Ahh the morning is a beautiful one. As we roll through the countryside on our fabulous tour bus, I try to enjoy the surroundings and try not to stress too much over the fact that it’s hot outside and we’ll be starting this stage after 9am. For this girl, I’m used to starting my runs before or as the sun comes up.
Remember beard man? Well he’s back- and judging by his inexplicable energy level, he hasn’t gotten the memo about today’s course length.
Another shot taken from inside of the bus. I’m still gazing at the surroundings and thinking “I really miss Maine.” Although here, I’m not sure you how you would translate “The Maine Bumpah Stickah for the Cah” into Arabic…
Okay, so this photo was actually taken during day one- which just goes to show that I don’t really have much photographic evidence that I ran this leg. Most of the route I did by myself, and I took a rather leisurely walk-run-walk-dammit-is-this-thing-over-run-walk approach. I also don’t think I was smiling this much on day three…
I’m not going to bitch about the heat, mais il faisait chaud. I was a bit frustrated that we slowpokes had no water to avail ourselves of at two consecutive water stations. I voiced my disappointment to one of the race officials as I cruised on by and scrounged for half-drunken water bottles. To the credit of the race officials, very soon afterward a car came driving up the trail and alhamdoulilah there was an arm sticking out brandishing a cold bottle of water! I put my hand over my heart in great thanks and took the bottle from the quick-thinking race officials. They were actually doing a great job of transiting up and down the expanse to make sure that everyone was okay.
(Side note: do you know what’s great and horrible about owning a Garmin watch? Upon completing a run it tells you the number of calories that you have more or less expended. Why is that bad? Because after doing foolish distances like 20 miles, you burn so many calories that you incorrectly surmise that you now have license to eat – and drink- just about anything in sight. And that, dear people, is how people gain ten pounds while marathon training.)
We had a meal that couldn’t be beat, washed our hands, went to sleep and didn’t get up….until it was time to eat again. Almost.
Apart from eating, there’s not much to do around the bivouac site- which really isn’t a big deal since sleeping is such an attractive option. Still, late in the afternoon and into early evening we all reconvened near the dining tents and saw that results were being posted from the previous days. Here we have Dave and Christina- arguably the fastest toubab runners of this race- scrutinizing the finish times.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen: this is the only marathon results sheet where my name will ever be listed in the top ten. I would like to thank the millions of women on the planet who restrained themselves from registering for this race.
You’ve got to hand it to the race organizers- out here in the woods they tipped a bunk bed on its side, set up a projector screen and fired up some kind of satellite configuration so we runners could watch the Euro 2012 tournament. What can I say? We certainly weren’t terribly interested in watching the Olympic Track Trials.
As we were sitting and watching the match (truth be told, I was flipping through my copy of Runner’s World), I spied an older Moroccan dude wearing a shirt that said “Hi you’ll do”. As an American living in Senegal, I find much amusement in spotting non-anglophones obliviously sporting shirts with inappropriate messages- so I really wanted to get his picture. I pointed him out to Dave- who lives in Morocco- he told me that we could score a photo no problem. “Moroccans love to pose for pictures! You don’t have to offer them an excuse to do it!” So sure enough, after the match Dave went up to him and simply asked for a photo. Mr. You’ll Do pulled out his own camera, and we all got a little souvenir of this fantastic Kodak moment.
As the hours cruised on, we started to get hungry again. The tapeworm was doing its thing, and lucky for us the dinner bell rang at about 9:30pm. These honey-sugary sweets often comprised the amuse bouche, for lack of a better term.
We probably experienced just as much music as running during this experience, and here we had some of the band moving through the dining tables. I had no idea that Moroccans loved to clap so much. It’s like their bodies can’t help but hop out of their chairs and join in.
Extreme Close-Up of more food.
I will say that this is the one course that absolutely revolted me. Flan! I hate flan. It is probably the one food source in the world that I find absolutely unacceptable. I do believe that someone else ate my portion and I instead took an apple that would be stowed and consumed as a part of my Clif bar and coffee breakfast in just a few hours. Flan.
After dinner, the race organizers had an awards ceremony for the top three finishers during the first three stages. Each person was presented with a rug, and Christina was asked to go up and help. These women posted impressive times (the woman on the left is in the Moroccan Army, too!).
Still smarting a bit from my flan déception, I was extremely impressed that a massive cake was brought out following the awards ceremony.
Did I mention that these folks love dancing and clapping? This überpatriotic runner had his own flag outfit and matching hat (which was actually a proper Moroccan flag all folded up into a turbany cap).
And what’s another music video without our favorite bearded charmer? Like Waldo, he is sure to pop up in just about any which way during these blog entries. Here is he, stealing some of Moroccan Man’s spotlight. I love this video.
The kids who were playing under the tent the day before also got a chance to come up to the microphone. By this stage in the night I had long-since realized that this is more like a Lollapalooza for Runners than a competitive endurance-athon.
Can I get a Encore? Do you want more?
Inch’allah.