Wherein Tracy gets lost yet again

Okay, so every week since I’ve been in Bukavu, I’ve gotten lost on my Saturday morning long run. This week was no exception and it was  a doozy. I really, honestly meant to do out and back, the same route, but somewhere I turned wrong and way overshot my return. So, I was out there, climbing and descending hills for a good 45 minutes longer than I expected. Bukavu is just a series of hills, some of them incredibly steep – at least the walking paths that everyone uses are very steep. I was really feeling it in my knees, though I’m happy to report that my knees feel fine today. So maybe this is really good training.

So, the plan was to run 8mi and to go up behind Nyawera market toward or to the neighborhood known as Kadutu. I did fine going out, though I did walk up 1.5 of the 3 sequential hills. It was nice that the shops weren’t really open because Kadutu is a very crowded area, but it wasn’t yet when I was running through there. (This is all relative, mind you. There were still plenty of people yelling out “mzungu, mzungu”, children running after me, etc. But I went back there later in the afternoon to visit the Kadutu market – the largest in Bukavu – and then it was wall to wall people. Literally there would have been no way to run.) I ran up and up and up, then down and up and down and up and many times came to roundabouts or intersections with 3-5 roads. I thought I kept going straight, but when I saw my route mapped out in SportTracks later, it was clear that I turned right at some point. My watch had given me the “low battery” warning before I left, but it still had 20%, so I was hoping it would last. At 4 mi I turned around (and the watch was still working).

After climbing the first hill on the way back, I got a bit confused and took the road to the right which I thought was a road I had seen from the *other* road when I was coming down and I thought they met at an intersection not very far away. But when I got to the next intersection, nothing looked at all familiar. Because I thought I had run straight out, I thought I could just “feel” my way back.  After awhile, thinking several times that I knew where I was and then realizing that I had no clue, I came to a woods and had the choice to either keep moving forward and level or taking a deep descent. Totally baffled, I finally asked some guys (since, frustratingly, men generally speak at least some French and women rarely seem to and I do not speak Swahili. . .) and they said they would accompany me. I said I wanted to run, but that turned out to be folly as we were descending so steeply that it would have been unsafe. At some point I ended up ahead of them and almost went the wrong way (since I kept wanting to follow what looked more or less like roads whereas everyone walks on these sort of “back alley” paths that wind between the houses), but they called me back. Somewhere around there I lost track of them, but that was the last part of the descent.

Shortly thereafter, I was again confronted with a choice – this nice wide road that veered left which seemed to be away from where I should go vs. a footpath that went to the right, but where? Again, I asked a man (and then was joined by a couple of others). I had the great advantage of knowing that all I needed to do was get back to Nyawera market, which is a landmark known by all. This time, when I asked which way to Nyawera, they asked me if I wanted to go by car or foot. I looked at them oddly and said, “hmm, by foot, thank you.” “Would you be okay taking the footpath?” they asked. “Is that shorter?” I replied. “Yes,” “Then that’s the way I want to go.” Rather amazed, they told me to take the footpath and that would lead down then up to someplace, the name of which I didn’t really catch, from where I could descend to Nyawera. Going down was really quite easy and I got to run again for awhile, but when I crossed over a main road and started to ascend, I was back on a steep, narrow, rocky (and dusty) footpath. At one point I passed an older woman climbing up with a bundle of something. Awesomely strong the women are here.

I get to the top and there is a main road. I only have a vague idea where I am, so I don’t know if I should go right or left. There weren’t any people standing around except for 3 policeman in their bright yellow shirts and hard hats (they are quite cool looking, the traffic police uniforms). Taking the decision that they are supposed to serve the public and therefore would be sympathetic to me, I went and asked them which way to Nyawera. They said go left and turn right at the intersection that was about 50 yards away. I did that and voila! I recognized that I was at the top of the first hill above Nyawera. It was so nice to feel asphalt under my feet again that I decided to stay on the main road and not take the flatter dirt road.

