Ultraman Mexico: Day One
My long term goal is to finish the Ultraman World Championship. To become, in the truest sense, an Ultraman. I wasn’t planning to attempt an Ultraman race until 2026, but when Ultraman Mexico was announced, I knew I had to try. It wasn’t convenient or practical. It was simply the door in front of me.
In early 2025, when I applied for Ultraman Mexico, I was anything but qualified. I had only completed one Ironman, I didn’t have a real job, and I didn’t speak Spanish. I used the last of my cash and maxed out two credit cards to pay for the race registration. The rest of the year, I worked whatever gigs I could find to make this race possible: landscaping, drilling holes, stocking bars, photographing a wedding, hanging Halloween decorations, installing TVs, hauling gravel, digging trenches. The day before my flight I was clearing brush and got covered in poison ivy.
When I landed in Zacatecas with my girlfriend Renée and my buddy Korbin, I was on edge. I was carrying months of training, financial pressure, emotional weight, and the possibility that I would show up to the biggest event of my life only to discover I didn’t belong there.
The night before the race we had an hour long drive out of the city to the swim start. The tension in the car grew as the city lights faded behind us. The three of us silently replaying every choice that led to us driving through rural Zacatecas the night before an Ultraman.
Korbin reached for the speaker and said, “Nothing bad has ever happened while listening to Destiny’s Child,” and turned it all the way up. That became our soundtrack. It was bright, poppy, and totally out of place. The music carried us through that dark drive, but it was all business when we reached the cabana.
Inside, while Korbin and Renée cooked dinner, I paced the room with a vacant stare. They finally told me to go do something, go do anything, because my presence was pure nervous energy. I did my daily writing and stretching. I checked all my gear, I packed it, I unpacked it, checked it again, and repacked it.
At dinner, I couldn’t taste a thing. I was shivering, monotone, and had a thousand yard stare on my face. That’s when Korbin hit me with the bet:
“If you don’t finish, for any reason, you have to shave your head and beard.”
I hadn’t used a razor in a decade. My hair had grown past my collarbones. It was a stupid bet with nothing for me to win, but it made everything simple. I was more concerned with winning a bet than finishing Ultraman.
Still the pre race nerves were so intense I couldn’t sleep more than thirty minutes at a time. I just told myself:
If I’m horizontal, calm, and breathing slowly, I’m getting rest. That’ll have to be enough.
Race Morning
We arrived at the lake before sunrise. Staff let us know we were safely checked in and would get a 15 minute warning before the race began. The fog sat low across the water. The mountains around the reservoir were beautiful, densely forested and dark. Conversations among crews were hushed as everyone got ready. All the bikes were lined up. The wetsuits were pulled on. We were really here. This was really happening. My doomsday clock was at 11:59.
Van, the race director, called all the racers to the waters edge. He huddled up with us. Everyone had their arms around each others shoulders. As he spoke we nodded, stared into each others eyes with encouraging looks, and rocked side to side. The only words I understood were “Corazone” and “espirito,” but Van’s energy communicated everything. Heart, spirit, courage.
I knew it was almost time. As soon as the speech was over I would rally with my crew one last time before Ultraman.
Van began counting down:
Siete… Seis…
Cuatro… Tres…
Dos…
Uno…
¡Vámonos!
Everyone broke for the water. There would be no final crew meeting.
The race was on.
The Swim
This was a ten lap, 10 kilometer swim. Double my current longest swim. The first objective was simple. DON’T PANIC.
Halfway through lap one Renée found me and kept an easy pace. By the end of lap two I was getting nervous. These laps felt impossibly long and I was behind my goal pace.
On lap three I learned the laps were in fact too long. The buoys had drifted before the race start and the course was stretched out.
By lap four I wanted to quit. Fear and doubt had taken over.
I kept asking Renée questions: Am I okay? Are you sure? Am I behind? Are you lying to keep me calm? She kept trying to get me to focus on swimming and assure me I was fine on time. I didn’t realize she’d had her own chaotic start. She was just as surprised by the swim start as I was. While everyone else was already in the kayaks she didn’t even know where they were. We were both stressed, both frustrated, both attempting something we had never done before.
Korbin kept yelling to us from the shore. He was tracking our progress and projecting out the finish time. As I clung to the side of the kayak to rest before starting lap 5 Renée let me know we were on pace to finish in 5 hours.
Finally I was able to calm down. I was almost halfway through the Ultraman swim. If I just keep my pace I will finish in time. I was angry with myself. Angry that I let my emotions cloud my mind. I was obsessing over variables I couldn’t control and that wasted time.
That anger sharpened my focus.
I attacked the water.
Laps five through nine were the best swimming I’ve ever done in my life. I had never swam this far before and I was swimming stronger than ever.
At the end of lap nine someone yelled:
“What’s your distance?”
I looked at my watch.
6.9 miles.
“You’re done. Come back!”
For a split second I thought, I should swim the final lap anyway.
Then I sprinted for shore like a shark was in the water.
