Korima Run Day 8 - Jess Soco - One more day

The Korima Run was supposed to end yesterday, but one of my scheduled friends couldn't make it and I didn't want to miss an opportunity to run with her.

Jess Soco is an amazing woman in many ways. A true free spirit, an excellent runner and an all-around lovely person, she has seen thousands of miles of trails in the most gorgeous of places. She is an accomplished ultra-runner and thru-hiker, and for me, she illustrates what it means to be dedicated to Nature and the trails.

Among many moments we spent together, Jess happened to share some of the very best days of my life, some time ago when we met at Across The Years, a multi-day running event where I was supposed to work the kitchen and aid station and ended up also running my very first 100-miler.

Jess and I at Across the Years 2013/14

And it's with this particular memory that I ran today, in spirit with my Mas Loco sister whom I celebrate for her generosity and her loving, kind nature. Jess makes my world a better place, and it's always a pleasure to cross her path, or just open my Facebook and look what she's up to or which beautiful place she chose for her day. She lives and breathes freedom, and she's an inspiration for me to go out and do the things I love.

My friend, you are beautiful inside and out and I hope that we get to share many more adventures in wonderful places. Keep walking your path, I'll always follow you, up close or afar. Thank you for everything, and always, always Run Free!

Korima Run Day 6 - Theland Kicknosway - Walk in a good way

Day 6 was a day with difficulties. Karine's foot isn't so great after all, and running won't be a good idea for a couple days. So we went out, but we walked instead.

It reminded me of something my friend Theland said sometimes, when we ran his Spirit Run between Ottawa and Kitigan Zibi; when we would walk, we would share thoughts and ideas and he would say "We walk in a good way". This is both a beautiful and a very meaningful expression.

There are many ways to walk. But when you go out with the intention of breathing fresh air, staying healthy and enjoying the outdoors, when you do it with love in your heart, when you have kind thoughts for your loved ones, you do it in a good way.

So that's what we did. We held hands and talked and watched the trees and the birds and the running water. And we had good thoughts. Like Theland taught me.

Theland Kicknosway is one of these young people who make our world better just by being themselves and following their own path. As a young Cree and Potawatomi, he goes about the world with his feet deeply rooted in culture. He is an accomplished singer, and traditional hoop dancer.

Thank you for having me in your circle, Theland. And thank you for the wonderful gift of seeing you grow up, evolve and become the great young man that you are!

Meegwetch, my friend.

Korima Run Day 5 - Karine Burgess - My Motivation

"You don't wanna go? Come on, I'll run with you".

So we went. That's how simple and beautiful my life has been, for almost a year now. I could say she's my inspiration, or my dream girl, or the woman of my life. All that would be true. But what's most amazing, most wonderful and most uplifting is, she's my best friend.

She knows me inside and out, and has been in my life for many years. We've gone through a lot together, as friends, and last fall we decided to try and be together, together. And life has been so very good.

You are beautiful, compassionate, gentle and kind. You make living around you a real treat, with your little attentions and your good words. And you're funny as hell and you cook like a chef :) There's not enough words to tell you how much I love you. You're my treasure.

Karine Burgess, this run in the sun was as delightful as everything else we do together; it was simple, it was honest, and it was one more of these little things that make me yours, without a second thought. You're my red thread.

Korima Run Day 4 - Marc Seguin - El Kodiak

This literally looks like a bad picture
from a Walmart photo shop preset :)

This is one guy who doesn't need any introduction. He's been my running partner, adventure companion and friend for many years. He's seen the best and the worst of me. There isn't much he doesn't already know, and he's still around :)

Marc Seguin works hard and a lot. He travels North America, driving his big truck to pick up and deliver all sorts of things. Even in times of quarantine, he crosses the border back and forth to keep the supply lines going. And that means I hadn't seen him in a loooooooong time. So when he told me he would be parked overnight in an industrial area not too far, waiting for his early morning delivery, very bad plans involving ridiculous waking times were quickly made :)

Karine, always one to join in the adventure, said her foot was good enough to run a little. So we got up what felt like 15 minutes after going to bed, brewed some hot coffee and headed out before sun up, in what's starting to look like a weird habit of sleep deprivation over the past couple days.

Social distancing was unnecessary, since he never leaves his truck while traveling. So we hugged long and hard, in what seemed to be a waaaaay overdue little meet up, and the best possible occasion for him to finally get to meet Karine in person :)

Never mind that we ran between ugly industrial factories, empty parking lots and over highways. Running felt as good as it always did, and we still found a cool spot for a picture; an old beaten-up train track.

The Korima Run is in its 4th day now, and the connection is real. I got news that our friends in the Barrancas are running a Rarajipare, a traditional ball race, and it feels good to know that we all, runners from everywhere, are offering our footsteps in support :)

So, Andale! Let's keep going !

The Korima Run – Let's restore the balance

I’ve been truly blessed, in my recent life, to have been welcome and taught in several Native American cultures. Regardless of the obvious differences and despite the shameful, sad heritage I represent, I was always invited with open arms and hearts, with kindness and consideration. This display of pure Humanity has had a profound impact on me, on my world views and on the way I try to interact with others.

The Raramuri People of the Copper Canyons were the first in this series of encounters. For almost ten years now, I’ve had the immense privilege of getting to know them, of developing friendships and of learning some of their ways and the heritage of the wonderful, mystical place they call home.

One of my first worries when the COVID-19 virus hit the planet was the devastation it could potentially cause among Native communities. Then, as the crisis unfolded, I realized that not only the illness itself was a danger, but also all the consequences it carried with it. The world has locked down. More than half the Human population on Earth are under quarantine, fearful and deprived of basic liberties in a desperate attempt to contain the propagation and save the people most at risk. Businesses have closed, employment is scarce and help of any kind is hardly sent to remote locations.

My Mas Loco friends share my worries. A couple days ago, we were able to get news from the Barrancas and ask how our Raramuri friends are doing in these trying times. The news was not good.

