Reflections of November/December (Part 1)

Written while waiting for my flight home from Paris’ Airport!

Soweto 10K – November 6^th

The words GONE FOR A RUN are nailed to one of my bedroom walls. Below them hang the medals given to me for completing distance races. A rainbow of colored ribbons remind me of my six half marathons, two Reach the Beach relays, and my two marathon finishes. Hanging on the far left of this colorful bunch now hangs a white ribbon clinging to a medal with the engraving “Soweto 10K” – my first road race in South Africa!

As I am with most things in life, I was late to sign up for the race; therefore, I ran not as Mandy Akerley but rather as my friend Robyn Spicer who had to back out at the last minute. The race ran as a 6-mile course and a marathon course – I played it safe and stuck with the 6 miles! J Thankfully, this course was a much flatter route than those I typically run back in my area of JoBurg. I crossed the finish line with a time of about 51 minutes, which I was quite pleased with given the altitude and difficulty I have been experiencing running in Johannesburg. I could have finished in two hours and still been happy – I had completed my first race in South Africa – first of many I intend to run while living here.

It was exciting to be back on the road running an organized event. The only snag in the event was my inability to open the “bag of water” that was given along the route – apparently you are supposed to use your teeth!  I experienced the same camaraderie on the South African roads that I have always enjoyed back home. Although I was disappointed the course did not take us through the notable township of Soweto, I found it an interesting cultural experience to run alongside people from all over the world. Most of the conversations being had around me were in languages I couldn’t understand. But, that didn’t matter because all I needed was to see their feet (many times bare) pounding the pavement to motivate me to keep moving.

A TIME TO BE THANKFUL – November 20^th

I can remember watching an old episode of Felicity on TV when I was in college. The main character and her new friends at NYU had all gathered together for a potluck Thanksgiving dinner because none of them were able to travel home for the holiday. The idea of not being home for a holiday was as foreign to me then as the French language being spoken around me here in the Paris airport is now. “I’ll never not be home for Thanksgiving!” I recall thinking. 

Well, fast-forward many years and where do I find myself but in South Africa at Thanksgiving – unable to make it home. This holiday would be my first celebrated away from home. I smiled at myself as I began relating with the fictional character, Felicity. Missing this holiday was sad and a reality check about my new life. Decisions that sent me 8,000 miles away to an exciting new life were also going to carry with them times of disappointment for all that I would miss back home.

Luckily, I was not alone. Once again, in the same way as Felicity and her fictional college buddies gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving, I assembled with some of my new friends and joined in a potluck feast to celebrate the American holiday we were all missing. Nearly twenty of us, all Americans, including my principal and his wife, sat at a beautifully decorated table at Ann and Charley’s house. We raised our glasses of South African wine and toasted to the American holiday that connected all of us so far from home. I wanted nothing more than to be diving into a plate of my mother’s turkey dinner, but as I passed the mashed potatoes to a friend who had been a complete stranger only 4 months prior, I smiled – a grateful smile. 

Homeward Bound

The plane wobbled and bobbed, dropped, and swayed in ways no human being should ever have to experience. All the excitement of going home drained from my body like the color did from my face. My Air France flight to Paris, the first of two flights that are taking me home, was wonderful as I slept but miserable as we descended.

All around me, passengers clung to airsick bags like these pieces of paper may perhaps erase the misery of motion sickness. I sat planning my escape to the bathroom (no way was I going to get sick into a bag!) when it dawned on me that getting sick in a turbulent airplane bathroom might not be any better than into a paper bag. I resigned myself to the reality that this rectangular shaped bag might be all that was in the cards for me, and reached in the pocket in front of me to fetch it. Unfortunately, it was not there. My legs started tingling, and I knew I’d join the airsick club if we didn’t land immediately. Either that, or I might pass out – a seemingly worse predicament.

“Do you have an airsick bag?” I sheepishly asked the man next to me. As he handed it to me, I assured him, “I will do everything in my power not to use this right here!”

After one failed attempt to land and the threat of a diversion to another airport, our pilots finally managed to touch down nearly 12 hours after taking off from Jo’Burg. I was so relieved to be on the ground (with my bag still empty) that I patted the shoulder of the stranger next to me, “Thank God!” Still clutching the white paper bag (just incase) I disembarked from the plane grateful for solid ground!

A friend of mine recently emailed me with a subject line, “BUSY?” Reflecting on the last month of my life in JoBurg, I guess busy is an accurate description! Although I am disappointed in my lack of posting, I am excited at what that means: I have a good life in JoBurg! When I accepted this position, I declared immediately that I would be coming home for Christmas. At the time, I imagined a very homesick “me” who would need a trip home to refill my “homesick bank.” As I boarded the plane last night, I said to my friend Ryan who was travelling on the same flight, “I want to go home – I’m so excited to go home – but I don’t NEED to go home.” 

I am not the “me” that I had envisioned back almost a year ago. I am a “me” who loves and needs my family and friends back home and is over the moon at the thought of seeing them all again, but I am a new “me” who is happy with my decision to move and is enjoying all that fills my cup back in JoBurg. How lucky am I to have what I do and to be experiencing what I am and to be supported every step of the way by the people whom I will embrace for the first time in 5 months - in less than 12 hours!

So, here I sit at Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris, France. I am now one hour behind JoBurg and six hours ahead of Home. My next flight - my chariot home - isn’t for another three hours, so I am inclined to use this time to catch up on all that I has happened since my last post at the end of November. I will do my best to keep it short! J read on...