Given to Tri: Other Distances

Race Report: Carrera San Silvestre 2024

2024-12-31T21:00:00-06:00

Kate and I visited Mexico City for the first time in 2015. We were here for the holidays and to visit family, but one of the things I remember from that trip was standing in the middle of Paseo de la Reforma on New Year’s Eve during some kind of race, photographing the runners. I had no idea what race that was and didn’t particularly care—I just thought it was a cool thing to photograph, since many of the runners were in costume, such as this guy dressed as El Chapulín Colorado.

“¡Síganme los buenos!” Paseo de la Reforma, Mexico City. December, 2015.

This year we’re back in Mexico City for the first time in almost a decade, and now that I am very much into running and triathlons, I thought it’d be cool to find out if any races would be happening while I’m here, and if I could do that same one, even better—what better way to close out the year than running on New Year’s Eve? I found an event called Carrera San Silvestre, a 12 km race near where I took those photos all those years ago, so I signed up for it almost as soon as I booked our trip.

A San Silvestre, as I learned after signing up, is a running race done on December 31st, which is Saint Sylvester’s Day (hence the name). It started in São Paulo in 1925, and despite spending the first 29 years of my life living in Venezuela, I had no idea they’ve been commonplace in Latin America and Spain ever since. That goes to show how little I cared about any of this stuff when I lived there, I suppose.

In any case, signed up I did, so I needed to get ready for it. After wrapping up my triathlon season at Ironman 70.3 Washington Tri-Cities in September I’ve focused my off-season training primarily on cycling, and neglected my running for most of the fall. Before traveling to Mexico City I did an abridged plan from Runna to build my mileage back up, but once I got here I simply went out for runs every morning to enjoy the city and get acclimated to the elevation (at 2,250 m, Mexico City is only about 300 m higher than my home in Wyoming, but that still left me feeling surprisingly winded the first few times I went running). I stayed in the Polanco neighborhood of Mexico City, so my usual route started on the wide promenade of Horacio Avenue. From there, I took the Cuernavaca Railroad, a railroad line that’s been repurposed into a gorgeous paved multi-use pathway, to Chapultepec, crossing the first section of the park before heading back to Polanco, for a total of 10 km on a nice looping route.

Running through Polanco and Chapultepec was awesome, but the highlight of my week leading up to the race was running on Paseo de la Reforma the Sunday before the race. This wide avenue running through the heart of Mexico City is closed every Sunday to motor traffic so people can recreate on it. On the last Sunday of every month, an even longer 62.5 km route is closed for what they call a “Ciclotón,” a more cycling-focused event with bike repair stations and aid stations giving away water, electrolytes, and chocolate milk along the way.

I should have been tapering for the race at this point, but it was such a wonderful way to spend a gorgeous Sunday morning, I ended up running over 16 km, and it made me wish I had thought to rent a bike to ride the entire route.

There’s no better way to spend a Sunday morning in Mexico City, in my opinion.

Shutting down one of the busiest avenues in one of the biggest cities in the world every single week for the enjoyment of people instead of cars—talk about having your priorities straight. This made me even angrier about St. George not renewing the contract for Ironman 70.3 St. George after 2025, leaving $42 million on the table, because closing a few roads a single day each year is apparently too much of an inconvenience for drivers. Car brain is a hell of a thing, but I digress.

On race day, I woke up early enough to make some coffee, take a COVID test as I usually do before a race, and have enough time to get to the start line on Paseo de la Reforma, about 2 km from my Airbnb in Polanco. It was a clear but brisk morning, at 6°C, so I jogged there to get a good warmup before the race start. When I got there, the area around the start line was absolutely packed with people, so I stayed out of the way at the back of my corral, the last one of the three, eating a Maurten 100 Caf 100 gel a few minutes before the scheduled start of the race.

The 12 km course started near Torre Mayor on Paseo de la Reforma, heading west until just past the Fuente de Petróleos, then making a U-turn and proceeding to an out-and-back on Calzada Chivatito alongside Chapultepec (with a few short out-and-backs along the way) before getting back on Reforma towards the finish line. The course is entirely on paved roads, with about 90 m of elevation gain, most of it at a mild grade with a handful of steeper sections. The pavement was smooth for the most part, but some segments had huge potholes which, due to the crowds and lack of markings, were hard to see until the last second. Luckily I was able to avoid them—I could have easily twisted my ankle again on one of them. The course had three aid stations, at kilometers 3, 6, and 9, but they were extremely crowded (and according to comments on social media they didn’t have enough water or staff), so I skipped them.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

