A Homecoming

Standing at the UMCB 2016 starting line, I felt like I had been catapulted into this moment through a whirl of events which started 4 years ago, when I showed up in Bauichivo, dusty, tired and absolutely amazed only to stumble onto Caballo Blanco and have my life changed forever.

With a single color bracelet at my wrist, I contemplate the extent of the day ahead of me, but quickly wipe that thought and concentrate on what matters; the sun will shine in the Barrancas today, I'm here and so are my friends.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and we are off in a crazy cavalcade, as always, through the early cheers of excited Uriquenses standing on their porches in the early light of a new Canyon's day. I take a couple of weary steps, and everything suddenly falls into flow. I'm a the right place, and this is the right time. It's all going to work out exactly as it's supposed to.

I don't know exactly where this chain of events started. Is it when my brother Dan gave me that book, or when I could't just finish it, put it down and go on with my life, and went online looking for the Raramuri? Is it when I got down from the train and ended up drinking a beer with Micah True 15 minutes later, or when he left me and all my new Mas Loco family to go run with the Elders forever?

All I know is I found myself surrounded with a handful of close friends in a human ocean of Raramuri runners, and that all was right in the world again.

La Plaza, the day before the race

I'll never really know what the Canyons folks really think of us weird gringos and our crazy ideas. What I do know is that they had a twinkle in their eyes this year, and a palpable excitement to see us that felt genuine and almost overwhelming. Sweeney, Tyler, Mike, Muldonado, Kimberly, Tony, everyone was called by name and cheered on like the long-awaited return of a family member. Even Raramuri families on the side of the road seemed to forego their legendary shyness and shouted "Weriga!" for me, something I had never witnessed before.

The miles started piling and my excitement didn't fade. It seemed like everyone shared a little extra friendship, a little extra joy of seeing that no matter what happened before, we were all still here, we were all still running together and we were all, as it always will be, one.

I don't know if it was because so few of us had showed up, but the Raramuris and the local runners showed heartwarming hospitality and shared the trails with large smiles and nods of approval at every corner. I ran some sections with women, who usually step out of the trail at the first sign of a chabochi, looking down or away in silence. With a smaller group of younger Raramuri girls, we even joked about the fact that a faster girl and me, who ended up progressively passing them, were a weird pair with my huaraches and her running shoes. It looked like we were all just a big family out on a long run together, and it was a fantastic feeling.

Coming out of my first stop in Urique, I stumbled upon two very young boys from town, who told me they had been training and preparing for months to be able to run the race. I grinned from ear to ear and congratulated them on their achievements. We shared a good section of the way to Guapalayna, until they decided to take a break away from the rising heat.

The aid stations were filled with happy, giggling teens very eager to help and offer us fruits, pinole and abundant water. There were teams of Red Cross volunteers everywhere, ready to step in and help out struggling runners even on the way out to Los Alisos, far away from the closest road. One of the unit chiefs, a young girl all decked in her Red Cross uniform and vigorously hiking the trails under the burning sun, cheered me on and made sure I was all right before giving me a little slap on the butt and shouting "andale!" which gave everyone, myself included, a good laugh.

As always, showing up half-dead in Los Alisos and being revived by Prospero and his team was a high point of my day. Seeing our friends so busy and dedicated to the race was both humbling and heart-warming, and the hugs and cheers at the end of the trail gave me energy to keep going and reminded me of the importance of what we were doing; we were showing our friends that we love them, the Barrancas and this event, in whatever shape of form it takes.

No matter how hard the day went, people everywhere went out of their way to help out, from that police dude in Guapalayna who literally showered me with a bucket of water to the young girls in La Laja who sat me down and gave me an awesome leg rub with a local analgesic pomada, all the way to that lovely young woman on my last way out of Guadalupe, who popped open a Tecate for me, offered a couple sips and assured me her boyfriend wouldn't kill me if I gave her a kiss. So I gave her two :)

My Oso's and my colors :)

Absolutely everything went as well as I had hoped, and even better. My Raramuri friend Javier placed 7th overall in the race, smashing his previous record and finishing ahead of some legendary runners despite a pretty bad cramping bout on his last stretch. Tarzan Tyler had an amazing run and finished first gringo under a thunder of cheers. All the Mas Locos in our caravan finished their runs and crossed the line with a lot of emotion, as some were experiencing this for the first time. No matter where you were in Urique, UMCB 2016 brought joy, excitement and a whole lot of positivity.

