almost one year

I don’t mean for this blog to become a running journal, but I do think that my running has provided a unique lens through which to view this experience. . .

When I first arrived in Dar, I knew that I needed to run to stay physically healthy, emotionally balanced and mentally alert; what I didn’t know was that my comfort level with running would reflect my comfort level in my new home. At first, I ran a few laps around the Loyola campus each evening- enough for the physical, mental, emotional health I was seeking and not much more. I stayed in my comfort zone, which made sense. Everything else I knew and loved had undergone a drastic transformation. I ran for about 20 minutes, stretched, went home and showered. It was enough, but certainly not a challenge; instead, it was a sort of bridge between my two homes, something which remained constant despite the changes happening around and within me. The truth is, I was afraid. Afraid of getting lost, getting tired, not being able to communicate effectively and I just really did not want to wake up at 5:00 a.m. to beat out the harsh sun and ‘hide’ my whiteness in the veil of pre-dawn darkness.

For whatever reason, with each retreat we went on, I felt a little more confident running in a new place. Maybe it was the open space of the retreat’s location, the ocean at the end of the run, or the community of the other JVs running on a similar schedule, but with each retreat, I became a little more comfortable in my skin and sneakers. In August, we (as a whole community) made the commitment to try to train for and run the Dar Half Marathon to take place on December 8th. I had run one half marathon before and knew that I was capable, but was still a little nervous about the logistics. How would I figure out exactly how far I ran each day? How would I map out and time my long run? How would I cross-train? Could I really wake up at 5:00 a.m. 5 days/week? How will I do all of this without an ipod to distract me? But, thankfully, I put my controlling/planning-obsessed self aside(I’ve been getting better at this, by the way) and trusted that with a little bit of effort, a mental commitment to waking up before the sun, the support and encouragement of a community running towards the same goal, and a little grace from God, it would work out.  

I needed a different route, though. I did not like the one we had been using. It didn’t work for me; maybe it was a mental block, maybe there’s some kind of negative subconscious association I had with this one particular route, I have no idea, but whatever the reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to wake up to run this one particularly bleak route. I had let this mental block keep me from running any kind of long distance for a while- I stayed in my comfort zone at Loyola. But then, one day, as if a switch had been flipped, I suddenly realized, I didn’t have to run that route just because it was the one everyone else was using. I can turn right at the main road instead of left. It was as simple as right instead of left. So, the next morning, I did just that, I turned right when I intersected Old Kigogo Road- I passed Loyola, passed the parish, passed the bus stand, passed the homes of neighbors and friends, crossed the river which floods when it rains and just kept running. There was a series of hills and curves, which made it a decidedly more difficult route, but it was also WAY more interesting- challenging, yes, but definitely not boring and bleak. Each night, before I went to bed, I found myself looking forward to waking up before the sun and running up and down the hills, around the curves and through our neighborhood.

Sometimes, it really does just take a change in perspective- a mental commitment, the support of others and the grace of God to take on a new challenge, to see the world in a  new, fresh way. I should mention two developments in the course of this training- 1. my tried and true running watch, a Christmas gift from my brother about 3 years ago, died(a slight bump in the road) 2. Kathleen received a very useful Garmin running watch which mapped your distance, alerted you to a change in pace and probably did a million others things I couldn’t figure out (Thank you, Mr. Kardos). These developments balanced each other out. While I now had seemingly no accurate way to gauge the distance of my run by the time it took me to run to a certain point and back, Kathleen was able to tell me exactly how far each of the landmarks was and even let me borrow it to pace myself and map out a longer route. In my detachment from technology, my needs were provided for. 

This morning, I think I ran about 8 miles. When I got out of bed, I made a mental commitment to running a longer distance here than I have yet. I committed to running a little bit slower than I ideally would like, in order to complete the goal of a longer distance, and then I did just that. As I passed my usual turning point and kept running to a new destination on which I had not yet decided, a piki piki(motorcycle) driver idling at the corner, cheered, “Hongera, unaweza, dada!”(Congratulations, you can/are able, sister!). As I passed some women collecting rain water on my way back, they clapped and yelled, “Hongera, Dada!!”(Congratulations, sister!!) I smiled and made an embarrassingly enthusiastic fist pump in their direction. Just after I passed them, one of my students, on her way to Mass, yelled, “Miss Kathryn!! Miss!” and smiled big enough for me to see it from across the street a few hundred meters away. And best of all, as I was on the last leg of the run and feeling pretty strong going up hill, I passed a group of men chanting and running together across the road who changed their chant to, “Kama mzungu, kama mzungu!”(like the white girl, like the white girl). I turned around, smiled and cheered them on. I was challenged, comfortable, safe, strong and supported. I couldn’t have asked for a better run and I’m already planning a longer route for next Sunday.

December 8th, quite fittingly, is also the day the new volunteers arrive. So, we will wake up that morning, run the half marathon as a community, hopefully have a celebratory drink or two, clean the house and then go to pick up our new community mates. As I enter my second year as a JV in Tanzania, I’m feeling challenged, comfortable, safe, strong and supported.