Charmin Covid -19 Marathon Race Report

Earth is closed until further notice! The Coronavirus pandemic is in full swing. Like every other human on our planet, I have been social distancing, quarantining, sheltering in place or whatever else you want to call it. For me this isn’t much different than how I operate anyway, so I suppose I’m lucky in that regard. We have been spending time at our family’s ranch in West Texas which is what we normally do over Spring Break. Hudspeth County, TX is one of the least populated counties in the US so I have to laugh when authorities say to keep a six foot distance from others. Out here it’s closer to six miles!

The Ice Cream Cone, Indian Hot Springs Rd

Anyway, I was supposed to run the Bataan Memorial Death March for my 9th year in a row, but of course it was cancelled. Instead, I signed up for the Charmin Covid-19 Marathon that was run out here in the Chihuahuan Desert. About five of us hearty runners started out at first light for our 26.2 mile adventure.The weather was nice and cool in the morning when we began our run along a dirt road that runs near the border of Mexico. 

Indian Hot Springs Ranch

The Inn Lobby

Ruins in Mexico

If you continue on this road for about 20 miles it eventually ends at the Indian Hot Springs Ranch, a resort of days gone by. I had the privilege of visiting the privately owned property last summer. There are natural hot springs, several bath houses with tubs and an Inn. Native Americans used the curative waters in these springs for centuries and, following the Civil War, “Buffalo” soldiers went on scouting and mapping expeditions in the area.

Read: Who Were The Buffalo Soldiers?

Buffalo Soldiers plaque (click to enlarge

The road crosses several wide gravelly arroyos and then winds through hill and dale passing through several cattle ranches. Cows graze in the grassy bottoms and the road is hemmed in by eroded cliffs. Wildflowers were abundant along the route and the yucca were beginning to bloom. Occasionally my best friends became distracted by a jackrabbit darting across the way and they would go off, running helter-skelter in a wild chase. In the mean time, I spotted a small hawk sitting in a tree so stopped to watch him for a few minutes.

Taz and Lucky

Gambler, my running coach

Hawk

After three or so miles we turned around to head back to the ranch. When we arrived home at about mile seven, I grabbed my hydration vest for the rest of the journey, but my friends became distracted once again; this time because they smelled bacon frying. It was pretty hot by this point so they quit the marathon to laze around on the porch for the rest of the morning. As they say," if you can’t hang with the big dogs, stay on the porch!" This big dog continued on his way all by his lonesome which was fine by me; I prefer the solitude while becoming one with nature anyway.

Texas wildflowers

For this leg of my marathon, I headed up towards the Quitman Mountains near Sierra Blanca, TX. Sierra Blanca, along I-10 is a sleepy little town, but has one of the most famous Border Patrol checkpoints in the U.S. This is where Wille Nelson was busted for seven ounces of pot, a felony, while touring with his band years ago. At the little adobe courthouse in town, the county attorney suggested that Willie pay his debt to society by singing “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain”. Eventually, Willie was mysteriously released on a misdemeanor charge. Al Reinert of Texas Monthly writes,

At some point in the continuing investigation of Willie’s crime, it was discovered that the very same stash that had weighed almost seven ounces at the checkpoint weighed less than half that on the jailhouse scales. This reduced the charge against him to a misdemeanor and made Willie eligible for one of those $527 paraphernalia tickets, which is how the case was eventually disposed.

Two years later, when I asked [Sheriff] West about this discrepancy between his scales and the feds’, he shrugged. “They don’t always get things right at that checkpoint,” he said. “They probably weighed the container along with the dope.” This sounded just plausible enough to make me smile, and West smiled back.

Read: The Best Little Checkpoint in Texas, Texas Monthly

A modernized windmill. Notice the solar panels?

Anyway, I digress. We had a pretty good rain the day before my run so fog and clouds were pouring off the mountains and laying in the canyon between the peaks. This dirt road is part of the former Butterfield Overland Mail route that carried mail in 1858 -1861 from St Louis to San Francisco. This stretch is between the Ft Quitman and Eagle Spring stage stops where the coaches were occasionally attacked by Indians. The road parallels a major arroyo that carries water over a plateau and down into the Rio Grande when we have gully washers during the monsoon season. All was calm and quiet the day I ran through the canyon.

Quitman Pass Rd

Creosote bush and ocotillo cactus dominate the desert with blooming yucca interspersed between. Mt Quitman looms in the distance, an Aermotor windmill at its base pumping water out of the ground for cattle. I ran the slightly uphill road for about eight miles where I crossed the dry wash. A bullet ridden rusty car with no doors, trunk slightly open, has been parked here for decades slowing deteriorating with each passing year. I climbed a pretty significant hill where there were protruding rock outcrops resembling the fins of a dragon’s back.

Yucca

The weather was very hot at this point and all the fog had burned off, so I turned around to head back. The route was mostly downhill from here, but I was pretty exhausted having already covered 17 miles. I was running at a good clip because the road was mostly smooth. Without a lot of elevation gain, I wasn’t able to enjoy the hiking breaks that I usually get when running in the Franklin Mountains. When I hit mile 23, I got a stabbing pain between my shoulder blades and had to walk for a spell. It’s this pain and suffering that is equally as important as the bliss that one feels when running, hiking or participating in other endurance sports. It makes you more appreciative of everything you have, no matter how great or small.

