Running in the Vil

Note: This first part of my blog doesn’t have much to do with the running part – it is only something interesting that I realized.  I run because I want to, because it calms me, because I feel great when I do.

My weight in Malawi has fluctuated tremendously.  If you remember correctly, before I left for Peace Corps, I proceeded to put on 10 pounds that I was sure I would lose the moment I got to Malawi.  Plus I really wanted an excuse to eat as much as I wanted prior to departure.

Homestay – stayed the same, maybe lost a pound or two

Moved to site – lost 5 pounds (couldn’t get a fire started)

Hot Season – lost 5 more pounds

Trip to Germany at Christmas – gained 10 pounds (Schnitzel, chocolate, wine and cookies!)

Minor Depression/mid-service slump – lost 5 pounds

Malaria – lost 10 pounds (I looked sickly)

Third computer broke – gained 10 pounds (probably – not exactly sure – I feel it though – just sitting there) after eating 24 candy bars in 4 days

So here I am, slightly depressed over the loss of my third computer (just when things were getting good – my grants were going through, my dongle allowed me to stay in touch, my life skills curriculum was turning into a beautiful piece of work…), feeling sick from the pack of 24 candy bars (Snickers knock-offs – caramel, nougat with peanuts but definitely not the same thing) that I purchased recently.  It was on a whim, for sure but I embraced the splurge with open arms.  Even eating 24 bars in 4 days was difficult – I was trying to make them last as long as possible but I also never turned down a craving.

Instead of feeding the frenzy by allowing the droplets of dopamine to soothe my soul, I started running again.  As you may know, I’ve been a distance runner since high school – on and off with the advent of iliotibial band syndrome (I like to call it my trick knee) – and I love a good long run every now and again.  I’ve been blessed with incredibly athletic genes – not the ones that make me able to throw, catch, kick or hit a ball, as my coordination is lacking as you may know, I’m a spaz – but I can run like the wind and I can get back into shape within days of running again.  Not to brag or anything.

So I’m running.

Village running is an interesting sport.  I wake up as the sun is rising (this is the coolest part of the day and also when the fewest number of people are around), throw on sweat pants (showing your knees is considered promiscuous – so as not to look like I tramp, I wear far too many clothes that make me sweat uncomfortable amounts), a tank top and my running shoes (the most important item I brought to country, with the exception of my super-sweet camera).

I step out of my house and jog behind it to the road where I am greeted by morning salutations and cheering children.  It keeps me going.  But in a country that loves to greet, I struggle with responses through gasps of air.  While along the road, I get stopped by passers-by, demanding to know where I’m going. 

“Ndilipo,”  I reply. “Just around.”

Running and exercise is clearly a first-world issue – most people are in shape here because they work so hard physically. I get looks of confusion and acknowledgement of the crazy.  Some nod, some protest and some just laugh.

Sometimes women will run beside me, barefoot and clad in a chitenje.  They keep up for a while, laughing and yelling my name.

Sometimes I hear the pitter patter of tiny bare feet running behind me. I turn around and giggles burst through mouths covered by tiny hands.

Sometimes my students run with me – bragging to everyone who is willing to listen that they are getting their exercise for the day (Yeah, Life Skills!)

When I run until I can no longer handle it, I bring it on home.  No fancy Garmin GPS watches here (Although I miss mine and really wish I brought it to country at times – but what would I do with another electronic, honestly?). I run back, up the hill, through the fields, chased or followed or alone with my thoughts.  I do my best thinking while I’m running and the sun is rising over the hills and all I hear are my Nikes hitting the ground in a slower rhythm than my heart  – together they throw down a sick beat.

I return home tired and sweating like I was day-dreaming about a chocolate covered donut all day.  The body aches that follow the next day make me feel alive and sometimes need the relief of a massage or yoga.  Cool water from my filter and I take off my sweaty, sticky clothes and lie on my floor until my body settles into normal breathing.

Bliss.