The last crop season was bad because of the hot, dry weather and the yields in corn, chia, amaranth and other basic Canyons commodities was too low. This was made worse when the crisis started hitting Mexico. All around the Copper Canyons, there are small communities and farmlands which, in normal times, can sometimes provide a bit of work for local Raramuri people, who often travel far from their homes just to get a day or two of paid work, and then bring back meager sums to sustain their families. This already is a hard and uncertain life under usual circumstances. Now that we have to live with COVID-19, almost all these already-rare sources of income have disappeared. Those who have a little more are either not around or not able to share anything that trickles out in the communities. And sustenance farming hasn’t improved either. 

Above and beyond the looming risk of the coronavirus, Raramuri communities are suffering from its effects on social organization. Substance and alcohol abuse are on the rise, as well as domestic mistreatment and violence. The almost non-existent health facilities cannot deal with any kind of surge in case of a local flare-up. The grip of local powers hasn’t loosened either and the stress is ever present. Some of our close friends are doing very poorly right now. We are sad and worried. 

So we asked, how can we help?

With the incredible nobility I’ve always witnessed since meeting them, their answer came back. With the quiet, humble power of rolling thunder.

“Mother Earth has lost her balance and, with her, Humans too.” “Please join us to restore it”.

The Raramuri tradition is rich and mysterious, but one thing we know is their firm belief in the interconnection between Humans and the Planet. This is a great truth they share with numerous other cultures around the world. Traveling the Earth, moving and living on it using our own feet, is sacred and a very ancient, deeply rooted form of prayer.

So that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to join our friends in the most Human way we know. We will all use our feet, wherever we are, to drum our footsteps onto Mother Earth in unison. We will show support. We will show respect. We will show kinship.

Some of us will travel one mile. Others maybe hundreds. Some of us will dance. Some will walk. But every single one of us is going to join a movement of hope and connection. We will create deeper meaning. We will unite our hearts and minds and try to restore a bit of balance. In our bodies, in our minds and definitely in our hearts. This is the idea of the Korima Run.

So here you have it. Between May 16 and 23, I invite you all to join us. Go outside, or even stay in, but spend a moment uniting with and supporting the Raramuri. Send us videos, photos, texts, songs, or anything you feel like to show you’ve been here with us, with everyone, in this important moment.

We are One.

May 16 - 23, 2020 - All over the world

Jim Walmsley is a Champion

Canyon de Chelly, last fall. I had just finished setting up my little dirtbag camp (sleeping in the back of a rental Ford Escape with The Dragonfly) in beautiful Navajo country when a car pulled in our spot. It was pitch dark, and some guy stuck his face out the driver’s window and asked “Is it OK if I park it here?”.

“Sure.”

Two guys stepped out and we shook hands. “Hey, I’m Jim.” “Hi, I’m Myke.” And that was pretty much it. They got set up in the back of their car, just like us, cooked a little bit of dinner, and came to sit down at the Miller’s Casitalita. And you know what was really special about it all? Absolutely nothing.

We all took a seat and started chatting among ourselves. I found out that “Myke” was a photographer, that he traveled quite a bit, and that he documented Jim’s runs. My friend Nico was there too, and it was cool to spend a little time and have a beer before the grand day tomorrow, one of the most amazing runs an ultra runner could wish for. Everyone shared stories and like every eve before an epic ultra, it was relaxed and fun.

Walking back to our car, Julie told me “Wow, that guy I was talking with, Jim, turns out he’s just ran a world-record Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim just a couple days ago.” I had actually sort of met him before, running Mesquite Canyon in Arizona. He flew down a trail at an impressive speed, and I thought he really looked like Scott Jurek with his curly hair and his long legs. Julie was impressed. “He’s just this super casual dude”, she said, “He didn’t mention anything about his feat until I started asking questions.” Champions tend to do that, I thought to myself.

The next day started before sunrise as we made our way down to the sacred fire and shared the Dag’ha ceremonies, where elders and tribe members help prepare the runners for the long day ahead. I asked Nico where Jim was. “Oh, he’s just here for the experience”, he replied. “He’s not running today.”

I wished him good luck on what would turn out to be a pretty fantastic day for him (Nico flew like the wind and won the 2016 run) and set out on my own adventure with Julie, who was experiencing her very first ultra. It was an amazing day for us, too.

At the midpoint, atop the magnificent canyon after a tough climb, I got into the aid station with 1,000 things on my mind. Two hands eagerly extended at me. “Dude, do you have any trash I can take care of?” I lifted my eyes and there he was. “Are you eating well? Have you got enough to drink?”. Jim Walmsley was helping runners out at the aid station, and he wanted to take my trash to the garbage can. He was happy and excited and dedicated and he made me so proud of my sport.

“When was the last time you saw a sports superstar take care of some random guy’s trail trash and make sure he’s doing OK?”, I remember telling Julie, on the way back. A real champion will do that, I again reflected.

I never told this story until today, because I’m convinced Jim didn’t do this to get publicity or gratification. I’m convinced he did it out of his love for running and to share a special moment with the people who, he knows, “get it”.

So when some of these running people started speaking negatively of him after the Western States last weekend, it really bugged me. They accuse him of being brash. They find weaknesses in his strategy. They say all sorts of things, from the comfort of their little certainties, like they’ve had a front-row seat to Jim’s career all along.

The same people who would have written the exact opposite, should Jim have made it and won the race and smashed a course record. They would have lauded his boldness, they would have talked about every little bit that he’d done right. And that, too, is pissing me off.

I’ll be first to say, I don’t know Jim Walmsley that well. But I’m the kind of person for whom actions speak louder than words. And after seeing how he behaves and the respect he’s garnered from many ultra runners in the community I know and love, I’m taking his defense and I’m standing with him.

He went out there and he gave Western States his absolute best shot. He was convinced he could win, and he was unafraid to say it. And maybe some people didn’t notice, but he’s also unafraid to talk about despair and depression, of failing and mistakes, even of wanting to die. And then finding a way. Champions tend to do that, too.

I salute Jim for his bold attempt last weekend, as I salute every single one of us out there who builds up the passion and the determination to tackle ridiculously long distances in difficult environments with no certainty of success, yet who goes at it nonetheless. There will always be some naysaying bystanders to hit someone when they’re down. Often, they will also be the flip-floppers who will turn around and sing the praises of the same person when they actually succeed. I hope their words are as meaningless and inconsequential either way, to the people subjected to them.

