Farewell from Addis

Day 14

I began my fourteenth day at camp with a quick 5 mile run on the neighboring dirt roads. Well, what I thought would be an easy shakeout run turned into a tough battle pitting me again the sludge; the past day’s rain turned the dry dirt roads into a sloppy and wet mud bath. I still managed a respectable 7:39 pace, but only because I was running faster to avoid the villagers’ taunts (“Muddy muddy faranji!”).

In the afternoon my family and I, with the assistance of Yared, trekked into Addis in search of a deviation from the norm; we had been starved for some ethnic cuisine, such as Italian or Indian. We made a unanimous decision to settle on an Indian restaurant which had been written up in the guide book and received some excellent reviews.

With the help of an Addis native like Yared and equipped with our trusty map, we thought it would be an easy task to find the popular eatery. But boy, were we ever wrong. Turns out Addis doesn’t have any street signs so people find things just by virtue that they know where it is. After walking in circles for an eternity, we gave up the prospect of ever finding this elusive eatery and instead settled on the swanky Lime Tree Café, which served an international fare and attracted faranjis like moths to a light bulb. A plate of French fries and a falafel sandwich later, and this faranji left the café a happy camper on his penultimate day in Ethiopia.

Day 15

Running took a back seat on my last day in Ethiopia; no, it wasn’t because I was retiring from the sport. Rather, our last day coincided perfectly with a special event for a certain runner: it was Gudisa’s graduation from college.

The youngest runner in the camp, Gudisa has PRs of 14:58 for the 5K, 24:00 for the 8K and 1:09:48 for the half marathon. While these times would put Gudisa among the elite of high school distance running, and U.S. road racing for that matter, he is actually the slowest runner in the camp. Because of this, he is relegated to running with the slow faranjis, like me. Initially, I felt bad that Gudisa was taking time away from his training to show me around and I insisted that I would run by myself so he could train at his own pace and not mine. But, of course, the Ethiopian hospitality prevailed and Gudisa became my running companion for my duration of the visit. Not only did I fail to get lost while running with Gudisa, but I also became a better runner with his help that he provided me. With this in mind, I thought the least I could do to pay my respects to my running partner was to attend his graduation.

The graduation, unlike most in the States, was quick, efficient, and straightforward. Schools back home have a lot to learn from Ethiopian graduations; after some preliminary introductions, Gudisa was up on the stage receiving his diploma in a matter of minutes. We made sure to make ourselves heard in an already rowdy crowd, which consisted of not a single white face save for we faranjis. If you thought sticking out like sore thumbs was interesting enough, then you should have been there to see the final ceremony: here were a bunch of jubilant Ethiopians clad in cap and gown lining up to pose for photos with the Americans. Unlike the more developed East African countries, if you’re a white face in Ethiopia, then you’re likely to achieve celebrity status. And during my stay here, I’ve learned to embrace this reality.

The graduation was an interesting lesson in the social diversity of Ethiopia; people from all walks of life came to attend. Most were dressed in formal attire but for those who were not, well, they made due. My favorite example was a 5-year-old boy, who came to the graduation dressed in his “Sunday best”: this consisted of black pants and a skeleton long sleeved t-shirt, most likely his past Halloween costume (which I did not know they celebrated in Ethiopia?). Anyway, I walked away from the graduation feeling like I supported the Ethiopian community. And even more important, I was very happy to have supported Gudisa, whose graduation will not only be a testament to a successful future in business, but also a bright future in running.

My last run in Ayat seemed like any other run I’ve completed during my stay. But, as I’ve come to expect, the Ethiopian people made it all the more enjoyable. With a mile left in my short 30 minute run, a troop of young Ethiopian men came running alongside me. And this time the synchronized clack of their boots didn’t leave me until a mile later when I had to turn back into the development where the camp is situated. Hopefully, I’ve inspired some Ethiopian villagers to follow in the big footprints of this faranji and with any luck I may have motivated the next Bekele.

At 9:00 PM it was time to leave for the airport and say our goodbyes. All of the runners were extremely thankful for our stay and sorry to see us leave. We promised to come back next summer, a promise that I won’t let go unfulfilled. Eventually my family and I boarded the plane and as it departed I thought, Ciao Ethiopia, see you next summer.

