Tuesday, October 20, 2015

UTMX - A Foreign Perspective


My brother-in-law, Guy, invited Meggin and I down to his place in Mexico City earlier this summer to run a trail race in the mountains north of the city.  After a few conversations of “Should we go?  Maybe it’s too much with the kids and schedules?  Tickets are a lot of money? Is it a wise decision?  Are we going to get kidnapped?"  We said, “What the heck, lets GO!" 

Fast forward several months, all the training and preparation completed, we boarded a plane towards Mexico City.  It’s always amazing to spend time alone with Meggin sans kids and always great to see family and experience new things.  After a quick flight, we arrived in Mexico City and spent the next hour or so driving maybe 10 kilometers to Guy and Natalia’s place.  To say the traffic is bad would be a gross understatement.  The traffic is horrific.  The City is a maze that really doesn’t make sense.  Oftentimes, the way you go someplace is not the same way you come back.  Strange.
 
The next day we headed north to Huasco de Ocampo, a “magical” town about 130 kilometers from the City in the Mexican state of Hildago.  “Magical” is an official designation the government imparts on cities that have historical significance.  The drive out of the City was slow but very interesting.  Large buildings and apartments quickly gave way to small shanty town type structures.  Half-finished but livable and occupied.  The hillsides were flooded with homes similar to what Tijuana looks like just crossing the border.  The town before heading into the mountains was Pachuca, famous for being the first city to have a professional futball team in Mexico. 
 
As we headed up the mountain, the elevation didn’t change much which is unusual for me.  Mexico City is 7,500 feet above sea level.  Huasca de Ocampo is similar.  After a quick lunch in Omitlan we made it to Huasca de Ocampo.  Magical is a great term for this quaint cobble stone street town.  Looks more European than Mexican.  Old concrete brick buildings all surrounded the main street and square.  Restaurants and “make-shift” restaurants lined the streets serving an assortment of Mexican fare.  The only mainstream establishment was Santa Clara Coffee and Ice Cream.  Santa Clara is a famous place in this part of Mexico for its original ice cream and cheese.  Anyways, the town was fantastic and full of excitement.  Over 1,000 runners had signed up for what was quickly becoming Mexico’s premier trail race.  The Ultra Trail de Mexico or UTMX offered three races; 15k fun run, 50k light ultra, and a 100k ultra.  Meggin and Oriana (our niece) were running the 15k, Natalia was running her first ultra, the 50k, and Guy and I were running the 100k.
 

After picking up our race bib and swag we headed to our cabana which was just outside the town.  The cabana was a 2 room standalone building with a sitting area outside.  Nice accommodations and just what we needed.  After a restless night of sleep, Guy and I woke up at 4 am and prepared ourselves both mentally and physically for the challenge ahead.  I really wasn’t nervous.  I had trained well and had the confidence of just finishing a 100 mile race a few months before.  I thought, “100k – no problem.  Should be doable and way easier than Angeles Crest!”  Plus, Guy told me (and the website concurred) the climbing was only 9,000 feet or so.  That is nothing for a long trail race.  Well, I should’ve been nervous and the climbing – ummm, just a bit beyond the 9,000 feet.  Later, my watch showed over 17,000 feet of climbing.  Steep, rocky, multiple river crossings, high elevation, exposed sections of heat, and many, many miles of runnable terrain all make UTMX a very challenging course.

 

