grandes, Gomez Farias, Guerrero and Creel for sure. Always plan that the ATM you hit might be out of order or out of money. Also think about daily withdrawal limits. You won't get far with a credit card, outside of Pemex gas stations. Beyond Creel, plastic money cards are pretty much useless.

People in Mexico will be extremely welcoming and helpful, but be advised they seem to not have a great care for giving precise directions. I've been mislead several times by obviously well-intentioned people, but who had no idea what information they were giving.

You will hit road blocks from time to time, whether manned by army or police personnel. There's at least one outside Agua Prieta, one around Nuevo Casas Grandes and maybe one or two others further down. The guards are typically very curteous. Proper etiquette is to roll your windows down for them to see inside the vehicle. Address them in Spanish at first, even if it's just to say hello. Smile, be calm. The do carry guns, so don't be alarmed. They usually just want to make sure you are not carrying contraband. They are good people to ask directions if you're unsure which road to take.

If you have to go to a police vehicle to ask directions, park your own vehicle at a respectable distance and walk out to the other vehicle. Wave and smile. This way the police will know for sure you're a tourist looking for directions.

There is plenty of food on the way, usually delicious, home-made things you will remember a lifetime. If you want to shop for your own food, markets are usually a great option, as they tend to have many local specialty items. Sunday is THE best day to shop around, since it is the mercado, the day where people from all around gather in the towns to sell various goods. They usually do this in or around the zocalo, or main plaza. This is one great occasion to practice eco-tourism and directly benefit local people.

With eco-tourism in mind, take time to consider when you bargain for goods with locals. My personal experience is they won't inflate the price much, and if they do, really, what's two dollars to you? To them, it might be a better meal, some sweets for the kids or a little gift they can now afford. Think about it!

Enjoy the trip, enjoy the experience, enjoy the views :)



If you have further questions, leave them in the comments section below; it'll help me make this post better!

Why Raramuri Trails Matter, And How YOU Can Help

I first became aware of Norawas de Raramuri through Caballo Blanco himself. He told me that a group of people and him had created a non-profit organization that gathered funds to help with the purchase of food vouchers for the runners of the Ultra, but that, eventually, maybe they would do something more.

“Like what?” I asked.

His answer struck me. He told me never to forget that the Raramuri had survived – and thrived – on their own for hundreds of years, pretty much without outside intervention. He warned that we should always consider the actions we take to make sure they are genuine Korima and not the result of good-intentioned but ill-planned, culturally-intrusive projects.

So when we had to do without him, both in our lives and in the work of Norawas, we tried to always remember and consider what he said. We had lengthy conversations about how we could broaden the actions of Norawas in the Canyons and, for a while, we agreed only that the ideal first step would be to have a project that came from our friends themselves, a local idea that stemmed from the very people this organization celebrates.

And it happened.

One day, a group of us ran up to Los Alisos, to pay a visit to our friend Prospero Torres. As he was telling us the story of his friendship with Micah and how, together, they had set in motion the first plan for a race in the Barrancas, he told us he had an idea he wanted to share.

He explained that as the first sponsor of the Ultra Marathon, he had offered food and comfort to the runners on their way to Batopilas. He had also helped Micah figure out the way to use through the complex network of footpaths the Raramuri use in their everyday life. Later on, when the race became bigger, Prospero was put in charge of maintaining a segment of those trails that spanned from the bridge at La Laja up to his ranch.

He noticed that, after the race, local Raramuris would use the trail in greater numbers. The footpath was smooth and wide, safe for the people and for pack animals, and therefore a better travel option than before.

He told us he wanted to do the same with more trails. He asked if we could help him fund a local team that would restore and maintain a much longer way. He wanted to revive the whole length of the original Caballo Blanco Trail which had been used for the very first race. We answered that it would be an honor. What an awesome idea ; giving work to local Raramuris reinvigorating the traditional footpaths that serve as foundation to their culture.

So quietly, we gathered the initial funds to begin the work on the trail, last year.

