Thoughts On Running

I blame it on the elevation. And on the heat. And of course, on the humidity, because you can’t veritably breathe in water and expect to be able to do much more than drown. I expect there’s something about the food I’m eating too. And I’m sure there’s more, all working in synergy to constrain my attempt at running to a mere saunter. But, against all adversity, I’ll persevere, because if nothing else, I’m certainly getting the intended exercise.

Initially, I thought I would be the only one out on the roads in Burundi running for exercise, but I was surprised to observe many other joggers, old and young alike. This is especially the case on weekends. I’m told the observance of weekend exercise by city dwellers originates from the time of the war, so that civilians would be in good form if they were required to augment the military’s numbers in the event of a rebel incursion. There are also the usual footballers or military groups on their training circuits, and certain associations whose members run and sing loudly to raise awareness for one cause or another.

In any case, running in Burundi is invariably an interesting experience. In the mornings before the garbage fires start and myriad inefficient diesel engines infuse the air with that distinctive ‘developing world’ aroma, I’m able to distinguish the scent of the many blossoming trees and of the fresh breeze off the lake. In the evenings before the sun goes down, people bathe or wash their prized bicycles in the ditches, sorry-looking figures rummage through piles of trash, and long-horned cattle block the road on their way to better pastures. In one sense it’s a rest from the unceasing begging, as (most) people realize that I wouldn’t be carrying money during exercise. In another sense it only serves to reinforce the dichotomy of my existence here: I run not only to be in shape, but also because I eat more than I need, whereas, many people who greet me as I pass might not eat at all that day.

Seen in that light it becomes apparent that the obstacles I face in attempting to ‘find my lungs’ are hardly real obstacles at all.