running Rwanda

18/10
So today I went for the best run. I'm not sure if all of you know of my personal mission to love running. For the longest time, it was my mortal enemy. We simply could not get along. Somewhere around senior year of high school, we made peace. But my running could be best characterized as sporadic during college. After BU, I was determined to start liking it. The gym membership helped and it got even easier with my 10k goal. Goals help, who knew?
Somewhere in training, it got a little easier and I started to like it more and more. BUT I always love it once I get going, the problem is getting started. My running here in Rwanda has topped all previous experiences. I was thwarted for the first few months with a nasty sprained ankle in my second week of training. After my first run here at site about 2 weeks ago, I did have a bit of a limp. However, yesterday after running all I felt was enthralled. I think part of the reason I like it honestly, is that I feel like it gives people a reason to stare. Very few Rwandans run for fun. Most of them don't need to, their lives are hard and exhausting and full of exercise inherent in the work they do everyday.
So when I run, it's novel. BUT I'd rather have them looking at me for doing something bizarre and muzungu then for just walking down the street. It makes me feel less like a zoo animal.
I also love running because people think it's a funny thing to start running beside/with you. It never lasts very long but it's literally a universal thing. I've had 30 somethings down to 2 yr. olds, all in all, very amusing and never lonely. I also usually see some of my kids from the pre-school on my route that I've developed and they run into the street from their mud-brick houses to stop me in my tracks with a hug. It's a happy interruption. I also get stopped by old ladies yelling at me for not stopping to greet them while I'm mid-stride...with my iPod in...clearly I'm someone in the mood to stop and greet everyone and their mother. I have a pretty good sized town for the middle of nowhere so I'd never get anywhere if I greeted everyone like they want. Usually, luckily, I try and escape with a smile and a wave and a verbal on-the-go greeting. This satisfies all but the most insistent of old ladies out farming. Then there are the hills. It's funny because everyone calls the Eastern Province (where I live) the flat part of Rwanda. But Rwanda's flat is Illinois's mountainous. There are no flat routes, so I content myself to walk those parts sometimes. It's certainly a different experience running here, but then again, what isn't?