After so many hours of training and sacrifice and dedication, ALL Western States runners, from Cat Bradley to Jim to that last person to cross the finish line to those who didn’t even make it to the start but tried, deserve a well-earned congratulations, a recognition of their hard work and some words of encouragement to keep going, to keep pushing the limits and to keep living this life to the fullest.

The bystanders are all the same to me. And I don’t care what they think.

Jim Walmsley’s a champion.



Photo credit : Myke Hermsmeyer

*** EDIT ***

I very rarely come back and edit a post, but I feel like this is important. Myke Hermsmeyer actually sent me a photo (that I didn't know existed!) of the exact moment depicted in my article. 

So here it is, Jim being a trail angel to my absolute nobody self, atop Canyon de Chelly :)

Witness

What can an ultra runner born into privilege do to participate and support in the cause of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women in Canada?

I felt that question was in many minds when I started talking about joining young Cree leader Theland Kicknosway on his journey between Ottawa and Kitigan Zibi to give a voice to the Stolen Sisters. It was probably asked around in my circles, and likely in Theland’s as well. See, at first glance, him and I don’t have much in common.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Symbolically, the journey Theland and I shared last week is a metaphor of a much broader situation in Canada, and probably the world over. Different backgrounds, different upbringings and even a different generation were all seemingly reasons for us not to have anything to share. But here’s where the beauty starts to operate.

We have much more in common than we have differences, when anyone looks past the surface. Theland, at a very young age and I’m sure thanks to the guidance of his parents, has an amazing grasp of a great truth; we are all related. Connected with the spiritual world, he is sensitive to messages, symbols and visions that can guide our lives. Open to others, he has a deep empathy for the suffering and the challenges of his fellow Humans and wishes to have an active response to show his support.

Expressed in a different way and at a later time in life, these values are part of my journey, too. I have been awakened to the importance of connection through my adventures in the running world and I have been lucky enough to be initiated to ancient cultures which hold a wealth of knowledge and wisdom our world desperately needs. I feel deeply for the people and the challenges they face, and I want to serve and support them as best I can.

So I offered to join my steps to his. We would travel a great distance together, voice demands of justice for the Indigenous Sisters who have paid with their lives the inequity of a broken system, and create a bridge between worlds too often depicted as separated, different, apart.

I have had the immense privilege of being welcomed in Theland’s world and family circle, from sharing our food to our prayers in the circle ceremonies we would hold every morning. I have shared the tobacco offerings, the smoke of the sacred sage and sweet grass, and I have been allowed to speak and share as a member of the community. We have laughed, struggled, cried, feared, hoped and endured together.

Along the way, I have been made a witness to the vibrant Native culture that happens every day in the world, and I have been generously taught in these ways by people who would have had every reason to refuse this knowledge to me. I have said it before and I will say it again, I am a son of the oppressor and I do not stand for what has been done before. There are too many people out there today pretending to speak in my name, and to represent me. They don’t. My presence at Theland’s side was a physical and spiritual demonstration that I, and all of you who supported this journey, we, stand on the side of truth, justice, fairness, inclusion, empathy, kinship and connection.


We stand with Theland.

In this space, I would like to acknowledge the generous support of Mas Korima, who provided all the running food Team Theland needed for the journey, plus another living proof that actions are taken all over the world to bridge Native cultures and celebrate their knowledge.

Thank you Julie Hallé, The Dragonfly, for your unwavering support, for your dedication, for showing me the way and for being such an amazing Human being. I am honored you choose to share your life with me.

Thank you to CCC Running Club, and specifically Marc Langevin, for your amazing involvement through kind words and the organization of a spirit run in support of Theland and the cause of #MMIW.

Thank you Jacques Aubin, Jack, my friend, for your personal and logistical support, for believing, and for embodying the change our world needs.

Thank you to Enduroforce for providing its maple-based tonics which helped us stay alert and energized along the way.

Thank you to Touch, for their anti-chaffing stick, cream and lip balms which effectively protected us from the ubiquitous sand and dust.

Thank you Garmin, for the bags and hats.

Thank you Marc Séguin, Éveric Lauzière, Caribou Legs / Brad Firth, Steve Martin, Isabelle Aubouy, Noel Paine, Augusto Gamero, Kelsey Conner, Michael and Kimberly Miller, Donald Audet, Samir Znifeche, Philippe Gendreau, Norbert Blobel, Erik Buzzard, Shaun Martin, for reaching out personally to Theland, sending good wishes and thoughts and showing we are many.

Thank you Running People of the world for all the kind words, the encouragement, the photos and the shout-outs along the way.

Run with Theland : Hashtag Campaign

I’m headed west tonight to meet up with Theland and his family, and finally get ready to start the run. A lot of you have shown support in many ways, and still I get asked how runners and supporters can help. Here’s a couple ways :


- Join The Dragonfly and CCC Running Club for Montreal’s South Shore (Boucherville) 5k run/walk in support for Theland and the cause of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Thursday night at 7:00pm;

- Donate to Families of Sisters in Spirit through Paypal, using the button below;

- Run or walk for Theland and publish a selfie with the hashtag #TeamTheland

Show your support for a young leader whose example is noticed in Native communities, in Canada and far beyond. As I humbly follow in his footsteps, I will make sure he sees your messages and pictures.

Join #TeamTheland with us!

Run With Theland : A Story of Leadership, Connection and Hope

Early morning, this April 12, I will join in the footsteps of an amazing young man whom I care for and respect very much, Theland Kicknosway. Our paths have joined and we will run together to acknowledge my friend's leadership, to celebrate connection and to create hope.

Theland Kicknosway is a young hero from the Cree / Potawatami Nation of Canada. Since an early age, he was exposed to the tragedy of Indigenous women disappearing from their community and he was deeply concerned by the fate of their orphaned children.

Being close to his roots and traditions, he looked to his ancestral culture for answers, which came in the form of a dream; he had to travel long distances by foot to raise global awareness and shed light on the Human crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada.

