Saturday, April 18, 2015

The Run (Thursday, 9 April 2015)

          I know very little about running. I know even less about the science and art behind it. I spent the majority of middle and high school making fun of my track and cross-country buddies and rarely laced up during college. Team sports and bikes were more my forte.
         What I do know is that there is a difference between sprinting, running, and jogging. While the main difference is speed, the subsequence difference is time.  Sprinters usually have fast, powerful, short times while the 1500-meter usually is in double-digit minute times. The more meters, the more minutes. Why? In unscientific terms, an individual has the same amount of energy, but needs to exert it at different levels of power in order to persevere the whole time. It would be absurd to start a marathon at a sprint. One’s energy would be exhausted 1/5 of the way through. No matter the distance, the practice of perseverance is important.
         This evening I went for job-run. Ethiopia, my landlady’s daughter, offered me the invitation while I was on the 4th cup of buna in an exuberant buna (coffee) ceremony. (I think I had about 8 cups by the end as no one else was drinking.) We walked to the edge of town and then started jogging towards the school at 6:15 pm. The sunset, cool evening air greeted us, kids called out as we passed and the kilometer markers came and went. However, I haven’t run in weeks. I didn’t stretch before we headed out. My knees started to ache, my feet could feel every rock I stepped on, caffeine on an empty stomach was giving me a headache. But, after an hour we had made it back for an 8 kilometers (5 miles) trip and stretched out under the stars. Now as I sip on water, listening to the “Hairspray” soundtrack and munch on popcorn I consider a connection to life in Selekleka.
         When I first arrived, I was ready to go. I had all the plans and wanted to kick them all off at once. I wanted to sprint. However, I realize that life, education, friendships aren’t sprints. I burned out with frustrating setbacks on projects. Students needed more time to understand concepts and adapt to my accent.  I had started like a sprint, but this is a longer distance. I’m only a 1/4 of the way through my time. I need to make sure that there is plenty of energy and endurance for the way.
         I’m not sure what the scientific term is, but when one is running there is this “wall” that you have to get passed to obtain your second wind. While running Spokane’s famous 12k Bloomsday course, the second breath for me always comes after Dooms Day Hill. It all feels like an impossible battle until that time, then my body just comes to terms that it is running, so it might as well have fun and get it over with.
         The last two weeks have been that wall. Power has prevented printing out the directions needed to start drawing out the world map mural. Circumstances have caused certain friendships to crumble. Absurd rumors have flown that I am dating and pregnant with twins (neither are true).  Every kid under 13 wants to be twirled every time they pass me so I can’t go anywhere without kids in open arms blocking my path. I have been homesick, actually sick and probably battling protein deficiency. But that’s part of the race.
         I have no idea what the next three laps in this run I’m on are going to look like. I’m guessing there are some hurdles I’ll have to overcome, and the finish line is going to look a long way off at times. But my 2nd (3rd? 4th?) wind will come. I just have to keep going. If I stop, I have to start all over. If I give up, I’ll never know what the outcome would have been.  Like any distance run, this adventure will come to an end. As college pastors reminded us during sermons around finals, “this too shall pass.” I will be stronger after than when I started. I will be covered in dirt, sweat and experience. I will need a Western shower. But I will finish this Peace Corps track.

         I still love biking more. I’d rather run lines on a basketball court or a pick up game of volleyball with teachers than run. I still think running a track is just running in circles, and in baseball you have to earn your way round. But I’m learning to run literally and metaphorically. I’m learning what I need to do to keep going and gain my second wind. I’m saving and exerting power daily to obtain my own prize. And, I’m learning to enjoy the run.

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