![]() He was like some Old West gunslinger whose only traces were tall tales and a whiff of cigarillo smoke. No one knew his name, or age, or where he was from. Some said Caballo Blanco was a fugitive others heard he was a boxer who'd run off to punish himself after beating a man to death in the ring. That meant I'd actually lay eyes on the ghost in less than. "It's like a ritual." I didn't know whether to hug her in relief or high-five her in triumph. ![]() "He's always back by five," the clerk added. ![]() "For real?" After hearing that I'd just missed him so many times, in so many bizarre locations, I'd begun to suspect that Caballo Blanco was nothing more than a fairy tale, a local Loch Ness monstruo dreamed up to spook the kids and fool gullible gringos. " Si, El Caballo esta," the desk clerk said, nodding. I'd finally arrived at the end of the trail, in the last place I expected to find him - not deep in the wilderness he was said to haunt, but in the dim lobby of an old hotel on the edge of a dusty desert town. Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Ever Seenįor days, I'd been searching Mexico's Sierra Madre for the phantom known as Caballo Blanco - the White Horse. ![]()
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