This time, the Tarahumara weren’t two lonely tribesmen adrift in a sea of Olympians. They weren’t five confused villagers in awful canvas sneakers who hadn’t run since the road was bulldozed into their village. This time, they were locked into a formation they’d practiced since childhood, with wily old vets up front and eager young bucks pushing from behind. They were sure-footed and sure of themselves. They were the Running People.