I managed to have an about-12-hour overall run, which I am very satisfied with. After a rather demanding stretch from Los Alisos almost all the way up to Guadalupe, I pumped myself full of the gels my friends had scrambled for me in Urique and pulled a pretty impressive last 5K, catching up with my friend Muldowney and finishing in daylight, exhausted but filled with joy.

The Urique government did an amazing job at organizing the event, from super-well-staffed aid stations to the 100% local cultural program. They pulled a world-class event pretty flawlessly, providing food and camps for the Raramuri runners as well as cash prizes and food vales like has now become tradition.

Like every year, I left Urique too soon, my head filled with memories and my heart filled with the pride of knowing that Ultra Caballo Blanco is in good hands with the people of the Barrancas, that it will go on for a long time in the future and that I, for sure, as always, will be back in the beautiful Copper Canyons as soon as I get the chance.

I kept my 5 colors on my wrist like a trophy up until today, not so much for the running achievement, but as a reminder of the love, friendship and peace we helped create.

I will be back in 2017 and I'm sure that I won't be alone. Until then, I have a year's worth of daydreaming and memories to cherish and a ton of new projects with my friends who live in the Barrancas, the home I will always love coming back to.

Moldonado, friends, and me, sharing
a celebratory cold drink at the finish line

Mourning Doves

Peaceful. Quiet. Spiritual. Words that will often be used by those who visit the Copper Canyons of Mexico. Whether they came to experience a running journey with the Raramuri or they wandered down on a traveling adventure, visitors of the Barrancas Del Cobre emerge back transformed, changed.

At the heart of the Caballo Blanco Ultra is such a story of personal, spiritual transformation. One man, Micah True, intrigued by what he had witnessed at the Leadville 100, began a journey to the Sierra Madre that would not only change his life, but the lives of many others. He would meet the Raramuri and, through his cultural sensitivity, adjust his behavior to allow ever more proximity and mutual understanding. By taking the required time to wander around the Canyons, by refraining from intrusion into the houses and villages, by remaining a humble and peaceful observer, he was offered a great privilege of growing access and exchange with The Running People.

After several years of a growing relationship, he decided to do something he felt was important, something he felt his new friends would understand and appreciate. With the help of local sponsors, he created a running event. A gesture of immense symbolism for a People who define themselves by the very act of running. They understood, and they responded. Ultra Marathon Caballo Blanco, and the history that ensued, was born.

It was never easy for Micah True to realize his dream and vision. He understood the social, economic and cultural challenges both the Raramuri and Northwest Mexico face on a daily basis. He struggled with the local powers, both official and non-official. He was always culturally conflicted between establishing a bridge connecting the running people of the world and intruding on a millennial culture that had done well without interactions with others.

But he never gave up. He searched his soul for answers and he based his actions on a set of values which he would never compromise. Truth. Integrity. Peace. Openness. He would follow them to a fault, not hesitating to refuse commercial opportunities or widespread endorsement. He followed an uncompromising path of action very few can claim for their own.

When he left, Micah left the world, the Running People, the Mas Locos, the inhabitants of the Barrancas and his friends with a work of love that needed to continue. All of them united behind the importance of that work to agree it had to be perpetuated. Josue Stephens and Maria Walton stepped up, against all the unknowns, the risks and the open questions. They, before everyone else, realized that above all, UMCB had to carry on. Others soon followed.

2013 rolled in, and a first running celebration happened. It was moving. It was difficult. It was beautiful. It brought the realization that UMCB was still the life-changing experience Micah True had created. Facing the same challenges, risks and uncertainties.

2014 confirmed the commitment of international runners, an ever-growing group of Mexican nationals and the whole population of the Canyons to perpetuating a tradition that has become charged with meaning and purpose. “Race week” is not only a time for festivities in Urique; it is a time where runners from the whole world can come down to a sacred land and share what they do best. Being Humans and being runners who share the same footpaths, unhindered by politics, language, culture and appearances. It is a time for the Raramuri to witness good will, respect and support from the four corners of the world; to be given a mirror image of the beauties of their own culture and to humbly feel pride to be a part of it.

This is the true tragedy of UMCB 2015. This year, just as we were crossing that symbolic Bridge of Nations, we were faced with a surge of brutality and death right on the doorstep of our friends’ homes. We were confronted with the harsh, unfiltered reality of life in the Barrancas. We were victimized, just like the local people, by inhuman acts of violence.