When I traveled back, in early 2014, Prospero had a big surprise waiting; he told me to meet him up the trail and get together with the work team. When I asked how I was supposed to find my way, he answered, all smiles : “From Los Alisos, just look up. You can’t miss that trail now!”.

He was right.

A couple steps from the gate of Los Alisos, I discovered a beautiful, smooth, freshly-worked trail that climbed and twisted and took me to ever-more beautiful sights, ever higher up the Canyon walls… until I reached this point :

That in itself was a delightful surprise. But what struck me straight at the heart, confirming the whole purpose of Norawas and the projects we sustain, was when I reached the point where the local team was working. They raised their heads up one by one. Manuel, Silvino, Isidro… all from the original, very first group of 7 Raramuri runners who ran with Caballo Blanco in 2004… and started it all :) They had all come to lend a hand. They had all come to show support.

With 2015 rolling in, now you can also show support. Not by doing anything flashy or over-the-top. We offer you to do it Raramuri-style, humble and quiet. We offer you to sponsor a mile marker on the trail with the message of your choice. Basically, we offer you to buy a rock, and to adorn it with a word, a symbol, a drawing, a totem animal.

I am proud to announce that one of these first rocks will be sponsored by a group of people I love, namely Martin Coulombe, Dominic Melançon, JF Boucher and the Pandora 24 Ultra team. I will be honored to take Pandora’s totem creature to Las Barrancas in a couple days.

If you have a minute, read the Caballo Blanco Trail Project description on Norawas’ blog. Better yet, make a donation specific to getting a mile marker and make a true difference, quietly, supporting a beautiful running culture we all celebrate.

Kuira Ba!

The "Road" To Huisuchi

Clenching the steering wheel, I stared at the rocky riverbed in absolute disbelief, then looked at Sweeney in the passenger seat. This was not the road we were told of, not even the risky off-road path we had been warned about. This was a totally washed-out patch of rocks bigger than basketballs, with a trickle of slippery mud streaming in-between. He seemed as worried as me. «Think we can make it?»


«Think we should even try?»

Sweeney, Maria and myself had left Creel early in the morning, heading to the village of Huisuchi to meet our Raramuri friends for the Rarajipare and Ariweta, the traditional ball and hoop races. It was an absolute first for us all, and a very exciting first stop on our long trip deep into the Barrancas del Cobre.


From having traveled around the Canyons before, I knew just how bad the roads could get. Sitting in jacked-up pickup trucks, I had seen the river crossings, bad bridges and rock slides over some already treacherous terrain. Therefore, I had asked repeatedly how the road was, and made a clear point of explaining to everyone I was NOT driving a souped-up off-road machine, but a standard city van.


«If it's 4x4, you'll be fine.»

The... "Road"

We'd left the comfort of asphalt off the main Batopilas road and already made our way down to Samachique, carefully weaving around boulders and washouts, rarely getting into second gear, making painfully slow progress. But as soon as we left the village, things started getting bad. Little did we know, we were just getting started.


«Just take it slow», said Sweeney, half-convinced.


I released the brake pedal and let the impulse move us forward. Immediately, the van started bouncing left and right, up and down as we rolled from one boulder to the other. I tried to keep the low parts between my wheels, aiming the tires at the highest protruding rocks.

Can you feel the tension?

SCREECH.


The bottom scraped against a rock. Luckily, the lowest part of the van was the cargo tray, a metal carrier plugged into the hitch shaft. The last thing I wanted was to repeat a painful experience we had two days before, when I drove over a rock on the road and hit the oil pan, effectively punching a golf ball-sized whole in it and losing all the engine oil, leaving us stranded for hours.


I let go of the brake again, even slower, allowing only half rotations of the tires before braking again.

A nicer segment.

Steep slopes, covered in huge rocks and scarred by deep, eroded water washes. I thought we would have to face that for a small stretch, then get back to what they call «mas o menos», more or less driveable. They couldn't possibly have told us to drive on that miserable excuse for a road all the way, right?


SCREECH.


God damn it.


