Runner:
John McLean, Tucson, AZ
Year:
2010
Testimonial:
"I just wanted to let you know how great the run was last weekend. This was my first 50K run, and it could not have been a better experience.
The trails were wonderful (and very well marked), and I marveled at the amount of effort your volunteers put in preparing for the event.
My most lasting impression is the beauty of the land and the graciousness of the Hopi.
Many thanks for allowing me to join you for the wonderful experience."
Race Report:
My First Run.
I had my first run last week.
That’s a rather embarrassing confession from someone in their mid-fifties.
It’s equally embarrassing from someone who has participated in innumerable
SAR events, from 5Ks to marathons. Nevertheless, last week was
my first real run. It was thirty-one miles.
The Paatuwaqatsi Run is a special
public event hosted by the Hopi people in northern Arizona, to celebrate
the fundamental connection between water and life. The course
follows the ancient foot trails of the First Mesa Villages, and their
links to the surrounding springs. For those interested in statistics:
the run involves nearly five thousand feet of climb and decent over
trails that range from soft sand to slickrock. Running categories
include single runners, three-person relay teams, and six-person relay
teams. Lacking suitable partners, I defaulted to the first option.
At the outset, the race director,
founder, and Hopi distance runner Bucky Preston reminded us: “this
is not a race”. The beautiful shirts provided to participants
defined the Hopi purpose for running: “I run in reverence of
all living things. In our prayers may we always remember that
water is life.”
After greeting the sunrise
with a Hopi song of strength, the runners began their journey.
“Running” on this course is a relative term. The course
was very well marked, but the path includes scrambling along ancient
stone steps up and down the cliffs. The first major destination
was the historic village of Walpi, on top of First Mesa. There
we were greeted by both race volunteers and the inhabitants of the village,
all of whom shouted their blessings as we ran by. Walpi (population
one hundred) is the most heavily populated area along the route.
The remainder of the course
goes through wildly beautiful and varied country, from low riparian
areas to high barren mesas. With less than fifty single runners
spread out over thirty-one miles, I ran by myself virtually the entire
distance, but I was never alone. In addition to six very well
organized aid stations, people from the villages brought water to the
runners all along the course. With an appreciation of the heat,
dryness, and exertion of the run, I took water at every available opportunity.
The turnaround point was at
the incredibly beautiful Flute Spring, where a deep clear pool sits
just beneath the rim of the mesa. A long drink from this spring
strengthened me for the return journey. From Flute Spring to the next
aid station is a long stretch of high grasslands. With the sun
rising ever higher in the sky, my mind contemplated the importance of
water to the land and the people (not to mention how important water
would be to finishing the run). I took time at the aid station
to rehydrate and take some other nourishment.
The real epiphany came at about
twenty-five miles. At this point, I was utterly alone following
rock cairns across slickrock. Other than the silent cairns, there
was absolutely no evidence of human presence in any direction.
This is what running is really about: the pure experience of feet, heart,
and mind propelling one across the land. I felt I could go on
forever…
…but not without water.
A few miles later, I encountered a young woman who offered me a cool
drink. It took me a moment to register that we were alone at the
top of a roadless mesa. This young woman, like many of the Hopi
along the route, carried water for miles across rough trails for the
sole purpose of serving the runners on their trek. With this gift
of water and blessings, I went on my way.
The final part of the course
links the springs at the base of First Mesa, before returning to the
starting area. Along with usual cheers from the spectators, runners
are greeted with another offering of water: some for drinking, some
used to anoint the finishers.
The beauty of the run is surpassed
only by the generosity and graciousness of the Hopi. I came away
from this experience with an entirely new understanding of what running
is all about.
External Link:
Runner:
Andrew Roth
Year:
2010
Testimonial:
"Dear Bucky, Nelia, Andy and everyone who made Saturday's event possible, The past few days my thoughts have lingered on Saturday's Paatuwaqatsi Run. It was an honor and a joy to participate in this event.