Now I want to ask you; does it matter what the source of that violence is? Are there clear-cut sides in that conflict that can be oversimplified to the Good and the Bad people? Should all the deaths be accounted and described in gruesome details? Should that critical situation of personal and global security be used for sensationalism and shock value?

No.

Whether 2, 20 or 200 people were kidnapped and murdered, whether hand guns, machine guns or grenades were used is completely and utterly besides the point. It doesn’t matter how many troops had to be brought in. It doesn’t matter what affiliation the people partaking in the conflict had. It doesn’t change a thing where the dead bodies were discovered.

What matters is the People of the Canyons are our friends. The People of the Canyons are human beings who suffer through violence, hatred, confusion and bloodshed. What matters is that mothers cry for their disappeared sons, and families are torn with grief in a silent, constant storm fueled thousands of miles away by people who simply don’t care and turn a blind eye, while rolling a Friday-night joint with their friends. What matters is, as I was told, this whole situation could not happen if not for the tacit approval of everyone. Everyone.

Photo : Mikko Ijas

And this is where Norawas de Raramuri, the race directors and the family of Mas Locos drew a line. Saturday, February 28, 2015, in the face of violence, we decided to take a stance. We decided that, notwithstanding the clear and present danger of the situation, cancelling the race would not be a matter of security. We would do the only thing in our power to protest the madness and destruction. Cancelling the race would be a humble, quiet, nonviolent statement for Peace.

We would speak with our bodies the same universal language we have shared since the beginning with the Raramuri. We would not accept to perform an act of friendship, openness and sharing in the face of a fratricidal war. We would not run.

With unspeakable sadness, I walked back to my camp in the comfort and company of many. I was stopped on my way out by countless townspeople and Raramuris who either voiced their thanks for our gesture or silently bowed their head, expressing more than a thousand words. As the hours passed, I was consoled by witnessing people coming together for impromptu meals and celebrations, sharing together like we have always done. I was visited by friends who could not hold their tears in a mix of resignation, frustration and despair at a situation that poisons the lives and the minds. We shared those feelings, together, as well.

When later in the evening, word spread out that an ad-hoc, unsanctioned race would happen the next morning, nothing had changed in the minds of many. The decision that had been taken had, truly, nothing to do with immediate security. The statement that had been made remained. The only thing that anyone could do, in most runners’ mind – and no matter how much everyone yearned to run with the Raramuri - was to quietly stay the course and maintain that stance of peace. The symbol was powerful, meaningful and direly needed. We were saying “We know, we suffer and we oppose.”

Turning around and running the ad-hoc race would have been a blatant approval of the very workings we deplore. Using the language of our bodies to support a façade would have been a lie and a misrepresentation of the values that brought me to the Copper Canyons in the first place. Joining the remaining Raramuri in Urique who literally ran out of options and lined up because they had so much more to lose was, to me, the worst thing I could ever inflict on a People known to turn away and leave at the first sign of aggression.

I packed my bags, hugged my friends and swore to them I will be back, no matter what. “We know”, they simply answered.

Leonardo Cleto. Runner, father, husband, friend

As the dust kicked up on the view of Urique, climbing up that wild winding road in my friends’ truck, my stomach, my heart and my soul were sick. I felt the worst abandonment, powerlessness and despair. I still do to this day and will for a long time. I cry for the loss of my friend Leonardo Cleto, senselessly murdered in the cycle of violence. I cry for my Raramuri friends who could not walk away like those from closer villages and stayed behind, caught in the confusion and face-saving sham. I cry for the selfishness and insensitivity of some foreigners who used the events for self-promotion and glorification. I cry for Mexico, The Beautiful, from which I received numerous messages of shame and sadness. I cry as I still receive horrible news of substitute policemen reeled in for the unsanctioned race being kidnapped and killed as retribution. I cry for the fear that eats away at the weary heart of the Uriquenses.


I, as many others who were witnesses, am losing sleep over such terrible events. But, like many of my friends, my determination has not wavered. My love has not faded. I hold no grudge to others who have lived the experience in their own way, following their own hearts, values and interpretation of events.

The message has not changed. Peace, truth and openness are what make Mas Locos. I will be back in the Barrancas. We will be back in the Barrancas.

The iconic bird of the Sierra Madre is the Mourning Dove. It is a quiet, shy creature. But its soft song can be heard everywhere in the Canyons.

It’s time to show the Raramuri that we understand the true meaning of Kuira Ba.

We are one.