We finally reached the top of the hill and I released a deep sigh. In front of us, more bad road was stretching, only interspersed with cleaner segments of maybe 200 feet. At that point, the best idea would have been to turn around, leave El Capitan behind and seek a ride with a bigger truck, but what would happen to all the donations we were carrying? And how would I get back to my van after the event, and to go where? So we just kept going, slowly, in a tense silence.

Turn right at the tree, then...

Some time later, after more of the same, I came to a full stop. In front of us, the steepest of the hills so far, covered in even bigger rocks, without a single visible path to safely attempt a climb. I parked the van. «I can't do this.» I looked at Sweeney, disheartened. «There's adventure, and there's stupid. We're gonna end up in big trouble if we keep going.»

I wanted to bang my head against the steering wheel. The idea of backing out broke my heart, and the path was so narrow and bad I wasn't even sure I could actually turn the van around. Even by doing so, we were facing an hour or more of very bad driving that could cause a breakdown in an instant. I took another breath and tried to empty my mind. Out of the blue, someone popped into my head; Christy Little Wings. Her presence was so vivid that I could actually hear her voice. I repeated out loud what she had told me, maybe a year ago, while running rough trails in upstate New York.


«The only way out... is through».

Yeah. Through... that.

I put the van back into drive, and slowly started moving ahead. The road didn't get any better. Not long after, we came across the first river crossing. Several inches of fast water were swirling over a rocky path that we couldn't see, making every foot of the way an absolute guess. We went in as slow as I could go, making sure never to stop so that water wouldn't gurgle down the exhaust pipe, and made the crossing. Once again, I sighed in relief.


The next several hours were spent clenching the wheel, worried sick about the road and angry at whoever had told me this road was drivable. I felt bad for dragging my friends into this, and responsible if anything happened to us. We were full to the brim with donated material, which was now screeching and scraping over canyon rocks, riverbeds and all sorts of nasty road hazards.


We crossed other trucks on the way, vehicles way more suited for that kind of driving which had blown their differential spinning and skidding up treacherous rocky hills. We saw people stranded on the trails with oily parts taken out of their engines, trying to achieve a quick fix that might take them out of this mess. At one point in the steepest of climbs, going no more than 2 to 3 mph, I could smell El Capitan's transmission overheating and I felt its blistering heat seeping through the floor. I decided to stop half way up, park for half an hour and cool things down, including myself. Maria took Guadajuko for a walk, Sweeney strolled around and I fell into an instantaneous, deep sleep that felt like a single minute.

«Flint. Wake up, man.»

Clench. Worry. Repeat.

«How long's it been?», I asked, still half-asleep and wishing someone would tell me they saw the village just above the hill we were climbing. «Twenty minutes. We should get going.». I climbed back at the wheel and started driving again. We weren't talking much, and everyone felt how bad our situation was. At that point, there was not much else we could do than go forward.


The drive went from crazy to ridiculous. When we hit the lowest point in the valley, the stream was over a foot deep and rushing down with enough force to move the van. Every time we went in, I had to guess where the highest path was and hope not to hit a hidden rock on the way. After several crossings, one of which was so deep it actually made the exhaust gurgle, I stopped the van again.

«Now where the fuck is the road?»


No one had an answer to offer. The rocky path led straight down to the river, which was about 25 feet wide and rushing over rocks way too big to try to drive through. On the other side, a forest with not even a footpath between the trees. Baffled, we looked at each other, suddenly considering the possibility that we'd taken a wrong turn, hours ago, and now had literally reached the end of the road.


Sweeney jumped out the van and walked down to the river. He turned around, looked at me and threw his hands in the air. I stepped out and joined him. Even from the edge of the water, there was not a single clue if the road went anywhere from there. He stepped in the cold water and started to cross, to get a better perspective. I took off my jeans and did the same. The water was extremely cold, but in that moment, this was the least of my worries.


We reached the other side and realized the road did continue. To get there, however, we would have to sink into the stream, maneuver between sunken boulders we couldn't see, make an almost 90-degree turn around a huge cliff side rock and climb back onto the path through a steep, unfriendly muddy bank.


We were neck-deep in stupid.

... And it takes only one rock
to break down.