At the age of 11, he undertakes a 134 km crossing, on foot, covering the distance between Ottawa and the village of Kitigan Zibi. He took his first step at the site where a 7-month pregnant young woman, Kelly Morrisseau was found assassinated in December 2006 and culminated his journey at the house of Bridget Tolley, an Algonquin activist who co-founded Sisters in Spirit and whose mother was fatally hit by a police vehicle in October 2001. All along the way, he stopped to honor the memory of many more Indigenous women, mothers, aunties and sisters who had disappeared, and to raise awareness about the fate of the children who were left behind.

Theland “Walks in a good way”, in his own words, to remind these children that they are not forgotten, and not alone. His actions preserve the memory of these women gone without a trace, too often overlooked by authorities, and his steps give a voice to those who have lost it so that they never fade into forgetfulness.

Theland and I upon our first meeting,
at Pandora 24-hour Ultra last year

The following year, he made the journey again in the opposite direction, from Kitigan Zibi to Ottawa, to continue his campaign and spread his message even further. His role as a leader was recognized and acknowledged all the way to the Canadian Parliament, where he was given the honor of leading Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and his cabinet to be sworn in at Rideau Hall in November 2015.

This April 12, Theland Kicknosway will again undertake the journey from Ottawa, with a renewed determination following the announcement of a federal inquiry into the disappearing and murder of Indigenous women in Canada. I will join him and share the effort, in humility and as a display of respect for his vision and leadership.

I am very grateful to Mas Korima for supporting us with all the food we will need for the crossing, as well as following us on Twitter and Facebook along the way with updates and live feeds.

Runners and allies of the cause are invited to show their support by sending funds, by standing along our route, by sending messages or by joining us for segments of the crossing. These women are our family and this cause concerns us all as a community. Let’s join our voices and our steps to those of Theland Kicknosway!

To support Theland's run for MMIW :

Ancient Memories

We are well aware of the world outside. It bustles, hums and swirls around us every day. But there’s another world, a little more secret, a little more hidden, within each one of us. A world that’s alive with our breath and blood, but also with our thoughts, our spirit and our soul.

Buried deep inside of us lies a true wonder. We are discovering that our cells, the very fabric of our beings, are coded, like an immense library describing what we are (living beings, animals, mammals of the human type), who we are (genes, biometrics) and where we came from (DNA). I believe this library holds much, much more.

There’s a reason why there are things we instinctively know. There’s an explanation for reflexes, for innate talents and for instant connections with unknown places or people. Science calls it evolution. I say it’s cellular memory.

No matter how you look at it, it seems that each individual in a lineage, over the course of time, changes and adapts. This is true for humans, as it is for plants, animals and all living beings. In order to do this, two things are required; the ability to modify one’s self and memory of what was before and of what is being carried on. If not, evolution would be nothing but an infinity of very short dead ends.

So what does that tell us? That we carry a treasure. That we contain not only organs and a spirit, but also knowledge of all that has happened before until this point. This, by the way, also means that we know a little less than our children and those who come after us.

This knowledge is written within for us to discover and explore, as we do with the outside world. Every time we go somewhere, meet someone or perform something and get that instantaneous feeling that all things are right and in order, that we are “in the zone”, that we follow the flow, we’re actually receiving a message from our own selves.

Then, since we have the ability to change, we make choices. We take action. We trigger things inside of us that influence our own body, our mind and, ultimately, our destiny. We are the vectors of our own evolution and of that of others as well. In the end, each and every one of us is a vector for the evolution of the world.

Discovering this great truth leads to a very important realization; we are all connected. From the pebble to the insect to the stars in the sky and everything in between, nothing is alone. Everything is together. We are a part of a complete, connected Whole, whose ancient memory is written within ourselves. And it is our goal to act as a part of this whole, in a humble, respectful, responsible, and constructive manner.

Each time my feet meet the ground and I feel the drum of my own rhythm inside my body as I run, I am reminded of this great, amazing truth and I am drawn ever more to open myself to Ancient Memory, to connect to others and to feel from every fiber of my being the most important thing there is to know in this world.

We Are One.

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

My 100-Mile Week Challenge

The Pandora 24, Quebec's first 24-hour trail ultra, is getting closer every day. I'll be running it with fellow Mas Locos and good running friends, pipe dreaming of maybe pulling a 100 miles. But that, I now know, usually goes better with at least some training.

I took a longer commute yesterday, running to work from my Belle's. It's roughly 3 times farther than my place, at about 15K each way. So it's a pretty good running day, a 30k "twofer".

Silly little maths started playing out in my head, and I realized that if I run commute every single day this week, it amounts to 150K. Add a little 10K thrown in somewhere and you hit the 100-mile mark.

See where this is going?

:)

And I *might* have a little suprise for the "little 10K"...





Si je veux faire une belle course à la Pandora, j'aurais avantage à m'entraîner un peu... Après quelques calculs, j'ai réalisé que si je cours au travail de chez ma Belle chaque jour cette semaine, et que j'ajoute un petit 10km pour compléter, ça fera 100 milles en 5 jours...

10 Tips From A Commute Runner

Since about two years ago, I run to work two to three days a week. For me, it is a fast, healthy, efficient way to travel through busy Montreal and to steer clear from the cabin fever of public transport. It gives me about 30 minutes of physical activity two times per day and helps me draw the line between my work and my life. On my way to work this morning, I had the idea to write down a couple tips for those of you who would like to try the commute running lifestyle a try.



1. Focus
Running is fun and liberating, but commute running is a completely different animal. Put your game face on, you’re putting yourself through of a wild variety of moving objects and persons. A lot of people around you – drivers, walkers, commuters – are stressed out and may be distracted, anxious, aggressive or a dangerous mix of all that. This is no place to “zone out”; you need all your senses on high alert. Stay in the moment. That in itself isn’t incompatible with fun, it’s just a very different kind of running!

2. Your speed is weird
You are way faster than a walker, but significantly slower than most bikers. Yet, you are swifter than a kid on a skateboard… or a car in heavy traffic. You’re nimbler than most moving things around you, but your forward momentum prevents you from stopping instantaneously. In a nutshell, do not expect anyone to actually understand and compute your moving pattern. It is your responsibility to realize that you travel at a fringe speed. The sooner you come to grips with this, the safer you’ll be.