Returned home almost 2 hours after I left and I have no idea how far I really ran because the watch conked out at 4.47 mi which was about 10 feet after I took my first wrong turn. . . I tried to map out where I think I went (there’s a big gap in the middle where I have no idea how I got from where I knew I was to where I ended up) and it looks like I probably covered 8.75-9 mi, though a heck of a lot of that was scrambling up and down hillsides, not running.

Another Bukavu adventure!

Dust!

Well, in fact it rained last night (which I was clueless about until one of my roommates told me, must have slept well), which greatly lessened the dust this morning, but still, it has been DUSTY. When I get into the shower every morning, I have to rinse myself thoroughly even before soaping up.

I have a few established routes – the tour of our peninsula is 5k; if I add on the road that goes around the bay, that makes it about 4.5mi. Then I have ventured to the other side of the main road into neighborhoods where they are quite surprised to see a “mzungu” running on the morning. Yesterday I wanted to do my longer-ish run which I wasn’t able to do Saturday since we headed to the field at 6am, so I decided to explore a bit. Roger told me that the road to the right at the intersection at the end of my road led past the Governor’s mansion, so I took that and the Governor’s mansion was definitely worth seeing. Quite nice grounds. Then, I went up hill and came out by Nyawera market. I thought I’d go by the market back toward my part of town, but somewhere I stayed right when I should have veered left. It wasn’t until I returned home and could look at my route in SportTracks, on a satellite map, that I saw where I went wrong. In the meantime, I was running along, mounted a hill (where I realized I wasn’t where I thought I should be, but was still curious about where I was), and ended up deep inside a neighborhood packed with people (since it was only a holiday for IRC and it was around 8:30am by this time). I reached the end of the road, turned around, and got back to an intersection, where I saw a nice wide deserted road going around a hill. That seemed nice, so I took that road. It wound around the hill on the top of which was the military camp. I had seen this from a distance and as I rounded the bend I realized why it was there. Across and below me was the border with Rwanda. There was the bridge over the river, across the way was a Rwandan military camp. I followed the road down, hoping it would actually circle this hill. But it went down to the dam – where our electricity comes from – and ended there. So I had to climb yet another hill and backtrack. This was a nice part of the run, however, except for the fact that for the whole 2 miles or so I saw only one other woman on a very deserted stretch.

Back at the intersection, I tried one road briefly until I realized that it only went up to the camp. I returned to the intersection again and went back down the original road I had come up on. When I got to the bottom, I found a well-traveled alley which climbed up one hill, then another, where I found myself on the road I had originally meant to be on. Surprise, surprise! Winding my way back home, my run was exactly the  7 miles it was supposed to be, according to my training plan, even though a thousand times along the route, I decided I was too tired and wanted to cut it short. Ah well.

Exploring Bukavu

Part of me likes exploring a new town and part of me gets annoyed that I don’t already know where to go to cover a certain distance. So, we are in that beginning phase now where I’m getting to know Bukavu as a runner. I have heard that Sunday early mornings are when all the weekend warriors are out – running from the border (w/Rwanda) to the Governor’s office – about 14km round trip that includes no less than 3 killer hills each direction. This habit of going out for a hard run once a week seems to be an African pastime (at least in Bukavu and Bamenda). Interesting. I’d be afraid of getting injured or sure that I wouldn’t have the stamina, but that doesn’t seem to faze them. Anyway, I didn’t get up this morning to partake in the festivities, but maybe next weekend. The problem is that there is a sort of standing date every Saturday night among the ex-pats that work with me at IRC and their friends which rarely ends early and the English-language church service on Sundays is at 7:30am. So that leaves little time to get a run in.

But my explorations have uncovered some good routes. There is the route within my neighborhood which can be configured several ways to make about 5k or a  bit more. If I extend that and run up to our office, I can get a 5-miler in and I’ve found a nice path that curves around the bay that sits between the peninsula on which I live and the peninsula on which the office is situated. Yesterday morning, I ran down to the border and decided to take the paved road up past the office, which led to the discovery that the hill from the border up to the office is long and steep! I was feeling all good about getting back into shape and getting my times down under 10 min/mi and then I couldn’t even make it up the hill without walking. Hmmph. We still have a ways to go.

