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.