I stood up and my inner ears failed. My vision tunneled and I fell back into the water. I stumbled and crawled my way to shore. My body was shaking uncontrollably. I was blue, freezing, and barely functional, but I was back on dry land.
I had feared the swim more than anything.
And now it was behind me.
“Holy shit you look fucking terrible!”
Korbin Hightower
Crew Chief
They walked me to the car, stripped my wetsuit off, blasted the heat, fed me Coke and water, and waited for color to come back into my face. My hands were shaking so much I spilled Coke everywhere.
87.2 miles and 4,234 feet of elevation left.
The Bike
The first climb hit immediately. My body was still shaking, but there was no time to waste. I had to warm up on the move. At the top of the first hill I forgot all about the water. The view was stunning. Big blue skies, shimmering grasslands, and mountains opened all around me. For a moment the race disappeared. I was biking in Mexico. I let out a Ric Flair style whoooo as I picked up speed downhill.
Then a rubbing sound started from my back wheel that brought me right back into the race. I hadn’t gone more than a few minutes before a bike issue cropped up and it would be over 10 miles before I caught up to the crew vehicle.
When I did, Korbin tried to wave me through, but I pointed to the wheel and pulled over. He and Renée got to work while I ate on the back of the car. The rear brakes were too tight and causing the back wheel to rub. After ten miles I was warmed up, my bike was sorted, and my head was fully in the race.
The next couple hours were a steady grind. The roads put a near constant vibration through the bike and my body. Aside from my crew and a couple photographers I didn’t see anyone. There were plenty of hills but the real climb was waiting for me at the end of the day.
I hit a big downhill and tucked into the aero bars. For a moment, I felt the pure joy of cycling, that school boy thrill of feeling the speed in the wind as you cut through it. At the bottom a new wind hit me from the side, jerking my bike violently left and right. A few inches the wrong way and the day would’ve ended instantly.
It was an early reminder:
Ultraman demands full attention at all times.
The Red Road
In the final hours of the day I reached a long, brutal stretch of rough red pavement. I was drained and this road was beating me down. The texture, the incline, the endlessness of it. I hunted for little strips of black asphalt where someone had patched holes, anything to dampen the vibration that was so intense I constantly fought to keep my arms on the aero bars.
By the time it ended, I was frustrated and exhausted. I turned off the road into a small town. The change of scenery felt like a splash of cold water on a hot day. My energy levels and mood bounced back.
They crashed back down immediately as I smashed straight into a cattle guard that was missing the grate. My chest hit the handlebars as I went down into it and my seatpost hammered into me as I bounced right back up out of it.
I had lost my focus again. Had I been locked in to what was in front of me, I could have avoided the cattle guard entirely.
Cerro De La Bufa
The final climb. A legendary end to the Ultraman course. All three days bring athletes back to this brutal end. A steep staircase of climbs up Cerro De La Bufa before a final rapid descent to the finish line at Eco Parque. After nearly 7 miles of swimming and a full day of rolling hills in high altitude I was running on fumes.
I had no pace left. There are stretches where the grade climbs well over 20 percent. My heart rate was flat and my power was dropping. My body was depleted. I had no strength left to muster so I settled in for a long, grueling crawl up the mountain.
Behind me Renée and Korbin followed close in the car, shouting the occasional encouragement. Looking down, my bike computer showed I was nearly at the end of a climb. I stood up on the pedals and gave one last burst to get over the top. They shouted and honked with surprise. They could see I was gassed.
The beep from my Garmin told me the climb was over and I slumped back down on my handlebars. The sun was low and red in the sky to my left over Zacatecas as I turned the corner into one last descent.
I was no longer pedaling. The wind roared in my ears. Relief and joy filled my body. Emotion threatened to overwhelm me but I knew I couldn’t relax until the day was done.
Then I saw the finish line.
The longest swim of my life.
The biggest climb of my life.
Day 1 of Ultraman Mexico.
Complete.
After all the celebration and congratulations I sat down in a daze.
Luiz, the bike mechanic, came over and told me something was wrong with my bike. He had a grave expression on his face.
“Your back wheel is open.”
He took Korbin to go check it out. I didn’t care. Whatever was wrong could be sorted out later. Then Dave, an Ultraman board member, came over and said:
“Somebody up there is looking out for you, brother.”
He explained that the quick release had come loose and the rear wheel wasn’t even in the dropout anymore. It was resting on the frame.
The only thing that kept it from coming off the bike was my body weight pushing it downward.
I had descended that mountain at 50 mph on a wheel that wasn’t attached.
Day 1 was a long series of close calls. Before the race start I had no idea if I even belonged here. Now I knew we had what it takes to become an Ultraman.
Whatever Day 2 could throw at the CruzCrew, I knew we could handle it.
What I didn’t know was that the next day would wreck my body, shatter my expectations, and show me the true spirit of Ultraman.
Part Two Coming Soon
PhotographyPhil Cuppernell (Rambling Bear Media) — ramblingbearmedia.comDiego Diaz S — instagram.com/diegodsoo