Le sensationnalisme et la peur ne sont que la voix de ceux qui l'imposent. La paix, l'ouverture et l'humilité sont les seuls moyens pour les contrer.

Run Free - The Movie

 It was early, one of the first mornings after my arrival in Urique. My trip was already turning into a great adventure; not 5 minutes upon arriving to Bahuichivo’s train station, three days prior, I’d stumbled on Caballo Blanco and arranged to meet him again down canyon for some running. He’d showed up in his pick-up truck with a new friend he met in Creel, Olaf Sorensen, and us three had been running, cooking and hanging out ever since.

That special morning would turn out to be the starting point of an incredible adventure, filled with excitement, discovery, friendship, loss and elation. But I didn’t know any of that when, while cooking pinole for breakfast, Micah casually mentioned he would be meeting a film crew the next day to shoot a documentary. And that he wanted Olaf and I to join them.

I really, really didn’t want to do it. What was I to do in any of this anyway? This had nothing to do with me, and the mere thought of being in the back scenes made me feel like a wannabe. So I told Olaf I wouldn’t be going. I said I would just stay at Entre Amigos and do some running on my own, and hang out when they would come back from the shoots.
“Don’t you want to be part of this?”, Olaf asked. “Don’t you want to explore the Canyons, meet the People, spread the message? Would you rather have someone else do this, someone who doesn’t get it? Who’s there just for show?”

With Micah and Sterling Noren, filming

That left me thinking. For about five minutes. Micah showed up at that point and just added “I’d like to have you guys around, you know, for the running and all.” So we agreed we would be his crew, make sure he’d get stuff to eat and a couple extra helping hands for anything he’d need to get done. And off we went.

That was the beginning of an epic adventure, a chain of events that changed my life forever. Because of this, I got to spend five wonderful weeks with Micah, travel all over the Barrancas and develop a meaningful friendship I was convinced would last a lifetime. I got to experience the wild roller coaster of movie making, with its hilarious, infuriating and boring moments. I got to listen in while Micah was telling the real story of Caballo Blanco and Born to Run. I got to be profoundly touched and influenced by a man’s humble dream, message and vision.

This has been my personal journey ever since. Now, more than three years later, everyone is about to share a part of that privileged time. Everyone will get to meet a wonderful, soft spoken, but also hard-headed man who never made any compromise to ensure his actions would make a true difference. Everyone will share intimate, personal conversations with a genuine person who only half-willingly became famous through a strange twist of fate, and decided to, as he said himself, “use the voice he was given”.

Olaf Sorensen, Micah True and myself

Micah True died less than 3 weeks after we finished shooting the scenes of Run Free. The images of this movie turned out to be his last message, his legacy to those others who would listen and care.

You, my friend, are one of these people. If you hang out in FlintLand, you share some values, interests and dreams with me. Today, you get to share much more. Today, you get to make Run Free a reality. You get to help making sure Micah True’s message remains forever.




Please purchase your advance copy of the movie, and help spread the message.

Thank you, and Kuira Ba.

For the whole duration of the campaign, I will proudly display this reminder on the top left of FlintLand. Whenever you can, please share this and spread the message as much as you want. And if you care about this, please consider supporting our campaign financially.







Run Free, c'est plus qu'un film, plus que le récit intime d'une aventure extraordinaire et trop courte que j'ai vécue avec Caballo Blanco. C'est un message important, positif et vital, que vous pouvez aider à propager. Aidez-nous dans notre campagne Kickstarter en achetant d'avance votre copie du film ou en contribuant financièrement. Aidez-nous à garder le message de Micah True bien vivant.

Game Changers

My friends at Tribesports have asked me an interesting question. They are in the midst of a feature they call “Game Changers”, which tries to highlight the exceptional people who have had such an influence on their sport that they actually brought some change into either how the sport was played or how it was perceived.

As an example, they mentioned Roger Bannister, who ran the first sub-4 minute mile, explaining the he had proven to Humanity that we could be faster than was reputed impossible, if we worked hard enough for it.


Then they asked me if I knew a Game Changer in running. It didn’t take me very long to answer. Not only do I know one, but I actually had the privilege of running with him and spending some time in the land he helped the rest of the world discover. I am, of course, talking about Caballo Blanco, Micah True.

Let me start right away by saying he would hate this article if he read it, scoff and call it all sorts of awful names. He would say that having an influence in the world of running is the last thing he wanted, that people should make their own minds and blaze their own paths. And that, in part, was the true genius of Micah; never would he tell anyone to do anything. He just did what he did, followed his heart and his vision and waited for no one to follow.

