1st Year Race Report (photo by Benedict Dugger) RUNNING IN BEAUTY In March I returned from Copper Canyon still glowing. I’d made so many new friends from all over the world, caught glimpses into another way of life among the Raramuri, learned perspective-altering new words like “kuira ba” (we are one) and korima (to share what you don’t need freely, without expecting a thank you, because what you don’t need was never meant for you to begin with)… I’d been privileged to participate in gatherings solemn and festive, from the scattering of Micahs ashes at Los Alysos to the first-time kid’s race back in Urique. The whole experience had been so rich that the Caballo Blanco Ultra Marathon at the end of the week was just the closing ceremony – special in its own right, but made so mostly by all that led up to it. All of this inspired in me new visions of what running can be about, and forever raised the bar for what I hope to help create at future events I participate in. It was from this mental space that I first spotted Benedict Dugger’s post about signing up for the inaugural Canyon De Chelly 55K. How better to follow up running with the Raramuri down in Mexico than to come back and run with the Navajo here in the U.S.? Some were concerned the event might be canceled, since Canyon De Chelly was a National Monument and federal parks are shut down. Race Director Shaun Martin assured us, however, that Navajo parks were different: they’d done fine for centuries before the park rangers showed up, and could manage well enough without them for a few days if need be. My limiting factor is always travel expenses, but I shopped around and found an affordable flight into Albuquerque, just four hours away. I love hosteling and stayed at the Route 66 Hostel, founded 35 years ago in a building built in 1905. I made new friends from Germany and Japan, most of them there for the Albuquerque Balloon Festival. We sampled local micro-brews including Pecan Beer, an amber ale brewed at De La Vega’s Pecan Grill, and Happy Camper IPA (“goes great with campfires, bears, granola, and mosquito repellent”). Careful not to over-indulge, I was up early and on the road to Canyon De Chelly. I’d left my directions at home and my phone was on the blink, so I was mostly driving from memory. It was pretty much a straight shot, however, and I arrived at the visitor center around 3pm. I wasn’t sure where to go from there, so I drove around until I spotted some familiar faces in a parking lot. It was Maria! And Flint! And they were talking to Shaun! They pointed me to the campground and I found a sweet spot under the cool canopy of cottonwood trees. Mike Miller showed up soon after and grabbed the spot next to mine, then Ray and Meghan a bit later. It was feeling very much like a Mas Loco reunion (Mas Loco = those crazy enough to find and participate in a race at the bottom of Copper Canyon), but with new adventures in store. After setting up camp, I joined the others at the park amphitheater for opening ceremonies. Shaun opened with a story of running in the canyon and being accepted into a herd of free-roaming horses there. He talked of the powerful sense of connectedness he felt both to nature and to the running heritage of his people at that moment. It was this moment, he said, that he had realized a need to share this opportunity not only with tribal members, but with runners from all over the world. Not all of his fellow tribal members immediately embraced his proposal. Canyon De Chelly is more than a part of their reservation, more than a home to a few families. It is literally their place of origin on this Earth, according to their earliest stories. Whatever any of us believe about the science of this, Canyon De Chelly plays a central role in preserving their traditions and cultural heritage. For this reason, access to the canyon is extremely limited. Outsiders are allowed to visit one or two sites, and then take pictures from the rim. Shaun was proposing to have us run the length of the canyon floor, sharing sights normally reserved for tribal members only. In the end, Shaun’s vision persuaded them. The Navajo had something special to offer us, and something they hoped to receive as well. Shaun had ultra-marathon experience (some of you may know Shaun from his movie, “Racing the Rez”); most of his fellow tribal members did not. They took his lead and found a way to provide everything he told them we would expect, adding their unique Navajo flavors at each step. Instead of finisher’s medals, we would receive turquoise necklaces hand-beaded by Shaun and his mother-in-law. Our pre-race meal at the starting line would include blue corn mush and Navajo tea. We would know to begin, not by a tick of the clock, but when the first rays of the sun peeked over the canyon walls. As we listened to this vision-becoming-reality, I was struck by what a labor of love this was for Shaun. He had clearly put in countless hours bringing this to fruition. All of the proceeds would be going to the local middle-school and high-school track teams. When Shaun finished, a Navajo interpreter taught us about the history of the canyon, from archaic times to the current day. We were reminded to stay on the trails so as not to disturb artifacts still to be found in the canyon. Then Shaun’s father-in-law spoke to us about the special place running holds in Navajo culture. Running is more than a physical practice for them; it is training for spiritual fitness as well. Young girls run their way through puberty, rising in the pre-dawn hours and running in darkness, supported by their relations. In this way they train for the labors ahead. Some of the earliest Navajo stories tell of twin brothers trained by running with the Sun, until they were strong enough to battle the monsters threatening their tribe. Shaun’s father explained that the tribe still faced monsters today, in the form of obesity, diabetes, and other ‘mis-match’ diseases. He told us we were role models. The aid stations for our event would be staffed by young Navajo runners, and they hoped our example would inspire them. I know he inspired us. I think all of us dreamed richer dreams that night, and