Nothing Half About It

On the eve of our epic feat of endurance, we all fussed about proper marathon preparation.  Does carb loading mean that we should get Italian food or sandwiches or does my afternoon milkshake count?  Should I wear a shirt under my jersey?  Do I have safety pins for my number?  Did my tracker get crushed during transport?  What should we eat in the morning?  What time do we need to get there?  Where is it exactly?  How are we getting there?  I'm not walking to a marathon!  In the spirit of getting pumped for the race, we all tried on our yellow MTN jerseys.  This marathon is actually a genius PR stunt for the cell phone company because every runner wears an MTN jersey, so the entire race is like "free advertising," but we were the ones that paid to register!  Don't we look like beasts?  We were ready.

That night, we all tried to go to sleep by 9 pm because we had to be at the field by 6 am.  It was a rough night though because the bar downstairs was having an intense karaoke session.  Not only was the music blasting through the floorboards, but the singers were disgracefully bad.  Thankfully, I managed to get enough sleep that I woke up feeling slightly refreshed by the time our alarm started buzzing at 5:15 am.  After wolfing down three bananas, a few handfuls of peanuts and a liter of water, we headed out into the cool dawn.

Upon arriving to the field, I was thoroughly impressed by organization of the event and by the sheer number of the people participating.  There were at least 10,000 people sporting those trendy jerseys, but most people were running only 10k (6 miles), while our crew was signed up for the 21k (13.2 miles) event, except for Erik who ran the full marathon.  A lot of the participants were intimidating.  Some ran to the event.  Some were just jumping up and down while we waited for the race to start.  Most people were stretching.  Were we serious?  Nope.  We were just goofing around taking silly pictures.

You get the idea.

By the time the race started, we were all nervous and jittery.  I just kept feeling like I had to pee!  It was a nervous thing, I know, but I was still worried.  We weren't sure what the race lay out would be like.  Apparently in the states, it's common for a race to have numerous porta-potties along the route.  Ends up this was not true in Kampala.  So, I used the latrine at the field twice.  I actually almost missed the race due to my last minute "short call."  And, the latrine that the field was nasty.  I've had my fair share of disgusting toilet experiences, but this latrine was full.  If you don't know what that means, consider yourself blessed.  Sorry for all the toilet talk, but this is just funny.  One volunteer during the race had a more serious business to accomplish, so she just ran into a restaurant.  The restaurant acted like it was the most normal thing in the world to have a sweaty marathon runner sprint into their bathroom to take a dump!  Another volunteer had to pee, so she did the extreme thing.  She just peed her pants mid-run!  The guy behind her figured out what was happening and couldn't stop laughing.  Now that's commitment.

I have never ran a half marathon before, and I wasn't sure what to expect.  During the first 20 minutes, I had a horrible cramp in my right side.  I couldn't think about anything else as I tried to stay even with all my friends.  I'm sure it can be attributed to the early morning, the quick breakfast and anxiety.  Regardless, once that pain subsided, I felt like a rockstar, and I started to enjoy the sights, the rising sun and the camaraderie with my fellow runners.

The marathon had shut down all the streets we were running on, or at least I thought.  Around the fourth mile, the road opened to motorcycles, cars, buses and semis!  We had to share the road.  This is a terrifying thought in a country that doesn't respect the right of pedestrians.  They set out these really flimsy cones to keep runners safe, but that didn't stop boda drivers from veering in and out to avoid the traffic jams.  I finally understood why the marathon rules had to explicitly state "boda riding would disqualify a runner" because that could be tempting.  Thankfully, we survived with only a few close calls.  At one point, a car started to slowly back into our path.  My friend, Bethany, had no qualms about yelling at the driver and smacking his car twice with her bare hands to send the message home.

My energy level was surprisingly high throughout the race despite my inadequate training.  The most difficult part of the race were the killer hills.  Kampala hills are abrupt and steep!  Although going up them were torture, I think more damage was done during the downhill.  By the last mile, my right knee was seriously complaining.

At a few water stations, there were signposts to inform you of your mileage.  When I saw one that said "2k to finish," I was stoked and shocked.  I had only been running for 1:45.  How fast could I be going?!  I was so pleased with myself.  My goal had been to finish, but this was going to be a very reputable time.  I picked up my pace and was juiced to cross the finish line.  Twenty minutes later, I began lagging.  What could have happened?  2k is a little over a mile!  Why wasn't I there yet?  I started feeling like I would never make it.  My pace slowed a lot, especially because the final section was mostly uphill.  Regardless, I never slowed to a walk.  Miraculously.  Another signpost boasted, "1k to finish."  I wanted to die.  Is this one right?!  Or do I have another 30 minutes to go?  Ends up this one was appropriately placed, and I was in the final stretch.

When I approached the straightway, I was running on fumes, but I wanted to finish strong.  I started to sprint, only to realize that I started my glorious finish too soon.  The finish line looked so far away!  I managed to run across, only to immediately hang my head over the side barriers because my body was threatening to reject my morning breakfast.  I didn't end up tossing my bananas, but I desperately needed water.  It was my number one priority.  Sadly, all the 10k runners had demolished the water station at the finish line!  I don't know what happened to all the water, and it was nowhere to be found.  I spotted one crate that was being guarded by a backpack.  It was quite obvious that someone was saving it, but I didn't care.  I scavenged the crate for six bottles of water.  From a distance, I noticed that the owner was not happy when he returned.  Sorry.  That was probably not very spiritual, right John-Paul?

My finishing time was 2:18.  Honestly, I wasn't too hung up on the time.  I'm most proud that I finished my first half marathon without walking one step.  I felt like hell for the next few hours, but my post-marathon meal couldn't have tasted better.  We're already planning for the next marathon in May.  Only next time, we're hoping to have sweet costumes for our Peace Corps team.