Driving home, my wife and friends commented on the amazing community support for this run. At nearly every junction on the trail, we found volunteers with water and good words of encouragement. There was a lot of love on the course.
The spaghetti dinner the night before was a treat too: It provided an excellent chance to make new friends and to catch up with old ones. The food at the finish line was fantastic -- just what depleted runners need to restore themselves! (My friend Phil Stark took some great pictures of the stew, watermelon and tamales; I encouraged him to send you the links for his photos.)
Our world has many problems right now, and the news is full of discouraging reports. But on Saturday we all got to be part of something that was unequivocally good. When my muscles grew weak, I remembered Bucky's encouragement to stay strong and run with courage because we were running for so much more than our individual results. Thank you for bringing us all together this way.
I'm attaching a brief report I wrote up to share with my family and friends who weren't at the run. I do not have addresses for everyone, but I hope you will be able to pass this message along, Nelia.
Kwa kwa! Andy Roth PS. Last night for dinner we grilled some of the corn and squash that was part of the award I received. It was delicious."
Race Report:
The sun is still low on the horizon as
Lester and I climb the final steps to Walpi Village atop First Mesa.
I can hear he's breathing hard too, which heartens me: I'm not
alone in feeling the effects of high elevation and steep grade.
On the ascent, Lester has been calling Kwa kwa, Nihongvi tow ta,
expressing gratitude for the day and exhorting our fellow runners to
stay strong. Other Hopi respond in kind from positions on the
trail ahead of and behind us. The climb is tough but I am in wonder
to be striding along paths that Hopi have run for literally centuries.
We are participating in the Paatuwaqatsi
prayer run, which Bucky Preston founded in 2003 to promote community
involvement and spread awareness that 'water is life' – for the Hopi
and for everyone. Our route is approximately 30 miles across trails
connecting Walpi with natural springs that have both practical and ritual
significance for the Hopi. According to tradition interpretation,
by running along these trails we help keep the veins that connect village
and springs healthy.
As we leave Walpi, descending toward
Flower Spring and the rodeo grounds, Lester and I have enough breath
to talk more. He is from Sipaulovi Village on Second Mesa.
He had a short night's rest, having gotten home after one because he
was drumming for the social dances taking place now. I hope to
be as strong and vibrant as Lester is at age 60. Lester asks what
all I'm drinking in my hand bottle and carrying in my waist pack.
I tell him about my liquid mix of Gatorade and Carboplex while I notice
that he is carrying nothing. So much for my sense of being 'minimalist.'
Two hours later, however, I am grateful
for the contents of my pack. I'm climbing back onto First Mesa,
past Spider Spring, on steep and exposed rock 'stairs' when the adductor
and calf muscles in both my legs cramp severely. I'm in trouble
here. At the top of the climb one of the many Hopi course monitors
offers me Gatorade. Over the next 30 minutes, I swallow a triple
shot of S! Caps in hopes of easing the cramps. On top of the mesa, the
terrain is relatively flat, but even the slightest maneuvering to get
around rocks sends tremors along my adductors. I drop three positions
while I do damage control.
Eventually the electrolytes absorb and
I can open up my stride. I track the bright pink shirt of the
first woman, a strong looking Hopi, up ahead. I aim to keep her
in sight as motivation to run through this bad patch. From here
to the finish, my effort is a balancing act between running fast enough
to hold position and easy enough to keep my legs from reverting to spasm.
Crossing a wash with just a couple miles to go, the sandy, five-foot
rise is all that's necessary to send my left adductor back into full
spasm. I say some less-than-reverent phrases, and then recall
Bucky's admonition, earlier in the day as I left Flute Spring, to run
with courage and gratitude. These simple instructions might sound
trite coming from almost anyone else. But, offered by one of the
Hopi who ran from their homeland to Mexico City, to share testimony
of Hopi water issues at the 2006 World Water Forum, Bucky's words resonate.
