New Horizons

Photo credit: Tyler Tomasello

As runners and Mas Locos, we’ve all had our lives changed by one, or more, trip(s) to the Copper Canyons of Mexico. The remoteness, the authenticity and the culture have charmed, inspired and taught us so much. It has made us better in many ways, and shown us the true power of Korima.

Like our friends in the Barrancas, Norawas de Raramuri has navigated many challenges as an organization. From its inception to support Micah’s dream and actions to its revival in 2012, all the way to this very day, our group has had a single driving principle: channel our friends’ financial support to our other friends in the Copper Canyons. 

Over the years, you have helped us provide tens of thousands of dollars to purchase the food vouchers awarded at every Caballo Blanco Ultra Marathon. You have supported the amazing Caballo Blanco Trail Project, which now spans all the way up and beyond the Canyon of Urique, reviving an ancestral pathway used for generations. You have contributed to the wonderful kid’s race, la Carrera De Los Caballitos, that now attracts hundreds and hundreds of happy, excited youngsters to the streets of Urique to celebrate health and running. You have supplied schools with material and supported health care intiatives, most of which I oversaw personally, in the field. As a group, as One, we can be proud of what has been achieved and of the vast movement of kindness that has reached the bottom of the Canyons.

2015 marked an important change of context for the race, for the Mas Loco runners and in no small way for the Urique community as well. Out of a tragic initial event, an idea sprouted that the local people could take over the organization of the race and see to its perenniality. This idea is empowering, beautiful, and ultimately a logic step in the life of Ultra Marathon Caballo Blanco.

In 2016, we were witness to the very first, locally-managed UMCB and it showed without any doubt how much love and dedication the Urique people have for the event. I know they are hard at work right now preparing the next one, and many of us will be running it with great enthusiasm.

This change in context has redefined many things, among which the role Norawas de Raramuri can play in the future and my personal role in the organization. We spent some time thinking about it and as the flow of events unfolded, we have come to the conclusion that it is no longer the best outlet to show our support in the Copper Canyons.

Although Norawas will issue its own official statement about how it will manage the remaining funds and see to their distribution, I wanted to take this occasion to announce I am stepping down from my role as a board member and to personally thank you, our supporters, our family. You are in the thousands. I can’t count the number of times I was told by our friends in the Canyons how much they appreciated the help of us “gringos” :) These thanks go directly, rightfully to you.

I will, of course, keep being involved with the Raramuri and the Copper Canyons through other venues and I’m committed for life to keep living Caballo Blanco’s vision of creating peace at the bottom of the canyons using the simple, humble act of running. It is also no longer a secret that I am part of a wonderful new initiative, Mas Korima, to which I will devote my time, resources and efforts to develop a direct business partnership with our Raramuri friends. It’s a bold, new idea that I strongly believe in and I want to fully devote to.

In the meantime, I personally invite you all to join us in Urique on March 6 for another celebration of beauty and connection and I also invite you to follow – and join - us in our future Copper Canyons endeavors.

Much love,

Flint

Anew

My quest to try to become a better Human has taught me many things. Hug more. Don't ignore your feelings. Keep dreaming. But in the midst of this journey, I also learned something that I think is paramount to a more peaceful mind; learn to let go.

Things change, it's in the nature of the Universe. You can't think of anything as static. People, situations, places, moments, even yourself. So instead of clinging onto everything in hope all remains the same, embrace change. Be water. Flow and adapt and enjoy the ride.

Ultra Marathon Caballo Blanco, like all things, will not always remain the same. If one sees it as an event created by one man to do some good in a wonderful, remote place, they will feel like it has ended last year. On the other hand, if one sees it as an event between cultures, a bridge between two very different worlds where people of good faith gather and create magic for the time of an epic long run, it goes on.

Caballo will not come back from his last long run to tell anyone how he feels about the whole thing, and I'm convinced that even if he could, he would simply say that it is not his place to determine what UMCB is or has to become. He would say it belongs to the people, and that as long as everybody gathers down to create peace, to run, to enjoy their bodies and their health, to celebrate freedom and community, he would be happy. And so am I.

As my backpack rests against the door, like every time over the past 4 years now, I take a moment to reflect. I find myself wishing to see my friends of the Barrancas happy, thriving, relaxed and healthy. I want to hear the roosters and the dogs, sit down in the shade with old friends and be woken by the singing doves. I want to breathe and taste the Canyons dust while my feet crunch away along the trails. I want to feel the sun sinking in my skin, reviving me from the emptiness of winter.

