"Jenita, ek kan nie hardloop nie!"

This is a post I never thought I’d have to write. All ye parkrun participants, and particularly Stuart MacDougall, I hope you are reading this and can find a way to contain your disbelief.

Persuaded by another Peace Corps Volunteer, Sachi decided to run a half marathon in Keetmanshoop this weekend.  Jenita, not quite ready for the half marathon and knowing I was running again some evenings, asked if I wanted to join her for the 5km race. For some reason that still remains a mystery to me, I agreed.

At the ungodly hour of 7am, Sachi and three other PCVs ran the half marathon.  Theirs was a small race, largely entered by some very professional-looking individuals, but they absolutely held their own, and finished the race in some seriously impressive times. Sachi “I’m-not-fit-enough-for-this” Graber was the second of the PCVs to finish – very proud of dear ‘Murica!

Sachi, Laurel and Bryan about to start...

...and they're off!

 Almost straight after the half marathon, it was time for Jenita and I to stretch our legs and get going. Unsurprisingly, I brought no running gear to Namibia whatsoever, on the sensible assumption that if I don’t want to run in Glasgow, I certainly wouldn’t want to run in a tiny village in one of the world’s most arid countries.  Apparently not: Converse and leggings would have to do. Compared to the other volunteers, I looked as unprepared as I felt. I then realised that a lot of the other 5km competitors were school children, running in an even stranger array of clothes, wildly inappropriate footwear, or indeed, no footwear at all: perhaps I didn’t look quite so terrible after all. I should point out that I was beaten by several hundred of said schoolchildren, but I did finish and I didn’t come last: quite honestly the only two things that mattered. The fact that it wasn’t actually as terrible as I’d anticipated was simply a welcome bonus.

Not quite the worst photo of me on record, but it's up there. It's definitely up there.

L to R: Sachi, Gio, Laurel, Bryan, Jenita and I. Five real runners and  some numpty.

Much to my delight, even in Africa there were post-race freebies! The idea was that you got your medal, and then in exchange for your race number, the 5k runners got a bag and the half marathon runners got either a bag or a t shirt. I desperately wanted to keep my race number, and wanted a t shirt even more – neither of which I was entitled to. We have all found that The Volunteer Excuse works in almost any situation to get some kind of discount, favour or both from almost anyone in Namibia; I figured that race day should be no exception and it was certainly worth a shot. Shamelessly playing this card twice, with my very best “I’m-a-volunteer-and-I-love-Namibia-please-bend-the-rules” face on, I managed to walk away with the standard medal, a bag, my race number and two t shirts.

I should not own 50% of the items in this photograph.

Not fully recovered, but a little less red-faced and sweaty. 

The principle of participation being more important than victory is somewhat lost on most people here – most of those who knew we were running were willing us on to win the blessed thing, much to our bemusement -, but it counted for us and I’m surprised to admit that I almost (almost, not entirely, but almost) enjoyed it. Whilst I have no idea why Namibia’s making me do such ridiculous things, I love it to pieces all the more for it and hate to think about my imminent departure any longer than absolutely necessary. At least I have another t shirt to remember my time in Namibia by!