Yelling Yellem

Running above the clouds at 9000 feet at Entoto Mountain.


A typical pair of Ethiopian trainers.

Day 12

My twelfth day at the RAB camp started like almost all the mornings: an early wake-up, but this time it wasn’t for a run. Instead my parents, some runners, and I would be trekking two hours north to see Debre Libanos, the second most holy place in Ethiopia. If the weather was nice then we would be rewarded with breathtaking views of the countryside and possibly the sight of the rare Gelada (“Bleeding Heart”) Baboons, which are endemic only to Northern Ethiopia. With the skies clear, the six of us took to the road right before the tick of 9 AM.

The two hour drive north wasn’t the least bit boring; you could see the rolling countryside for miles on end. But the closer we got to our destination, the more mountainous the terrain became. Soon, the views from the van were those of 1000 foot precipices that disappeared into the clouds below.

Once at Debre Libanos, we faranji had to pay the outrageous entry price of 100 birr to get into the church. Despite some well-crafted stained glass, the church was just like every other in Addis Ababa; only 100 years old, sparsely furnished, and had the smell of grandma’s hope chest. I guess after years of travelling I’ve adopted the “seen one, seen them all” mentality, whether I’m visiting churches, Muslim Mosques, or Buddhist Wats. The adjacent museum was also like many in Ethiopia since it made claim to some of Emperor Haile Selassie’s paraphernalia. Still, I enjoyed the serene and idyllic nature of the church’s location, with it being tucked into the cliffside.

After our Debre Libanos endeavor, it was time to pay our respects to the Gelada Baboons. On the harrowing road back, there were many “pens” that the baboons roamed in. Our van pulled over to one of them and we entered through as conspicuous hole in the barbed wire fence. Here we were, in the baboon’s natural habitat, trying not to scare them away. But almost immediately after our entrance into the area, a group of teenage kids surrounded us with their futile calls for help. Almost every one of these seemingly innocent kids had the same canned plea for money: “Hello Sir, I’m a student and I walk 10km to school every day.” Whether true or not, we did the same with them just like we did with every other beggar and firmly told them “Yellem” (which means no in Amharic). However, when most would stop, the kids persisted and as a result disturbed the wildlife. Thus, we weren’t able to get up close and personal with the baboons but it was still an enriching experience to watch, albeit briefly, the baboons interact. While departing, the pesky kids still wouldn’t stop and they clung onto the van for about 200 meters until we shooed them off. Needless to say, it was interesting to take a peek into rural Ethiopia.

Later in the afternoon, I completed an easy 4 mile run with Gudisa, topping out my mileage for the week at 50 miles. My second week at altitude was much easier than my first; and now with my departure date looming ahead I feel like I should stay longer. With a few days left, I’ll be hammering out the remainder of my runs, hoping that the final result will be a successful cross country season.

Day 13

A new running destination awaited me on day 13: the fabled Entoto Mountain. If you thought the air was already thin enough in Ethiopia, just come to Entoto; if you run at the very top, you’ll be close to 10,000 feet. The King is known to tackle the steep dirt roads on the mountain frequently. Sadly, there wasn’t a Haile Geb sighting but many more elite runners came to Entoto than previous locations.

A 30 minute drive brought us about half way up the mountain, where most of the runners were situated. The workout for the day was 10x1minute hard, the ultimate kiss of death at 9,500 feet. This coupled with sloppy terrain (what else is new) and I was a wreck physically. While Gudisa and Eunhwan flowed smoothly over the rolling cross country terrain situated above the clouds, I bulldozed everything in sight, kicking up everything from cow pies to dirt. But workouts like these (or every workout for that matter) show me to look on the bright side: I’ll be reaping the benefits of extra O2 when I get back to sea level and, with any luck, they’ll be PRs a plenty for this runner.