I draw on his encouragement and make my way to the finish, resolved
to run with reverence and gratitude. After 5 hours and 30 minutes, I
am the 7th ultra runner to cross the finish line, tired but
happy. Kwa kwa.
At the finish, the Hopi woman who is
the head cook for the feast awaiting us offers each runner a symbolic
drink of water from a ceramic pitcher and then pours the rest over our
heads. Like the springs themselves, this act seamlessly combines
practical and ritual significance.
My legs are still marginal at best, and
I walk with John back to our vehicle for a cold coke, ice water and
a handful more electrolyte caps. It'll be a while until my stomach
is ready for more than liquid. But when it is, the hominy &
mutton stew and other traditional Hopi dishes available for all the
event's participants and their families taste unbelievably good.
The meal at the finish line is but one
example of the generosity and good cheer that characterize the Paatuwaqatsi
Run. In 29 years of running and across 47 ultra marathon finishes,
I do not know another event quite like it. Thanks to Bucky Preston,
the race director, and all of the volunteers who did so much to keep
us on course and in good cheer, who fed us, and who welcomed us.
I look forward to returning in 2011.
External Link:
Runner:
Alene Nitzky
Year:
2009
Testimonial:
"See Race Report Below."
Race Report:
My friend Katy and I went to the Hopi Reservation in Arizona for a weekend in September
to do this 50K run that my friend Woofie told me about. The weekend, it was an ultra
event in itself.
We drove nearly 15 hours each way. Katy and I have both been tired lately, and I
can't even count the number of times we looked at each other during the weekend
and didn't have to say the thing that was running through both of our minds: "Are
we insane?"
If we had been in our twenties, maybe it wouldn't have been hard to drive so far
on either side of such a long, tough run. But we had no regrets. The only thing
we both agreed we'd do differently if we came back to run it again, was that we'd
take the time to split the driving up into at least 2 days each before and after
the race.
Neither of us slept much the night before we left. Katy drove down to my house in
Fort Collins from Cheyenne Friday morning and we left my house at 5:30 am. We kept
each other awake, switched off driving, and eventually made it through the horrible
roads in New Mexico and through the traffic jammed town of St. Michaels, Arizona,
where we didn't realize that the 63rd annual Navajo Nation Fair was going on. The
main highway through town was a parking lot with the streets lined with trucks and
people setting up tents, selling mutton stew and Navajo tacos, and general chaos.
Eventually we reached the Hopi Cultural Center in Second Mesa where we stayed the
night and did get a good night's sleep before the race.
To describe this run like a standard running report would diminish the uniqueness
of this event. To say that it was a difficult, challenging course, one that took
us nearly 9 hours to complete, that it was hot, that there were aid stations nearly
every two miles, that there were people along the course not just in the villages
but out in remote places, cheering us on, in their native language, that it was
well marked to the point where we never once got lost or even questioned the route
in 30 miles of remote, mostly single track trails or across the tops of mesas on
slickrock, all that is not enough to describe the beauty and spirit of this run.
Most of the run was on soft, deep sand, on trails across high desert, pinon juniper
forests, and over cliffs and mesas with rocky, narrow ledges and stone steps that
have been around longer than any of our White ancestors have been on this continent.
Ruins of old stone buildings were on the edge of every cliff.
Thanks to the Hopi people for allowing us to run through these remote and sacred
places, to see their ancient villages and springs.
"It is not a race," Bucky Preston reminded us as we stood at the unmarked starting
line. There were a handful of runners doing the ultra, no more than 50, I'm guesing.
Most people were running the relays of 5-10 mile legs, which made about 150 total
runners.
Bucky has been a long distance runner for many years. He told us to remember that
water is life, for all living things depend on it, and to pray for rain. He told
us the meaning of what the Hopi men and women would say to us, which I cannot remember
now. The men would say something that sounded like "Kwa Kway" and the women would
say something that sounded like "Asquali", that means thank you and many other things
in Hopi, according to my friend Woofie, who told me about this race.