In Hiking With Nietzsche: On Becoming Who You Are, John Kaag writes,

Hiking, unlike most vocations, is work with its own immediate reward, and its unpleasant aspects are often the most advantageous. The dull ache of lactic acid building in your quads and calves slowly reminds you that flesh—your flesh—is still alive. The control that one has over the pain is strangely affirming: Can you make it to the next rise, to the next outcropping of rocks? Life is often painful or bothersome, but the hiker, at the very least, gets to determine how he or she is meant to suffer.

"Dragon's Back"

I managed my pain by taking occasional short walking breaks and stretching my arms above my head and behind my back. This was the same pain that I always get during the Bataan Death March; a mere inkling of the pain and suffering endured by the heroes of this hellish march during WWII. I thought a lot about what these brave men did for our country as I was finishing up my marathon. 

Arroyo beside the old Butterfield Overland Trail

The sun was high and I was out of water for the last several miles. When I was almost home, I realized that I miscalculated how far my out-and-back should be and I was about 3/4ths of a mile short. I continued on the main paved road in front of the ranch to make up the distance. Amazingly, I came in first place in the Charmin Covid-19 Marathon where my gps watch read 26.2 miles in 5:45. My prize was a roll of Charmin toilet paper —Splinter Free Scent! Unfortunately, I was also the last place finisher, but who's keeping track? I enjoyed a great day on the Butterfield Trail and the Indian Hot Springs Rd all the same.

The view of the US Mexico Border

Kayaking with Taz, my wingman

In addition to running this week, I have enjoyed some excellent bird watching and we have been kayaking on the ranch land that flooded around the border fence that was built a dozen years ago. When the wind isn’t blowing, the water is like glass creating a calm surreal scene. There is so much peace in this neck of the desert that I sometimes completely forget the chaos that is happening all over the world. Each evening I look out over the water and go to my happy place while watching the sky bathe the mountains in morphing shades of yellow, orange and pink.

Killdeer

One day I ran along the paved road past where the levee border fence ends and picked up the dirt road that runs along the Rio Grande. Both sides of the road were covered in water for miles. While flooding is a nuisance to ranchers, it is a haven for waterbirds and other wildlife. I watched as a huge flock of pelicans took flight circling overhead. There were also plenty of American coots, a black duck with a white bill, who mostly stayed on the U.S. side of the river otherwise they would be known as Mexican coots. That was a joke in case you were wondering.

Pelicans

American coot

I also enjoyed observing a male ruddy duck with a blue bill bobbing his head up and down in courting behavior. A Great egret perched on a tree limb, but took flight as I approached. This week I have also seen killdeer, Gambel’s quail, Red-winged black birds,Vermillion flycatchers, King fishers, American avocet, an eared grebe and a Wilson’s snipe. Yes, snipe are real birds contrary to popular belief. The Cornell Lab of Birds writes,

Though the long tradition of “snipe hunt” pranks at summer camp has convinced many people otherwise, Wilson’s Snipes aren’t made-up creatures...The old practical joke of a snipe hunt involves getting someone to wait out in a marsh at night, holding a bag, with promises of flushing a snipe into the bag.

Birding is another great activity that we can all do while keeping our distance from each other. 

Eared grebe

Gambel's quail

The world seems chaotic and uncertain during these difficult times, but it is exactly as it’s supposed to be. “It is what it is”, in other words. Earth needs a break, so nature is taking its course. With less travel and consumerism comes cleaner air and water if only for a short time. Humans also need a break and, for many of us, life has slowed almost to a complete halt giving us more time to reflect and appreciate everything we had before the world was upended. Unfortunately, those on the front lines; the medical community, food suppliers, etc, are still hard at work fighting the battle and providing for us. I feel the most for them, as well as for the sick, dying and their families. Eventually this will pass and we will all be better for it.

Finding calm

While things are scary, I’m optimistic, realizing that life is unpredictable and the more you try NOT to control it, the happier you become. Just roll with the punches and enjoy the simple things in life —a good cup of coffee, a walk around the block, the moon shining over head or the setting sun. I like looking at the big picture of things too and constantly remind myself of the words of one of today’s great walkers, Paul Salopek of Out of Eden Walk.

When asked if he has a sense of doom because we’ve “entered an era when we’ve fundamentally altered the conditions of the planet to a point where there’s no return”, Salopek replied,

So on the one hand that’s depressing and sobering, but instead of making me gloomy or even fatalistic, the weird thing about a literary project that’s premised on slowing down your life to a walking pace and then using the past as a mirror is that you quickly circle back from depression to a kind of informed equanimity. It’s not that you don’t care, that you’re not sorrowed, that you don’t want to effect change or try to share wisdom or gain wisdom, but there’s an equanimity that comes that’s very monkish and very pilgrim-like. One day, in a geological heartbeat, glaciers will come across the desert and they will sweep all of this stuff into a giant moraine full of junk, concrete, rebar, bronze, statues. All of it. Elon Musk’s electric cars and his rocket ships, all of it into a moraine and that will be one heartbeat. And then it will start over again.

See you on the trail (from a six foot distance).

.