Running with the Rarámuri

Today’s post is from our guest author, Nick Coury.

I have had few experiences as fun, inspirational, and profound as my time spent with the Rarámuri (Tarahumara) of the Copper Canyons in Mexico. I have run the Copper Canyon Ultramarathon three times. This report is an attempt to pare down, blend up, and squeeze out an experience that could fill volumes. The race itself is 51 miles (47 prior to 2010) starting at the small town of Urique in the heart of Las Barrancas del Cobre. The course consists of three parts, a 22 mile section heading north out of the town, traveling in a large “Y” to the tiny settlements of Guadalupe Coronado and Mesa Naranjo (some 2000+ feet above Urique). The second leg of 18 milles heads south out of town, scaling tiny singletrack up to a ranchito named Los Alisos. Finally, an 11 mile out-and-back is made to Guadalupe Coronado along part of the first leg, finishing in the center of Urique’s main street.

The Copper Canyon Ultramarathon is not simply a race, it is an experience. The “extended program”, as it’s called, begins the Tuesday before the race at Rancho Del Oso, a hotel owned by Diego Rhodes, an American who spends much of his time helping local schools and communities. It is here that all the runners assemble, and we meet our companions for the coming week. Wednesday morning we begin hiking bright and early, 18 miles and 5000 feet down into Urique. The Rarámuri start to arrive, with some joining us on our hikes of the course. Thursday we hike the first (and third) leg, followed by the second leg on Friday. Saturday is a rest day, with the opening festivities at night. Here, all the runners gather for introductions of the towns competing, and performances of song and dance from the locals. Finally, Sunday is the big race.

In 2009, I travel down with my older brother Jamil, who had run the race previously in 2007. The race is relatively unknown and only a dozen Americans and other internationals manage to make it to the race. The popularity of the race has steadily been rising among the locals, and over 200 Rarámuri show up on race day. Jamil and I are both recovering from injuries, and decide to run the race together at a tempered pace. Caballo Blanco (the gringo founder and organizer of the race) says a few words, and we’re off! The race starts like a 5k, and within 30 seconds we find ourselves gapped by 8 year old kids. I notice that the locals come in all forms. Some dress traditionally and seem to be well conditioned. Others are running in jeans and collared plaid shirts; they aren’t especially trained and don’t own anything else. Almost everyone runs in tire sandal huaraches. As the day progresses we slowly move up the ranks, our pace from the beginning helping us stay strong. The day starts warm and progresses to hot, the mercury rising into the upper 90s. Our Arizona blood cools us, and we finish together in 10th place. The most breathtaking part of the race, however, doesn’t come until the sun sets. Two small boys come stumbling through the darkness together, exhausted. The first is but 14; the second is 12. They have completed the entire race together. Not three minutes later, I look again to see two young girls, no more than 16, crossing the finish line in their thick, traditional dresses.




If they didn’t have it difficult enough, I suddenly realize how they had trod the distance. Not even owning tire sandals, the girls ran the race in cheap plastic slip-ons.

From here on, I became fascinated with the Rarámuri. Not just as runners, but as a people and a culture.

I returned to the CCUM in 2010, excited to spend more time in Las Barrancas. Born to Run was published after the 2009 race, and as a result there were 70 international runners in attendance. The local numbers also increased, for over 300 total participants. During the week, I hear about a small ball race demonstration that is being staged by a camera crew. The Rarámuri do not traditionally run footraces like we’re used to. Instead, they participate in a rarájipari, a competition between two villages. Each village’s team has a small wooden ball (bola) that is flicked with the foot along the course, usually a loop of 4-12 miles that is repeated for up to two days. For all that I had heard about the game, I am amazed by the finesse of the Rarámuri and how much joy I see in their faces!

At the start of the race, I know what to expect. Again the runners take off in a sprint and I struggle to keep up with the children for the first mile. This year I push a faster pace, taking position as the first international runner behind a sea of sandal-clad runners. The new course addition this year adds to the largest climb in the race, which also means a bigger descent. Losing over 2000 feet in less than five miles is not easy in hard rubber sandals, and I scream past dozens of Rarámuri in my EVA infused kicks. A mile and a half from the bottom, one of the runners I pass jumps up with me. Unlike many of the runners who surge before getting passed, only to quickly fall back again, this man runs with power and grace. Despite our language barrier, we manage to exchange names. Juan can’t speak English, and I know but fragments of high school Spanish, yet we find ourselves communicating through our footsteps.

Stride for stride, we move together into town. I stop for some fruit and pinole, having enjoyed a few miles with a great runner. To my surprise, I find Juan waiting up for me on the start of the second loop. We continue along the course for ten miles, not speaking but sharing a deep conversation. Juan eventually pulls away on the climb to Los Alisos, passing several more runners to finish fifth. I complete the race with a huge grin on my face. What an experience!

