by Cabro Colorado I can still remember the day as if it were yesterday.
Planes, broken down busses and too little sleep.
Confusion from elementary language skills.
Excitement for the adventures ahead.
A long, beautiful train ride through a very strange land getting to know a brother as an adult for the first time.
Fascination at the realness in conversations with a World class athlete.
First sightings of the colorful Raramuri people.
Opportunity to gaze over the grandest of grand canyons.
Wondering how we would find the Horse in such a busy pasture.
And then there you were. A cartoon of a man. Larger than life with a huge smile and genuine happiness to see us arrive for the great journey.
The land was rough and beautiful. The company was intimidating for a new ultra runner. They moved like you did, graceful and beautiful through the rugged terrain.
Our journey down to your home was bumpy, dusty, smelly and noisy thanks to the strangest person I had ever encountered in my life ... a monkey that would soon become a very good friend.
The group was eclectic. Gathered from all corners and collecting an Italian Eagle along the way.
Batopilas was wonderful with odd encounters in town meeting Nacho Barracho, a surprisingly fast person and talented violin maker when sober.
The run that day out to the mission has always been one of my favorites among a thousand runs. Simple, relaxed, joyful. Watching elite runners take running casually. Experiencing true running talent as the scantily clad and dangerously beautiful La Brujita passed El Perro and myself with insane speed as she floated down a lengthy hill.
Eating at each of your favorite Oma's houses was always a joy and the lady in Batopilas brought class to a tiny house in a tiny town while treating us all like her family.
Our hotel was small and somewhat like a dorm. We gathered in the hallways and played as if we'd known each other for years. Instant bonding, joy, bristling with excited energy for the long journey ahead.
Too soon it was time to leave and conquer the intimidating 30+ mile hike from Batopilas to Urique. The mood somber to start. Then lightening as the warm sun help thaw our moods and souls.
The day was full of intriguing encounters. A real chance to truly meet many interesting people and discover their stories. Girrafe, Gavilane, Venado y Venada, Bujo, Rana … even Cabrocito who I was growing to know and like more each day.
Then, suddenly and silently the Batopilas Canyon legends were standing there. Meeting the men, these champion of Leadville legend and their descendants. Careful introductions. Respectful. Quiet. Gentle touching of hands.
I remember running up behind some younger ones just for the joy of watching them disappear through the woods in the blink of an eye. Laughing at the gentle play.
Mono and I trying to get ahead to use the digital video cameras to get some footage of these camera shy people.
Learning to run down through the rugged terrain by stepping properly on chingocitos … trying to stop sounding like a herd of buffalo next to people that made no sound. Slipped no rocks. Always knew where and how to step.
Rest, respite, grapefruit, tequila-moonshine in excess. A very sick Tortuga del Sol.
Crashing on the long, long, soft trail downhill but getting up with streaming blood to run down while passing Raramuri, hooting and hollering. Any chance of a future race was over, but respect from the Raramuri was building.
Then we made it to town and it was clear who the Rock Star was. Urique loved you. They loved us. The loved the Raramuri. Everyone wanted to know if we were Corredors and figure out who could possibly beat their champion.
The people were nice. The company rewarding. The food outstanding. The sun and culture helping to thaw out my soul even more. Real change had become to take shape in my way of looking at life and people.
The race was anti-climactic. The real journey was in the pre-race events. Long hours pre-walking the course with more chances to talk to and play with the Raramuri.
But the 30 of us celebrated afterward in the true spirit of Korima. Giving freely of congratulations for runners of all speeds. Making a point to congratulate young and old Raramuri on the effort even if the course and heat proved too much that day.
Immediately I knew I would be back and had the incredible privilege of traveling with my wife the second time. A time for us to fall back in love after slipping too much into the routine grind of life.
The 2nd year did not capture the same magic as the first partly because you got so sick and my natural tendency to lead in a leadership gap thrust me into the RD role. I could not relax the same with my broken Spanish and big-wig Mexican officials coming into town. I began to understand how much work you did to make CCUM happen ... a catalyst for the formation of a group dedicated to protecting the race and assisting in fund raising.
But I took pride when it was done and you were able to get to the starting line while we all watched the incredible power of the first Raramuri women to join in the journey.
Then, the shocking finish as a humble turtle took down a National Champion and the women's winner showed she was back to the Champions form she held before a long absence.
And we should never forget how your leadership in the simple joys of a simple race launched other races into existence. Important races.
I hope to run them someday since people I call friends started them boosted by the confidence of seeing it grow organically.
We disagreed at times but always respectfully. Stresses and pressures got in the way of our friendship. I grew tired of being your banker. I grew tired of the stresses of trying to understand your complicated and often conflicting views. I grew tired of being on one side or the other between people I wanted to include as my friends. I grew tired of the efforts in leading Norawas de Raramuri where it deserved to go.
But I never got tired of knowing you were out there, helping the world in your special and unique way.
I never get tired of having such good friends in my life as a result of your uniqueness bringing together people from such diverse backgrounds, cultures and mindsets.
I truly believed that if anyone could survive tragedy for a few days, it would be you. That you would come walking out or the Mas Locos would get in there and find you. I wanted to fly down so badly and help but knew that I could be nothing but a liability in my current form.
The final reality has hit me very hard. I did not see this coming. I had come to understand and accept that my problems were mine and I had lost something special by leaving it behind.
I had planned to be there in 2013. To find the Raramuri that had become friends. To spend time in the Canyons before and after the race delivering corn and renewing our friendship.
To see that huge smile and goofy cowboy hat one more time in a chance encounter on the trails in Boulder or Leadville would be priceless.
