This will be my easiest publish yet, as the hard work was complete a few months ago. It was an honor to be asked to write for ATRA, the American Trail Runners Association! Click on the link below or scroll down to see the content I sent them initially. Few revisions were made.
Raramuri Style Redemption at the Cloudsplitter 100 Mile
Raramuri Boogie
Namaste. Namaste! Namaste my butt on course. Not your typical ultra-mantra, as the Cloudsplitter 100 miler is not a typical race. “Course marking to course marking”. So many mantras, so many hours. Nearly 25K feet of climb and highly technical, this gem based out of the tiny city of Norton and run on High Knob Mountain in Virginia made the Superior 100 a nice training run.
Timing out after getting off course at 24 hours, Cloudsplitter handed me a first DNF at the 100M distance in ’16. Sweet redemption was my goal for my toughest run. As usual, I ran with no pacers or crew, huaraches only on my feet, with my trusty cork handled carbide tipped sticks in hand, straps hacked away, for up to 40 hours. Maybe. And just in case an aid station was a hog roast, my drop bags were stuffed with suitable options for my ninth year consuming exclusively plants.
Tapered and eager, I felt optimistic a sweet silver buckle with two gold bears would in my palm, And in Karl Meltzer’s! Yep, we ran with the “Speedgoat”, all the way from Utah to chase down his 41st outright win at the hundred-mile distance, at age 51. The course design let me see him buzz by three times.
I was racing for a humble finish, with a goal of being fully present. A strong run would have me moving into the sunset twice. Into that first chilly night, a heavy rock shifted under my left sandal and something sharp pulled hard on my left pinky toe. Ouch and damn. It could be a broken bone, or torn tendon I thought, until I was oddly relieved to see some blood puddling on my outsole. Not too much, a mouthful of water would rehydrate me. No way such a negligible body part would stop this mission.
100% committed to doing this “my” way, “Raramuri” style, my long-term experiment has me replicating the better habits of the traditional, infamous Tarahumara who live in the most remote sections in the Copper Canyons of Mexico as nomadic subsistence farmers, the running people. Early results are good, with over eight years injury free and over 55 ultras and four hundred milers complete, of four attempts this year. The table was set, but how deep was that laceration under foot and how much might it affect this run? Would all the chia seeds really help?
In high school, I believed I missed the athletic gene, participating in no sports and by age 42 I was overweight with thyroid cancer, and other health concerns and feeling fearful. With three young daughters, became laser focused on finding a new path. Always grateful just to be out there on these wilderness adventures with amazing runners, I never could have imagined this running centered lifestyle. I was Born to Run. Who knew?
How … THE HELL … did I get here? Alone with a full moon and deep into wild country and bleeding at age 57, I was laser focused on a 14th “hundo” belt buckle. Energy flows where attention goes. Namaste. VMR, Visual Motor Rehearsal, will work this time. I know this formerly broken-down suburban Ohio dad had to do it. My wife assured me. I love her and believed she believed.
While the pain in my left foot slowed me down and messed with my stride, at about 76 miles in I had to put a toe sock on the affected foot. Fearing a possible DNF, digging deeper into that well, I ran the second loop on the toughest part of the course faster, after covering a wound on the other side of that left foot. More blood. Merely a flesh wound.
After the fourth climb to the High Knob aid station, with the final eight-mile descent towards the Farmer’s Market finish line, that seemingly endless well of energy delivered some magic. My mind was lit up. I ran negative splits, faster than needed to a 36:49 finish. Twenty-three of us earned that buckle. Karl got his 16 hours faster! I was the oldest finisher and first to tackle the course in “flip flops” as many volunteers referred to my curious choice of sole protection. One black sock on and a huge smile, feeling fully alive, enjoying the precious present. Jimmy Buffet was right on with his infamous lyrics, “if we weren’t all crazy, we would go insane.”
Each run, merely preparation for the next, sometimes you just do things and take leaps of faith. Namaste!
Randy Kreill
A back of the pack ultra LSD junkie, chasing the maximum numbers of hours of runner’s high and sharing what’s working with hopes of drawing more people into an awareness what we are at our primal core, running people. Find me on YouTube or FB.
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