Caballo Blanco started ultra-running over 20 years ago, way before it was cool and probably before it was even recognized as a sport in itself. He would just hit the trails and run for hours, exploring the capabilities of his body and mind, reflecting on many things and setting his fiery heart back to a peaceful state. All the while, he was also looking for purpose, for a higher meaning to life. He was convinced somehow, there had to be a way for running to become not only a way of life, but the essence of a meaningful existence.

He kept running for years with this idea in mind, reflecting, searching, until the day providence made him cross paths with the Tarahumara. Within a couple hours of running with Martimiano Cervantes in the 1993 Leadville race which would change everything, Micah discovered a civilization that was in almost every way aligned on his yearning for a different world.

He never saw the Tarahumara as superhuman, half gods or anything of the sort. He recognized them as brothers and sisters, and felt a deep kinship with these proud, yet very humble people who kept mostly to themselves, favored peace over conflict and lived quietly in harmony with the earth. And in all the following years, when he travelled to the Copper Canyons and slowly made contact with the Tarahumara, it’s his humble respect that served as an ambassador and, ultimately, as the gateway to a most unusual connection.

When he was introduced to the world, clumsily, by an otherwise fascinating book, his reaction was not to live out his newly-acquired fame or to try and build a fortune around it. He simply, humbly recognized that he had been given a voice, and he decided to use it to carry a simple message. After years of exploring, by himself, with others and among the Tarahumara, he had distilled the essence of running down to a powerful principle, a philosophy so pure and simple that it stood in only two, small words.

Run Free.

Go out into the world. Use your body as the vehicle it was always intended to be. Reawaken your DNA’s memory and make one with nature. Explore. Do not relinquish your own judgement at the profit of the experts or the merchants of the time. Make your own mind. Fail. Then try again. Invest time and effort into your running, with an open heart and a true interest. And you will get more than you ever expected.

He spent the last years of a life too short spreading this message, not by trying to convince anyone, but by incarnating it. The bridge he had created with an amazing people, he shared with an open heart as well with a vast family of kindred spirits from all around the world, which he christened “the most crazy”, the Mas Locos.

He left this world richer than when he joined it, with a cultural and spiritual connection so strong that he is recognized in Tarahumara culture as a genuine member of the tribe, as a true brother. His humble vision and philosophy, shared and spread by the Mas Locos, lives strong today as the race he created continues in the same spirit and more people every year join the ranks of those who run free, the Running People.

When you encounter a runner today who doesn’t wear a fancy GPS, doesn’t follow a training plan and is keener on talking about the experience of their run rather than the time it took them to complete it, chances are this person has been influenced, in some way or another, by Caballo Blanco and his beautiful, important message.

The Caballo Blanco Story

This is a beautiful short story about the life and vision of Micah True, better known as Caballo Blanco, as rendered by New York artist Sam Carbaugh.

As we are nearing March 27, I want to remind the world about my friend and inspiration, Micah True, who went out on his last run one year ago in the beautiful Gila Forest of New Mexico.

Although there is still not a day where I miss him beyond words, I was elated to witness the vitality of his dream and spirit in the Copper Canyons in March, where more than 500 runners, both foreign and Raramuri, gathered for the celebration of peace, friendship and sharing that Micah created from his good will and his actions. 

Like many people in the world, Sam Carbaugh was touched by Micah's passion and devotion to the Raramuri and the simple, humble joy of running. Sam invested his time and talent into creating a small biography that stays true to both who Micah was as person and as the creator of the legendary Copper Canyons Ultra Marathon (now known as Ultra Marathon Caballo Blanco). This is as much a story about Micah True as it is the one of his legacy as Caballo Blanco, Runner of the Sierra Madre.

After making the story of the Raramuri and UMCB their "Monday Inspiration" feature on the week of the race, our friends at Tribesports have decided to pay homage to Caballo Blanco by featuring his story on their ultrarunning blog. For posterity, I will also feature the story right here, on FlintLand, forever.

Run free!

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.

Going Back

I’m going back to Urique.


I’m traveling for a couple days just to get there, down and away from the craziness. Time is going to stretch, my mind is going to slowly come to rest and my lungs will fill with the dry scents of the Sierra.



I found something in the Copper Canyons, but I’m not quite sure what it is.


