“Sometimes,” she said, “it takes a woman to bring out the best in a man.”

Hey, and right back atcha, the ; thanks to Ann’s heroic attempt tosingle-handedly defeat an entire team of distance-running savants, she had smashed her ownLeadville best by more than two hours, setting a new women’s record that has never been broken with her, he would sanction everything at oncehe answered.
.

But the Tarahumara weren’t free to say anything at the moment, even if they’d been so inclined.

They’d stepped off the racecourse and into a shit storm.

This should have been their moment. Finally, after centuries of horror and fear, after being huntedfor their scalps, enslaved for their strength, and bullied for their land, the Tarahumara wererespected. They had proven themselves, indisputably, the greatest ultrarunners on earth. The worldwould see they had fantastic skills worth studying, a way of life worth preserving, a homelandworth protecting.

Joe Vigil was already selling his house and quitting his job; that’s how excited he was. Now thatLeadville had built a bridge between American and Tarahumara culture, he was ready to carry outa plan he’d been contemplating for a long time. At sixty-five years old, he was ready to retire fromAdams State anyway. He and his wife, Caroline, would move to Arizona’s Mexican border, wherehe’d set up a base camp for Tarahumara studies. It might take another few years, but in themeantime, he’d come back to Leadville every summer and tighten his relationship with theTarahumara racers. He’d start learning their language … get them on a treadmill with heart-rateand maximal-oxygen-consumption monitors … maybe even arrange workshops with hisOlympians! Because that was the cool part—Ann had been right there with them, which meantwhatever the Tarahumara were doing, the rest of us could learn!

It was beautiful. For about a minute.