No matter how UMCB changes or what it becomes, as long as it will be a celebration of peace, health and friendship, I will run it.

Epic - Ultra Marathon Caballo Blanco 2014

It seems every time Tom Norwood shows up at a race I'm running, something epic happens. Last time around, we shared an unlikely lifetime achievement after crossing the finish line of Josue Stephens' Hunter Gatherer 50, stride for stride, in overall 4th place and as 2nd men. 

Tom's epic moment
with Luis Escobar, in 2013

I can't even start telling the story of Ultra Marathon Caballo Blanco 2014 before I make sure everyone remembers Tom's feat from last year's race. He left a major mark upon the Copper Canyons running lore when he rose up from absolute despair on an Urique sidewalk, after receiving unforgettable words from our friend Luis Escobar, and finished his first-ever 50 miler against all odds. A victory Mas Locos and the ultra running world in general shared in absolute delight.

However, the only that that felt epic, this year, was Tom's stomach flu. After spending the two last days of UMCB race week in bed with a fever and an inability to keep any food in, he didn't look like half of himself. He'd already told me he wouldn't be running; his body felt too weak for the challenge. He'd stay with Margarita, our friend Margaret Schlacter, who was the event's social media journalist, and be the «Official Race Vehicle».

Tom was supposed to be
an Official Race Vehicle...

You now can understand my amazement when, at 5:30 AM Sunday morning, I saw him and my friend Scott Smuin show up at the starting line. His colours were back, he was smiling and looked as fresh as ever. «What the hell?!» I screamed, jumping into his arms. «Well, seems like I feel much better. I wouldn't miss this run for the world!».

I decided to take the start with another firend, Marc Seguin, who'd travelled all the way from back home with his Beloved, Shany, and who stood the chance of becoming Quebec's #4 Mas Loco. We'd shared numerous runs together and I was very proud to join him in the beginning of his Canyon journey.

The race started like every other time I've ran it; you're just standing there, smiling, taking pictures with friends and sharing a joyful moment and then every one starts moving. Fast. Before we knew it, we were running down Urique's main street and I was taking off on another UMCB adventure. My heart was full and my smile was wide.

My good friend, and Quebec Mas Loco #4, Marc Seguin

I shared several miles with Marc, until he somehow disappeared at Guadalupe Coronado, our first turnaround point. I guess he stopped for food, and I didn't notice he'd stayed behind until I was maybe half a mile ahead. Knowing he's a strong runner, I had the feeling he'd catch up with me sooner than later. In front of me, in the distance, I saw a very familiar silhouette; my friend Tom, running happily on the rolling canyon hills. Unable to refrain my enthusiasm, I darted ahead to catch up with him.

Tom is a great friend with a powerful, beaming smile. Just running alongside him makes me happy. We had tons of catching up to do, so we started talking enthusiastically while finishing the first loop, down to the bridge. When we reached it, we decided to stay together, as always, and share the whole run.

The climb to El Naranjo was playful and felt short. We ran with several friends and crossed others, cruising fast with the lead Raramuri. They were in a race of their own, but what was amazing is that everyone, from first place to last, was smiling. Running free.

The top mesa at Naranjo arrived quickly, and both Tom and I felt fresh and excited for the fast downhill 10K that lied ahead. We ate oranges and drank pinole, making sure we were fueled properly for a quick-paced, non-stop descent into Urique. Like two kids, we ran down the steep hills feeling like we were flying, revelling in the glorious morning sun and enjoying every moment we could spend running alongside our Raramuri friends.

We agreed to take a couple minutes in Urique. I had to re-lace my shoes and Tom wanted a little bathroom break, so we spent maybe 15 minutes in town under the shade of Mama Tita's front porch. We took off as the late morning sun was rising, along with the heat. Tom was running strong and, for a while, I felt like maybe he'd leave me behind. I felt a little weaker than I would've wished for, but it wasn't too late to avoid a crash. I ate more calories and drank generous gulps of water, and started feeling better and better, all the way to the La Laja bridge, which marks the end of the road and the beginning of the beautiful trail to Los Alisos.

The riverbed section was done in no time and, as we started the steep switchback climb to the trail, I accelerated a little. I felt great and strong, and made sure to tell Tom... who didn't answer. I turned back and realized he had lagged behind a couple steps. His face had changed a little, too. «Are you all right?»

