Running adventures

My colleague Dustin and I usually go for a run in the evening. It's always quite the spectacle with people shouting "How are you?" "Good job!" "bye," or something in Lugbara. We get invited places, chased (for fun),waved at, or cause children to run into their dwellings and hide until we pass (note: lots of kids are terrified of white people, with some thinking we eat black people or that if they touch us they will turn white and sickly like us). We're used to that though.

Today we went on a new route through some corn fields. When we popped out on the other side we were on the edge of a large sports ground full of people. Of course, we can't blend in so everyone turned and started yelling "mundu!" or "muzungu!" (meaning white guy - much to
the bane of Dustin who is First Nations and still in shock at being called white). It was only then that I noticed that there were a group of about 12 youth (maybe 16 to 19 years old) standing in a line - a starting line. Yes, we had just run onto a track where the Arua track
team was training for a district competition in a few weeks. There was no escaping the waving hands yelling "come join!" We thought about running off but knew that would be rude so we took the bait and joined in.

Now I must confess, I am not a bad runner, and in high school I was the top 400 metre runner for our school. But high school was over 15 years ago and my running these days consists of a few light jogs per week. Even still I thought I might be able to hold my own, given I was
keeping up with some of the Ugandan national swim team folks. Dustin felt the same way since he is pretty much king on the basketball court.

The race was the 1500 metre sprint. We all laughed and I told them I would start at the back. I asked them to cheer me on as they lapped me, secretly hoping that they wouldn't catch me and that maybe I would be right on their tails at least at the beginning.

The whistle blew and we were off. Maybe it would be more accurate to say THEY were off. Dustin and I were probably just reaching the halfway mark of the first lap (of four) when they were starting lap two. Talk about humbling. The crowd on the sidelines were going wild,
cheering like it was a tight race. I didn't want to be lapped so I picked up the pace. I could feel my lungs pounding - you know when you get that taste of blood in your mouth when you exercise hard? Ya, that was happening.

As I fumbled over the finish line, the Arua team was already looking refreshed. They never lapped me, but I am sure if it were five laps the leader would have (or I would have run until my lungs did bleed just to avoid it). We all had a good laugh though. The coach offered us another chance if we wanted, saying the team would be doing it again in 5 mins. We politely declined. I joked with one guy asking him what time their practice started and finished. It started at four and ended at six or so everyday. I said I would come at 5:55 and race him again and maybe be some competition. He laughed and said, "you still couldn't catch me." I laughed too because he was certainly correct.

As Dustin and I walked away, carrying our pride in pockets, well out of sight, we both agreed that being humbled and humiliated from time to time was important. Good for our development.

I also suggested we go back in a couple of days and try again. I'll let you know how it goes...