Hitting the Roads

October 10, 2011

“I’ll never run a 10K.”

“I’ll never run a half marathon.”

“I’ll never run a full marathon.”

Over the past several years I uttered these phrases as I proudly stood on the side of the road watching Lori reach each running milestone. Be it twin competitiveness or motivation from my beautiful other half, I have successfully proved myself wrong. I have run many 10Ks, completed five half marathons, and in a year and a half trained for and ran two full marathons. Thanks to the example my favorite person in the world set for me, I have become a genuine runner.

Turning left onto William Nichol Drive at 6:45 in the morning (Monday – Friday) is like driving the wrong way in a road race. To my right (remember: I drive on the left side of the road here) sits a solid line of traffic that stretches for what seems like miles, resembling a line of ants travelling back to their nest.  Flashing by my window on the left are walkers and runners. Different than a road race, these “competitors” are not wearing a bib or after a medal. Instead, they are dressed for work – long pants, skirts, jumpsuits, etc. Every morning it takes me by surprise.

I am nearly certain that most of these men and women are residents of a local township Diepsloot. Known as one of the more dangerous townships, Diepsloot begins about 4 miles down William Nichol from where I turn left to head to school. Although its reputation is one that certainly discourages anyone from traveling through the township while the sun is sleeping – “You don’t ever go through here at night!” we were told – these people who trod along the side of the road each and every morning are not scary.

I do not lock my doors as I drive by. I leave my windows cracked open without fear that someone will smash them. In fact, I actually find myself smiling when I spot the black man with shoulder length dreads who runs with a drawstring bag on his back with the strings cinched in front of his chest – presumably containing all he needs for the day. Sitting in my car, listening to the radio and sipping my iced coffee, I hope to catch sight of the older black man who runs with his florescent yellow shirt and light colored hat. He must be nearly sixty - if not older. I wonder as I pass him by, how many years has he been running to work?

It’s hard, at the end of the day, to make excuses for not going out for a run after seeing the same men and women trudging up the massive hills as they return from a full day’s work. Although I am not prepared to run any half or full marathons in the very near future, I have found myself remaining dedicated to the sport. Despite the effects of altitude and the insane amount of hills, I am managing to remain consistent with my running. At the risk of future embarrassment should I not follow through, I have set a goal for my second year here in Africa: to run the Two Oceans Ultra Marathon. In order to complete the 35 miles, I will need to continue conquering the elevation and overwhelming amount of hills Johannesburg has thrown in my path. I suspect that the more I bear witness to the dedication of these Diepsloot residents, I will be able to say:

“I will run 60Ks.”