When I get back to the States, I’ll be sure to rave about my experiences with RAB and Ethiopia in general. But most importantly, I’m going to campaign for the sake of the Ethiopian athletes. As I’ve noticed at Entoto and various other locations, there are many elite and sub-elite Ethiopian runners (much more than there are in America). But as Coach Mersha has discussed with me, there is a lot to be desired when it comes to support of the nation’s sport. Ethiopia only has one rubber track versus the tracks of all sorts that you come across back home. The Ethiopian Athletic Federation is corrupt and couldn’t care less about the sport that put Ethiopia on the map in the first place. Since the Federation can’t, and won’t, do anything this is when we need someone like you to help. Sponsoring an Ethiopian athlete is cheap and goes a long way; if you’re interested in sponsoring an RAB athlete then just go on their website or if you would prefer another running organization then I could help facilitate connections between you and the non-profit organization of your choice. Better yet, shoes and training clothes are a commodity that most Ethiopians need desperately. Look at any of the shoes they’re wearing and you’ll be appalled at what you see: compressed midsoles, uppers that are falling apart, rubber peeling of the sole, etc. With the generous donations from Jacksonville Running Company and 1st Place Sports, I was able to help out 14 Ethiopian athletes in desperate need for shoes. Still, what I thought was an adequate amount of apparel wasn’t even close to enough; that’s why help from outside Ethiopia is needed. Needless to say, with Ethiopia’s growing infrastructure and more tourists visiting, I feel that in the future the country will receive an unprecedented amount of help.

Bogged Down

Running through the wet forest at Sendafa.

Day 10

Friday, day ten, was another “wake up at the butt crack of dawn” day since it is one of the three days reserved for hard training, the other two days being Monday and Wednesday. Instead of suffering on the hills of Sululta, it was time to train and explore another area. This time that area would be Sendafa, which is located in the Oromyia region where many of the runners at the camp are from. The workout planned for me and Eunhwan was short repeats on cross country terrain. Manageable, I thought, but I was ready to expect the worse. Note to future travelers who want to visit Ethiopia: when visiting during the rainy season, brace yourself because the weather will be miserable most of the time. After ten days here, I have figured to work with what the weather and surrounding terrain give me (which ends up being moderate to severe mud). My training at Sendafa was no different as I prevailed through the worst conditions yet.

After some loitering around and sending my dad on his way (he was doing 15K on the roads) it was time for the workout to begin. Ten minutes into our 20 minute warm up Gudisa took us into the nearby forest. OK, I thought, this isn’t unfamiliar ground. Plus, I have become quite good at predicting Gudisa’s sharp, pinpoint turns through the trees. But almost immediately, my feet sank three feet into standing water, which the grass had concealed. So factor in residual mud and standing rain water and by the end of the warm up, I was soaked to the bone.

The workout was a descending ladder: 2 x 3 minutes, 2 x 2 minutes, 2 x 1 minutes. My main goal was to just improve upon my pace from my previous forest workout which was, as you can recall, 2 x 10 painstakingly slow minutes. After 10 days of being at altitude, I think I have finally made a small acclimation; easy runs at 8 minute pace aren’t like tempo runs anymore. With this in mind, I began the workout. The 3 minute repeats were absolute hell; I was breathing hard enough to blow away the nearby tukuls (mud huts). Nevertheless, my pace showed that when running through a bog, don’t expect too much: I was only able to hit 6:45 pace for the 3 minute segments. I had hoped the short repeats would give me some refuge but the rest of the workout only helped with pummeling my quads and lungs into submission. The 2 minute segments were just south of 6:40 pace and the 1 minute segments, surprisingly, were at 5:55 pace.

Once recovered from the morning’s workout, it was time for a 25 minute recovery run on the neighboring dirt roads. For my whole stay at the camp I have been amazed at all the training venues Addis has to offer. Right as you step out from the camp, you have access to an endless network of dirt roads. A five minute jog brings you to the nearby mountains, where you can tackle some steep trails or just weave in and out of the forest. Up to my arrival here in Addis, I was always a road runner in the purest sense; occasionally, I’d venture to the well groomed trails but I seldom left the pavement. Now that I’ve been training in Addis, I’ve been converted. With all the excellent places the area has to offer, I’ve realized that running on the roads is boring. Hopefully, this mind set will stick with me long after I arrive back home.

Day 11

The day began rather late for me on my eleventh day at camp; this was because I enjoyed my longest and most pleasant night of slumber yet. And as a bonus for this narcoleptic, I wasn’t plagued by any psychotic dreams caused by the anti-malarial agent I have been taking while in Ethiopia. As you can suspect I wasn’t ready for a run, nor were my running partners, so we made a unanimous decision to move the run to the PM.