The crowds were the theme of the day. The course was so packed that although the gun went off at 7:00 AM, I didn’t actually cross the start line until 7:18; even before the start I was completely blocked and couldn’t pass anybody. I don’t know how many people were running, but my results page says there were 1,819 male finishers in front of of me and 1,964 behind me, so if I had to guess I’d say there were about 7,000 participants—and every single one of them was in front of me. Based on my half marathon pace, I had set myself an arbitrary goal of finishing in under an hour, but it was obvious from the start there was no way for me to hit that pace. I was doing this for fun, so I wasn’t upset about it; I simply zig-zagged to pass people when I could and slowed down when I couldn’t, especially on the shorter out-and-backs, which were on narrower side roads and caused serious bottlenecks. Some people apparently took the race way more seriously, though—around the 10 km mark, I ran past two dudes squaring off, cursing at each other, about to get into a fistfight, while a bunch of people tried to separate them (I have no idea what that was all about and I didn’t stick around to find out).

By the time I made the last U-turn on Calzada Chivatito I had passed tons and tons of people and the crowds had thinned out somewhat, so once I got back on Reforma I sent it. I pushed the pace as hard as I could for the last few kilometers, finishing the race with an official chip time of 01:02:59.71 and an average pace of 05:15/km. I finished in 2,846th place out of who knows how many. The finish line photo is hilarious; I’m in there somewhere, I think. Good luck finding me.

Where’s Waldo? Credit: Emoción Deportiva.

After crossing the finish line, I grabbed my bag of swag (which is top notch, by the way, the race shirt is a very nice Reebok long sleeve running shirt and the finisher’s one is the softest t-shirt I’ve ever had) and walked back to Polanco for a much needed coffee and pastry.

This will make a fine addition to my collection.

And with that, now my race season is over for this year, and what a great way to end 2024 on a high note and set the tone for 2025. Happy new year!

One last race this year

2024-12-20T17:30:00-07:00

I’m spending Christmas and New Year’s in Mexico City, so what better way to close out the year than a chill 12 km race around Chapultepec? It’s just what I need after a couple of months of exclusively indoor training. I only regret not arriving there in time for this Sonic the Hedgehog 10K on Sunday—I need that medal.

Race Report: Teton Mountain Runs Wild 15K

2024-07-15T08:00:00-06:00

Last summer I learned about the Rendezvous Mountain Hill Climb, a trail running race in Jackson Hole that’s considered “the most demanding hill climb running event in the West.” It looked like a fascinating challenge, with 1,250 m of elevation gain over 9.8 km, and until last year, it had never been done in under an hour.

Needless to say, I’m nowhere near prepared to do something like that; I have little experience with trail running, and most of it is on flat terrain. But it got me intrigued about trail running races, so I looked at other less-demanding events in the area and discovered the Teton Mountain Runs series, which offers 50K, 30K and 15K races, all run on the hiking and mountain biking trails of Jackson Hole Mountain Resort in Teton Village, Wyoming.

The Wild 15K race, with about 550 meters of elevation gain and no technical terrain or scrambling required, is described as “a great beginner option for those who don’t want to reach the elevation or distance of the 30K,” so I signed up for it earlier this year. I thought it’d be a good introduction to trail running races and add some variety to my training; I’d do it in place of one of my long runs and have a little fun. I knew I was taking a risk doing this with Ironman Canada coming up; I was specifically worried about hurting my knee again on the downhill portion of the race, but I had a plan. The race had a time cut-off at the top of the course, before starting the descent, so I’d run up the hill to make the time cut, and then take it easy and hike down at a leisurely pace to reduce the risk of injury. It felt like a calculated risk, but as it turns out, I’m pretty bad at math.

The night before the race, I considered skipping and sleeping in, but after a bad bout of insomnia, I got up at 4:00 AM and got ready. I had also thought about skipping if the air quality was bad—we’re starting to get the seasonal wildfire smoke from the west coast in Jackson Hole. My personal AQI limit to exercise outdoors is 75, but on race morning it had dipped just below moderate, at 48. With no excuse to skip the race, I headed out the door shortly after dawn.

I got to Teton Village at around 6:30 AM and spent a few minutes warming up in the parking lot before heading to the start line, downing a Maurten Caf 100 gel before the start. The race started at 7:00 AM on the dot; I stayed near the back and let the faster, more experienced runners go first, but soon after I started I got stuck behind people who were hiking up the trail. The race guide warned that walkers would not make the 9:45 AM time cut, so I started passing people, running at a pace that felt comfortable in terms of RPE and heart rate. This was a big mistake—I quickly realized my fitness exceeded my skills, so that “comfortable” pace was too fast for me to navigate the trail safely, especially in the downhill portions. By then the trail had narrowed down significantly to a singletrack barely half a meter wide through dense vegetation with steep drop-offs in some sections, and I was blocking people who wanted to pass me and couldn’t because I had no space at all to step aside, so I felt pressure to keep the pace up. I tripped a couple of times, but luckily was able to keep my balance and continue without falling. My luck would soon run out, though—big time.

