Writings by Rebekah...

We have a community newsletter that goes out once a month and my fellow teacher and running partner Rebekah submitted an article about the Peace Marathon we ran in. I love how she describes it. It is below...

Kigali International
Peace Marathon

Rebekah H. Lewis

Five minutes into my first run in Rwanda, I had to turn around and check the number of our duplex so I would be sure to make it home. All the houses looked the same, all the gates blocked visibility, and all the hills insured that even "fun" runs would be moderately difficult. Ten months and several reddened running shoes later, I have set courses around this beautiful city, conquered dozens of the thousand hills, and have successfully made it back to the gate that marks my start and finish line each day.

Running in Rwanda has given me a sense of independence in this foreign culture but has also created a dependence on the continual help and kindness of others. It has been my energizer before teaching, my clarity when I'm confused, and the best remedy for jet lag I know. I have been accompanied by stunning sunrises, a steady chorus of "Muzungu", encouraging friends, and a string of uninvited but welcomed running partners as I have plodded through this new territory.

All of the hills and miles did not prepare me for the event on May 11 – a date I had starred in my calendar and counted down with long Sunday runs. The Kigali International Peace Marathon was held at the Amahora stadium. Anticipation woke me at five that morning. The drive to the stadium was a feat in itself as the main roads were blocked and the sidewalks were sprinkled with runners warming up. The first runners released to run were the 5K fun runners. Hundreds of kids with proudly displayed numbers and timing chips tied to ankles, wrists, sandals and shoes took off.

After smiling at the sea of eager faces, the half marathoners were gathered. Friends in the stands waved and clapped. The anticipation ended and the work began. As my running partner Jenny and I started settling into a reasonable pace, a swarm of marathoners thundered past us. My jaw dropped as I watched these amazing athletes glide on the four loops that made up their playground of 26.2 miles. After the sixth mile, my jaw was no longer dropped in awe but set in determination to make it to the

next water station. At times I would beg Jenny to let us walk for two minutes. At other times I would push myself through to the next area where I knew friends and my students were holding cameras and water bottles. This would be a needed break and distraction from the immensity of the course and the challenge ahead. I kept running, Jenny kept up the encouragement and pace, and the miles passed one footfall at a time.

Two hours and twelve minutes later, this half marathoner crossed the finish line. Six minutes later the marathon winner, Kenya's Jacob Kenfagor, breezed through. As I fought off waves of nausea and exhaustion, he gave thanks to God, completed interviews, and took time out to pose with a new, admiring fan. The marathon was over. I paused to soak in the moment as I triumphantly limped through the gates toward home.