Since I get regular R&R breaks as well as vacation days, I was thinking about the possibility of training for a marathon. There are now quite a few marathons around Africa, some of which actually sound fun and interesting (though some just sound grueling and lonely). Thinking, thinking, thinking.

At any rate, Bukavu is a nice place to run. It is cool enough now that I usually wear a long-sleeve shirt to run, though I don’t need gloves or anything that severe, thank goodness (at least at the moment). There’s really only one paved road, so most of my running is “off road” which is good for my joints I’m sure. And I’m not the only person who runs, though I’ve definitely discovered neighborhoods that, judging from the responses of those I pass, are not frequented by expats.

More adventures to come!

Kinshasa, not an expat runner's paradise

I spent a week in Kinshasa before finally moving to Bukavu and was able to run four times there, which was nice. However, the ex-patriate community there is currently living under fairly restrictive rules – certainly restrictive if you are a runner. We are not allowed to walk on the streets. We must be driven (or drive, if you have a car) everywhere. The one saving grace is that someone has decided that it is safe to run this one loop along the river around the Embassies. So, in order to get a run in and get back before the drivers changed shifts, I awoke at 5am, and was sitting in the car by 5:30am. It was barely dawn when I started running 15 minutes later, but that also meant it was cool and quite pleasant. White man’s loop is a bit more than 2.5km and by 6am, there was quite an international crowd of us walking and running around. One thing I appreciated was that it was relatively flat, so I began to feel like a runner again for the first time in months.

The nice thing about the run was the river – the Congo river – and looking over at Brazzaville on the far shore. It reminded me a lot of running on the banks of the Nile in Jinja, Uganda.

Off to DR Congo

Well, I haven’t written in awhile because I haven’t been running much. And mostly I’ve been cold and miserable and whiny about it and I know you don’t wanna hear all that.

The good news is that I got some much needed medical attention during my sojourn in the US – several high quality massages, great core training advice and diagnosis and treatment of adrenal fatigue. So I feel like I am in good shape moving forward and looking forward to getting back into shape and a good solid running routine.

Today I board a flight to start the long trek to my new life in Bukavu, the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I am taking up the position of Partnership Coordinator for the International Rescue Committee and will be there for at least a couple of years, if not many more. I fly to New York, then Brussels, then Kinshasa where I’ll be for a couple of weeks of orientation. So, stay tuned for dispatches from a country rebuilding after a long, hard civil war.

Looking for a coach

I am looking for an online coach. Someone who can work with me over e-mail or the web. Here’s a bit of a profile. If you have any leads, let me know!

I’m a 47 year old woman and run about 9-10min/mi pace. I’ve done some stupid things in my day, though I try to not make a habit of it anymore. My mileage is way down in the past couple of months. Something (under-nutrition?) really sapped me when I was in the Solomons. I’m down under 20 miles a week now, though I run 4-7 mi at a time.

The half-marathon is my best race, although I continue to harbor marathon dreams. I ran the Chicago marathon in 1985, but nothing since. Whenever I’ve tried to train at that level, something happens – I hit a wall, either physical or psychological, I’m not sure, and can’t seem to get past it and then can’t see any reason to try.

What I’m looking for is someone to help with motivation and accountability and to help me learn to read my body and my response to training and respond appropriately. I can’t seem to figure out when to push through and when to step back. I’d like to have someone set me up with a program to build up from where I am now and then be able to check-in via e-mail once a week.

Thanks for any help you can provide.

Last Buala long run

Sunday was my last “long” run here in Buala. Surprisingly (to me), I covered 7.5 mi, although I did a fair amount of walking. In part this was because I was tired. I sort of overdid it, but I was so excited by being able to get past the mud to the flat section, that I went out further than I should have. But in part, I walked and stopped just because I wanted to savor the experience. We had one heckuva tropical storm on Saturday – it rained 11 hours straight and the water just poured off the tops of houses like a river. It was pretty amazing and made it clear just who is in charge here (the weather!). This made it even more amazing to me that my path wasn’t completely flooded out. It’s all about drainage I guess. But Sunday morning, Easter, began bright and sunny (though it did cloud over and rain more later). It was beautiful – that fresh, clean after the rain feeling.