3. You are a vehicle
You are not a pedestrian. You are a self-propelled vehicle. You should signal your turn intentions, try not to sneak too close to people behind their backs (you don’t want them jolting or jumping in your way) and leave reasonable space for everyone and everything. Of course, if you’re commuting in a busy urban environment like I do, that’s not always possible. Therefore, tell people you’re coming, or “passing on your left”, or “coming through”. A little courtesy “Thank you” or “hello” never hurts, either.

4. Be aware. Be flashy. But forget about being seen.
Dress in ultra-bright running clothes. Favor anything that has reflective materials. Wear a strobe LED “tail light” or a flashing headlamp. Do everything you can to be seen. Look ahead. Constantly use your peripheral vision. And look back! However, as we said before, you can’t expect anyone to see you and understand what it is you’re doing. So don’t.

5. Leave the MP3 at home
We’ve said it; you need your senses, and all of them. I’ve avoided some potentially catastrophic situations by hearing an incoming engine, the clanking of a brand new construction site or a mother desperately yelling at her runaway kid. Part of your full awareness as a commute runner comes from paying attention to the sounds that surround you. With that said, long-time readers of FlintLand will notice that I do, sometimes, bring my music on commute runs. However, this is not something I recommend.

6. Get the fuck out of the way
Pre-emptively avoid any possible collision, whether with a stray walker, a speeding bike courier or anything else that pops around you. Don’t expect anything or anyone to yield the way or make space; because if they don’t, you’re the one in trouble. You’re out there to travel to work, not to make a point. Unless you see yourself as some sort of urban activist fighting for commute runners’ rights, make sure never to be in anyone’s way. That includes swerving off the sidewalk for a short segment to avoid a guy walking three dogs on leashes or cutting through a street between intersections when no cars are passing. That also includes staying off bike paths, busy walkways and places like high-traffic driveways where cars can unexpectedly come out. As much as humanly possible, you want to be moving alone.

7. Stop.
This is counter-intuitive to most runners, because we’re used to just go out and run consistently, whether on roads or trails. Commuting is different. When you get to a point where you can’t avoid crossing traffic or being around numerous other moving things, stop and wait for your turn. If you just can’t stand that, well, open Google Maps and get working on a route that avoids busy crossings. Busting through is simply not an option. Small city parks, backstreets, large parking lots and dirt paths are among some of the tricks I use.

8. Blind corners are your worst enemies
The most dangerous thing for a commute runner is cornering a street block without seeing if anyone or anything is coming. As much as I try to avoid this situation, it still happens every once in a while. There are two ways to go about this; either you stop or slow down enough to take a peak, or you make a wide-enough turn so that you can burst out of the way if something happens. Running straight ahead on a street with blind corners is as dangerous; leave as much space as you can between yourself and the walls, pay attention to how the people ahead of you react while crossing the dangerous spot and always be ready to jolt away.

9. Embrace the bulk
Commute running is a little more gear-intensive, unless you have the privilege to forgo the backpack and leave some clothes at work. Since you likely carry on your back all you need for your day, you’ll be tempted to go as light as possible. I actually stopped thinking like that and bring extra rain gear (although ultra-light), some post-run snacks and sometimes my tablet. The “luxury” is worth the extra weight, plus I see it as additional strength training :)

10. Enjoy!
My friend Jamil Coury once told me “Whenever you have a hard time in your run, lift your head up and look around. Remember where you are; and remember what you are doing.” Although his advice was aimed at helping me in my first ultra, this very much applies to commute running as well. While everyone else is crammed in a bus or swearing at the wheel of a car stuck in unending traffic, you are using your own body as a vehicle, you are washing away the stresses of a work day, you are giving yourself some healthy “me-time” and you are being awesome!




Courir au boulot, être son propre véhicule. Les dix trucs d'un coureur urbain; concentrez-vous, soyez conscient de votre étrange vitesse, réalisez que vous êtes un véhicule, soyez visible sans vous attendre à être vu, oubliez votre lecteur MP3, débarrassez le chemin, arrêtez, les angles morts sont vos pires ennemis, acceptez la surcharge et amusez-vous!

The Story Of My Very Unlikely First 100 Miler

Ultra running is weird. The more I do it, the more I realize I don't know anything about it. Our bodies are such amazing machines, capable of so many wonders, and yet if "the stars are not aligned" on a given day, we won't be able to do much of anything. On the other hand, there are days when you seem capable of doing anything, like you're boundless. Like you have forgotten your limits at home.

I came to Across The Years almost by coincidence. I had many plans to do many things; drive up to Los Angeles to meet Sweeney for a road race, take advantage of my short stay in Phoenix to go to the junk yard and salvage some parts for El Capitan, go check out the famed hippie hangout Slab City, or go meet my friends the Coury's and offer a little giving back for all the awesome running events they manage. Since many of my running friends were headed there as well, I chose to tag along with Maria, and show up for a couple of aid station volunteering shifts with Patti's crew.

We got there early the first day, just in time to watch the start of The Crazies, the ones who would run for 6 days straight in 500-mile + attempts. I was both in awe and in despair at the sheer amplitude of the task they had ahead of them.

The sun rose a little higher and we enlisted as volunteers with Nick, who started to scribble on the runners list as well.

"What will you run? 48? 72 hours?"

"Oh, you don't need to do that. I'm not running. I'm just here to help out with the aid station."

He looked at me funny.

"But you're gonna run at least a little bit, right? Might as well have your miles logged in, plus I'd rather have you wear a bib if you're gonna do loops around the track anyway."

Before I knew it, I had a bib, a couple volunteer shifts and a bright sunny day ahead of me.

That was the original plan; hanging out on the course...
El Capitan quickly turned into my personal aid station.

Maria and I hung out for a while, cooking breakfast, cheering on our friends and making coffee. We were really out there for fun, just joking around and having a good time. around 11:00, the sun was warm enough to ditch a couple layers.