Back again in 2011, I am starting to feel a veteran of the race. Jamil and I lead a group to see Guadalupe Coronado, along the first stretch of the course. We arrive in the middle of the elementary school’s recess. We see boys running around, and realize they are in the middle of a Rarájipari.

We watch as they use their toes to throw the ball fifteen yards to a teammate. They don’t have the refinement of the men I’d seen, but they’re no beginners. Soon the girls follow with their own game, using sticks to pass a ring of rope down the course in a similar matter to the game of bola. After they’re done, we joke that we should challenge the kids to our own game. A bit of translation and a few minutes later, and I find myself barefoot, stubbing my toes trying to kick the wooden ball. Four of us take on four of the kids, all of us uncontrollably laughing. On the one hand, we’re a pitiful sight, having trouble with the technique and resorting to kicking like soccer players (bad idea). But on the other hand, we find ourselves overwhelmed with the same elation I had seen on the faces of the Rarámuri. The boys handily beat us, rescuing our ball from over a fence and still winning by a margin, but give us the game ball as a gift.

On the rest day before the race, one of the runners from New Mexico brings his van into town, which he’s loaded with “NASCAR” tire tread and tools. He offers it to the Rarámuri and gringos alike, and I come away with a sweet pair of my own huaraches.

Like always, the race begins like a track meet. The Rarámuri are as numerous as ever, with 40 of us internationals along for the journey. The first loop of the race flies by, and I find myself the leading international again. Partway on the second loop I share a few miles with Miguel, a traditional Rarámuri from the Batopilas canyon. On the climb to Los Alisos, I am surprised to find that water hadn’t yet made it to the aid stations, and I struggle through five miles as the temperature again climbs near 100. Reaching the top I drink about half a gallon of cool agua, and slouch in a chair to regain my composure. Immediately Jamil comes in, looking just as worn. I take off first but Jamil soon catches up. We work together, passing many of the other runners struggling in the heat. We again finish together, Los Hermanos de Arizona, in 7th place.

As part of barefoot running week here at DailyMile, I’d like to share my perspective on running shoeless. The Rarámuri are a prime reason the movement has taken off, and I look to their culture as one to teach us. Interestingly, I’ve yet to see a Rarámuri running barefoot. They all wear tire sandals, and they prefer them stiff. Since the year Arnulfo won the race in 2006, every winner has been shod, including two Tarahumaran runners the past two years. The winner in 2010 specifically attributed his win to getting shoes. The one thing I’ve learned from the Rarámuri about footwear is that it can definitely serve a purpose. If I had to travel up and down rocky canyon walls every day, I’d want something protecting my feet too!

But that isn’t the whole story. Despite four of the top six runners having shoes this year, two of them were still in sandals. Jamil and I received prize money and corn for placing in the top ten, and it is traditional to give the winnings back to the people. We chose to give our winnings to these two runners, having beaten us despite our modern advantages.

I don’t know if shoes are evil and barefoot running holds the secret to something greater. I tend to think it doesn’t matter. The Rarámuri use whatever they can get, and choose to make the best of it through hard work and honesty. I’ve started running in my tire sandals and practicing with my bola, and I hope to return next year to complete the race as most of them do. After all, word has it that Caballo Blanco wants to set up a rarájipari between Batopilas Canyon and a few crazy gringos…

As a final note, I’d like to invite each one of you to participate in the Copper Canyon Ultramarathon. You don’t have to be an ultrarunner to come. All that is needed is an openness to experience a culture greater than ours, one that has survived in peace for thousands of years, living without the modern problems our greatest thinkers can’t solve. Tragically their way of life is now being eroded, and only a few souls like Caballo Blanco are brave enough to try and preserve it.

“While they are at war we came together at the bottom of a deep canyon in the middle of no-where; no-where but beauty, to create Peace and Run Free! What more is there?” – Caballo Blanco

Related Posts

1. 
   Barefoot Running: Ditch Your Shoes, Change Your Gait, An Honest Look at a Tired Debate

   The theme for last week here on the dailymile Blog was barefoot running. It’s odd, therefore, that my initial thought was to write a post reviewing my recent experience with More →

2. 
   Run light and smooth: an interview with “Born to Run” star, Caballo Blanco

   When Logan H. (aka Unarunner) first approached me about doing an interview with Caballo Blanco I thought, “how the hell am I gonna find that guy, didn’t it take months More →

3. 
   Barefoot running week – FTW

   Barefoot running week was such a huge success that we couldn’t contain it to just five days, so we’re extending it just a bit to fit a few more amazing More →