The story’s emphasis on running and races, specifically the “race of the dead,” represents both Francisco and Abel’s connection to Walatowa and their community. Francisco is deeply connected to the community of Walatowa, and as a young man he often engaged in traditional community-wide footraces that strengthened his bond to the town. Francisco is introduced to the reader remembering his victory in a race that earned him a good hunt that year. Running is a tradition with spiritual and community-building significance, and Francisco’s lifelong commitment to running demonstrates his unwavering connection to Walatowa.
Abel, on the other hand, feels detached from his community, and as such he does not run until he’s an adult. Only when Francisco dies is Abel compelled to run, as he sees people running the race of the dead and decides to join them. Although Abel sees other runners when he decides to race, he quickly finds himself alone, and continues running across the plains to the point of exhaustion. Only then does he feel at peace and in harmony with his homeland. Abel’s participation in the race of the dead signifies his acceptance of the traditions Francisco hands down to him. He takes on Francisco’s mantle of a runner, joins the racers that Francisco showed him as a young boy, and begins to connect to Walatowa the way Francisco did by running through its landscape.
Running and Races Quotes in House Made of Dawn
Dypaloh. There was a house made of dawn. It was made of pollen and of rain, and the land was very old and everlasting. There were many colors on the hills, and the plain was bright with different-colored clays and sands. Red and blue and spotted horses grazed in the plain, and there was a dark wilderness on the mountains beyond. The land was still and strong. It was beautiful all around.
Abel was running.
He had begun at the wrong pace, another and better man’s pace, had seen the man come almost at once to the top of his strength, hitting his stride without effort […]. And like a fool he had taken up the bait, whole and at once, had allowed himself to be run into the ground. In the next instant his lungs should burst, for now they were burning with pain and the pain had crowded out the last and least element of his breath, and he should stumble and fall. But the moment passed […] and the next and the next, and he was running still, and still he could see the dark shape of the man running away […] like a motionless shadow. And he held onto the shadow and ran beyond his pain.
He was running, and his body cracked open with pain, and he was running on. He was running and there was no reason to run but the running itself and the land and the dawn appearing. […] He saw the slim black bodies of the runners in the distance, gliding away without sound through the slanting light and the rain. […] His legs buckled and he fell in the snow. The rain fell around him in the snow and he saw his broken hands […]. And he got up and ran on. He was alone and running on. […] Pure exhaustion laid hold of his mind, and he could see at last without having to think. He could see the canyon and the mountains and the sky.