We gathered by the van and tried to assess the situation. There was virtually no coming back, considering how lucky we had been so far not to break anything. But there was no guarantee we would make it even to the turn in the river, much less to the other side where more horrible road laid. I wasn't going to make that decision alone. «We need to all understand what we're into right now. Whether we go back, move ahead or do anything else, we need to all agree.» After some discussion, considering various options and their consequences, it was decided we would try to push through.


That's what the madness had come down to. Two bug-eyed gringos listening to a third one in his underwear, shivering from the biting cold of the river, making doomsday scenarios about every available option there was. Whichever way we went, I thought, we were not going to make it. No way.


Nonetheless, we all got back into the van, and everyone held their breath as we dropped down into the stream. The van moved sideways, so I gave it more gas to move forward. It bounced on the rocks and the cargo tray screeched and banged against the bottom, but we made the turn and headed for the muddy bank that would take us back into relative safety. The wheels hit it and the van stopped. Panicked, I stepped on the gas in a last-ditch attempt to get out of the river and the wheels spun, but eventually took grip and nudged the van back into movement. When all four wheels got to the other side, I let out yet another sigh. We'd made it.

The Bridge. Zoom in on this picture. It's really worth it.

I foolishly thought that the bottom of the valley would be the worst of the road that we would see, but we spent many more hours weaving and dodging at a snail's pace, with every stretch looking worse than the one before. After a series of very steep climbs, we reached the top again, and as we started coming down, I noticed the sun was getting ever closer to the canyon rim. «If we don't make it by daylight...» I said, looking at Sweeney, who just nodded. No need to finish that phrase. We would have to camp out in the wild, and therefore miss the beginning of the ball race.


Just as the last light was stretching overhead and we started looking for a spot to safely move away from the rocky path, we crossed a truck. I rolled down my window and asked if we were still far from Huisuchi. «No! Very close! Half a mile».


... An hour later, we are still trying to make progress through the rocks, with Sweeney providing extra light by holding a flashlight in front of the van to spot the safest path. At very long last, we saw a series of white-painted rocks that led to the last treacherous rocky slope, and a long-awaited arrival.


But I had long run out of sighs to release.

Huisuchi at long last, a gorgeous Canyon gem
that we received as a treasure.

Ce n'est pas l'impossible difficulté du chemin qui m'a le plus dérangé; c'est d'être forcé de briser ma promesse, de revenir sur la parole que j'avais donnée de ne rien tenter de dangereux pendant mon voyage. C'était bien contre mon gré, et je n'y vois aucune gloire, même après en être sorti relativement indemne.

Race Report - Ultra Marathon Caballo Blanco 2013

I believe in shamanism.

I believe our world is not only the sum of its physical parts; that there exists a spirit world in and around us. We are not solely amazing flesh machines, we are also animated by a spirit, an unseen force and a presence that defines not only ourselves but everything else in the universe.

I spent the last couple years discovering my body. But what started out as a pretty straightforward plan to improve my health and my physical fitness has transformed into an amazing journey of discovering the marvels of my capabilities and the ones of others. Helped and inspired by fellow adventurers from all shapes and types, I’ve experienced moments of indescribable grace at the very edge of complete exhaustion, mere instants from rebirthing with a renewed will and an energy that can only be explained by some unseen source, by something more than what the sum of my body cells can achieve. I embarked on the journey of mind over matter; I entered the spiritual realm of endurance running.

While I was exploring this new path, I also started experiencing the world in a different way. I started connecting with others in a manner that is as hard to understand as it is to describe. Moments of grace at the brink of unbearable fatigue and pain create an invisible, unbreakable bond between those who share them, something akin to instantly becoming soul brothers and sisters. I have the privilege of sharing such bonds with numerous extraordinary people, and they have made me richer than I could ever have imagined.

Last year, one of these bonds was broken. It was a powerful one, too, and its severance hurt me in ways I cannot put into words. I had just spent a little over a month with Micah, I was not even completely back, mentally, from the Canyons when I learned he was gone. It broke my soul.