"Wanna do a couple loops?", said Maria. She already had the spark in her eye. Sure. We changed into running gear, snapped the bibs on and started running around the 1.05-mile course, that basically weaves around some baseball fields and walkways in a huge sports complex. I thought I would get bored pretty quickly, running around in circles, but the track offers enough variety that it keeps things fun. Of course, the nicest part of this type of race is that you're actually running with everyone, from the champions to the last of the pack. We're all in this together, and this creates a very unique spirit.

Running with Jamil...
A rare chance for me

I was all smiles and happy, and soon realized I was running really fast. I had been resting a lot in Mexico and my legs were fresh and springy. Since I had no distance to go for, I simply enjoyed my speed and energy without a care in the world. This allowed me to run loops with some of my very fast friends, like Jamil and Dave, and it made my day. I got a little tired after about 20 miles, so I simply stopped, changed back into my jeans and t-shirt, opened a cold Dos Equis and walked to the Millers' RV for an afternoon chill session in the sun. Or at least, that's what I thought.

See, it's all the Redhead's fault. Under her guise of good looks and smiley gentleness, really, she's pure evil.

I wasn't half way in my first beer when she started playing her tricks on me.

"You looked really good out there, why did you stop?"

"I ran what I felt like running. I'm not here to do anything else than volunteer anyway. My shift starts at 1:00 in the night, until the morning."

"But it's only early afternoon! You could run 3 or 4 more hours, take a nap and then go to work?"

"Why would I do that?"

She looked at me funny.

"You have three full days ahead of you to run as much distance as you want."

"..."

"You know they'll give you a sweet buckle if you do a hundred miles..."

I looked at her funny.

She said nothing more, smiled and started fiddling with her phone. I went back to my beer. But a couple seconds later, she turned the screen around and produced an image of the very nice 100-mile buckle, something I've been coveting for a while and failed to get at my last attempt. I quickly got back to my beer again, but it was empty.

"Fuck it."

I sprung up from the chair, shaking my head, and headed back for my van. The Redhead smiled. Her sneaky deed was done. She had successfully nudged a perfectly happy slacker and totally unprepared runner into a 100-mile hopeful. Evil, I tell you.

I changed back from my jeans into my running gear, and joined the flow of runners again. The weirdest thing; no one was puzzled or seemed surprised by my back-and-forths. I just got welcome back smiles and nudges. What kind of crowd had I gotten myself into?

So I ran again. 10 miles, maybe 11. And again, it was great fun hanging out with everyone. I saw Deborah the Aquaphor Girl and Jaime, Ed The Jester, Mark Hellenthal and I met many new friends. By the time I was back at the van for a little nap before my shift, I had run 30 miles.

I showed up to work with Patti's crew in the main aid station and hung out with Zach, a veteran volunteer. We kept busy filling up the food plates, drinks and attending to the runners' needs. When Patti realized I was also running in the event, she came to me.

"So you're going to work AND run?"

"Is that OK?"

She looked at me funny.

The hours flew by, in the cold desert night. Lucky for me, we had a propane heater in the aid station tent to keep warm. But we felt for the runners out there in the shivering cold, so we worked on the double, making hot chocolate, cup-o-noodles and fresh coffee. My shift was supposed to end at 9:00 the next morning, but at 7:00, Patti gave me a little tap on the shoulder.

"Go get some sleep, things have slowed down, we'll be fine here."

I headed back to the van, slipped in my bed and fell hard asleep. Two hours later, I woke up to a beautiful sunny day, the sound of runners' steps on the track... and what felt like a mammoth task ahead. I was tired from a long day, and had to run 70 more miles if I wanted to score a hundred. I had another work shift coming up that night, at 8:00, so I had to squeeze in some sleep as well.

Deciding that the best course of action was "more running, less thinking", I reluctantly got out of bed and started putting my running clothes on. The morning was cold and my first steps out of the van were painful. I couldn't quite run, I was just too sore. Things didn't look great, but I was moving. I just started real easy, walking around the track for a couple loops.

Beauty and the Blistered

"HEY!!! Look who's here!"

A very happy Mariposa was already dancing around the track, side-by-side with my friend Jess! I had no idea she was coming, and was super glad to see her. She looked fresh and as beautiful as always, and I started trotting along just to be with my friends. Not a half loop later, Jess and I are running strong in the warming sun. What happened? I can never keep up with her, as she's such a better runner than I am. I just started feeling as good as the day before, and Jess and I went on running together, stride for stride, for many hours. Things felt easy and it was great to spend some time chatting and having fun. By the time the afternoon was over, I had 33 more miles in. And a plan.

Jess would volunteer on the evening shift with us. Since we brought a third person in, we would take turns doing a loop while the two other friends would be at work, if things weren't too busy. It didn't look like the plan would work at first, but around 9:30, we started going out for a loop, one at a time.

I was a little desperate, because reality struck me sometime that night. I had 63 miles in and a work night ahead, which meant I would need to get up the next day to a 37-mile run before I took off to Gilbert and then San Diego, 7 hours of driving away, to pick up my Belle and start our vacation. It was nuts.

Again, "Less thinking, more running". Every chance we got, we went out for a loop. I told my friends that when our shift was over, I didn't want to go to bed until I had 71 miles in. Why? Really, I don't know. It was just a stupid notion in my head that I could pull off a 29-mile day on the next morning, but not more. So I kept going in circles in the night, after my shift, until the counter said I had 71.4 miles (68 loops). It felt lonely and pointless, but at least I got to meet more interesting runners like Marylou from Ontario, who was steadily building mileage all by herself in the night, offering me a beaming smile each time we would cross paths.

A visit in the World of Hurt

I managed to get a little sleep, but my body was protesting my sudden change in lifestyle. My legs were twitchy and I had a hard time staying warm, even though I had a heater in the van. I wasn't eating too well (not at all, really), except the handfuls of aid station snacks I would grab here and there and the gels I was doing when running. Not exactly a winning recipe for a successful 100-miler.

The next morning was brutal, with a sore body and the realization that I needed to run all day, and possibly into the night, to hit the 100 mark. My feet had started to blister pretty badly, and I had already popped two bad ones which started to hurt way more than I care to remember. I couldn't put my feet in my shoes because the pain was too bad. Desperate, I got my first-aid kit out and used blister pads, taped over with Band-Aid tape (works wonders!). But now the problem was that my feet didn't fit my shoes! I'd been wearing my Skechers GoRun Meb Speed, my usual choice for road runs, because of the Resalyte sole and the overall lightweight feel. But now I couldn't even squeeze my foot in it.