Before we started his father came to the starting line and said a prayer. The sunrise
was pink and purple and we were in the shadow of the ancient village of Walpai,
atop the cliffs, overlooking the village of Tewa, closest to where we started.
And we were off.
Katy and I had the unusual distinction of having runner numbers One and Two. How
we got those, we have no idea. Maybe we were the first two to sign up? I pointed
this out early in the run, as we stumbled across the first mile of deep sand and
mud-caked stream crossings. I said, "Remember Dr. Seuss, The Cat in the Hat?" I
told her we look like Thing One and Thing Two, in our goofy running hats with our
bulky packs, navigating our soon to be sunburned, tired bodies up and down the thousands
of little sandy hills over the course.
We arrived at the first aid station at 4 miles in about 50 minutes and we knew it
would be a long day, but we came for the scenery and the experience, and we didn't
care how long it took. We figured at first that it shouldn't take us more than 7
hours.
We both had nearly a gallon of water and plenty to food, and rain jackets, we were
told to carry everything we needed, and we had no idea what to expect out there
on the course. It was 83 degrees when we arrived at 6 pm the previous day, so we
knew it could get hot, and it was. There were no clouds in the sky until late in
the day, we saw approaching thunderheads in the east, but they never got close.
As it turned out there were aid stations all over the course, some only a mile apart.
They all had bottled water and snacks, and a few had cold water. I still drank everything
I carried with me. It was hot in the afternoon, it might have hit 90, but there
was usually a breeze when we were up on the mesas and it never felt bad to me, but
then I feel better when it gets hot.
Don Meyer was there, volunteering at this event. We saw him at 6 miles and then
several times later in the run. He was cheering for us as we approached the second
aid station, and it was so great to see him. Every time I see Don, he is helping
someone.
We climbed up the mesa to the village of Walpai, on narrow stone steps with some
exposed places, that had been there for hundreds of years, the village was built
in the 1600s, and the old stone buildings are still there. The view from the top
is amazing, over the buttes and mesas and toward the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff.
After we came down from Walpai, we hit the 8.5 mile aid station, and 2 hours and
35 minutes had gone by since the start. Katy and I looked at each other. It was
going to be a LONG day.
We descended into the village of Wepo, and the course took an interesting little
loop near there to Coyote Spring, the first of a half dozen or more sacred springs.
I didn't include pictures of the springs or the village of Walpai because these
are sacred places and generally White people do not go there, and photographs are
discouraged.
We climbed a long, hot, sandy ascent to the next mesa and descending the other side
was scary and exposed. There was a narrow crack in the rocks and then a narrow ledge
with a long drop-off below. We took off our packs to make it across the scary part.
When we dropped down there was a White woman with an aid station, near a spring
under the rocks. There was 8 foot tall grass, and people coming through. This was
the start of a 9 mile loop on the course. The fastest runners were already coming
through at 22 miles as we were getting there at 13 miles.
It was amazing to us how slow the pace was, because we were running. We found early
in the run that it was much easier and faster to run through the sand instead of
walking. But it was slow, and we were taking our time and taking pictures, too.
We stopped four or five times to dump sand out of our shoes, too. I had lumps of
sand underneath my toes and under the ball of my foot.
We got water at 13 miles, but it was only 2 miles until another major aid station,
above an arroyo with old stone buildings. Don was there again, cheering for us.
They had ice-cold water, pretzels, trail mix, gels, gatorade, potatoes, oranges,
bananas, pretty much everything you could ever want at an aid station.
We climbed another mesa and saw an amazing spring up there, descended stone steps
into it, and there were stone walls built around it. Many of the springs were like
this, and a few were dry with only the steps and walls remaining. The water dripped
from the ceiling of rock, like a cave. The water was deep and full of green algae
and plants.
Being out on the course, on those sandy trails, there was a feeling about the place,
a calm and peace that I don't experieince too often any more when I'm running, mostly
because there is too much going on. There are other people, sounds of cars, airplanes,
traffic, city noises, hunters, whatever it is. Out here at Hopi there was none of
that. Except for the aid stations and the people greeting us along the way, we were
out there and there was nothing else. It felt sacred. The Hopi people were thanking
us along the way, but I was thanking them, for giving us the opportunity to be there.
