Little Liza Jane/ I'm glad my mother doesn't have immediate internet access...

So I finished the 1/2 marathon.  As my goalie coach used to say when I had a less-than-textbook-finish save, "not pretty, but effective."  I think for this effort, I'm going to have to throw a qualifier in there, making it "not pretty, but mildly effective."  My IT band and achilles in my right leg are screaming and scolding me for running, much as I imagine my mother would if she weren't having a nice time at her 40th high school reunion (hi, Mom).

We camped at Lewa reserve (lewa means "drunk" in Swahili) after a very bumpy ride in.  I was pleasantly yet firmly reminded by the 8yr old girl in the car not to "toss my cookies" on her.  In case I wasn't prone enough to getting car sick, this trip sure did the trick.  

I packed for this thinking I would be taking care of the kiddos and not running, but somehow everything necessary for running except my shorts, sports watch, and iPod made it into my luggage.  Easily fixable as only one is actually necessary (clearly, I'm talking about the iPod here).  I was told that I still had a spot on the running team if I wanted it, so decided that I'd try for an early morning jog and stop at the water stop 7.5ish km into it, where our friend would be stationed.  They said if I didn't feel good then to stop because that was the end of the "easy" portion of the course.  We had 2 teams of 10 people: the Tambuzi Tigers and the Burguret Braves, named for the farm here and the community here, respectively.

Off we went after jogging to the start line for the 715am bang.  I think I woke up at 5am, then not again until 6:40am, but the wrist watch I did have stopped ticking at 2:06am so I really don't know.  It wasn't a staggered start, just general pick it up and go.  The first 10ish minutes I can best describe as feeling as though I'm in Paris running to catch the metro with the mob and trying to dodge the poop on the ground.  No, no, not doggie poop as the city proudly boasts, but elephant, zebra, impala feces.  Elephant poop is giant.  It's only slightly more palatable than doggie doo doo because it comes out pretty  much how it went into the animal, just in a nice ol' ball.  Anyway, after telling myself that I'd just run the entire way to the water stop, thinking that a run just shy of 5miles would be a good start to training after not having run for about 3 weeks.  Respectable, yes?

I went to bed (at 8pm after seeing some truly exquisite stars) with the slight inkling that I'd finish the race if I started it.  However, I didn't prepare for the race as though I was going to do that.  I should have stretched, should have warmed up, probably should have worn different socks, packed my own shorts, etc.  Oh well.  Went through the water station, swearing to myself that I'd stop at the one that was 13km into it, where friend #2 was.  Fail #2 for me, as I didn't see the friend and was actually enjoying the run.  So, I grabbed some water & Lucozade (which is like super-concentrated gatorade... not pleasant when you're actually exercising, and this is coming from someone who enjoys eating straight frozen juice concentrate in the summers when popsicles are nowhere to be found.  I will be the first to admit that this effort on my part was not what anyone could normally call a "run."  The jog/walk method was my friend.  I jogged more than I walked, sometimes to get away from the stank of some of the other kiddos on the course, but hey, motivation is motivation.  After I got out of the Paris mob, the only thing in my head was the song by Dr. John called "Little Liza Jane."  Go iTunes it right now if you haven't heard it.  Nothing like Louisiana Gumbo blues to get you through a hard run, eh? (thanks, Dad, for the inspiration).

The course was absolutely beautiful and very much felt like "Africa" with the zebras on the side.  I even saw a Zazu-like bird flying around scouting things out.  Where we ran was a hilly dirt 1-lane road.  To pass people, you had to run in the middle where the gravel was loose.  Doesn't seem like it should make a difference, but that lack of packed dirt became annoying quite quickly.  But, what can ya do except chug along?  Water stations after water stations passed, with a mix of support ranging from the obviously American & super enthusiasts, to the British settlers who seriously were cooking their breakfasts on the side of the trail.  I am a fan of the water-soaked sponges that each water stop distributed.  On and on I went, sometimes walking, sometimes jogging, usually leap-frogging with people on my team and then the new friends that I felt I should know by name given the quality time we spent in the same vicinity.  

The highlight of the race was at about mile 10 (so 16km) where we started to hear the hum of a motorcycle.  Ahmed, as it said on the back of his jersey, noted that in about 1km, we'd be lapped by the leader of the full marathon race, which was 2 laps of the route I ran.  He joked that his goal was to not let them lap him, but then he realized that goal was not a realistic one.  I jogged ahead and sure enough, the motorcycle with the "Kenya cowboy" character sitting backwards filming the race went by, followed by the leader of the marathon.  Then close behind was Ahmed, just sprinting as fast as he could holding up his hand yelling "#2!!!" between gasps.  Sounds minor and silly, but it was the perfect lift of humor.  

Nothing of major note for the rest of the race, except that I almost got on camera with my shorts down when the Safaricom plane flew by what I thought was a relatively fool-proof place to relieve my kidneys.  I guess it's a good thing I didn't have my iPod in or I wouldn't have heard the overhead buzz of the plane motors.  

The end of the race was painful, and seemed longer than it was.  Some punks were sitting in their car off to the side with music playing and yelled "500 meters to go!!"  but they were wrong because about a minute later I passed the sign saying just that, which was in fact correct.  Didn't appreciate that.  I made it to the finish line on the jog despite a very sore right knee/IT band.  The left one, which had its ACL replaced 10 months ago, is doing great.  Crossing the finish line you received a chumps medal for finishing, a bag with a traditional kanga (cloth wrap), water, Lucozade (nasty carbonated version- why would you drink this when exercising?  burp burp burp), and a key chain.  Then some dude stopped you and came with a marker lunging toward your chest to cross out your number.  If you cared to, you could then go check to see what your time was, if the printer had caught up to that.  In my case, they hadn't yet.   The first marathon finisher crossed around 2h20mins.  I finished after him by a bit, but was enough under 3 hours that I was happy with being done with the full 21kms.   It was a bit bittersweet because while I was content with what I did, I couldn't help but wish I had been healthy enough to train and have a time hopefully under 2hrs.  This time next year?

I escaped with only 3 new blisters on my toes, and minor ones at that- I only felt one of them developing during the race.  The reddish dirt infiltrated every possible porous spot on my shoes, making it look like I ran the race barefoot once I took my shoes off.  The shower after the 2hr ride back home felt great, except on my face &  neck which are a nice shade of pink from the sun.

I couldn't tell you what I'm doing tomorrow (Sunday).  I think I'm going back to Mombasa either tomorrow or Monday?  I'll keep you posted if the internet in Mombasa cooperates.

Time for me to go grab some tea then get to bed.  7:30pm is a lovely bed time for me to hobble to a horizontal position.

Mom- I'm sorry.  Yes, I'll ice my aching leg and promise not to run until it's better.    As Alison said, hopefully today will go down as the day Lewa licked my Larium (the fancy name for mefloquine).