Taped blisters...

... Under taped socks.

I dug into my shoe stash and tried many other ones, but the only that fit was my GoRun2, an even more padded shoe with a slight arch support. I had worn those for a marathon without any issues, and anyway I had no other choice if I wanted to keep going. The blistered spot under my right pinky toe was so bad that I had to tape the Injinji sock over the taping I had already done on the toe itself. I winced as I squeezed in my foot, and the first steps were horrible. But I was back on the track. Walking.


I had a moment, that morning. My run had gone so well and I was so ill-prepared for a 100-mile, I thought, that it had to come bite me in the ass at some point. I had run almost every single loop up to 71, but now things were about to go south, quick. I was more hobbling than walking, and a single loop felt like a 5k. My moral was sinking.

I got my MP3 player out, something I hadn't done in maybe 2 years. I hit the button and the music started, with blaring heavy guitars. It was Five Finger Death Punch. And they had a message.

"You won't break me,
No matter how hard you try.
You can't shake me down,
I'm fucking bulletproof!"

From the bottom of my toes all the way up my spine, I felt a wave of something, like a warm liquid injected in my veins. A nudge forward so palpable that I think I even felt a push in my back. I leaned forward and started running. To my absolute amazement, I discovered that running didn't hurt my feet. Only walking did!

From that point, I knew what I had to do. Let my legs go, breathe and sink into the music. One loop. Two loops. Then I stopped counting. Yes, that's it. Float in that timeless spot inside, where nothing gets to you. Look through your own eyes like they are the window of some vehicle taking you on a voyage. Daydream stories that make no sense and amuse you. Smile. Catch a glimpse of other runners' eyes for a tiny moment in time, connect, then come back inside.

By the time I looked up at the monitor, the afternoon sun was high in the sky and the counter said 85 miles. I started getting mixed feelings. On one side, I was getting more and more certain that I could do it, at long last. I could cross the finish line of a 100-mile run, something I sincerely doubted was in my reach as a runner. But on the other side, the pain in my legs and the fatigue were getting to me, poking holes in my confidence. I couldn't take any walking breaks, it simply hurt too much. Was this a blessing or a curse?

The MP3 player, once again, provided my answer. It played one of my favorite tracks, from Rise Against.

It's called "Give it all".

I resorted to an old marathon trick. Run one loop with someone. During that time, think only of that person, of what they represent for you. Be that person. Incarnate what it is you admire about them, and bring it to life. Pierre. Donald. Karine. Juan Pablo. The Navajo.

90 miles.

The Raramuri. Terry Fox. Dan. The Red-Tailed Hawk. My brother. Méganne. The Leaf Warrior. Nick.

Micah.

By the time I was surrounded with all the inspiration that came to me, I had one mile to go. One loop. I was running side by side with Rachel, who showed up like an angel and acted as my own brain, calculating for me and keeping me on track, and then with Casey, all smiles, who brought me to the finish line. I crossed it to the sound of an Apache cry from Maria, and emerged into a brand new world on the other side.

A world where little me runs 100 miles.

A setting without any limits.

A place where my thirst for life becomes endless.

My friends went on to run incredible distances and perform astonishing feats of endurance. Michael Miller won the 72-hour event with 243 miles. Marylou smiled away and won the 72-hour with a mountain of 265 miles. Kelly Agnew flew through and won the 48-hour with 201. Ed The Jester traveled an amazing 476 miles. The Evil Redhead finished a hundred of her own. Jess did her hundred like a walk in the park. And Maria Walton covered two hundred smiles, floating free with inspiration. To all of you, hearty congratulations!




Qu'est-ce qu'on cherche en courant en cerlces pendant 3 jours et 100 milles? C'est mieux de ne pas le savoir. La découverte en est tout autant plus merveilleuse lorsqu'on émerge de l'autre côté, avec une soif de vivre sans fin et l'émerveillement face à ce dont nous sommes capables. Nous sommes des machines absolument extraordinaires. Des miracles de la vie.


Photo credits: Bret Sanquist, Aravaipa Running

100 Thank Yous

À ma Belle, qui m'a témoigné un appui indéfectible, même sans tout comprendre.

To Micah, who never ceased to inspire and guide me, to this day.

Maria, whose unfailing friendship warms my heart.

Dan, the Weatherman, and his thousand words of advice.

Dan, my brother, who taught me about bravery and resilience.

To my brother, for showing me that life is made of risk.

Sweeney, who told me our Mexican adventure would give me the fortitude I needed.

The Red-Tailed Hawk, for showing me the way and believing in me.

Jess, ever so graceful and light, who so enthusiastically shared the journey.

Nick, who generously spent some time explaining what such an adventure required. Also, for running alongside me in the last moments, sharing words that will be cherished.

To The Mas Locos, for everything.

Rachel, so light-footed and generous, sharing my last loops and cheering me on.

To the Redhead, whose fault that all is, for gently nudging me forward.

Jamil, Nathan and all the Coury family, for making me feel at home with such generosity.

Ian, a true champion, who humbly taught me hares and turtles both share the same challenges.

To Pierre, who inspired me to run in his footsteps.

To Donald, for not letting me fool myself and for his unfailing confidence.

Augusto, who shares my journey into life and running in so many interesting ways.

To The Leaf Warrior, The Great Tree, for the invisible link that unites us.

Baby Tiger, my fighter, my spark of life.

To Quebec runners and ultra enthusiasts, who make me feel home every time we cross paths.

Karine, so that somehow you feel your challenge is shared.

To Casey, for all intents and purposes an absolute stranger, incarnating what I love most about the culture of ultra running.

To the Arizona runners, for becoming an instant family.

To Luis the Coyote, for keeping it real, for real. For his generosity, his genuine kindness and his radiating strength.

The Santa Barbara runners, for being the rowdy awesome bunch they are.

To my Leatherman's Loop friends, who remain close to my heart year round.