Even with more than 10 hours of sleep I was still groggy, which is unusual for someone like me who rarely sleeps in and can function on any amount of shut eye. But I concluded that the intense training paired with late nights and early mornings caught up with me after a week, and I was starting to feel the effects of training at altitude. For those of you unfamiliar with the drawbacks of altitude training, one of them is slight malaise and as a result, more sleep. Being at high altitude induces insomnia in some, which doesn’t go well with an intense training regimen. Most exercise physiologists compare 60 miles per week of running at altitude to 80-100 miles per week at sea level. Nevertheless, I am being extra attentive to my body as I start to ramp up the mileage (and the intensity) during my time at Ethiopia.

At 5:00 PM, it was time to embark on my run with Gudisa and Eunhwan. The plan was to do something relatively long which, in my case, would be around an hour. An hour is usually a normal run’s length at sea level but at altitude I have been slowly building up my distance. The route we did meandered through the forests and around the mountains and included every obstacle imaginable: boulder scaling, barrier jumping, mud running, rock hop-scotching, cattle dodging. When you come here, expect every recreation possible. And as I have learned, an easy run here simply won’t be an “easy run.” With the latter in mind, I took two spills on the day’s run which made for a quite comical showing with blood running down my leg as the local villagers snickered and gasped.

With all of my cuts and bruises so far, I have been lucky not to pick up any of the fatal diseases that can be found here in Ethiopia. Although I have been vaccinated against the major illnesses, I am still susceptible to the less serious but still annoying ailments. For instance, one day I was aghast to find little red specks on my abdomen and extremities. I thought it could have been a result of my generally poor hygiene here but later in the day I started to experience extreme itching. Turns out I picked up fleas, most likely from one of the numerous mini buses I take day in and day out. And those unsightly red dots were actually flea bites. It doesn’t help that the shower at the camp only flows at a trickle, thus making my predicament last longer than it should have. But alas, with the disappearance of the bites and the prospect of a functional shower just a few days away, I feel this nuisance is a thing of the past.

Mercato Madness

Caution: Wide load.

Day 7, Day 8

I’m combining the day 7 and day 8 entries into one piece for the sake of the reader and also for my sake, mostly because I don’t want to describe every minuscule detail of these two rather low-key days and I’m also positive that my five readers (four of whom bear my surname) would like a more exciting entry. So here goes.

My seventh and eight days at the camp were similar in many ways: rain, rain, and more rain. However, I should be the last one to complain about the weather since I’m coming from such an unforgiving and brutal climate. Actually, one of the reactions I got when I told friends or family that I was going to Ethiopia was “Oh, it’s going to be so hot there!” Contrary to popular belief, the temperature in Ethiopia rarely gets above 80 degrees Fahrenheit. And since it’s currently the rainy season here, it is usually in the 50-60 degree range for the majority of my runs.

So on the morning of my seventh day, I took advantage of the crisp weather and headed out for a quick six miles in the forest. This time, I bettered the pace from my previous forest run and I whittled the total number of falls from two to one. The latter could be result of my extra vigilance but it is most likely the product of my increased agility over the rocky and undulating terrain that lies in the forest.

Day eight presented a similar run to the previous day’s venture. It was overcast with low lying clouds; rain was imminent, too. Gudisa also took us on a similar course that weaved in and out of the forest on the nearby mountains. This time, we channeled our inner mountain goat and went to the very top where we ran around the terraces created by the farmers. I’m not sure if one of the day’s macchiatos (coffee with steamed mile)made me extra perky, but the setting at the top of the mountain was truly spectacular, despite the fact that there was very limited visibility. It was like a land that time forgot which made sense since the only signs of civilization were the straw and mud huts perched on the slopes. Too bad this area was only accessible by a pretty long run or else I would have brought a camera to capture the amazing venue. Maybe rain isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Day 9

Day number nine found me back in the center of Addis Ababa; although, this time it wasn’t to pay a visit to Lucy. The agenda for the day was to take advantage of Addis’s many shopping opportunities (and Ethiopia’s good exchange rate) and to barter for the goods we needed. But first, I had to complete a demanding workout that would leave me in O2 debt for a while.