arrived next morning with a new sense of purpose and dedication. Back at camp, I got a little fire going, and then prepared a simple dinner to enjoy under the amazing desert stars. Temperatures dipped into the low 30s, but that’s perfect sleeping weather when you’re snug in your sleeping bag. I set my alarm wrong, but woke early anyway excited for the day ahead. I re-started the fire to heat water for my morning coffee, and then packed my tent so I wouldn’t have to worry about it after the race. I walked from the campground to the starting line, arriving pretty early. Shaun was already there, hard at work with his volunteers setting up, despite having been out the night before re-marking half the course in the dark. They had a big warm fire going and food cooking. The blue corn mush was a nice porridge; I could see it being good fuel for a runner the same way pinole sustains the Raramuri down in Copper Canyon. The Navajo tea was mild but pleasant, and I suspected it might be soothing on the stomach. As more runners arrived, we gathered around the fire, facing East while Shaun’s father led us in a traditional prayer. Shaun reminded us we would start running when the first rays of the sun arrived, and he encouraged us to hoot and holler whenever we felt called to do so, as a way of announcing ourselves to the canyon. In my wilderness travels, I have done something similar with my flutes, playing to announce my presence and positive intentions upon my arrival. I wondered if there would be an appropriate time to play without intruding upon Shaun’s plans. When he gave us a 3-minute warning and told us to get in our last hugs, etc., I took that as my queue. My fingers were stiff from the cold, but I fluted a waking song to the new day, and a call to my fellow runners to embrace this opportunity for spiritual transformation. I finished, handed my flute to Mike Miller for safe keeping, and we were off! The actual course began in a relatively dry section of the river bed, comprised now of alternating swirls of loose sand, damp packed sand, and gooey wet clay stuck to our shoes and made us all feel like we were running in Hokas. None of us minded. The world around us was immediately so strikingly beautiful and peaceful that we were constantly smiling and counting our blessings. Eventually we climbed out of the river bed and onto a nice dirt road, but this led to another complication: when the river meanders from one wall of the canyon to the other, while the road runs down the middle, you end up crossing the stream about every 100 yards. I heard estimates of 50-80 crossings in all, out-and-back. It was still cold on the way out, and our feet stayed numb the whole way. Every time we started getting a little feeling back in our toes, it was time to cross the stream again. The Navajo themselves were dealing with this terrain in 4x4s as they made their way out to support us. One truck at gotten stuck on a rock in one of the streams; undeterred, those volunteers had simply altered plans and set up their aid station there at stream side. At some point I found myself running with Benedict Dugger, the fb friend whose post had turned me on to this opportunity in the first place. Benedict has mad skills as a runner/photographer, frequently snapping glorious shots running backwards without slowing down. His greatest challenge was a terrain so beautiful at every turn that he really needed a camera in each hand. I was struck by his generosity in capturing others’ experience; pictures of him seemed only an afterthought, occurring only when others offered. Another companion, glimpsed at intervals that felt magical, was the white horse Shaun calls the “Spirit of the Canyon”: “He is living proof of hope, wellness, beauty and traditions. He is my inspiration. I think of him when negatives happen in life. I think about what he may be doing at that moment in the canyon.” Most of the course was very fast, even if our feet were numb. At some point, however, we rose off the floor and began climbing “The Trail of the Ancients”. Near as I could tell, this was less of a modern, maintained trail, and more just the one spot ancients had found a way to scramble up and down the canyon wall. Shaun had warned us that recent rains had left less tread and more exposed rocks than he had ever seen on this trail. He wasn’t exaggerating. Many of the rocks were loose, and I slowed down considerably picking my way amongst them. Others were more fearless, of course. By the time I reached the turn-around point at the top, Brendan Trimboli had made it back to the finish line with an amazing time of 4:17. I picked my way back to the bottom, and then took advantage of the gentle road back down the canyon to keep a pretty steady pace. The stream didn’t feel quite as cold at mid-day, and the canyon was even more beautiful. I counted my blessing for another two hours until arriving at the finish line. Shaun was there to place the necklace around my neck, and his volunteers had fresh frybread waiting, with your choice of lamb of vegetarian stew. I found my cooler for a ritual carton of Organic Valley Chocolate Milk, and joined the others in celebrating each new finisher. Shaun was there for all of it. At some point I asked him how much sleep he’d been getting, what with hand-making prizes, marking the course, setting up and supervising the 101 other things race directors are responsible for; he allowed as how he’d gotten probably 2hrs last night and 3 the night before. None of this kept him from being there to welcome each runner, award each necklace, give genuine thankyous to each of the sponsors, and listen intently to each runner’s experience. I am convinced that, for however long Shaun feels called to do this, this event will flourish and become a cherished opportunity for the ultra community. I haven’t decided whether I will try to return, or step aside so others can have this chance. Probably a bit of both. I will wait long enough to give others the opportunity, but they better not wait too long. Run in Beauty. Correr Libre!
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 06:08:50 +0000
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