Nearly Half in the Bush

What better way to spend a hot, clear, Saturday morning than running through the bush? Yesterday a group of around 50 Zambians and Mzungu's made the trek out past Kafue town, and started running from the highway, up the surprisingly good tarmac road, towards the Kafue Power station 10.7 miles away on hilly road, involving 2000 ft of elevation gain (nearly a half marathon). It was a hilly and challenging course, to say the least.

Elevation profile of the run. Notice the first 4km offer a nice, unrelenting climb.

The run contrasted sharply with the last organized long run of mine - the Boston marathon ala 2005. Both well organized sporting events, one slightly larger than the other. Instead of the sidelines packed with cheering, merry-making individuals, were tall, green, silent trees. The occasional bunch of cattle stared at runners passing by, but with less wonder and bemusement than the few locals, who looked on, incredulous. Some greeted us with smiles, some with blank stares. There were no energetic crowds of friends jumping onto the race course for small stretches, or oodles of screaming girls at Wellesley College, halfway along, offering kisses to runners. Instead, five foot tall bags of charcoal lines a few parts of the road, waiting to be bought to heat homes and cook food, like soldiers at attention. A buddy of mine and I 'bandit' ran in Boston, hopping on after all the registered runners started, but were cheered on with the same enthusiasm and excitement. I had 'Looking' written on my chest, and my buddy had written 'Good' in nice big letters. Depending who was cheering for us, we were either Looking Good, or Good Looking, both of which kept continual smiles on our faces and urged us on to the end. Yesterday, the trees stood in silence, but the rolling hills and landscape provided endless views of rural Zambia, hardly developed, lush, and expansive.

A blast from the past. 'Looking' and 'Good' cruising in the background, surrounded by a shirtless crowd of friends that had joined us for a half mile or more near Wellesley College.

The small group of runners strung out quickly. I ran the majority of the race myself, contemplating the events of the week past, and gearing up for the challenges of the week upcoming. I would pass five and six year old Zambian children, often carrying loads of goods, miles from home, on their own, with not a worry in the world. A race organizer told a story about leaving her own children to man a water table last year. After driving away and realizing what she had done, she noted that her children were plenty old to be left alone in the bush by Zambian standards, but in the US, custody of her kids would likely be revoked.

I wish I had pictures to post here from the race - but was too focused on finishing to bother carrying a camera. And oh, the Zambian contingent smoked the Mzungu's, with the lead runner finishing in an hour and five minutes on the challenging course.