In the following days, I went to see my Medicine Woman. At least that’s what I call her. The papers on her wall say “osteopath”, “chiropractor” and many other things, but I know who she is. As I entered her little office and started my treatment, she gave me the strangest of looks.

“Parts of your soul are missing.”

I broke down. Unable to speak, I tried to mumble an explanation of what had happened, but she stopped me. She didn’t need it. She treated my body, that day, but she also started treating my spirit. She explained, and demonstrated, that these connections I described not only exist, but last forever. She comforted me in showing complete understanding of what I was going through, and she guided me on a path to realizing that the only thing that matters in life is connection.

This connection, this strange bond that I first observed in my ultra running experiences, is what makes us true humans. And it has become for me an objective, a guide for living the rest of my life.

I traveled down to the Canyons in February, just like I did last year. Only this time, I had to deal with the fact that I would not stumble on my friend, catch up to what our lives had been since we were last together and go for a beautiful long run in the Barrancas.

I am grateful for the long days spent all alone, in silence, between running, sleeping, cooking and reflecting. I was lucky enough to have all the time needed to do these things over and over again until, slowly, they started to make sense once more. Until I could realize that I still had purpose here, that I was still connected, that the pain I had been feeling for a year now was gradually making way for some measure of peace, gratitude and a yearning to keep going forward.

I was not forgetting. I was processing.

When the tribe of Running People started gathering, I was elated to see familiar faces and new ones, but most of all to feel available and eager for new connections; to not be shut, wounded and afraid. I was free, present and open.

Days of running free, laughing, cooking, sharing and connecting led me to race day, between bouts of frantic work and magical moments only the Canyons can bring. And on that unique morning, before first light, I stood there once again, surrounded with love, friendship and community.

I didn’t hit the road alone. I carried with me two very special connections, two unexplainable bonds to share the adventure with. Two souls also in search of meaning. I had the strength, resolve and determination of a Tiger and the reach, depth and expanse of a Tree.

 The magic of the day unfolded and rewarded me with joy, passion and amazing feats of will. My joy was sharing about 6 miles of running with Jovian, a young Raramuri from the Los Alisos region, and seeing my friends Augusto, Donald and Olaf running free in the Canyons. My passion was witnessing Michael, Stephanie and Zac enter the world of ultra running with such elation. The amazing feats were those of exhausted runners keeping on, among which my friend Scott, but mostly Tom who literally broke through shackles of despair and defeat to rise up again and triumph over everything, including himself. What an incredible day to be alive.

Being reunited in the spirit of the Mas Locos, under the lead of Maria and Josue and the watchful eye of my friend the White Horse provided much needed energy, inspiration and hope. But this time around, it provided one more thing, one I had direly needed and sought since that fateful day, almost exactly a year ago.

It provided healing.

Review : Luna OSO

 

• Type : Barefoot/minimal
• Use : Trail running
• Price : About $80-90

Introduction
I first became aware of Luna Sandals on my initial trip to the Copper Canyons. Seeing the Luna Boys coming down to run with the Raramuri, I thought this was a nice display of respect, but I also thought it was... crazy. But then I ran the last 10 miles with Scott Smuin at the end of the grueling ultra, and he seemed to be doing just fine in his huaraches – that is, no worse than anyone else at this point. I was amazed. He suggested I try them. I thought this was... crazy. Again.

But then he sent me a pair of the Leadville model, which I tested and reviewed last year. Although I was, again, greatly impressed, I wasn’t entirely sure this was the best footwear to go trail running, at least not in the gnarly canyons, not when you're me and not when going at it for over 8, 9 or 10 hours.


First impression
I tried and fitted my OSO’s in December at The Running Event, a trade show we attended with the Luna crew. After a bad run the day before, where I had turned an ankle, I wasn’t sure it was a great idea to go dancing on the pointy, sharp rocks of Austin’s Green Belt with sandals. I was expecting to hike much more than anything. To my astonishment, I started running easily and with growing confidence, and even ended the day chasing the Luna guys up a dry, rocky riverbed. Wow.