Just before 5 am on race morning it felt like a rock concert at the start line.  Pitch black and ‘80’s rock blaring through the speakers.  Flashes from hundreds of selfies and hugs/high fives everywhere.  It was awesome.  Guy and I followed suit and then said our goodbyes (or so I thought).  Earlier in the week, Guy made the mistake of saying he expects a top 10 finish for me (I’m sure he was slightly joking).  Being the competitive guy I am, I actually believed him.  So, I headed up to the front of the race with the fast people and said a prayer asking God for mercy J.  After a few words of encouragement from the race director, all of which in Spanish and unknown to me, the race was on.  The first ¼ mile or so was on the cobble stone and very slippery from the downpour earlier in the morning.  To my surprise, the front of the pack was rough.  Shoving and pushing and jockeying for position which I thought funny given the 62 miles we had to travel.  It was like an all-out sprint for some people.  I quickly relented and found a good rhythm away from the front pack.  After a bit on the pavement, we headed up a dirt road and what looked like the backyards of some of the local residents.  Mild climbing at the start then a mild downhill.  I followed a group of 25 or so and we were doing 7:45/minute miles.  Way too fast to start but again I was thinking top 10.  Foolish.  The other thing Guy said was to follow the course markings NOT the people.  He said that is recipe for disaster.  Well, I did the opposite of that and followed about 25 or so runners to a locked gate about a mile down the road.  Lost in the first 2.5 miles of the race.  The group quickly turned around and climbed up the hill that we came down.  The getting lost and adding mileage wasn’t the bad part.  It was the 150-200 runners that were now in front of us.  We made it to the actual course via the bobbing head lamps and made our way down the valley.  It was slick rock that turned into single track.  The 7:45 minute pace was now closer to 20:00 minutes.  Over the first river crossing the pace was even slower.  I was in gridlock hell and not moving.  Downed trees and shrubs on the trail caused confusion and the mid to back of the pack runners were taking their time which was a great idea but one that I was not in favor of.  I tried to pass people but quickly found out it wasn’t a good idea.  I was flanked by a barbed wire fence on one side and a river and drop off on the other.  It was still pitch black and I just accepted the fact that it was going to be slow going until I hit a fire road/wider trail.  After 45 minutes, the trail opened up and I started my move.  I didn’t stop running for 3-4 miles and passed a lot of runners.  I was feeling good.

The good feeling turned to slight panic when I saw Guy in front of me.  It was about 6.5 miles in and it was then I realized that I was behind.  Way behind.  I didn’t expect to see Guy until the finish.  Don’t get me wrong, it was great to see him but remember I had “top 10” in my brain.  Ahead of Guy was a train of people.  I had my work cut out.  Guy looked great and was moving well.  He was as shocked to see me as I was to him.  We talked for a few seconds and then I was on my way to try to redeem myself.

Runner after runner.  I kept charging and ran up hills that I generally would power hike especially in the early stages of a race.  I didn’t care.  I wanted to move up and move up quick.  It was 2 hours into the race and still pitch black.  My headlamp was fading but I was hopeful that dawn was coming. 

I quickly went through the first aid station.  Told the volunteers my number, in English, and kept going.  I barely stopped long enough to fill up my handheld with water.  I was on a mission.  The volunteers were amazing all day.  As soon as they realized I didn’t speak nor understand Spanish, they spoke to me in English.  Super helpful and super kind.  All of them.

I kept moving and finally the darkness turned to light.  It was misty out and the trail was wet but it was warm.  Probably high 60’s low 70’s.  Great temperature for me.  I was at 22 kilometers or so.  The trail headed up a steep climb up to the highest point of the race.  I looked at my watch and it was 9,350 feet.  Really beautiful rock formations and I’m sure the views would’ve been fantastic except the whole area was covered in clouds.  I kept focused and continued on the journey.  The ridge running lasted a bit until the first descent.  Technical single track on loose dirt and rocks.  It was great to let gravity do its thing for a while.  I was feeling good and still passing people.

The hours seemed like minutes as is the case when running ultras.  I was 4 hours in and remember really enjoying the surroundings.  By this point, probably 40 kilometers, I was starting to separate from other runners.  The passing was now limited to one runner every once in a while.  I estimate that I passed 100+ runners after seeing Guy at the 10k mark.  It was unfortunate as I knew the pressing was going to catch up with me at some point.  I was alone for big chunks now and enjoying listening to music.  U2, Coldplay, Maroon5, Frank Sinatra, Tommy Walker, Muse, Hozier, TobyMac.  It’s a weird mix but keeps me focused and relaxed.  The kilometers kept going and before I knew it, the trail opened up.