Even before, even when the town was just a misty rendering my mind had made from a legend, I was drawn to it. And I’m not the only one. My story is the story of a lot of Mas Locos. Like Mike Miller says, it seems we all read a book, then got an unexplainable feeling and were compelled to seek the White Horse, the Running People and the Barrancas del Cobre. We ended up lining together with people we’d never met before and reached transcendence, somewhere along a dusty, thousand-year-old footpath across the canyons. On the way, it seems we all gained something and shared it ever since in a tight bond, but no one can really put words on exactly what it is.


We know it has to do with a Great Connection. We’re aware that it’s related to the inspiration of one man, a dream that he somehow bestowed upon us without a word. We feel the presence of a kinship between ourselves, and with the Raramuri, even when only shy glances are ever exchanged. We understand there’s great meaning in the gesture of leaving our world and joining another one to peacefully celebrate through the ancient, simple and joyful act of running.


Sitting under the porch at Entre Amigos, one of the first mornings of my first trip to the Canyons, soaking sunrays and sipping coffee with Keith, I was trying to verbalize how I felt about being there, about the place, about how it made me feel, but I was only sputtering nonsensical babble. Keith just smiled and said “You know, this place, it does things to you”.


It took some time for me to fully understand what he meant.


Now a year later, I’m spending jittery days packing my bags, knowing I will be down in the Barrancas once again, for the third time. I’m antsy about simple things, like crossing the gate at Entre Amigos, knowing that Micah won’t be there smiling, happy to catch up on how things have been for each other. I’m also sad that my friend Keith won’t be there this time either to share morning conversations under the trees. I think of the work ahead, hoping it will make the White Horse smile. I face the fact that I am still mourning.


I’m going back to the Land of the Raramuri. This time, not as much an eager stranger but more as one of the Running People. I’m going back to celebrate life, as tough as it may be sometimes. I’m going back to honor my friend’s dream, which has become my own. I’m going back to the family of Mas Locos, to our friends all over the Canyons, to the dry and rough, but beautiful nature, to a simpler expression of everything.


I’m going back home.

Apache Tear

I laid an Apache Tear down in the forest

Inside an inukshuk I built under a tree

Like a little shelter for you to rest

In this place I call The Sanctuary

Throughout the mountain, this place is unique

With its cedar trees and tumbling rocks

Protected by the sharp winds from the peak

And speckled with evergreen moss

Heavy tears roll down my cheeks

As I recall how we had said

We would come here when we’d meet

And run together once again

It is hard to let you go

But your soul needs to roam

Of all the places that I know

This one’s the best to be your home

I laid an Apache Tear

With my eyes welled up again

But I know I will be back here

Filled with thoughts of you, my friend.

Kuira Ba, Caballo Blanco

The Messenger

He’s been pictured as The Lone Wanderer, The Ghost of The Sierra Madre. A man of legend, an obscure mystic who dropped out of a former life to become some kind of a gatekeeper to a hidden culture of super humans.

The real story, however, is much better than this.

Micah True is a simple man, in all the best meanings of the term. Much like the Raramuri, he comes across as soft-spoken, calm and radiating with a humble pride. But that’s where the comparison ends.

Before meeting him, I was somewhat apprehensive that he might be a “convert”, trying to be more Raramuri than the Raramuri themselves, or some sort of overwhelmed preacher trapped in a one-way logic. It took the best part of a minute for these thoughts to vanish when he shook my hand for the first time.

“Hey, Francois”.

Within minutes, we were simply sitting together, sharing stories, planning to meet up later in the week, down in the canyons. Simple as that. Sure enough, a couple days after, we met again. It was even better this time; he’d found a new friend up in Creel and brought him along. It was Olaf, another aspiring Mas Loco soon to become “The Badass”. But that’s an entirely other story.

Since our first run, what struck me the most was how Caballo isn’t trying to be anyone else than himself, an impression that still holds after spending a couple weeks traveling and running together. Micah True doesn’t try to be a Raramuri, and that’s partly why I think the Running People appreciate him so much.

There’s a reason this man is welcome anywhere in the Copper Canyons, and it has nothing to do with fame or legend. People recognize him as a kindred spirit, a person of peace and a fellow runner. And he, in return, simply treats them the same way.

I consider it a privilege to have shared some of his travels, not only by running the ultra marathon but by taking part in the background work that leads to it, which is a story I feel needs to be told.

Months before the actual event, the cameras and the buzz, the White Horse is hard at work, making sure the extensive logistics will be in place, in time and ensuring the word spreads around in the canyons. Runners near and afar have to be invited, trails need to be maintained and marked, aid stations must be stocked, corn vouchers purchased. “It’s colossal work”, I once told him while running on the trails. “We are messengers”, he answered, “expressing hope, love and respect”.

