Footloose Scot (28 page)

This race was very little known until the publication in 2010 of
Born to Run,
an account of the race's origin and the role of Micah True, long time resident of the Copper Canyon, and promoter of the race. "White Horse" (Caballo Blanco) worked tirelessly to bond gringo and Rarámuri runners and to bring assistance to the Rarámuris who, despite their outstanding running prowess, have dire health statistics.

It was still dark when the race started the next morning. The runners bunched together in a street in front of the Presidencia. A dog in the street delayed the start for five minutes. In front of the main pack, sprinting madly, were teenage local kids who were not competing; next came the mass of Rarámuris gliding along in their distinctive style, while the gringos brought up the rear. There were 307 runners, the majority in Rarámuri traditional costume and sandals, even a few Rarámuri women in skirts. Twenty-six were internationals, from USA, Canada and nine other countries. A gringo from Mason, Texas, still in street clothes, spontaneously joined the pack at the rear wanting to share the experience.

The course was 52 miles long, and described a figure of eight loop which brought the runners back through the town after approximately 21 miles, continuing to do a second 21-mile loop before again passing through Urique for a final loop of nine miles. The whole course encompassed 9,300 feet of elevation gain, and equal descent.

When the runners departed was a good time to reflect on what an extraordinary event this was. A remote location and fundamental cultural differences were overcome by good will and a shared joy in running. A couple from Seattle had cycled here, and one of them was running. A young Canadian working in New York heard Caballo Blanco give a talk, decided to sign up there and then despite never having run more than 26 miles, or even been to Mexico. An English tourist in Mexico City heard about the race and somehow found his way to Urique. As the day progressed it was apparent that something was happening here. Everyone was in this race: runners, helpers, spectators. They were all energized by the joy of the event, the beauty of the canyon setting and the bond of the race.

Thanks to the course layout, the spectators in the plaza saw the runners four times. On the way back through town for the second time, with only ten miles to go on the last circuit, some runners were plainly stressed. One Rarámuri was having his legs massaged at the aid station by Cecy, the tourism director. Friends of other runners ran with them through town to encourage them. Drinks of water were extended, bananas also. Two Rarámuris ducked into a shop, bought two Cokes which they consumed, then continued. Some quit here at mile 40; others insisted on completing the final circuit, even if it meant walking. They arrived after dark when the awards ceremony was almost over.

Shortly after seven hours had elapsed, the lead runner appeared - twenty-year old Miguel Lara. There was particular elation in the plaza, since he was from Urique and he had set a course record of seven hours four minutes, arriving 24 minutes ahead of the next runner. Cecy was bouncing up and down with joy, clapping and shouting. Lara was still moving briskly (seven miles per hour speed overall) when he breasted the tape showing little sign of fatigue. Seven other Rarámuris followed him. The first foreigner came in at eighth place. One hundred and thirty-three runners completed the course. The first woman runner was from Chihuahua City, the second from Japan, and the third from Ohio all with times over nine hours. Lara posed for photographs, patiently answered questions and walked around a bit. Fifty miles is a short distance for these runners.

Speeches, folkloric dances, more music by the mariachis, and the presentation of prizes took up two hours. Some of the speeches, when the awards went to foreigners, were translated by the indefatigable Cecy. Checks for up to $3,000 each were presented by the mayor to the first three winners, male and female. Every finisher received a voucher for 500 pounds of corn; in the spirit of the occasion, all the gringos donated their allowance of corn to their Rarámuri co runners. This was
korima
in action, the Rarámuri word for "sharing", which is central to their culture.

The town emptied quickly the next morning as pickups and vans transported gringo runners to the rail station. The Rarámuri left as quietly as they had arrived heading upwards along trails towards distant ridgelines and into other canyons. We Texan spectators got ready to hike for three days to Batopilas Canyon, some 35 miles. We had a burro and mule handler coming with animals for us to put our bags on, and maybe if needed to ride. Now it was our turn to exert ourselves.