The day’s workout, although short, was very tough. It was a mere 3 x 5 minutes done at tempo effort, helping us flatlanders get used to the thin air. After a 20 minute warm up on the nearby dirt roads, it was time to embark on the first repeat. After two minutes of somewhat hard running, I was gasping heavily and turning a few of the locals’ heads. I was toast after one repeat and it wasn’t any help to have some little kids taunting this faranji as he keeled over and moaned. I miraculously completed the workout and hit a decent clip, too (6:11 pace for all three repeats). I don’t know if it was the injera that had some mercy on me or if it was the little kid chasing me with a whip that made me run faster, but I picked the right day to have my “good self” show up.

After washing and cleaning up, it was time to head into Addis. First up was the Mercato, which sprawls across downtown Addis and is believed to be the largest market in Africa. As always, Yared navigated the streets and alleyways like a pro, taking us only to the highly reputed shops. If only I had his expertise with navigating the crowded walkways because there were many times were I was almost run over by a mini bus or plowed by a donkey carry a large load. Needless to say, the Mercato was an absolute jungle and was consisted (surprisingly) of all locals. The latter made us stick out like sore thumbs, and even more when my mom’s bloodcurdling scream at the crack of a whip made some Ethiopian teenagers laugh while yelling “Tourist!”

After escaping the herd of the Mercato, we headed to the much more subdued shops and restaurants that occupied the Piazza. Yared said there were some shops that sold Team Ethiopia track gear, which was one of the few things I was looking to buy. Following some haggling, I came out with an Ethiopia warm-up jacket and two Ethiopia singlets (anyone who is interested in an Ethiopia singlet in a small, please contact me). All in all, some good bargaining goes a long way in Addis.

The Land of Lucy

Training at Sululta: The long and winding road to a successful cross country season begins in Ethiopia.

Day 5


Day five was Sunday; a rest day for some, but for this guy the day began with a grueling six mile run early in the morning. Eunhwan, Gudisa, and I had the company of many people flocking to a morning mass. An 8:05 pace was hard enough but, of course, nature has to be the spoiler of your best-laid plans. On numerous parts on the run I had to do a hands-on-knees walk up the many hills that populated the dirt road we were running on. And due to the rolling landscape I also had to contend with these massive hills on the way back. Needless to say, by the end of the run my quads were ground beef.

Since it was a rest day for all the runners, Yared had offered to take my parents and me to downtown Addis where we could go to the National Museum to see “Lucy,” a 3 million year old biped (thus making it the oldest biped ever excavated). So, not only is Ethiopia the cradle of the best distance runners, but it is also the cradle of human life.

Two 20 minute white-knuckle mini bus rides brought us to downtown Addis. I say white-knuckle because the drivers here drive like maniacs. Italy may not have been able to colonize Ethiopia but they sure imposed their driving habits on the Ethiopians. There have been countless times when I have had to go spread-eagle on a nearby parked car to avoid being side swiped by these blue and white vans with a vengeance.
Once downtown, it was a quick 10 minute hike to the National Museum. We hired a tour guide who helped us understand the significance of each one of the ancient artifacts that were excavated in different regions of Ethiopia. He then showed us the pile of bones that is Lucy as well as many well preserved bones from other Homo sapiens, solid evidence that human life originated from East Africa, and very possibly from Ethiopia.

After our tour through the museum, we headed over to the aptly named Lucy restaurant, a popular eatery among the faranjis staying in Addis Ababa. I stuck with ordering a traditional dish, that being chicken injera which ended up biting me in butt on the next day’s run. Still, the lunch ended a nice outing in Addis.

If I’ve deduced one thing from my day in the city it is that, when you come here, Addis will dish you out a slice of un-sugarcoated reality on a not-so-pristine platter. What I mean is that Addis Ababa has it all: the wealthy and the poor, the young and the old, the dressed and the naked, the sober and the drunk, health and famine, sunny weather and rainy weather, clean air and smog, cow pies and donkey dung. If you need a wake-up call from life or just need a slap on your self-absorbed face, come to Addis. You’ll leave Ethiopia a better person, I promise.

Day 6

I woke up at 5:00 AM on Monday, my sixth day, but I wasn’t fully awake until I breathed in the chilly, thin air 9000 feet up at Sululta. Unlike Friday’s training at the same location, the run that was on the agenda today was described as an “easy” 40 minutes. Or so I was told. Instead of pounding the life out of my quads on the asphalt, Coach Mersha said that we were to do our run on a nearby dirt road that included many hills, including the fabled “Boston Hill,” named after a runner who trained on the same road and ended up winning the Boston Marathon. Good thing I was told about the abundance of hills afterwards or else I would have refused to conquer the beast(s).

