A Proper Gentleman

I have become accustomed to encountering new rituals and cultural traditions over the past month. I attempt to take all things in stride, and not show any hint of surprise. Yesterday though I was caught off guard. I had decided to run a 20min tempo run, in the middle of my morning run. Since my training partner was planning on doing a track workout later in the morning, he did not follow along with me. Nothing too exciting occurred on the hard tempo portion of the run. As I was walking for a minute, following the hard portion of the run, another Kenyan runner came upon me and encouraged me to start running. I agreed, and latched on with him as we made our way back towards home. We exchanged names, and began to make a steady clip back to base. We didn't really talk that much, because his English was as good as my Swahili. Decked out in a full track suit, as most guys here are on morning runs, Dixon was beginning to perspire. I was dressed in shorts and tee because I can't stand sweating like a pig. Next thing I look over and Dixon has removed from his pocket a pressed white handkerchief. He promptly dabs his brow dry and returns it neatly folded into his pocket, all without breaking stride. Not too sure why it took me by surprise, probably because I never expected to see anything of that sort while running. He repeated the process maybe five times, each time with equal formal bearing. I challenge any of you to find a more classy runner, anywhere!

Now that I have pretty much a daily routine, I have seen time move along at a brisk pace. One portion that hasn't moved to briskly happens to be on Sunday from 10am-1:30pm. I have been attending church with my training partner, up to this point. This church is spirited, almost a bit too much for my tastes. I think the real problem lies in my lack of a full grasp of the Swahili language. Singing before the service starts, lasts a full 90 minutes, and everyone but me knows the choreographed accompanied dance moves. The pastor at the church is amazing, I fully believe him to be a close blood relative to the late James Brown. During the 90 minute lead up, he plays a distorted bass guitar and has an attendant hold a microphone to face while wailing at the top of his lungs in Swahili. To be honest, I think I am just overwhelmed. Once the service starts, yelling is continued, but I am allowed to sit. Service is in about 97% Swahili and I usually miss the 3% English parts anyway. I just sit and find a book in the bible that I am unfamiliar with (there are a lot of them) and just have a private study session. I think I am going to have to surrender to the advertised, "All English 9:30am Service" at the Anglican church down the road.

I have barely noticed my slow adjustment to life here in Kenya. No longer do I dread having to head into the "shower" room, with my tub of boiled water. Going to the bathroom no longer causes pangs of anxiety to wash over me. I think my body has forgotten the muscle memory of a hot shower, and other private seated activities. That said, my mind has not given up hope, and I still regard such luxuries with great anticipation. I now laugh along with people in the market, when a child or a drunk introduces themselves to me. Sunday evening, while walking a friend to the taxi stand, a sharp dressed old man approached us. He began speaking what I thought was Kalenjin, and held out a hand for a shake. I shook it politely, but he was not finished, still firmly grasped he began to stroke my white forearm with great intrigue. That was the cue for me to forcefully remove the drunken gentleman from my path, to the laughs of all the vegetable stand ladies.

A few answers to questions people have asked:

Q: Are there any coaches here?
A: Yes there are a few. Their interaction is vague though. They may coach only a handful of athletes, the rest are just kind of shooting from the hip. People take ideas from successful athletes, and just try and copy it.

Q: What are people wearing for shoes?
A: I have not run with any barefoot people yet. Although the state of some people's shoes is quite sad. The main option for them here, is to buy 2nd hand shoes from the market. They sure can clean a shoe here, but if that pair is plain smashed out then guys are out of luck. Shoes are a big deal over here, and no one really runs in new shoes, unless you are a big time sponsored runner.

Q: Have I spoken with Martin or Sammy since the Olympics?
A: No, I have not spoken to either. Sammy actually lives and trains in Japan. Martin may be just taking it easy for now, but I imagine I will bump into him sometime in the future.

Thanks again for all the comments. Take care and watch out for all the storms in the Atlantic. I am praying that they will not make landfall or weaken before they hit.