The mountain section was over and the canyon was coming.  Coming up to the 50 kilometer aid station, the course veered from single track and lush terrain to dirt road and pavement.  It was a long 5 kilometer section here but I knew I was almost halfway done.  I passed two more runners and was moving well on the flat terrain.  Coming into the 50k station I spoke with an older gentleman that I met at the bib pick-up the night before.  He was a friend of Guy’s.  (As an aside, Guy is a rock star in the ultra-trail community.  Everyone knows him.  From the volunteers to the runners to the race director, Guy seemed to know them all.)  I asked him how many runners have passed before me and he said about 50 or so.  Shoot!  I had passed so many people and still had so many to go.  Bad news was the field was really thinned out.  Other than a few runners at the aid station, I only saw 1 other guy ahead of me.  I remember thinking that I was running out of time.  The top 10 dream was just that.

The flat of the road gave way to fields of wildflowers.  In fact, the course ran right on top of them.  The narrow track ran adjacent to a concrete drainage ditch.  It wasn’t clear whether to run in the ditch or the field.  As I entered this section from the road, I tripped right into a cactus.  I pulled a few needles from my knee and kept going.  Earlier in the race I tripped and went shoulder first into the side of the mountain.  No harm done on both falls thankfully. 

 
 
From the halfway point to 60 kilometers (and after the drainage ditch section), the course stayed on a dirt road.  Guy kept telling me the canyon section was the best.  I had no clue what he was talking about.  6 hours into the race and still no canyon.  It just looked like flat dusty roads ahead.  Every 500 feet or so I kept seeing blue signs on the side of the road.  They were in Spanish.  Ahead of me I saw a runner veer off the road just before one of the blue signs.  I decided to follow him and to my amazement, the canyon!  I had been running 20-30 feet from a 1,000 foot cliff for 4 miles and had no clue.  Between the road and the canyon were tall shrubs and trees.  The canyon was basically the Grand Canyon of Mexico.  It’s absolutely incredible.  Finally, I made it to the 60k aid station and the famous Pena rock.  More on this to come.  I hydrated and ate a bit of fruit and pretzels and was off again on the dirt road.  This time, though, the dirt road was short and the trail led right into the canyon. 

The trail was steep and rocky, similar to the Middle Sam Merrill Trail on the AC100 course.  It was about 12:30 pm and the clouds were gone.  The views of the canyon were stunning.  It was hard to not stop and take it all in.  I passed another runner here and then the trail was mine.  I didn’t see another runner for the next few hours.  I finally made it to the bottom of the canyon only to be directed by an elderly Mexican lady with a young child sitting on the rocks.  She pointed to the left and I followed.  Not sure who she was or if she was part of the crew but I did what she said and meandered through the rock bed.  I came across a red ribbon and knew I was on the path or at least the right area.  Not much of a path here.  The flat quickly turned straight up and I was climbing out of the canyon.  I was on all fours at some points and crawled up and up.  By the time I made it to the top, I was descending again to San Sebastian and kilometer 67.5. 

I had been waiting for this aid station for several hours.  My lone drop bag was here and I was dying to get new shoes and socks on.  They had been wet since 6 am and it was now 2 pm ish.  I loved the volunteers here.  They gave me a chair and I was able to change.  I hadn’t felt this good all day.  Nothing like new shoes, socks, and a shirt.  They also offered me a beer which I declined.  San Sebastian is a really cool place.  Not sure if it’s a town but there were local people all around including the police checking bibs, with machine guns in hand, as runners came into the station.  There were also plenty of folks enjoying cervezas and the music from a festival close by.  As I was leaving the station, the fireworks started.  They didn’t stop for over an hour.  Very cool in the beginning and absolutely annoying after 45 minutes.  Leaving San Sebastian was a dirt road that zig zagged up.  Being a newbie, I had no idea what I was in for.  Switchback after switchback after switchback, the road was never ending.  I was passed by a runner here but didn’t care.  It was hot and dusty and I was just hiking up.  I’m not sure how long the road was but it felt like 3-4 miles. It took me almost 1 ½ hours to get out of the canyon.