I began the run half-stepping the other runners (who were Eda’O, Eshetu, Gudisa, and Eunhwan). But my inexperience showed as I lost my pep in my step and started breathing heavily. Move over Mount Washington, and Boston’s Heartbreak Hill for that matter, because I can’t imagine anything more challenging than the hill I conquered on the day’s run. The monster extends for over half a mile and along with an incredibly steep climb it boasts loose and rocky terrain, making my efforts all the more futile. But like all things, Boston Hill came to an end and soon the pace was ratcheted down to 7:40 minutes per mile over the considerably hilly terrain. At the turn-around, my slow and painful demise began and it became, well, more slow and painful with each hill. Finally, I had my chance to fly down Boston Hill. I gradually gained speed, the pace maxing out at 4:30 per mile pace. For those of you who have witnessed my dreadfully slow turnover, the latter achievement demonstrates how steep Boston Hill was (for those of you have been spared the horror of witnessing my stride, just imagine someone running through a vat of butter).This time, instead of nature being the spoiler of my plans, gravity was my nemesis, as it tried to pry open the trap door on yesterday’s chicken injera. After some drills and stretching, it was back into the team van and soon back home.

Back at the camp, the rest of the day was spent lounging around save for a trip into town to use the internet (only to find out that the day’s perpetual rain caused the power to go out). I opted out of a PM run in the sludge-fest, saving the hand labor the runners would have had to do washing my mud-crusted shoes. Let me explain: here at the camp, it is a daily ritual to wash one’s shoes and clothes. After being convinced that this was the reason all the Ethiopian runners stayed clean, I naturally followed suit. The runners, already so kind and accommodating, insisted that they clean my shoes; not wanting to be rude, I let them help but I still did my share of hand labor. Now whenever I finish run and quickly go inside, I’ll come out a couple minutes later to the sight of one of the runners voluntarily scrubbing my shoes. With any luck, some of this hard-working spirit will rub off on me.

The King And I

Day 3

My third day at the training camp started at the butt-crack of dawn; I had to roll out of bed and get ready at 5 AM because we were running a training session outside of Ayat. Ten or so runners, including my family, packed into the team van (circa 1950). The 30 minute ride took us up another 400m, or 1000 feet, and the van dropped us off at Sululta road. Today was asphalt day for the Ethiopians, which meant a longer run on the hilly roads in Sululta. The RAB coach (and Ethiopian National Team coach) Coach Melaku had something different for me and Eunhwan since we were still acclimating to the high altitude. At the drop-off point the place was teeming with elite runners, many of whom owned world class times. In this group was Derartu Tulu, the women’s winner of the 2009 New York City Marathon, who kindly agreed to pose for a photo with me and some other runners.

After some light stretching the runners headed off while Coach Mersha, assistant coach for RAB and the Ethiopian National Team, took me, Eunhwan, and Gudisa to a nearby village where we would be running. Our workout was 2 x 10 minutes at tempo pace, with a 5 minute recovery after each repeat. The repeats were to be done in the forest adjacent to the village. Being a trail novice, I expected well-maintained, dry trails but boy was I mistaken. The Sululta forest, which is where we were running, consists of a vast expanse of thin trees native to the area. It is easily maneuverable since the trees aren’t wide and are sparsely populated. After a 15 minute warm up Gudisa took us out for the first repeat, and that’s when the fun began. Almost immediately my shoes became soaked casualties of the rainy season and the workout transformed from tempo repeats into a steeplechase. Eunhwan and I followed Gudisa as he weaved in and out of the trees. During the workout we were rubbing shoulders with many elites; later, we found out that Haile Gebreselassie (need I say more?) and Tirunesh Dibaba (world record holder for the women’s 5K) were running in the forest at about the same time we were. After one repeat I was toast and my lungs felt as if they just ran an all out mile. To add more insult to injury, the repeat came out to be a whopping 1.36 miles, or 7:21 pace for those of you who failed math. Five soggy minutes later and repeat number two began. Now that I had a sense of the lay of the land… err mud, I figured I could improve upon my pace. But the altitude, and last night’s dinner, got the best of me, and the pace for the second 10 minute repeat only came out to be 7:18. Still, with the extra altitude and tired lungs, this workout was a small victory in my book.

