Johnny and I love to keep fit as much as we can with our busy school schedules, and this is always an adventure in Africa.
A nearby private school has a 23 meter athletic pool, so we swim there whenever we get the chance. Its length makes it a rare commodity by Malawian standards, although its depth (about a meter or a yard) prevents diving. It is also apparently difficult for management to get pool chemicals, because several times the shallow water has been so murky we could barely see the bottom. As my Dutch friend Rien once said after jumping in, “this water tastes like broccoli!” But hey, a pool is a pool, so we live with it.
Just to add a little bit more of a challenge, we sometimes bike to the pool (which we guesstimate is about 7 kilometers from our house, there and back). The fun part of this is that the landscape is hilly almost all the way, so you are either puffing up a hill or cruising down it and feeling like you own the world.
Running, however, is by far how we get most of our exercise these days. Over the course of three years I’ve gone from being unfit and hardly able to run five kilometers, to having now run two official half marathons (a distance of 21 kilometers) and several more during training.
Our first half marathon was in May, and it took place near where my friend Brody lives, in Thyolo (pronounced Chyoh-lo). Thyolo is famous for its large tea estates, which clothe the rolling hills in beautiful green blankets. Purple jacaranda trees dot the landscape, and magnificent hills and mountains - including the majestic Mulanje Massif - form a backdrop. The Thyolo run, which Brody also ran in, was beautiful but grueling. The last five kilometers were the worst, a very hot uphill stretch with no water stations. Our time in Thyolo was a modest 2:29:25, but we were happy just to finish. Two weeks ago we ran our second half marathon up on the equally beautiful Zomba plateau, clocking a time that was about 2 minutes faster. This felt good, considering that everyone said the Zomba race was significantly harder. To us it felt easier, but I am crediting that to better training and a home advantage.
Our worst run was a few years ago, when Johnny and I jogged through a valley and inexplicably started choking and crying. An elderly Malawian man passed us, and seemed very concerned for our well-being. He kept saying “oh, sorry, sorry.” At first I attributed our symptoms to the smoke coming from a nearby pile of burning plastic garbage, but no smoke had ever or has ever since had that effect on me. Later we put the pieces together, and decided that the Malawian man had probably figured out the culprit much faster than us: tear gas! There had been some demonstrations lower down in the town that the police dispersed with tear gas, and we are guessing that it drifted up through the valley and into our unwitting lungs and eyes. Thankfully it had lost most of its potency at that point, so the effects of the tear gas didn’t last more than a minute or two. Still, it was enough to make me very thankful I didn’t get the real thing.
Most of our runs, however, are much more peaceful than that. Neither of us are morning people, and so unless we are going for a very long run we normally start around 4PM (remember, we live close to the equator so sundown is always between 5:30 and 6). This allows us to enjoy the coolest part of the day, and sometimes even witness an amazing sunset as we return home. Of course, there are still many runs with an unusual twist thrown in - sometimes we have to jump over a snake in the road (either dead or alive), sometimes we jog through a pack of bored looking baboons, and very often a random group of Malawians will decide to get in on the fun and jog with us for a bit. Malawians are great that way - they really know how to enjoy themselves and be friendly.
A nearby private school has a 23 meter athletic pool, so we swim there whenever we get the chance. Its length makes it a rare commodity by Malawian standards, although its depth (about a meter or a yard) prevents diving. It is also apparently difficult for management to get pool chemicals, because several times the shallow water has been so murky we could barely see the bottom. As my Dutch friend Rien once said after jumping in, “this water tastes like broccoli!” But hey, a pool is a pool, so we live with it.
Just to add a little bit more of a challenge, we sometimes bike to the pool (which we guesstimate is about 7 kilometers from our house, there and back). The fun part of this is that the landscape is hilly almost all the way, so you are either puffing up a hill or cruising down it and feeling like you own the world.
Running, however, is by far how we get most of our exercise these days. Over the course of three years I’ve gone from being unfit and hardly able to run five kilometers, to having now run two official half marathons (a distance of 21 kilometers) and several more during training.
Our first half marathon was in May, and it took place near where my friend Brody lives, in Thyolo (pronounced Chyoh-lo). Thyolo is famous for its large tea estates, which clothe the rolling hills in beautiful green blankets. Purple jacaranda trees dot the landscape, and magnificent hills and mountains - including the majestic Mulanje Massif - form a backdrop. The Thyolo run, which Brody also ran in, was beautiful but grueling. The last five kilometers were the worst, a very hot uphill stretch with no water stations. Our time in Thyolo was a modest 2:29:25, but we were happy just to finish. Two weeks ago we ran our second half marathon up on the equally beautiful Zomba plateau, clocking a time that was about 2 minutes faster. This felt good, considering that everyone said the Zomba race was significantly harder. To us it felt easier, but I am crediting that to better training and a home advantage.
Our worst run was a few years ago, when Johnny and I jogged through a valley and inexplicably started choking and crying. An elderly Malawian man passed us, and seemed very concerned for our well-being. He kept saying “oh, sorry, sorry.” At first I attributed our symptoms to the smoke coming from a nearby pile of burning plastic garbage, but no smoke had ever or has ever since had that effect on me. Later we put the pieces together, and decided that the Malawian man had probably figured out the culprit much faster than us: tear gas! There had been some demonstrations lower down in the town that the police dispersed with tear gas, and we are guessing that it drifted up through the valley and into our unwitting lungs and eyes. Thankfully it had lost most of its potency at that point, so the effects of the tear gas didn’t last more than a minute or two. Still, it was enough to make me very thankful I didn’t get the real thing.
Most of our runs, however, are much more peaceful than that. Neither of us are morning people, and so unless we are going for a very long run we normally start around 4PM (remember, we live close to the equator so sundown is always between 5:30 and 6). This allows us to enjoy the coolest part of the day, and sometimes even witness an amazing sunset as we return home. Of course, there are still many runs with an unusual twist thrown in - sometimes we have to jump over a snake in the road (either dead or alive), sometimes we jog through a pack of bored looking baboons, and very often a random group of Malawians will decide to get in on the fun and jog with us for a bit. Malawians are great that way - they really know how to enjoy themselves and be friendly.
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