Hurricane Patricia and the Race in Tapalpa
(Originally posted October 2015)
On Friday we were warned that the strongest storm in recorded history was coming our way. All day long, everyone was glued to their phones and exchanging info about the incoming hurricane. For several weeks, I had been planning on a weekend trip to Tapalpa, a small town about two hours drive, for a cabin weekend with the girls and a huge walking/running race through the mountains. Due to the imminent arrival of Hurricane Patricia, many workplaces and schools closed early. The city put a recommended curfew for people to be off the streets by 5:00pm. Between news reports, consulate emergency emails and lots of rumors, we made the decision to stay in Guadalajara for safety.
Mandy came to spend the night at our house and we prepared for our hurricane slumber party. We filled garrafones with water, charged electronics, located flashlights, cooked up food, queued up the Netflix and opened a bottle of wine. The power went out for a few hours so we played cards and opened another bottle while listening to the wind and rain. Hurricane Patricia hit the Pacific coast in the early evening with winds over 200mph and was headed towards Guadalajara around 1:00 in the morning. So, we all went to bed and crossed our fingers.
In the morning, we awoke to find out how much the hurricane weakened after making landfall and zooming over the mountains. She also angled more towards the north and caused less effect on the city of Guadalajara than anticipated, aside from the panic of traffic and supermarket lines the day before. Saturday was mostly cloudy and dry. I walking around the neighborhood, I didn’t see any damage. The only remnants of the hurricane seen outside of our house included some wine bottles to be recycled.
On Friday, we anxiously checked our phones for updates about the race in Tapalpa. Finally, the official word came that the race would be postponed until Sunday. I was skeptical about how the roads might be, just to reach Tapalpa, and also about hiking for hours in the residual rain and swampy trails from Patricia. The gals, that had originally had planned to travel to the race, each decided to stay back for various, logical reasons. I scrambled to connect with other racers on Saturday afternoon.
Sunday morning at 5:00 am, my fearless carpool pulled up on Calle Bolonia. Our ragtag team, lead by the school’s director, drove the two hours to Tapalpa in the dark and fog. Somewhere in the mountains, the sun suddenly jumped over the peaks and we pulled into the cobblestone streets lined whitewashed buildings with wooden trim. We collected our race packets and donned on race gear in the town plaza as the churchgoers were opening the tall wooden doors. My nerves started a bit and I asked endless questions of the official near us about how well the trail was marked and about the edges on the mountains.
At 8:00am the timer set us off for the 30k+ race. We started through the town streets and out of town. The first twelve kilometers took the road that lead out of town, past ranchos with small inclines and declines. We hiked through prairies and around water reservoirs. As a walker in a runner’s race, I started out behind everyone that took off jogging. In the tortoise and hare story, I’m absolutely the tortoise.
The next section of the race took us up a tall mountain. I walked up 1,030m to be exact, and I felt every centimeter of it. It was tough, it burned and it felt amazing all at the same time. Thanks to all the squats at the gym the past few months, I passed several more runners on the hill stretch. The trail was slick and we had to jump or wade through several mountain streams. The views were picturesque through the endless pine trees and overlooking the valley below once we made it to the top. Going down was slow and required climbing over stone fences.
The race returned back to the town square of Tapalpa at the very end. Maybe it was all the people around the town or maybe I was just ready to be done, but I ran in the last couple kilometers, and I don’t run. I also had forgotten about all the spectators and runners that had completed their races that would be at the chute, cheering on those last meters. During the race, I was almost always just in front of or just behind a woman in her sixties. At the end of the race, we shared a warm embrace and a “see you at the next one.” In the chute, we all received a medal, a Gatorade and a beer. Guess which I was most excited about?
I met up with the others that had finished, either the 8k or the 30k. We cleaned up and drove back to Guadalajara. I am very appreciative of the last minute ride and the camaraderie of my fellow racers. While I’m still filled with the adrenaline of today, I’m ready to sign up for the next one, even if I can’t walk tomorrow…
31.5km completed!