So given our terrifying boda ride of two night before smart
girls that we are we decided to take another boda ride in the pitch black
darkness on race morning. On our defense though at 6am you don’t have much
choice other then to take a boda to get somewhere, and thankfully this one went
much better. We arrived in plenty of time for the race start, and entered
through metal detectors to get to the stadium where the race start and finish
would be. Instantly we were surrounded by crowds of runners all wearing the
yellow race shirts and visors. They had a main stage with music and a man
encouraging people to warm up, which for many Ugandans consisted of dancing and
eating popcorn at the start line. The race started on Ugandan time- 20 minutes late,
but we were greeted by Stephen Kiprotich, Olympic and World Champion marathon
runner from Uganda waving at the start. As the gun went off everyone started
singing the soccer cheer “we go, we go, Ugandan Cranes we go,” it was quiet the
festive start. I had received a race map at packet pick up, but considering I
do not know Kampala very well I had no idea where I would be running, and still
was confused about the water stops. I had heard that you were supposed to bring
the water bottle the race provided for you in your race kit along with you on
the run and stop to fill it up from a big jug at the water stops. Well, I did
not want to carry a bottle full of water for 13.1 miles so I left the bottle at
home, and hoped I would be able to get a drink along the way. Lucky for me the
water stops were just like in America…sort of…They handed out bottled water and
sponges (no Gatorade) every few miles. I quickly found out that this race would
not be easy when in the first mile we ran up a massive hill, and proceeded to
do so for the next 13 miles. I knew Kampala was hilly, but when you are running
through Kampala you realize just how steep those hills really are. As I was
running spectators and even men running next to me would say “mzungu!” and then
“female mzungu! Wow, you’re strong.” During the race I encountered a few men
who would abandon their pace as I ran past, and instead decided to stick next
to me for a mile enjoying the fact that they were running next to a white
female. At about the halfway mark spectators started shouting that I was in 7th
place; I ended up passing two more women during the last half of the race, and
then with a mile left many shouted that I was in 5th. The hills were
endless throughout the race, but somehow the race officials managed to save the
worst one for last. By that point my legs were screaming and each step was a
struggle. I thought a small water stop up ahead was the finish, but once I got
closer to it I realized I still had a ways to go. I had to turn a corner, and
another corner, and another corner all uphill before finally arriving at the
finish. Upon reaching the finish line I was given the number eight signaling my
position, and did not think much of it as I was exhausted and just happy to be
done. At the finish I was surrounded by Ugandans without another white runner
in sight, but quickly a Ugandan man who had been running by me during the race
spotted me, saw my position card and said that my place card was incorrect,
instead I should have received number five. So my new friend, Joseph, proceeded
to walk me around to all the tents trying to find out what my correct position
was. Needless to say, this is Africa, and we never did find out, but we decided
to wait for awards as the top five would get prizes. In the meantime we found
Anne who had finished and then went to purchase food, the choices of which were
meat on a stick, chapatti, or bananas. Apparently all the volunteers had a huge
buffet of fruit and drinks, but if you were a runner you had to purchase your
own.
As we enjoyed our food and drink purchases while waiting for
the awards ceremony we stopped to talk with some new friends along the way. However,
we then received a call from the Sisters saying that they had arrived back in
Uganda (they were flying in from Ghana) and would be able to pick us up and drive
us the five hours back to Kyarusozi. We had originally thought we would have to
struggle with public transportation to get home, so we were happy to hear that
they could take us instead. Unfortunately, this meant we had to rush back home
to shower, change, and pack and therefore miss the awards ceremony. Oh well, I
was excited to see our African family back home again, and did not want to delay
them after there long night of travel already. Second race in Africa done. Now
what’s next…
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