After a small aid station at the 78 kilometer mark, the trail headed into a beautiful mountainside of more wildflowers and small homes.  I really liked this section.  Really stunning views.  I passed a cow in the middle of a road that was tied up but had free reign of the trail.  The cow didn’t seem to mind.  He kept eating the grass and flowers.  Right after the cow, I saw a rancher tilling his field old school.  Two horses pulling a metal till and the rancher behind.  He looked bugged that the race was going by his farm.  I kept going, up and down another section and made it to the 80 kilometer station by 4 pm.  The volunteer said the trail ahead is very steep for 2 kilometers and then goes through a deep river crossing.  He said someone will be there to help.  Well, he was right.  The 2 kilometers downhill was cobble stone with grass in between.  Difficult to gain traction and a bit slippery.  After passing a rugged half built home, the trail turned into very steep single track.  In fact, there was a rope that you had to use to get down.  A short section then the river crossing.  The river was moving quickly and again you had to use the rope to get across.  It wasn’t deep, maybe knee level, and cold but felt really good.  My dry shoes from 20 kilometers ago were now drenched. 
 

The last aid station at 90 kilometers was located in another quaint town.   I was told here that I was in 25th place.  I would learn later that the information wasn’t correct.  It was more like 35th place.  Either way, I was pleased with how many people I passed from the morning blunder.  After another climb from the aid station, I was close to Las Prismas.  I didn’t really know what this place was until the next day.  Las Prismas is a park that is frequented by thousands of people each year.  Las Prismas or the prisms are rock formations that resemble prisms that appear on the side of the canyon (ala Devil’s Postpile in Mammoth).  They were incredible.  I ran close to the side of the canyon only separated by an old chain link fence.  The trail then ran over a swinging bridge to the other side and up and out of the park.  At the end of the park, a volunteer was guarding a gate and only allowing runners to exit (this seemed strange to me at the time but I found out later that the park generally costs 50 pesos ($3) to enter; she was making sure no one gained free entrance).  From here we hiked up a side of a hill only to find out it was a levy holding water from the lake we were about to circumnavigate.  It was 5:45 or so here and the sun was getting lower in the sky.  It glistened off the lake and made the pain in my legs subside for a minute.  The trail ran through water and mud and finally to the pavement.  Huasca was just ahead.  Finally after 12 ½ hours.

I ran by myself on the pavement with shouts of “animal” from the cars passing by.  I thought they were calling me an animal (in a good way).  Turns out I was hearing it wrong, of course.  The English translation was to remain courageous and brave.  I must have heard that term 50+ times before the finish.  Just before the town, the course turned again and headed down the road only to go back up again.  Another climb but at this point I could hear the finish line and the announcer shouting. 

After a quick turn, I was back on the cobble stone streets of Huasca de Ocampo.  It was so great to see Meggin, Natalia, Oriana, Dalva, and Guy’s friends at the finish.  It was quite a journey and one that lasted 13:32:43.  Good for 33rd place and 11th in my division.  It was not the outcome I wanted but the best I could do.  A few hours later, Guy crossed the finish line beating his previous time at UTMX by 2 hours.  Quite an accomplishment.  Meggin and Oriana finished the 15k fun run several hours before and Natalia completed her first ultra.  Lots of smiles all around!

The next day, we went back to Pena and Las Prismas.  It was neat to see these places in a better state of mind.  At Pena we zip lined across the canyon and enjoyed a “chilada” while reminiscing about the previous day.  Las Prismas was equally amazing.  We hiked down to the bottom and enjoyed a local favorite – corn in a cup with mayonnaise and chili spice.  So good.  An amazing day and one that I will cherish.
 
UTMX for me was more than a race.  From the hurriedness of Mexico City to the laziness of Huasca de Ocampo and to everything in between, it was an experience of a lifetime.  I cannot wait for the next adventure.

Some things I learned in Mexico…

·         Chips and Salsa is not a thing. Salsa yes but chips no.
·         Margaritas are not the official drink of Mexico.  Never saw one.
·         Cheese and potatoes quesadillas and barbacoa tacos are a breakfast staple.
·         The park by Guy & Natalia’s house is for lovers only.  I’ve never seen so many public displays of affection ever.
·         Uber is the best.
·         The place is as safe as Los Angeles (ok maybe not but close).  I never felt uneasy or scared.
·         The people are the warmest and most kind I’ve met.
·         Family is above all else.