But that was 10k, and that was Texas. I live in Montreal, I run ultras and I get cold easy. On a good year, I don’t think I’d get more than 6 months of running in sandals, so I thought they were really neat, but honestly not something I could ever use as footwear in any trail event. Then I traveled to the Copper Canyons again.


Trail test
On an easy day after a long run in shoes, I took a couple people for a hike up El Naranjo, which is a part of the UMCB course. It was hot and I was lazy, and I didn’t feel like wearing shoes. I knew the OSO’s were solid, so I decided to wear them for the 4-5 hour walk. I couldn’t help but try a couple running stints with them on the single track going up, and I started playing around, running, in the steep gnarly downhills. They held very well, and I felt really confident.

So I thought I’d put them to a real test, the next day. I slipped them on and went for a hard run up to Guadalupe Coronado, another section of the course. The Vibram outsole is grippy and firm, and really has no less protection than rock-plated shoes. The lacing has greatly improved with non-slip strips along the heel and the top of the foot, removing any floppy sensation. The foot bed is made of a synthetic material that clings well to your foot and gradually molds to it with use, thus further increasing its comfort. There was nothing not to like. I was starting to get excited.

The next day, I decided to add a distance test. I ran the whole 20-mile loop from Urique to Los Alisos, which includes rocky road, riverbeds and single track. I was very pleased. Not only did the OSO’s deliver solid grip and confidence, but they also proved very comfortable over longer distances, even though I started to experience the same plug issue I had with the Leadville model, where the strip in-between your toes gets twisted and eventually becomes like a rope, chaffing my skin.

Other runners present on that day mentioned they had noticed significant changes in my form, for the better, and confirmed I was still moving strong after hours out on rough terrain. So, I wasn’t only feeling better, but actually running better? A little idea started to bounce around in my brain.

Maybe I could run UMCB in them.

To make sure this just wasn’t some pipe dream that would end up in bandages and crotches, I made one last test. I climbed all the way to El Naranjo again, and then I really let it rip on the downhill, a brutally fast and gnarly 10k that shoots straight down from the high plain to Urique. If I can make it out here, I thought, I can make it on race day. I took a tube of Shoe Goo and glued the plugs in place so the lace would stop twisting, then I strapped the sandals on and gave it a shot.

It was... well, here’s how it was :

No need to add, I was convinced. I felt confident that not only I could wear the OSO’s on race day, but that they would actually contribute to a strong, solid run in the hot dusty trails. I wasn’t disappointed. I finished UMCB over an hour faster than I had last year, with solid feet and a very, very wide smile.


Analysis

I have grown convinced that the OSO’s greatest advantage is that they force a certain running form on you. It would be suicidal and downright idiotic to do anything else than take quick, rapid steps in running sandals, and the way these ones are built enforce - and reward – a fast turnover. This made me stronger in climbs and prevented some of the “deconstruction” of form that comes with fatigue after running long hours on a hot day. They kept my feet free, light and dry, as opposed to running socks and shoes. All that, on the Canyon trails, made a hell of a difference.

No matter how gnarly the terrain got, I never struck or hit anything with my toes, as seems to be feared by a lot of shod runners. The only time I kicked something was with the tip of my sandal and the rock never touched my foot. As for sand or tiny pebbles getting struck in-between your foot and the sandal bed, I won’t say it never happens, but it’s never bugged me and is certainly no different than when dust and scraps seep through your trail shoes’ mesh uppers. And I found out that if you don’t strap in too tight, the little scraps will almost always come off as soon as they get in.


Conclusion

I still live in Canada and I still only have about 6 month per year to run in sandals, so I don’t know where this is going to lead. But after having run 50 miles on some of the hottest, driest and gnarliest terrain in North America, I can already tell you that they will be in my backpack every time I travel for an ultra. Anywhere.


High points

• Super-simple, minimal concept
• Vibram outsole is grippy and solid
• Protects your feet as well as rock-plated shoes
• Light, dry and free feet
• Enforces and rewards quick foot turnover

Low points

• Still nonviable for cold/winter running
• Proper adjustment takes some getting used to 

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