26th
The Runs
I have registered for a half-marathon in the booming lake-side town of Awasa, about six hours drive south from Addis Ababa. On May 2nd I, along with my housemate Frits, my girlfriend Martha, and various other VSO volunteers, will run/walk/stumble round three laps totalling 21km, starting and ending at Haile Gebre Selassie’s swanky new hotel.
Having gate-crashed the Great Ethiopian Run last November by arriving late and missing 90% of the race, I decided take this one seriously by registering properly (100 birr = five pounds) and training regularly. I’d wanted to run in Nekemte since I arrived but hadn’t mustered the courage to brave the rocky, dusty lanes or the attention of locals on the streets. But about five or six weeks ago I did just that and quickly realised I preferred heading out into the countryside rather than along the main asphalt roads which run the length of the town. After a couple of runs through town to the college and back (about 5/6 kilometres), I was eager to leave the shouting boys and the dirty trucks behind and seek out some peaceful wooded areas. True, the red, dusty lanes were sometimes uneven and troublesome tree roots lurked above the surface now and again, but I was willing to take the risk of a fall. I just paid more attention to my feet. Running through eucalyptus forests just as the sun breaks over the hills and valleys makes the running a joy and a lot easier to get up early. Also, the few people I do encounter on the lanes are either too surprised to shout the usual taunts or they seem excited that a farenji has chosen to run into their quiet corner of the town.
One of the best things about the morning runs is not knowing where the deserted lanes will lead. Over the last five weeks I’ve found five or six good routes and each time I feel like exploring a new side-track or hopping over a stream to see where I end up. All the routes have lots of ups and downs and when I find myself racing down a snaking track into a small valley I dread the ascent back up again. But usually there are enough down hills to compensate. I’ve been running for 45-60 minutes about three or four times a week and I suspect each run is approx 5-8 kilometres.
Dogs are the biggest menace. Packs of them wait ahead, scrapping with each other or hounding a female. I pick up a rock or two as I approach and cross to the other side. I often have to feign attack as they lunge towards me snarling as if I’m a threat. They’re just bored though and probably on heat - just like a lot of the young local guys. A few times I’ve launched the stones at them and they scuttle off under the fence of their owner’s compound. I won’t hesitate in aiming more accurately if they don’t back down – they’re out of control and I’m not getting bitten.
Whether my training will make the 21km in Awasa any less painful, I don’t know. But it’s given me a reason to explore the labyrinthine roads out of the town and to witness life first thing in the morning, to smell the first coffee of the day from humble wattle-and-daub houses and to greet early church goers shuffling along in their immaculate white gabis (cotton shawls).