Once everyone was finished, Coach Melaku gathered up the runners and did some critiquing. He told Yared, the top RAB runner who did 23 miles, that he did his run too fast. When I asked Yared afterwards how fast he ran for 23 miles he replied affably “5:21 pace.” When Melaku was finished critiquing the runners, he told Eunhwan and me, much to my surprise, that we handled the workout very well.

After lunch and some post-workout lounging around, we were getting ready to head to Addis. Yared said that he had arranged for us to meet the king of running, Haile Gebreselassie. After a 30 minute, white-knuckle taxi ride we had arrived at one of many of Haile’s buildings. Being at the top of international running for almost twenty years, Haile is more recognized in Ethiopia than the president. After pulling some strings and trying to pinpoint his exact location (he’s a very busy man), one of Haile’s assistants took us down to his gym. We enter to see “Geb,” clad in workout gear, completing a spin on the bike. He hops off a moment later and heads to us, where we begin with our bombardment of questions. Haile speaks very good English and is very kind, unlike some other athletes who become cocky when the fame goes to their head. He asks us how our stay in Ethiopia has been and how our training has been going. When ten minutes had passed, we posed for photos with the king and I asked him to sign my “Nease Cross Country” shirt. All in all, I wish the man many more marathon wins and world records in the future.

Back at the camp, I headed out for a quick 25 minute recovery run with Eunhwan and Gudisa in the forest. Once one gets over the culture shock of being the only faranji for miles, the locals’ calls of “china” and “you, you, you!” actually become quite humorous. Plus, I have a chance to interact with the local population. For example, on my recovery run a young boy in bare feet ran alongside me. After a couple minutes he got tired and started to fall behind. Just as he was about to stop I told him “Aysush!” which means “Keep going!” He smiled and ran back to his parents, saying “The faranji speaks Amharic!” (in his native tongue, of course). Exchanges like these, along with amazing scenery, always make my runs in Ethiopia interesting and enjoyable.

Day 4

As the weekend was ushered in on my fifth day in Ethiopia, most of the day was marked by rest for the majority of the runners. Still, Gudisa, Eunhwan and I headed out bright ‘n’ early for a 50 minute run through the forest. Despite falling twice in the mud, I gained some powerful insights from this mere 50 minute easy run. When the three of us departed for our run from the camp, it was still twilight but the roads were almost as crowded as if it were high noon, with people working hard to get on top of the day’s errands. While running on the rough and winding trails (and channeling my inner mountain goat), I noticed kids no older than 8 years old carrying large jugs of water up to their huts on the mountain. And that’s when it hit me: this is why Ethiopia produces the world’s top distance runners.

Here in Ethiopia, unless you hold a high position in government or on the corporate ladder, odds are that you will never own a car for your entire life! That’s why the main forms of transportation for Ethiopians are running and walking. Even slightly obese Ethiopians are as common as a cold day in Hawaii; it’s hard to put on the pounds when your days are filled with hard physical labor needed to sustain you and your family’s day to day living. This lifestyle coupled with the lean and mean diet that consists of (largely vegetarian) traditional dishes are the key ingredients to producing the ultimate distance runner.

After spending four days in the camp, I realized that Gandhi had it right when he said the path to fulfillment only happens when one has abstained from the use of material goods. While the accommodations at the RAB camp are modest, there are some luxuries that I use in everyday living back home that are not unavailable here. For example, the camp does not have a machine washer or dryer, air conditioning, hot water, good plumbing, cable television (or more than 10 channels), and internet access. My path up to this point has been too compromised as far as technology goes and, even though I am eventually going back to the States, I feel like this way of living makes one the happiest.

After an English lesson for the Ethiopians runners (done via Scrabble and other word games) it was time for the second run of the day, a quick 25 minute recovery run. This time, Gudisa took me and Eunhwan off the beaten path; we ran on some nearby dirt roads that had some rolling hills. It’s quite a transcendent experience to run to the calls of Muslim prayer; the former paired with the breathtaking scenery of wheat and barley fields on rolling terrain makes this route memorable. Hopefully, my trip has spared more amazing scenery to come.