«I'm OK. A little tired. I don't feel super strong.»

«Take it easy, amigo. I'll wait for you on the top of the hill.»

Earlier, on the way from Urique

I kept going, leaving my friend to his thoughts. I was looking forward to a little shade at the aid station on top of the switchbacks, and would use the time Tom would take to catch up to empty my shoes, which had filled with loose sand. My plan worked great and, by the time Tom reached the top, I was all refreshed and ready to go. We still had a rough stretch ahead, the one I call The Oven. A steep canyon wall of red rocks that slowly take in sun rays and radiate them back at the runners.

This is where my friend hit his first wall.

Progress became slow, and his steps got shorter. He felt dizzy and nauseous, but I pressed him on so we would clear The Oven and get to the shade. This probably didn't help, because his energy faded quickly, until the point we had to stop. We took a little breather and tried to start moving again. After several minutes of stop-and-go, Tom gave me the look I didn't want to see.

«No, man. I'm not going. I'm staying with you. Take your tim-...» but he raised his hand at me. «Dude. I'm going back to that river. I told you. Just go.»

There was no arguing. His eyes talked the loudest. He was tired, he was sick. He was done. Saddened, I turned and moved ahead, reaching Los Alisos in a couple more minutes. I waited for my friend there, but he wasn't coming. After some more minutes, I took the decision I didn't want to take, and started going back down on my own. I really wanted to finish the race with my fr- «TOM!!!»

I wasn't 100 yards down the trail when I saw him. The Happy Badger, El Tejon Feliz. He who refuses to quit. He was walking slowly, but hell, he was walking! «I'm so glad to see you!!!»

He was still a little pale, but he looked way better. I sat down on a rock by the trail side, and refused to move an inch before he joined me. After trying a couple times to get me going, Tom smiled and promised to take a decent break at the aid station, then come back down to continue together.

We spent the whole way down trying to figure out a way for him to eat and drink sufficiently and to get back some energy for the last loop. This segment to Urique, we agreed, was the stretch we would use to piece him back together so that we could finish happy and strong. Things looked great for a while, with even some running stretches on the road back. But soon enough, my friend was on the side of the road, sicker then before.

«I don't think I can do this», he said, looking defeated. «You stop this right here!», I yelled back. «We're going to do this together, and we're going to finish this together, a'ight?». My failed drill sergeant routine, at least, made him smile and we kept going, slowly but determined.

Before reaching Urique, I started fearing Tom would call it a day and tried everything I could to make him feel better. «Give it a good thought, and tell me something you would really, really like to eat right now.» He gave it a minute and said «well, this little shop in town has watermelon smoothies. I think I'd like that.» «I'm on it!», I yelled, running ahead. «See you in town!»

Aaaaaah. Watermelon juice.

I got to the shop, happy I'd had the wits to put some money in my running vest the night before. I bought the smoothie and made it back in time to see my friend get to town. He didn't look great, but the sight of the cold drink seemed to make him happy. A lot of our friends had finished their race and were at the Plaza, cheering other runners in. They gave Tom a real boost and made sure we had all we needed for the obvious long haul to Guadalupe and back. At this point, there was no running anymore and our progress was slow at best. But we were moving, and we were together.

It took us several hard hours to get to and back from Guadalupe, with numerous stops on the way. Tom was really sick, all the way, and none of what we tried seemed to make him better. Every step he took was hard, and not a single moment in that last stretch gave him a break. But he pressed on, kept moving and never, ever lost his determination. Badgers, you see, don't ever quit.

As we had done before, we came closer and closer to the finish line, stride for stride. As before, we'd drawn on each other's energy until we savoured the incoming victory. We celebrated the memory of Caballo Blanco, who had brought us together, and we celebrated being alive. We finished in the arms of our friends, exhausted but satisfied.

It was a great day to be out there.

It was an even greater one to share it with my friend Tom.

Five colors - and a beautiful gift -
which mean the world to me

************
Meanwhile, my friend Marc had an epic day of his own, with his Shany covering over 40K to get to him and pace him to his finish, hand in hand. She'd never ran anything more than a half marathon.
************



On court souvent des ultras pour se découvrir et explorer ses limites. Parfois, on court un ultra pour atteindre celles des autres, et les aider à les dépasser.

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.