I had made it almost 5 km into the run when I tripped again on something—a root, I think—that was hidden from view by the foliage on the sides of the trail, and because I was going downhill, I was carrying too much momentum to recover and crashed hard on my shoulder, sliding along the trail a few feet and narrowly missing the steep drop-off to my right—I don’t know where I would have ended up if I had fallen off the trail. Fortunately, other than scrapes on my hands, arms and legs, and a mouthful of dirt, I wasn’t seriously hurt. I say “fortunately” because not a single person stopped to help—the guy behind me asked, “You good, bro?” but disappeared down the trail before I had a chance to answer, and three or four other people walked past me while I was on the ground. Nobody even gave me a hand.

Maybe I should have just quit right then and there, but after dusting myself off and using my water bottle to rinse off my scrapes, I kept running, albeit at a slower, more careful pace. About 2 km later, the trail intersected a steep gravel service road running perpendicular to it. I was almost across when I stepped on a rock, which rolled to the side, and my foot went along with it. I heard a crack and felt blinding pain as my ankle stretched more than I thought was physically possible, and I hit the deck hard. The only thought that went through my head as I fell was shitshitshitshitIjustbrokemyfuckingankle but what came out of my mouth was the most bloodcurdling scream of my life, which this time did make a few people stop to check on me. I was on the ground clutching my ankle, certain that it was broken, when one of them kneeled next to me and started examining it. She seemed to have first aid experience, and noted it wasn’t swollen and nothing looked obviously broken. I was surprised I didn’t feel any pain as she examined my ankle, and I could still move my foot; I hoped the crack I heard came from the rocks I stepped on and not from my ankle. After I stood up and confirmed I could put weight on my ankle, she took off, telling me that we were close to the next aid station and that she would let them know I was coming (I regret not getting her name or bib number so I could thank her).

At this point I was done with this fucking race, but the race guide said that dropping out was only permitted at the aid stations, except in case of a serious emergency, which would require calling Jackson Hole Ski Patrol; I figured this wasn’t one because I could walk and wasn’t in terrible pain. I couldn’t remember the exact distance the race guide said the aid station would be at, but I was almost at the halfway point of the race, so I thought it would be close and set off for it.

It… wasn’t close. I ended up walking 5.1 km with 258 m of elevation gain on my twisted ankle, all banged up and covered in dirt and scrapes from both falls. My ankle didn’t hurt too much when I walked, and I even ran for a few seconds just to see if I could, but it was definitely tender so I didn’t want to take any chances. I went slowly and carefully, avoided putting too much weight on it, and watched my step to make sure I didn’t twist it again. On top of everything else, the mosquitos were an absolute menace and were driving me insane. At least I got to see a pika while I was crossing a talus field, the only thing that came even close to a highlight of my day. I love those little yodeling critters.

I wish I had spent more time enjoying the view at least; this was the only photo I made.

I had been hobbling along the trail for an hour and a half when I saw a man walking in the opposite direction. He came up to me and asked, “Do you know how far back is the injured guy?” I laughed and said, “You just found him.” We were less than 400 m from the aid station, so he walked me the rest of the way.

The colors on this map denote pace; the black & white dot is the spot where I injured my ankle.

After stopping there for a minute to eat a few Oreos and refill my water bottle, Ski Patrol drove me down to the urgent care clinic at the base of the mountain (ironically on the same service road where I tripped, so I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I had just called them). There, they ran X-rays and confirmed that my ankle wasn’t broken, although it is sprained. Given that I was able to walk over 5 km on it, the doctor thought it wasn’t serious and that I’d probably even be able to return to training this week, but now that I’m home and it’s more swollen and painful than before, I’m worried the crack I heard was actually my ligaments snapping. The doctor said I should call an orthopedic specialist if I don’t see improvement in a week but I’m not going to wait that long; I’ll get an ortho appointment as soon as possible and get in front of this. With some luck it’ll turn out to be nothing serious and I’ll be able to race Ironman Canada next month, but I’m not feeling optimistic about it.

I normally try not to beat myself up too much when I make mistakes during training or racing; it’s all part of the learning experience. That said, getting injured during a triathlon or during training is one thing—it sucks when that happens, but at least it’s in service of a goal. This… is not that. This race was a completely unnecessary risk that wouldn’t have advanced my triathlon goals in any way even if it had gone perfectly, but it didn’t and now I’m paying for it with a potentially season-ending injury. Why did I think this was a good idea?!

I feel like such a fucking idiot.