Rather than going up and over the killer hill after Kubalota, I decided to go over the rocks on the path I discovered the other end to last week. That was an adventure – real scrambling, and trying to be very aware because the rocks were wet and very smooth from all the foot traffic. This is one of those times when I really wish my feet could handle the terrain without shoes, as the locals do. I’ve watched them and they walk completely differently than I do, particularly when they are going over rocks. They can use their feet to curl over rock corners and grip things that I just slip off of.

I saw a few pigs along the route. One which was quite big and caused me a bit of pause, but they really are much more afraid of me. Since they expect all humans to be coming after them to turn them to dinner, I don’t think they realize the damage they could do if they decided to. Lucky me! I also saw a beautiful flock of red birds fly overhead, but I didn’t get my camera out before they settled onto the tops of the trees. I waited for a bit in the hopes that they would take flight again, but no luck.

I’ve just read Running: the sacred art by Warren A. Kay and I would highly, highly recommend it to anyone interested in how to encourage more spirituality in their runs. Kay teaches a course called “Spirituality and Running” at Merrimack College in Massachusetts and the book is really quite good. He is a Christian, but he writes from a broader perspective and the message and exercises in the book are definitely not specific to any particular faith.

http://www.amazon.com/Running-Sacred-Preparing-Practice-Spiritual/dp/1594732272/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1239581348&sr=8-1

Tomorrow I fly to Honiara for a week and I am really, really looking forward to running on the roads!

New path found

I've been able to get back to running 4-5 times a week, though my mileage
isn't very high. Last Sunday I thought I'd go 7-8 miles (I'd done a little
more than 7 the week before). Although it rained on Saturday, the rainy
season is definitely petering out now. Thus, when I set out, I had great
hopes of being able to cruise on that nice flat section past the river. I
was a bit surprised when I started down the far side of the killer hill past
Kubalota and the mud was very, very sticky. But when I got to the river, it
was lower than I'd ever seen it, so I was anticipating a great run.

But then at 2.5mi out, I was stopped in my tracks. The path was totally
flooded out (see photo). I looked left and right, and there was water as far
as the eye could see (see next photo). Oy.

Now, it could be that it wasn't that deep (it was at least 6 inches and
maybe up to 12) and if it had been a moving river, I would have just crossed
it. However, this filthy standing water on a flooded path is pretty gross.
First, chances are good that I'd just sink into the underlying mud and maybe
even lose my shoes. I've come close many times. And this water makes all
sorts of gunky junk end up in my shoes, causing irritation and blisters. So,
phewy, I turned around.

After re-crossing the river, I noticed a path off to the side and thought
this must be the route that people from Gnulahage take when they walk in to
Buala. I ran past, then ran back and decided to pursue that path and see
where it leads. Coming from the other direction, I've stayed on the beach in
Kubalota (rather than going behind the village and up and over the killer
hill that is part of the "main road") and come to a rocky outcropping. I've
gone up the path, but never followed it all the way to where it meets the
"main road" though I knew they must meet somewhere. So, now I'm thinking
this is the other end.

The path led through the forest and past some sort of storage shed and then
dumped out on the beach. There was a path to the right that ran along the
beach for a bit and then I was standing on the beach looking at what must be
the other side of the rocky outcropping. That was what I would have to climb
over. The path went straight up the rocks and on the top there was a very
narrow muddy path that undulated along the top for awhile. I mostly walked
since any misstep would mean a 20 meter fall into whatever lay at the bottom
of the rocks. But soon, I recognized the path I had come to from the other
side and climbed down to Kubalota beach. A new path found! It always makes
me feel like and "insider" when I discover the paths that the locals take. .
.