I didn’t grasp the full extent of Caballo’s words before quite some time. But after having seen him work, travel, run, live, laugh, struggle, overcome and persevere, I got it.

• He brings hope by making sure everyone who participates in the race, whether by running or by helping out, wins something. Tens of tons of corn, as well as thousands of dollars in money, are awarded every time. This is not a handout; it’s a genuine community event for all to look forward to.
  
  
• He brings love by organizing a footrace that celebrates the center of the Raramuri culture and where the focus is set on Korima, The Circle of Sharing, expressed by the warm welcome given to everyone and by the distribution of everything won by international runners back into the community.
  
  
• He brings respect by inviting avid, passionate endurance athletes from all over the world, who hold in the highest esteem this humble, proud tribe of Running People and who’ve traveled from far away just to get the chance to run alongside them for a day of peace and celebration.

However, it’s only after the race was over, after the elation, after I had left even my new brother Olaf to slowly make my way back home that I realized the key part of Micah’s phrase, that day. It’s a simple, two-letter word that holds all the power of Caballo Blanco’s actions inside and out of the Copper Canyons and that best sums up all the love and respect I have for him.

He said “We”.

“Todos Son Ganadores”

Everybody wins. I’d heard Caballo Blanco say it a couple times before the true meaning really sank in. This is not some kind of marketing spin to make a race interesting; it’s the core principle of an event that celebrates a culture and a way of life. Whoever you are, if you run in the Copper Canyon Ultra Marathon, you will win.

During five fantastic weeks of awakening and amazement, I had the privilege of traveling in and around Urique and Batopilas with the White Horse. I witnessed the reality of life in the canyons, away from the superlatives and the fantasies. Along the way, I met wonderful people, visited awe-inspiring environments and experienced first hand what it’s like to live with and around the Lightfooted Ones.

Instead of super-humans, I met real humans. I wasn’t struck by a People suffering a plight; I encountered a People living its life. My attempts at creating a contact were not rebuffed or ignored, they were quietly acknowledged. I didn’t see fear or resentment for strangers in the people’s eyes; I felt their humble pride and their resolve.

This year, 500 men and women toed the line together at dawn in Urique, looking forward to a day of joy, of physical achievement and of sharing the love for running. Some had traveled the canyons to partake in this unique event, while some others had crossed half the world. I couldn’t help but notice that the start wasn’t given by a gun. It was given by a beautiful, beaming pregnant woman who simply counted down from 3…

From the first instant to the last, the Urique canyon was united in the celebration of running. All differences faded away, as the long, colorful line of people started climbing up and down the sunny trails, over the river and along the great rock walls. The only sounds you could hear that day were the echo of cheers and the crispy noise of footsteps on the rocky paths.

Even after the sun faded away over the rim and the winners had long arrived, the whole community was still exuberantly cheering home its last champions, coming in dirty, exhausted and overwhelmed with emotion as they took their last steps toward the finish line.

Late into the evening, with music all around, runners would cross each other in the street, nodding approvingly, smiling at the colorful bands adorning their wrists and sharing the great pride of having been out there together, in this magical place that had become, for just one day, the center of the world.

We all came into the canyons to celebrate peace, hope and health. We shared the joy, the effort, the challenge and the inspiration, drawing on each other in times of need and giving without ever asking anything in return. We left Urique already yearning to be back, feeling a deep sense of kinship, having experienced a great truth.

We are all one.

We are the Running People.

From the Horse’s Mouth – An Interview With Caballo Blanco

Portrayed as an evasive ghost and the lone wanderer of Mexico’s Copper Canyons, Caballo Blanco, AKA Micah True, is a rather busy man. Between touring the world to spread awareness about the Tarahumara (Raramuri, “The lightfooted ones”, is their real name) and organizing his now-famous Copper Canyon Ultra Marathon, he remains deeply committed to his way of life and has a very contagious love for the sport, his people and the place he calls home.

Away from Urique in a recent trip to the city of Creel, where he manages the purchase of the maize vouchers distributed to runners who finish the 51-mile race, he took some time to answer FlintLand’s questions. We humbly bring them to you as-is, unaltered… straight from The Horse’s Mouth.

