Did I say the people here were/are great? If I was remiss, allow me to rectify. They. Are. Awesome. It didn't matter that we could communicate only on my rudimentary Spanish, and gestures, some of my fondest memories are sharing the trails with fellow trail runners. When I went down (two fucking times!) last week, each fellow runner in my cohort offered assistance. Language was/is irrelevant. Compassion and caring on the trail are always paramount. When I finally made it to the end where the food was amazing, and beer cold, I nearly instantaneously had a plate of arepas and a cold Balboa cerveza, thanks to B who was waiting for me. And I had barely hobbled to where I could sit, when I was offered a bag of ice by a fellow runner. I don't remember who it was or even if that person was one of the guys I was running with when I went down. I was in need, and need was offered. No questions, no hesitation.
I leave the country mañana, flying back to the States. Tal vez vuelvere. I am pretty certain I will, but the circumstances of it are unknown. Who knows, maybe I'll train enough to participate in the Rieto del Indio. Not the 160, but maybe the 80? I believe it's in March of '23. Now there's an event for you ultra runners who might be reading this. How many of you can say you started a race with your feet on the sandy beach of one ocean, and ended it diving into another? Yeah, you've run 160K in nice temperate climates, and on clearly defined, mostly dry trails. Wanna give it a go in a tropical rainforest? Let me know, I know the peeps here, and my ankle knows the conditions. It's still pissed off and swollen like a Crimson Tide supporter during a loss on the gridiron.
I'm likely going to miss the warm, less likely to miss the humidity. Thankfully my hair doesn't go too wild in it. Though the fact I pretty much don't have any to speak of might influence that a bit. I'm definitely going to miss the people. That's why I stayed as long as I have. People. And sunrises. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.