We passed through the 20 mile aid station and got our last cold water, and then
at 22 miles we met the woman at the loop again. This time we stopped to dump out
our shoes and talked with her. Turns out she's a nurse at the Hopi Health Center
and I talked with her about it. She loves it up there. I asked her what services
they offer there, and what the Hopi people's greatest needs were, and she told me
they were hiring. I have done my share of time living in remote places, and I don't
want to live like that anymore, but I can understand the appeal of living there
and doing that. The volunteers were amazing people, I asked the ones who were not
Hopi what they did and they all had interesting occupations that drew them there
and they stayed for the love of what they are doing.
We climbed up the mesa again and crossed the top for about 3 miles on slickrock.
The views went forever. We could see a huge thunderhead with lightning off in the
distance over the Navajo Reservation. But it was clear and dry and hot on the course.
When we reached the last aid station, they told us it was 5 miles to the end. We
went by two more springs and up more sandy hills, but the last few miles we more
sand hills. We laughed at the last mile. Someone designed this course to be unrelenting.
We descended the last mesa below Walpai and a woman yelled "Asqual-EEE" to us several
times, at the top of her lungs.
When we finished, it was about 8 hours and 45 mintues after we started. We sat down
with Don, and we ate the delicious blue corn tamales and watermelon at the post-race
meal. They gave us prizes, too, which we did not expect at all. Katy got a mug with
a Hopi design on it. I got a glass box with another Hopi design.
We got in the car afterwards and headed to Gallup where we spent the night, and
finished the final 10 hour drive on Sunday.
Will I do the run again? It was certainly more than worth the experience. Even with
the long torturous drive, it was well worth it. It was probably the toughest 50K
run I'll ever do. Mile for mile it was a difficult as Badwater, for different reasons-
because of the sand, climbs, heat, and carrying so much in the pack to be self-sufficient.
I might find myself wanting to go back by a year from now. But I'll decide then.
I do know that this run was exactly what I needed, and it should be a "must-do"
on every ultrarunner's list.
External Link: click here
Runner:
Rob Nichols
Year:
2010
Testimonial:
"Thanks Neila and thanks for a great event. It was one of the best experiences I have had. See you next year."
Race Report:
I came across this run a couple of months ago. I knew I wasn’t up for the 50k, but figured the 3-person relay (10 miles each) would be a blast and found a couple of others who wanted to it – Matt and Boone. I knew Matt from the Mojave Death Race back in 2004. Boone is a find of Matt’s. That’s one of the great things about these events. You hook up with old friends and make new ones.
The race start was in Bucky’s (the race director) corn field in Polacca, Arizona, about a 4½ hour drive from Phoenix. We left town Friday around 12:30 PM and headed up to Hopi land through Payson, Winslow and the Navajo Nation. The monsoons have been good this year and Rim Country was lush and green. I haven’t seen it that way in years. Maybe our drought is finally over.
We arrived at the start at about 5 PM. Package pick up was scheduled to move at 5:30 PM, but had already gone. A couple of locals, Kim and Ryan, filled us in (and also tried to talk us into a 5-mile race on Sunday). We decided to set up camp at the start. We had thought about going to a campsite at the Hopi Cultural Center about 10 miles away, but figured being right at the start would be more convenient . We took a while to figure up the optimal location to set up. Our prime concern was to minimize dust which billowed in massive clouds any time a vehicle moved on site. We picked the most upwind place we could.
After setting up camp, we headed out to find our race packets and the pasta dinner. The dinner was provided by the Sierra Club, and the had a running presentation detailing the many environmental threats to the Hopi, including the proposed Desert Rock power plant. One of the run organizers, Patty and her uncle then gave a history of last year’s race and a discussion of some of the local culture we would experience. For example, she told us that along the way people would thank us. The women say “Askwali” and the men “Kwakwhá“. And at the finish we would receive a traditional water blessing from the women. After, we headed back to camp and soon called it a night.