Juan Pablo, who taught me a lesson of resilience I will never forget.

All the runners on that course who struggled, dug deep and kept going, for showing me how it's done.

To all my friends, close and far, who cheer and spur me on in my crazy adventures.


To Terry Fox, who planted a dream in a young boy's head years before any of this would happen.

And finally to you, FlintLand readers, for all your messages of support and love, which mean the world to me every single time. Always.




You have all contributed to making me who I am, and you have all played a role on that crazy track, where I spun myself stupid looping around day and night in search of something that is hard to describe or explain, until I got a firm grasp of it - crossing the finish line of a 100-mile run.

Thank you.

Santa Barbara Nine Trails Run Report

Whatever you do, never follow this man on the trails.

A great guy. An awesome photographer. A good friend. A really funny man. Luis Escobar is all of this and more, but above all, he is one badass trail runner. So, getting an invitation to go running with him was a no brainer. He wasn’t overly precise about what exactly we were going to run, but I just thought being out there on the Santa Barbara trails on a beautiful day, by the sea with running friends, was enough of a reason to go.

When he finally explained what the Nine Trails Run really was, it was way too late to make a quick exit and go hide under something. I was already on-site, attending Luis’ presentation on the Raramuri, bathing in the comfort of the last minutes of my oblivious innocence until Patsy Dorsey showed up and got Luis all excited about our run the next day. That is the precise moment when he explained this race had been designed to be the harshest, meanest, toughest run you could get yourself into. Patsy actually prides herself in stories from previous years, when a runner told her Western States was merely training for Nine Trails, or that other time when a runner finished the course, cursing, and asked to meet the sadistic bitch who’d designed the course.

I started trembling in my Luna Sandals.

Maria and I exchanged looks of fear and confusion as the scary stories kept piling up and as runners five times as mean and experienced as us would nod their heads and say they’d never run that thing again. They then went on to explain we would not be running up the mountains and along the ridges, but up and down every single steep cliff and canyon until the turnaround point, and simply do it all the way back again. 10,000 feet of misery over 39 miles. Did I mention Santa Barbara was in the middle of a heat wave, with temperatures soaring in the high 90’s?

So, what do you do to prepare for something like this? Somehow, Luis, Wild Bill Kee, John and our other friends decided the best preparation was a late night pizza, some beer and then a past-midnight camp-out at the trail head.

Morning came way to soon and I was up before first light, brewing coffee on the back of El Capitan and trying to get prepared, or rather to not think about what was ahead. Runners started coming in and I was happy to see some familiar faces from the night before. One of them was Chris Clemens, all smiles, who offered some measure of relief before we hit the trails. “Just hang back until the first peak, then keep taking it easy. It’s going to be a hard day, but you’ve got this.” He was being way more optimistic than I was, but I could take the encouragement.

The minutes leading to the start went by really fast. We took Caballo Blanco’s oath, made sure we had all our gear and food in place and just took off.

The morning was fresh and the first climb felt better than I thought. I was hanging in the middle pack and not finding it too hard to follow, so I got in better spirits. I had some nice conversation and was in great company, so I decided to just enjoy the day and have fun. Three minutes later, we started the real climbing.

Steep, dry switchbacks only made way for more steep, dry switchbacks. I quickly realized the initial pace was too fast for me, but it had been decided we would run this as a group since none of the trail was marked and that we would only get one stop at half way to refill water and fuels. I actually pulled it off quite well for the first couple hours, thinking I could at least reach the turnaround and then take it easier for the way back, since I would now know where to go.

One top of the first climb of a long, long series

Shortly after the half-way stop, we started a descent into what I think is called Snake Canyon. The downhills felt good, but the morning cool had long vanished and a hard, brutal sun started pounding on our heads. Not long after that, the faster pace started taking its toll. I needed to slow down, but really couldn’t. I clenched my teeth and decided to grind for a little longer.

By the time we reached the junction of the trail and the fire road, close to the summit, I was dizzy, tired and didn’t want to go any further, at least not at that pace. Luis told me “Nah, man, stick around for a bit longer, we’re about to start this section called The Wall and I don’t want you lagging behind and getting lost.”

Wait. The what?

Between the Copper Canyons and Colorado trails, I’ve seen a decent amount of steep stuff in my little running life. But I wasn’t prepared for what was next. They call it a road, but I don’t know how any vehicle could make it through such a steep, gnarly climb, let alone my sorry ass. I only took one look at the thing, then quickly put my head down and concentrated on putting every foot just a little farther than the other.

The weather was now in the high 90’s and my walking slowed to a crawl under the blaring sun. There was no following the group anymore, and I lagged farther and farther behind. I felt bad, because the group had to wait for me at crossings; so the next time I caught up, I told them to just go on, and leave an arrow pointing to the right direction for me to follow. It was the best I could do. My brain was frying and I couldn’t run any more. The runners agreed to leave me behind, with some of them so nice that they actually offered to stick with me for the last section.

The following hour and a half felt like an eternity. There is no explaining how hard that course is, unless you are on it. It took me half my food and water to get back to some measure of alertness, then it became a matter of keeping moving forward, hiking up and down an unending series of crazy pitches and hills filled with rolling scree.

When I finally reached the turnaround, I had long decided that I was done. Running 19 miles had taken 6.5 hours over 5,000 feet of gain. There was no talking me back into those trails and Nancy Kaplan’s offer of a cold beer and a swimming pool was way too sweet to pass. I bid the 8 runners who kept going farewell, then headed back into town for a long splash and a nap before we made it back to the trailhead, to cheer on and take care of the runners who completed the course.

I got my cooking stuff out and started whipping some pretty decent pasta and sauce, just in time for the runners’ arrival. We welcomed them like the true heroes they are, with hugs, beer and food. We stayed there for a long time, basking in the day’s last sunrays by the beautiful, but fierce Santa Barbara trails, sharing stories of our high points and struggles.

It was just then, sitting among these beautiful people, exhausted but full of life, that I was reminded what genuine trail running really means.





The Santa Barbara Nine Trails Run is an unofficial, unmarked, unsupported ultra event held every year by people with great hearts who share a true love for our sport.


Photo credits : Jon Zaid