FL - The Born to Run fame has had many effects on your life, first by putting you under the spotlight, then by bringing awareness to the Raramuri and their struggle. You seem to be able to reconcile both, and you’ve been very busy this year traveling the world and giving talks. What is the message you carry?

CB – “Run for peace”. I don't really use words like "struggle" or "plight" in regards to the Raramuri. WE are all [humans] on the same earth and it’s up to all of us to honor and take care of her.


FL - As the creator and race director of the Copper Canyon Ultra Marathon (CCUM), your prime objective is to rekindle and celebrate the running culture of the Raramuri. Did the race have an influence on that culture? Do you see concrete results of your actions?

CB - More Raramuri are running again. The people are gaining both materially and in deeper ways because they are re-realizing a running tradition [although our race is free-style trail running and not the traditional ball race... ] But, they are running. And they are running more rarajipares [ball races] as well. And they have the nutritional means now to do so.


FL - You are very protective of the Raramuri culture, both in your talks and in organizing the CCUM. Do you think the culture is at risk? Have there been negative impacts from the outside world?

CB - WE are ALL at risk -:} Every action causes reactions. I am a little guarded, realizing that all change is imminent and all people must adapt. The Raramuri are very progressive and adaptable, even in their traditional ways. They are kind of a running contradiction. Traditional and progressive simultaneously. Proud and humble at the same time.


FL - You bring a lot of relief in the Copper Canyons through a non-profit organization called Norawas de Raramuri (Friends of the Raramuri). What is the vision of that organization and how does it help the people?

CB - To help encourage and enable the people to help themselves to continue to run Free! To take pride in being who they are and know that they are respected and looked upon as positive examples. The Raramuri are bringing "relief" onto themselves, and us, through inspiration. Yes, the economy of the region has improved greatly in large part because of our race event.... It has planted a seed of hope.


FL - You have mentioned that the harvests this year have been very small due to a drought in the Canyons and that the Raramuri need help to secure basic food staples and supplies. How much is needed?

CB - I don't know. NOTHING is needed as the Raramuri will make do as they always have; they will survive as always… ANYTHING is appreciated. This season’s running projects will bring over 1,500 costales [250 kg sacks] - 75 tons of maize [the food value in vouchers to be redeemed at community markets to purchase what they want/need]… and substantial cash to the top 10 men and women, many of whom will be Raramuri. That windfall of nourishment will assist the people considerably and boost the economy of the whole region, for Mexicans and Raramuri alike.


FL - How can our readers support you in your efforts?

CB - Run with us -:} is the best… or make a donation directly to the Raramuri [no overhead or salaries to board members--ALL volunteer, including expenses] to the non-for-profit organization Norawas de Raramuri. Tax deductible in the USA… Karma deductible elsewhere -:}


FL - You have mentioned several times that there are companies and organizations out there using the name or the image of the Raramuri and not giving back to the community. Are you on to them? Do you plan to expose them and try to make them change their ways?

CB – That’s the way of the world… No; I am not going to "expose" them nor get anybody to change there ways. Set an example; and maybe some of them will pick it up and do the same [set examples]. We all have our freedom of choices and actions.


FL - You have taken some distance from Born to Run’s contents, and now there’s a movie underway. It seems like the book and the upcoming movie have motivated you to start writing your own story, “From The Horse’s Mouth”. Can you tell us more about it? What will your book be about?

CB - Born To Run was/is a very good book/story.

"Born To Run Free: True Trails From The Horse's Mouth".
I have written a story based on living experiences previous to the book. The book just gives it more content and experiences to draw on… It also has provided me a certain voice. It is up to me to use that voice and whatever notoriety I have acquired from the book to use in good ways. It is up to me... No Mas.


FL - The Copper Canyon Ultra Marathon 2012 is fast approaching. You recently announced that up to 60 runners from many countries will participate this year. In the future, do you think the race will remain an event of exception or will it eventually hit the mainstream?

CB - 75 international runners and I don't know, maybe 50 Mexico nationals and a couple hundred Raramuri. I don't know if it will hit the mainstream. Depends on how you define mainstream -:] Kind of already has.


FL - What do you envision for the CCUM in the future?

CB - I don't know. WE will see.

Run Free!

Caballo Blanco

Following Caballo’s suggestion, I will be joining him and the other runners, the Mas Locos, for a celebration of peace on March 4, 2012. If you are an avid Run Smiley / FlintLand reader and can spare a couple dollars, please make a donation to support the organization Norawas de Raramuri. Even better, pack your bag and travel down to the Copper Canyons and join the celebration!