With a reasonable night of sleep, I woke up to a chilly morning. The temperature was about 44°F, which after a Phoenix summer of lows in the 90s pretty much felt like the Artic. The 50k run was scheduled to start at 6 AM but actually started at 6:20 AM. Our relay started on time at 7 AM. The field was 22 deep. Last year’s winning relay time was 5 hrs 21 minutes. I was pretty sure we could do better than that, although I really had no idea what the course was like. Boone was our 1st runner, followed by Matt and then myself. Boone went out strong. We had a good view of him for the first mile and he was moving. Once he disappeared, it was a matter of waiting. Matt left on his shuttle and I waited for mine. As it finally pulled up, Boone popped out. He had done his leg in 1:16 (!) and was in first place (albeit by a few feet as he was up against another strong runner).
On our way to my exchange point, our driver got lost and we went out too far. No big deal as time was o.k., but we did actually pull up right behind Matt. He was looking strong and headed out into the big plain between two of the Hopi mesas. I didn’t see any other relay runners around, just a couple of the 50kers. We finally made it to my exchange point, where we got out to wait for our runners.
Even though the temperature was in the 70s, the sun was out and intense (Polacca is at 5,500 feet). I stood under the awning, tried to stay hydrated and waited for Matt. At this point on the course, runners hit the exchange point on the way out and on the way back. Based on the checklist at the exchange point, Matt had passed through and we were in first place. After about 30 minutes, Matt came in and I took off. Matt had made great time and we had a comfortable lead.
I don’t know what I expected the trail to be. Whatever I thought, it was very much different but nevertheless truly awesome. A good amount of the course was more of a scramble then a trail run. After I left the exchange, I headed towards First Mesa running over the lower slopes. At this point the course was undulating uphill and sandy. It some places it was essentially the same as running on a beach. The downhill parts usually ended up in a wash, where usually the trail was washed out given the intense monsoons. This meant a careful clamber down into the wash and a climb out the other side. The climb was similar to climbing up a sand dune. It was hard to run in! Our driver had told us that the race organizers and volunteers had spent a lot of time rebuilding the trails after the rains. A pretty amazing feat given they did it all by hand!
After a mile or so, I headed up the mesa. This involved scrambling, shuffling along ledges etc. We basically scaled a cliff. From what I can determine the ascent was about 300-400 feet. With my balance issues this was quite a challenge ;) The top of the mesa was spectacular and thankfully flat. I felt like I was on top of the world and opened up the throttle. It was incredible. Along the way, there were people saying Askwali and Kwakwhá – they were genuinely grateful for what we were doing. I managed to get stuck by a jumping cactus (I never saw it) and I heard a rattle snake.
At this point I was running straight toward Walpi Village, built right on top of an outcrop on the mesa and continuously inhabited for the past 1,110 years. I thought that’s where the course was heading, but the trail made a sharp right turn to the edge. A course guide was there. He directed me over th cliff – “just follow the green arrows”. I stopped dead, thinking he was joking but he wasn’t. The motivation of being in first place is very strong and so over I went. At one point, I shuffled along a ledge only as wide as half my foot, with at least a 50 foot drop and no good places to hold on to. As I was clambering down, the guide on top started yelling a Hopi chant which echoed off the mesa walls and it seemed the plain below. Unbelievable.
When I made it down the cliff, the course opened into a smooth, packed dirt track downhill and I just flew. I was completely exhilarated. After a bit, I came to the water station down at the bottom (the half way point of my leg), grabbed some water and found out that the course headed back up the mesa again. Up I went. As I was heading into the station, I saw an ultra runner heading out and decided to see if I could catch him. At this point the sun was getting more intense and it was getting quite warm.