To tip one more hoppy brew at Twisted Pine and talk about the future of the race, beyond measure.
Kuiri ba norawa,
Cabro Colorado
by Deborah Hirsch Here I am again, stepping back from the details and looking for the big picture. In front of me is the immediate image of you by a stream, without breath or pulse, and the knowledge that I will never see you again. When Maria told me of this, I couldn't see anything for all the crying. Now, reading what people have been writing about you, the picture forming is something so inspiring. I want you to know what I see, Micah.
I'm sorry, its not you as the mythic hero. Its not even you, the iconoclast. To begin with, its you sitting on a couch last summer in Boulder, gently talking with my son and I about your your hopes for CCUM, your feelings about what all of us involved in Norawas de Raramuri were doing, and speaking of each with a love and calm that I had never before witnessed in our conversations. Some kind of peace had grown inside of you. Some kind of love had taken strong root.
What is left now? Part myth, part legacy, its the legacy that interests me, and I think that is what would most interest you too. Your memory is not served by mythologizing. Heroes are larger than life, made more perfect in the public mind than they ever could have been. With those of us who live changed by how you've inspired us, you may have a true legacy.
You, Micah, are a hero, not because of how great you were, but because of how human you were, and yet you accomplished so very much. I have never known anyone who suffered more and few who suffered as much. However imperfect, you held yourself and others to a vision, an honest, non-materialistic vision. You did so in different ways: sometimes maddeningly, as a single-minded iconoclast, and sometimes so lovingly, with huge compassion and real wisdom.
So, here is what I see, stepping back from the crisis of your death: I see the miracle of thousands of people from around the globe all responding to your very simple message and the experiences you offered them. Especially, I see the miracle of these thousands of people feeling a bond with each other--not only with you--because of shared experience. We are a kind of spiritual family that has no doctrine and no borders. This is true synergy, it is a shared experience that, as a whole, has evolved into a state of beauty and energy much greater than the sum of its parts. You know you did not, could not, create this alone. You would smile, pleased with how people have created this with you.
All who were changed by the experience of CCUM are exchanging a sense of common loss and mutual warmth. Micah, you would be so glad! I remember how you put it in 2007, on the plaza of Urique on a night before the race: "Out there, they are making war, while we are here making peace." My wish is that we continue to do just that. Every one of us should carry your legacy forward by holding each other in respect and esteem, in warmth, as we find ways to amplify the spirit of korima in every way we can--especially for the benefit of our friends in Las Barrancas.
Thank you, Micah. It is my deepest intention to amplify your legacy, much more than to amplify your myth. It is with what you valued most, love--respect--beauty--that I intend to live the rest of my life. So many of us will do so because you touched us. You, who too rarely encountered these qualities in your own life, but who showed so many of us that we could place them before all else. This is what makes you a hero to me. And I am deeply grateful to all of those, and you know who you are, who gave Micah love and peace in the last years of his life.
Post by Diego Rhodes, the Mexico HorseThis post is to thank CCUM 2012 participants who came for the event but went further in helping our people. Yes, you runners are “Mas Locos” but, like Zacatecas you are also “Puro Corazon” which translates to something like “All Heart”. Many of you helped by providing food to traditional Tarahumaras others provided donations and I’d like to recognize them by name where possible. Aida and German donated a part or all of their winnings to fund a student trip. Over the past 9 years, these trips have proven to be a major motivation factor for kids to stay in school and do the best they can in their studies. It is also an educational experience of a lifetime and something which continues to motivate the participants long after their trip. I was especially touched when German told me it also gave him the incentive to keep running the best he could in the hopes of winning for the students.
Roy won the experience of participating in CCUM, no sooner had he returned home than he sent me payment to sponsor one student. Other people who stayed with us at the Oso donated money anonymously.
Your trip donations are used as matching funds, the students need to come up with an equal amount to go on the trip. Thus, Roy’s and other’s donations for one student will provide matching funds for two students. Thanks to the auction at the Oso and their other fund- raising activities, the Huicorachi school now has 50% of funds needed for their trip, by raising matching funds, the trip will mean more to everyone than if it was just given to them. If donors want to join the students, departure for Guadalajara is 29 June, the day after they graduate. We'd love to have you share the experience.
To Flint, Paloma’s group from California and others who donated seeds but whose names I missed in the hectic CCUM (now Ultra Caballo Blanco) atmosphere, thanks for giving something that would provide sustainable subsistence. Seeds were selectively given to people who had gardens but were lacking in seeds. People who received the seeds promised not only to plant them but to allow some to go to seed so that your donation will continue to provide nutritional food down through the years.
Tyler sent an Apple Computer to El Paso, it was part of the load in one of our shuttle vans, Paloma and Lynette both brought laptop computers. Michael Miller who again this year brought down four computers in a plastic storage container—which I forgot to ask if you wanted back.
Ricardo brought so many boxes of school supplies that his baggage charges undoubtedly exceeded the cost of his flight. Some of these supplies he was able to give out himself, others he was not permitted to take on the train but were shipped separately and will go to remote schools and the most needy students. Many people filled their bags with extra clothing and had the pleasure of seeing students from Huicorachi and others selecting and wearing the clothes. Robyn brought a bag of baby clothes from Australia, somehow it boggles the mind to think of Tarahumara kids wearing clothes from Australia!
All you Mas Locos were so generous that it is impossible to recognize everyone, please forgive me for the people who I have missed in this post, you are all winners and Puro Corazon! May you all receive blessings and great karma.
Caballo Blanco