This past weekend we went to Lakes Baringo and Bagoria, which I have yet to blog about--don't worry, it's coming soon to a computer near you. We got home later than I expected on Sunday, and this particular Sunday I was scheduled to run a half-marathon, or 13.1 miles. Technically, I could have ran it on the small roads that connect all the houses in the compound where IU House is located (it's gated with security guards), but seeing as one lap on such streets is a little over a third of a mile, I didn't much care for the idea of running approximately 39 diminutive laps in the dark. So, the next day--this past Monday, August 25--I made sure to eat a quick lunch so that I could get back to the hospital earlier than usual, cram in some work and leave the hospital by 4 pm. I walked back to the house quickly changed, and embarked upon my journey. I hadn't done much running outside of the compound yet, let alone a half-marathon's worth of mileage, but I'd asked a few regular runners at IU House and they gave me some tips on routes. I decided to keep it simple: take a road straight out five miles, take it straight back another five, and then run the last 5K within the IU Compound. And so I strut through the gate and began my escapade.
It was absolutely wonderful. There was a medium-light rain going with a thunderstorm off in the distance, and I was at one with the run. The first couple miles were rough, going uphill and on the poor dirt Kenyan roads. Once I hit around 2.5 miles, though, I was in the zone. Music blaring in my ears, smiling at Kenyans driving their cows and running home to escape the deluge falling on their heads. The road I was on T'ed off a couple times, but I still felt confident in my ability to find my way back. There were some land markers I felt sure I could remember. I really, really wish I'd had a GoPro on during that run. That first five miles especially was one of the most serene experiences I've ever had in my life. I couldn't help but feel like I was truly experiencing Africa the way it was supposed to be. I ran by hardworking Kenyans tilling their fields. Nothing but green green green all around me. I ran by Kenyan women walking home balancing massive bags of who-knows-what on their heads--yes, that apparently is a real thing. The best part is all the smiles I got as I ran by, and the encouragement I would get. I was the crazy mzungu running in the storm, and they loved it. To all my friends who are runners, if you ever have the opportunity to take a good, long run in Africa, and you know you'll be safe, just trust me that you absolutely have to do it. I heard Siri tell me I hit the five mile marker, and turned around to return home. That was right around where things got a little muddy--both figuratively and literally.
Remember how I said my route T'ed off a couple times? Well, I missed my first turn. Next thing I knew I was running through massive fields of mud that I most definitely did not remember running through on the way out. Before I knew it, I was good and lost. When I say lost, bear in mind I wasn't completely without bearings; I had a good idea of the direction of IU House, but in Kenya country roads don't exactly just go straight. They tend to careen off in directions you don't want them to and slither like snakes until your heading straight onto someone's farm. I looked at my clock. I'd run about 5.5 miles and it was about 5:30 Kenyan time, and according to my phone earlier the sun was due to set at about 6:45. Best of all, my Kenyan phone--you know, the one that can call people who can rescue me--was dead. After mulling over my options, I realized my only choice was to keep going and head in the direction I knew I needed to go. Panic hadn't quite set in yet; after all, I had an hour to run what I though was approximately 4.5 miles--not exactly a difficult pace for me to keep up. I just had to get back before dark, because I knew three things: if I didn't, Katie Harsh, the responsible one in our Purdue group here, would kill me. And if Katie didn't, Monica Miller, my professor at Purdue who prepared us for Kenya and told me specifically not to do anything stupid, would. And if Monica didn't, my mom would, and she would most definitely succeed.
I set off running, and a mile quickly passed by. And then another mile. pretty soon I was on mile 7.5, and still hadn't a clue where I was. I was still relatively calm, all things considered--running has that amazing effect on people--but I'd be lying if I said a minimal amount of worry wasn't starting to sink in. I said a few prayers, asking the big man upstairs for a little help. About 5 minutes later, or the beginning of mile 9, the most incredible thing happened. I saw someone running a bit ahead of me, and he had to stop every so often to, what appeared from a distance to be, tie his shoe. I eventually caught up to him and discovered it was a Kenyan boy no older than 13 years old. Once I caught up, he flashed me the biggest smile and just started running with me. Every once in a while he would have to stop momentarily to reach down because, as I now noticed up close, the toe of his right shoe had a massive whole to the point where his foot would slowly slip out of his shoe. No matter, he would just pull it back on and keep running. I can't describe the feeling of having this young boy run with me, a complete stranger, as though we had been running together for years. I decided to just try and live completely in that moment for a while, so we ran for a good three quarters of a mile before I finally spoke. "Do you speak English?" He nodded. "What's your name?" "Kiprono." (key-PRAWN-oh). "Nice to meet you." We ran for another minute or so. "Do you know how to get to Boma's Inn?" "I don't understand." Strike one--I would have easily known how to get home from Boma's Inn. "Do you know where Nandi Road is?" His face lit up with excitement and he took off in the direction we were already running. Sure enough, he got me back to a paved road, which was DEFINITELY a good sign. I still had no idea where I was, but I knew which way down that road I needed to go. We ran for another half mile or so before he looked at me and said, "You keep running this way. I go that way." He could have been messing with me--not unlike other parts of the world, Kenyans greatly enjoy making fools of Americans--but I believed him. Partially because I had to, but also because I felt somehow connected to this kid. As he took off to my right, I couldn't help feel a little sad. I would never forget my mile and a half run with Kiprono.
As I kept running, I started to pass a gas station. There were some boda-boda's parked there (motorcycle taxis), so I walked up to one of them. It was about 6:15 at this point, and I'd already run 9.25 miles. "Want a ride into town?" he asked. I actually half-considered it. You see, another rule of IU House is to NEVER ride on a boda-boda; quite frankly, though, I would much rather risk riding a boda-boda if it meant not being subject to the streets of Eldoret after dark. Still, I figured I should ask first: "Do you know how to get to Boma's Inn?" "Sure!" he said. "Just keep going down this road and you'll see signs that you can follow right to it." My heart leapt for joy; I was going to make it. "About how far would you say that sign is?" "I'd say about 4 kilometers." For those of you who don't know, that's about another two miles. I sighed, but there was nothing for it. I kept going. Suffice it to say, I made it back to the IU Complex safely, and to my mother and Monica if you're reading this: I did, in fact make it before dark--by about 20 minutes. 11.83 miles when I got back and finished within the gates, aka 1.83 miles out of the way of where I'd intended on running.
It was definitely worrisome at times, but it was my most amazing experience in Kenya to date. The people here were so kind, and I feel eternally bonded to Kiprono. I don't know if he feels the same or not; I'd like to think he does, though. Rest assured though, friends: I shan't run further than I know for sure I can return safely again, and I will most positively have a fully charged phone.
"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together." ~ African proverb
One truly gets to see & experience the world in all new ways while out for a run.
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