Running

Every morning I wake up at five minutes to 5:00 to go running. In terms of my previous life, this is nothing short of miraculous. In the U.S. I moaned about waking up at eight “It’s too early. No human being should have to get up now. I can’t function.” Since being here I have not “slept in” until 8am. The latest I have made it is 7:15.

I enjoy my running, and 5:00am is the only opportunity I have to partake in the activity. I can’t do it in the evening for safety and security reasons (a multitude of drunk men) and because, since it would be impertinent on my part not to greet everyone I meet, if I ran in the evening I would get no exercise as I would be forced to stop to have an exchange with yet another granny walking on the road with a bucket on her head.

I did try doing the 6am run. It was too hot. If I’m not done running by about 5:40am then my ultimate conqueror, the sun, has made its way over the mountain to antagonize me. 5am it is.

I have come to enjoy this alone time in the morning. It’s quiet outside: just about the only time around the village that it is quiet. That is one thing that did surprise me about rural Africa life: all the noise. Yes, I did expect to hear roosters and donkeys. The blasting of Eminem and Marvin Gaye came as a surprised. I have never heard “Sexual Healing” so many times in my life.

Here I constantly am struggling to please everyone. When I run all I have to do is please myself. It allows me to think. I can have my big dreams of major community development while I’m too tired and breathing too hard to think of obstacles. By 7am the heat has blotted out many of my inspirational thoughts, but 5am is for me alone.

I love running up the hills and seeing the first pink tinges appear in the sky. I adore knowing that by the time my watch beeps and tells me my thirty minutes is over that the bottom of the enormous red sun will be even with the tips of the mountains. I appreciate the cool morning air that, even while I’m covered in sweat from running, still feels more refreshing than the rest of the day. I love running next to the dam and watching the color of the water change: first an unappealing, murky brown that is next replaced by a dazzling cerulean blue as the sun reflects from the sky during its gradual ascent.

I enjoy waiting for the two dogs to run out of their house in a barking frenzy as I pass by their territory. I am comforted by the fact that a barbwire fence prevents them from giving me rabies. I feel that we have a mutual understanding: I run a certain distance from the house and they yelp themselves hoarse so they feel they have protected their abode.

I like that running is one routine I can control: the path I choose, how fast I run, how long I go for, the way I finish. I like knowing that when I’m done I will go home and turn on my radio, listen to the news, and stretch. I can’t control much else in my life but I can this.