That's a LONG way.

I ran in an ultra marathon this weekend - 56 kilometers (I will make you do the math – I had to?). There is an annual event here in South Africa that Peace Corps volunteers participate in to raise money for a deserving student to go to school and further their education. As a collective Peace Corps group we raised over $22,000 for the KLM foundation (www.klm-foundation.org). Thank you to my friends and family who donated (and you can still donate at any time so if you missed out and want to contribute)! I must tell you that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into…I was the only female Peace Corps runner tackling the 56km run (most of the group ran the half-marathon – and did an amazing job as many of them had never ran in a marathon before) and, although I knew it was going to be a difficult course based on hearing about it from another volunteer who did it last year. But I had no idea.
Basically, you run uphill (into the most spectacular mountains) for the first 22 miles. Seriously, it is all uphill. And then for the last 12 miles you run down the mountain. I befriended a group of South African runners who called me “Miss America” and asked why I had chosen this as my first ultra marathon. They told me it was the most difficult race in South Africa…rated a 5 on a scale of 1-5. What was I doing?!?

But I am pleased to say that I finished the race in less than 6 hours…and ran the entire way. Although there were many times that I wanted to walk, I just kept running (I kept thinking it is kind of like my Peace Corps service…you just keep going). And it was an amazing experience. And to those volunteers who met me at the finish line and cheered me across…you guys ROCK. And when I post the picture of me finishing and you see how happy I was to have accomplished such a feat, then you will see why I am now going to attempt to run 89km in May.

Here I am after just completing my first ultramarathon...can you feel my sense of accomplishment?  I sure can.

The 2011 Peace Corps Longtom Group

Last of last week (I just like saying this).

So things don’t always work out as planned – especially in Africa. Last of last week (this is how we refer to the past here) on Monday it was a holiday so I asked some of the staff and volunteers from my center if they wanted to climb the mountain again (I don’t know if you remember but I did this last year and loved it). They agreed and even said they might organize a few of the kids from the center to come along. So, assuming this was all being coordinated (a little food, some water, a responsible adult to navigate the way, etc.) and I would just have to show up, I also thought it would be fun to invite a few friends (yes, I have friends in the village now although most of them are high school kids and then there is now a nearby Peace Corps volunteer – hey, they are still friends). So I gathered my hiking crew to join in climb to the top of the mountain. 

Unfortunately, I got a message the night before saying that the staff from my center were tired (something about being up all night attending a funeral the night before) and they didn’t want to go up the mountain now. This was bad news because I didn’t really know the way up the mountain. But I figured I had been there once and it couldn’t be too difficult? So, I checked with my group and we decided we would still attempt to do a hike.

What I didn’t realize is that kids from my drop-in centre were still coming to this “organized event” which was now somehow in my hands since the staff wasn’t coming. But, you see, I didn’t actually know this until kids started running after me as we were literally about 20 minutes into our hike up the mountain (which I was just kind of navigating as I went - I didn't really know where I was going). That is the African way…not much communication. There were about 20 kids with no water and no food who were now on the hike…eish. I was not really prepared to take on this responsibility.

We figured out that there was a stream up ahead where we could get water and then decided we would just cut the whole hike short. It ended up being fine (meaning no one sustained any injuries although I did actually have to break up a fight between two kids) but, next time, we will definitely organize a bit better.

Here are pictures of the rowdy crew.



Some of the kids from one of my centers.




A happy hiking crew. 



My New Status.

So next week will officially be my year marker here. I only have one year left in South Africa. But what will I do with the rest of my life? I was sitting with my host dad and he suggested I could stay here longer…hmmm. I think I miss America. Too much.  A funny story though. I now have two other Peace Corps volunteers relatively close (taxi rides away) so I invited them over to meet my family and see my community on Saturday. While we were sitting on the “stoop” (also known as the porch) talking to my host dad he suddenly exclaimed to the newest volunteer, “You sound like a true American!” So then I asked him what I sounded like? And (I swear this is true) he said, “You sound like an African!” Ahh, he said I sound like an African. I almost teared up…


But this still doesn’t answer my question, “What next?” Good thing I have another year. In the meantime, I will enjoy my status of sounding like an African.

Church in Africa.

So I usually go to church here every Sunday.  Not because I’m terribly religious but I really enjoy being with the community that I've found at the church – the family that I go with, the kids at “Sunday school,” the people that I see every week.  Plus there is dancing and singing.  Anyway, there was a bit of a mix-up at church this week. I got a call from the family that I go with – they said that we were going to a different church and asked if I could just meet them at this different church? Well, I was a bit perplexed because I didn’t know where this other church was but I accepted the challenge. I asked where it was and through the phone nodded as they described my destination. “A green roof? Down the dirt road? Yes, I can find it.” Now, you must realize that every road is a dirt road and all buildings/houses essentially look alike. But I understood the general area and figured I would ask someone when I got lost.


I started walking.  And, per usual, I picked up followers along the way.  They just “wanted to be my friends.” So I asked my new friends where the church was and they were very helpful (or so I thought).  I thought I was doing pretty good.  I was on the dirt road walking to a church with a green-ish roof. Okay, there was also a tent too but there were church-like people setting up. It looked promising? I went in (okay, went under the tent) and was ushered to the front (of the plastic chairs in the dirt). Everyone looked happy to see me (and, no, my church family wasn’t there but that wasn’t too surprising as it was early and nothing starts on time).

Church started and I joined in – dancing and singing. Slowly, about 20 minutes later I realized I was not at the right place…but by that time, I was completely immersed in this church (wherever I was) and couldn’t get up and leave. I was hugging people and they were so happy to have me at their church (a bit confused I'm sure but happy). So, I stayed. For four hours. At the wrong church.

As I was leaving, the pastor asked me who had invited me. I just shrugged and said that it was a bit of a mix-up. He didn't seem to mind and asked me to come back next week. Oh no. What do I do now?  Maybe I can just say I got lost if I run into him again and he asks why I didn't come back?