I think it’s about time for another running entry. Admit it, you find the subject of Megan putting one foot in front of the other deserving of your highly discriminating web surfing hours….

So my pal Laurie came over on Friday and we went over my bread-making process. I love baking bread; it’s very elemental, meditative and produces a smell in your house that almost verges on transcendent. Then you get to slice into it. Amazing.

I’ve been making bread long enough to not think anything of mixing up some dough and sticking it in my laundry room for an hour to rise. It wasn’t until Friday when l I had an outside observer alongside that I realized how I really do put some care into the process.

Our bread after some scientific sampling.

So how does bread tie into running? Well, I’ll give you another quick story. In college my flatmate (from New York City) cut out this Nike advertisement and posted it in her room. It was a photo of a runner, dressed from head to toe in what I now interpret as standard running attire: shades, headphones, hat, technical shirt, heart rate monitor….you get the idea. Below the photo read the following words: “Runners do not look normal. They come from another planet.”  Coming from New York, she was no runner (nor was I really at the time) but as soon as she saw the ad she exclaimed “I see these freaks all the time!”

And now we arrive at my Sunday morning.

Preparing for my long run takes a little bit of advance planning.  First and foremost, I have to set myself up for success the night before by not drinking booze and also getting a good night’s rest. I lay out a bit of what I need for the morning, but by now I have the process down pat and can remember all of the steps in the morning. Here’s a bit of what I go through after I wake up:

I really don’t like running with my fuel belt, but today’s distance (12 miles) and the lack of water stop support make it a necessity. I fill my bottles with a dissolved tablet of Nuun‘s and scrounge up 1000F CFA (in case I get stranded somehow and need to take a taxi). The belt is a pain, but it also means that on this run I can stash my camera in the big pocket. 

Getting my socks ready, just after my shot of espresso is downed. I imagine everyone must find these two activities inter-related, so I see nothing weird about scooping Blister Shield into my toe socks while they sit next to my Italian espresso machine.

Hair band in place, Road ID on my wrist, house keys stashed into my shoe and I’m out the door in front of my house before sunrise. Just waiting for my Garmin to acquire satellites before I can start my two hour trot. 

For the past year I have been running in Dakar largely by myself. The lack of “safe” running terrain means that my route isn’t terribly varied (a force protection nightmare I am sure). What’s worse is that I get a little bored doing the same old route every time with no real deviation to mix things up. I think most of you know that I miss my awesome family of runners who are back in the D.C. area- our long runs may have been on similar routes but they were always filled with fantastic conversations that bordered on the scandalous. It was the crazy stories that made the miles go by so quickly. Since being in Dakar, it has definitely been a little hard doing 10-plus miles by myself without this kind of support; it’s simply not the same.

So last night I was at a party targeted for three year-olds. In addition to learning that this setting really isn’t the most relaxing way to spend your Saturday evening, I also arranged a meet up with three fine women who agreed to go with me on part of my morning run. A very exciting prospect, I didn’t turn in that night feeling like I’d be faced with doing 12 miles on the same road again by myself.

Returning back to my Sunday morning, I’m out on the road and appreciating the fact that most Dakar motorists have dispersed from the city because of the Grand Magal.  A great opportunity to log some smog-free miles.

After I leave my house, I am always spit out on to the corniche (cliff road) so I can run next to the Atlantic. I have about three miles to go before I am set to meet up with my friends. I’m glad that I didn’t oversleep.

 Here they are- toubab running support! I turn the corner at 7:59 and there they all are as promised, ready to go.

This probably seems stupid to you, but I was really happy to be back with a group of people for a bit of socializing in the midst of getting fit. Lord knows that it’s hard enough to organize getting my own ass out the door in the morning, so to have multiple people coordinating their lives to meet up is a real victory in my book.

I’ve been running past the African Renaissance Monument for months, and every time I would run by and think “I should do those stairs”. Then I just keep on going by because I never want to do it myself. Call us crazy, but today marked the second Sunday in a row that I have run with people, and braved the stairs. The climbing was kinda arduous, and as you can see I opted to walk them.

Liz, Laurie and Véronique, basking in our sense of accomplishment (can you believe this climb was my idea- the only toubab of us four who had to run 12 miles that day?!)

Catch your breath and enjoy the view. To the right you can see the airport, and looking down you can see all of those steps that just kicked your ass. One day I’m gonna run up them all.

I have short friends- I’m not that tall but Liz and Laurie seem short to me here (Liz, by the way, was a naval flight officer, Laurie’s a part of the Marine Corps family…and Véronique- we’ll forgive her for being associated with the Army Cavalry). You will also see here that I am no longer concerned about shielding the greater Dakar population from my scandalous knees. These days I’m wearing running skirts, and other random gear that probably makes me look more like that Nike advertisement than I realize.

We head down from the monument, and I’m happy because I know that we have completed almost all of the inclines along the route. As we chitchat, I also don’t notice the that the miles are ticking away on my Garmin without my noticing. That is awesome.

The evil construction project that is the road widening work on the Rue de Ouakam is slowly coming to completion. The lack of traffic on Sunday morning made for easy passage, and as you can see our only road block was the usual horse cart as we headed back towards our respective homes. I always like this little neighborhood area- and it’s not because I am more than halfway through with my run. It just has some neat character.

After a few more loops around these well worn roads I leave my friends to finish up my last long run before my half marathon. I Iive the farthest away, but it’s not long before I find myself at home and smashing my IT Band out on my foam roller of torture for a few minutes. 

Because I know that you are dying to see my nasty post-run feet- I thought I’d show you that Blister Shield really does work. I’ll be bringing some of this stuff with me to Marrakesh next weekend. But for the moment, I’m just happy that I won’t be hobbling around this week as I wait for my toes to heal up.

So there’s another gratuitous running entry. Much like bread making, each time I head out the door it takes a bit of care and attention in order for things to go off without a hitch. Also like bread making, it’s definitely more fun when you have someone else there who can share in the experience. Both are usually followed by eating and drinking events, which are added bonuses.

I hope to drag more people out on my weekly runs, and that way I won’t be the only person who is always hearing “Je t’ai vu sur la corncihe ce matin…”. *

*I saw you out on the corniche this morning.