The course didn’t get all the way to the top, but probably about 80 percent of the way there. I was now essentially running along the side of the mesa. As it followed the mesa, the trail went up and down. The descents and ascents were steep. I kept the runner in front of me in sight and worked hard to close the gap. He had me on every ascent but I got closer to him on the descents. This up and down and back and forth probably went on for about 2½ to 3 miles. At one point we passed one of the Hopi sacred springs, it was pretty much dry. As requested by the Hopi volunteers, I made my own prayer for their water to flow. After all they were doing for me, it was the least I could do for them.
I’d describe the terrain as kind of like badlands during these miles. The surface was very loose, which made me cautious given I was running along steep slopes. The dirt had become very dark, almost black. The air was still and there was some pretty good heat bouncing back from the ground. I got lost a couple of times but luckily found my way back pretty quickly. I was very happy to finally see a course guide, who told me that I would soon be running to the bottom and then across the plain to the finish.
Sure enough, after one more crest the trail opened up and went straight down. My legs were pretty much shot, so I let them just go hoping I wouldn’t have to make a hard turn or quick stop. As I got to the bottom, the course turned onto a dirt road. I caught sight of the guy in front of me. He was probably a quarter mile or so ahead. He had gotten away from me the couple of times I got lost. There was around 2 miles to go and I decided to see if I could catch him. I was also a little worried about the team behind us. I had no idea how far back they were and hadn’t seen anyone behind me (except two ultra runners who I had passed early on) my whole run. I sure didn’t want to be passed right at the end. I opened it up. The course wasn’t too bad at this point although in parts it was quite sandy again. At one point, we dropped into a big wash and ran in it for a while. Again it was a scramble to get in and out.
I caught the ultra guy with one mile to go, we chatted briefly (he was still running strong) and then I picked it up to the finish. The last part was right through Bucky’s real corn field! At the finish I received the water blessing. I first drank some water out of a pottery jug and then I bowed my head and had some fantastically cool and refreshing water poured over my head.
We were the first relay team to finish. Our time was 4:32 – smashing last year’s winning time by 49 minutes. Boone ran 1:16, Matt 1:35 and I 1:41. Many thanks to Matt and Boone for doing this with me.
Any of course many thanks to the Hopi for the opportunity to do this run. It was a real privilege and truly incredible.
External Link: click here
Runner:
Robyn Slayton-Martin, Flagstaff, AZ
Year:
2008
Testimonial:
"I just wanted to say thank you again for the Water Is Life event. That was the best race event I've ever participated in. I felt as though I had been welcomed into a wonderful family. Ferrell gave a wonderful eloquent speech. Please tell the folks who cooked the food was wonderful. My 10th place prize for the 5K was great--it's the first time I've ever won anything for running and I'm glad I won it at the WFL race!"
Race Report:
External Link:
Runner:
Don Meyer, Phoenix, AZ
Year:
2008
Testimonial:
"The course this year went over [the] mesa three times and at 5,500' plus was a
good work out in a beautiful place!!!! The Hopi are wonderful hosts - awards for
all finishers - vast amounts of food at finish line - great tee shirt...the post
race speakers offered interesting insights into the Hopi culture that one would
never learn on a sightseeing trip."
Race Report:
External Link:
Runner:
Manny Pino, Scottsdale, AZ
Year:
2008
Testimonial:
"The Paatuwaquatsi Run was one of the most scenic and competitive courses I have
ever run. Your whole crew did a great job, especially the COOKS! I hope to recruit
more runners to come to the beautiful mesas at Hopi."
Race Report:
External Link:
Runner:
David Jaussi, Flagstaff, AZ
Year:
2008
Testimonial:
"The Paatuwaqatsi Run for me was deeply moving experience that approached the sublime
on many different levels. Although I found it a difficult experience, over time
it became a most beautiful endeavor. In the end, I believe that the success of the
run cannot be measured in terms of its numbers, but only in the quality of the hearts
behind it. And in this manner the message deeply touched all of us in most profound
and spiritual way. I thank you for putting on a wonderful event."
Race Report:
External Link:
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