Faranji Frenzy

Day 1

After 36 hours of cramped seating, crying babies and body odor, I have made it safely to Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia. The journey here hasn’t been easy, to say the least, but I am happy to announce that this faranji (which means foreigner in Ethiopian Amharic) is blogging live from the Running Across Borders (RAB) training camp in Addis.

Once the three of us (mom, dad, and me) were off the plane, it wasn’t long until we were picked up by Daniel, the driver for RAB. After an uneventful 15 minute drive we arrived at the RAB training camp, located in Ayat (district of Addis). It was 2:30 AM, so we made sure not to wake up the runners who were catching some shut eye. But there to greet us were Sadie and Yared, Sadie being a volunteer who is spending the summer months at the camp and Yared being the top RAB runner and head honcho, making sure the camp stays in check day in and day out. I was escorted to the guest room out back, where I forced my jet-lagged self to sleep.

With the sun up and camp bustling, I groggily marched out of bed and to the main building of the camp, where I was introduced to the nine male and five female runners of the camp. Immediately, my first impression was a good one: the Ethiopian athletes were extremely kind and very accommodating, using their English skills to get to know me and my family better. After some breakfast, a couple of us ventured into town to use the internet and do some shopping for various goods needed in the camp. Once finished with our trip into town, the rest of the day (except for the run) was spent interacting and getting to know each and every one of the sub elite runners who reside in the camp.

What possibly may have been the highlight of the day (with the exception of meeting wonderful people) was the run. But this was no ordinary run for this Florida flatlander: it was a run at the altitude of 8000 feet. As any well educated runner may know, altitude is extremely taxing on the lungs and when running at a pace that should feel easy, your breathing is compared to a pace that almost resembles race pace. With this in mind, I took it very easy and only did 4 miles at about 9:20 pace. The route that we ran (we being me, Sadie, and Dad) included some awesome scenery. Some of the route goes on some treacherous single track that winds around a nearby mountain, giving you an excellent view of the surrounding area. I could tell that my time in Ethiopia would be unforgettable.

Day 2

My second day at the RAB training camp started rather early; jet lag coupled with altitude induced insomnia left me wide awake at 3 AM. Fortunately, I was awake at the right time since Eunhwan (pronounced OOON-wan), a 17 year old cross country and track runner from Illinois who I would be sharing my room with, was arriving from a red eye flight at 3:30 AM. I met him and we talked for a little while before I fell back asleep, snoozing until 10 AM.

Let me go off on a different tangent for a moment and talk about the food at the camp. Meseret, a chef hired by the camp, cooks healthy, low-fat, traditional Ethiopian meals for all the runners at the camp, including the faranji staying at RAB. So let me say that after a couple days at the camp, Meseret has won my seal of approval; and not only that, but the food is excellent and if I had the choice I would prefer Ethiopian cuisine back home. Every morning I wake up to the smell of fresh bread, a commodity that is never found back home. My second day’s lunch also included the famous injera bread, sour dough bread that is eaten when mixed with other entrées. With all the great traditional food that runners eat, it’s no mystery why they can run so fast!

In the afternoon it was time to run again. Despite the fact that July is the second rainiest month in Ethiopia, we were presented with clear skies and a nice temperature of 70 degrees. Today I would be running with Eunhwan and Gudisa; Gudisa is the youngest member of RAB (17 years old) but he still boasts times of 15:00 for the 5K and 24:00 for the 8K. Today the plan was to run for about 40 minutes, at a nice and easy pace. Due to rain in the morning, we stayed on the asphalt instead of running up the mountain and into the forest. The first mile was 9:00, and the next one was 8:10. Okay, I thought, I’m feeling fine, and the pace wasn’t too taxing. The following mile was 7:35, and the fourth mile was 6:55. The three of us cruised down the hill leading into Ayat and we finished the run with a 6:18 last mile. Needless to say, my lungs were beat. My legs felt fine, which I guess is a product of reducing mileage but my lungs felt as if I had just PR’ed in the mile. Eunhwan felt similar, but I was kind of surprised when I asked Gudisa how he felt. “No problem”, Gudisa replied, “This was easy.” Along with being kind and generous people, the Ethiopian athletes are great runners, running gracefully and with an unhitched stride even when weaving in and out of a forest or traversing a climb.