The wonder is, he hath endured so long
Are we still doing this race? Judging by my morning trip into the woods to use the “facilities”, it would appear that we indeed are.
So the last day’s run is only about ten miles long, a good thing considering the motivation to slide my irate toes into running shoes is pretty low this morning. In the breakfast tent the Moroccans are still exhibiting their unflappable good nature, but as we board the bus and are carted out to our last starting pint, you can tell by the relative quiet that we’re all a little tired.
The start line is located in a seemingly haphazard tourist area located in the center of the cedar forest. As soon as we pull up, I spy this stand and immediately flash to my adopted country of Senegal. “Peanuts for Monkeys” the sign says. (And I especially like the top sign where they misspelled peanuts but then tried to squish in the missing ‘h’. It’s better than the hand painted food carts in Dakar that offer “sandwish” for lunch.)
As soon as we’re dropped off the bus, just about every male competitor (and a lot of the women) run into the woods to take a leak. A few moments later, the monkeys notice that potential food dispensers have arrived so they came out of the woodwork to see what is going on. If you are familiar with my adventures in Senegal and South Africa, then you probably know that I am no great fan of monkeys. They’re nothing but opportunistic thieves- and I just kept watching this runner and hoping waiting for something comically unfortunate to happen to him. Don’t ask me where the horse came from.
Here we are milling about, waiting to get this show on the road. I’m morbidly curious to see if my toes are going to fall off today.
Before setting off, we want a group photo in front of this relatively famous cedar tree. Our best effort for a portrait was….well…made a bit more Moroccan by our favorite Moroccan personality.
Really, I just think this he wants to be adopted as an Olmsted Scholar. Either that or he’s Sacha Baron Cohen and has us all fooled.
Christina and I pose before making our way to the starting line, and as you can see I have donned my two dollar Senegal soccer shirt that I bought on the Dakar streets a few months earlier.
This is the last time I will have to look at one of these banners. It’s been real fun, but I can’t wait to see the arrivée banner in downtown Ifrane.
And we’re off! And there are more hills! Commence walking ops.
Today was the only day where I ran with a camera. I had no great plans to exert myself unnecessarily, and just in case my ego got any big ideas, I figured the camera would force me to slow down and smell the…rocky terrain? The great thing about today is that the morning was largely overcast- which made the vast expanses far more pleasant to navigate.
I’ve been stepping around this purplish plant things for the past couple of days. During our time communing in the woods, I identified three varieties of spiny florae, and in a nod to the various plants of my childhood woodland wargames, I renamed them stickums and hitchhikers and prickers- Cape Cod’s version of these Moroccan cousins.
…and the road still goes ever on.
Reaching the 5K mark was relatively exciting, since it meant that there was only about 10 kilometers to go before we reached Oregon.
Not only am I making up for the lack of trail photos posted on day three, but I’m also trying to give you a sense of this crazy race’s duration.
I can gripe all day about my toes and the wicked long lengths, but really I don’t know when else I would have gotten the chance to take in such fantastic scenery.
I almost stopped on this really long moving thing- and at first I thought it might be an impossibly long skinny snake. But upon closer inspection it looked like a string of gypsy moths all crossing the road in one connected squad. If anyone knows what this is, I’d be interested in finding out.
More trees, more runners. More of Megan feeling like she’s in Maine.
I’m just about sick of GUs at this stage, and I’m pretty excited when a refueling stand has my favorite race food ever. It’s also an excellent opportunity for me to walk a bit (more).
I rather prefer the stretches of the trail where I can’t see what’s ahead of me. I also like these gentle inclines, because to me they still count as hills and I can walk.
I’ve gotta say, the only really sucky thing about this race was the stretches of terrain that looked like this. This surface layer of loose rock doesn’t feel all too great on the feet, and it feels far worse after you’ve already been punishing yourself for the past three days.
I’m getting closer to the end, and I’m feeling rather celebratory!
The road not taken. Most of the trail is pretty well-marked, but his was the one stage where I was presented with a choice on which way to go. Even if it was only 200 meters, I didn’t want to add anything further to this morning’s run.
We had cows coming at us on day one, and today we had a herd of sheep coming down the trail.
More nature, just because I think it’s beautiful.
And before I know it, we’ve transitioned to paved road and there’s civilization up ahead!
This is the best sign ever- one kilometer before we get to Ifrane!
Here I am wishing that this stop sign was really a finish line. Unfortunately, there’s still a few more kilometers to go.
Can it be? Am I gonna actually get to stop running here very shortly?
Indeed!
Here’s it is…my newest favorite Moroccan souvenir.
Down by the podium the awards ceremony is already underway. “Where were you?” asks one of the race organizers to me, “You got tenth place and we were calling your name!” I show him my camera and told him that I opted to do a bit of tourism today.
The finish line was also a welcome sight because the families of Jamil and Dave were there cheering for us and had Gatorade on hand (thanks, DeDe!). This race was not just about the group of us who crossed the finish line, but it was definitely a group effort. Friends and family (and probably some of you readers) were generous enough to support us as we raised money and awareness for the High Atlas Foundation. Three of the Foundation reps were at the finish line, and we went out to lunch with them following the race. They were so appreciative of your donations- as am I. Thank you all once again for your generosity!!
After saying ma salama to all of the new friends we made during the marathon, we squished our sweaty bodies into a grand taxi and headed for some much needed recuperation time in Fes.
Oh the Riad El Amine! It’s so nice to be back here again.
You know what else I love about riads like this? The neat-o retractable roof that is located directly over a pool.
In order to scrub and wash the four day nature excursion off our bodies, we cycle through the hammam cycle before coming to a stop in front of our computing devices. Although I think Jamil is just staring at his feet in wonder of what they just accomplished.
I had a tiny bit of foresight to stop at the Lisbon Duty Free and pick up some post race refreshment.
For supper that night, we didn’t have to wonder far from the pool- and it’s a good thing because I’m not sure that it would have been possible- or at least desirable. There’s a dining area located ten feet from the pool. I told you this Riad was awesome.
In fabulous Moroccan dining fashion, the array of salads come out first.
My favorite (and probably least healthy) Moroccan dish: pastilla.
Between the great wine, conversation, and fantastic follow-on courses, I would say that that this was the best place to end our four day odyssey together. As Olmsted scholars, we live largely off the grid (okay, Facebook doesn’t count) and away from our familiar military culture- so it’s nice to slide back into the PG-13 banter and reconnect with one another.
Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day, and in Morocco it is made my even more favorite for several of their fantastic staples. Orange juice in this country- it cannot be beat. And for some reason, I think it tastes even better in Fes.
The other stuff I love harcha– a bread type product. Only here in Fes do they make it with barley.
So that’s kind of it. The following morning we all went departed from Fes and commenced with getting back on with our lives. I feel so fortunate to have been a part of this week in the mountains of Morocco, and while I know I did my share of complaining about the blisters, heat and rocky terrain, I think we will all agree that it was an experience during our Olmsted tours that we will never forget.
Postscript:
You might have noticed that I didn’t include a finish line group photo. I didn’t manage to get one with my camera, and I’m hoping that I can post one later on after Dave and his lovely wife and daughter get back from their magical European vacation. Until then, I can think of no better way to end this race than with Beard Man waving his country’s flag in front of the spray painted cedar tree. Somehow I think he’ll be there next year, wearing a shirt that has the king’s photo pinned onto it, and waving his country’s flag.
The only question left to ponder: will we be there too?