Running in Rwanda

Running for me has always been a bit of a love/hate relationship. I go through phases where I thrive on running and I crave the exhaustion that it brings me. However, Kigali and it’s all pervading dust, is starting to change my love of running into a tentative affection. My first run was completed on my second day here. It was enjoyed, hated and entertaining for all those in the Kacyiru area. In fact, I could probably create a running club for the 5-10yr olds who ran with me for part of my gruelling training (cough cough). I really love that the heat here is not humid but by god, it is painful to run in. I knew I was unfit but running here is a whole other level of uncomfortable. I managed 20mins on the hilly and uneven terrain around my house on my first outing. I’d like to say that I am improving each time but my screaming lungs, coughing up dust and the beetroot red tint in my cheeks, suggest otherwise.

Of course, in true Torie style, I frequently manage to get lost (although the first time this happened I was only 2 blocks from my house). The first time I got lost I was forced to run through one of the slum areas close to my house where as one can imagine, not a lot of blonde foreigners run through. In fact, so far I have only seen one other foreign woman running. I have quickly realised that running is something you do to get somewhere in a hurry or if you’re being chased. It is not something that many Rwandese do for recreation. This has been brought to my attention with great clarity by the number of people (young and old) who laugh openly at me as I run past them and I have experienced the strange phenomenon of people stopping, changing their direction and running alongside me with a look of utter astonishment on their face. The sight of a red-faced, panting and clearing uncomfortable Muzungu running is certainly still a novelty in my area.

Then there is the dust. It is dry, red, clawing dust which I managed to inhale with every breath. I really wish I hadn’t been told that you can get anthrax from it!!! All the aching and panting aside, I thoroughly enjoyed running here. The worrying part though is that I fear my enjoyment of running in this area may be the result of some subconscious movie reel playing in my head, typifying all of the images of foreigners in Africa put together. Romantic it was not. Having people literally stop walking to stare at me sweating and stumbling past them, is not my idea of a good time.