Kampala marathon
I ran in a 10km race today. A marathon started at 7 a.m., and then the 10km started at 7:30. Surprisingly, they both started on time.
The route avoided the worst of Kampala’s hills. It was hot though, and when I arrived at the water station at kilometre 3 I was told “the water is finished.” There were boxes of what appeared to be sealed and therefore full boxes of bottled water all around, so I suspected the water intended for the runners had been “diverted.” Apparently nothing is exempt from the corruption that is so endemic here.
I got some water at km 5, however, and managed to hobble along until the end, when I used the exertion as an excuse to spoil myself with rich meals and drinks on a poolside patio for the balance of the day.
There was also a 10km disabled race. The disabled racers don’t have the racing wheelchairs you see in Canada. In fact, most people don’t have wheelchairs at all. Instead, people fashion pads for their knees and wear flip flops on their hands and crawl around the town, which is dangerous considering the traffic. Those same people who doggedly crawl through life also crawled through 10 kilometres under the hot sun. Do you ever have those moments where you feel like the biggest whiner on earth for having ever complained about the relatively trite difficulties in your life? Yeah, me too.
The route avoided the worst of Kampala’s hills. It was hot though, and when I arrived at the water station at kilometre 3 I was told “the water is finished.” There were boxes of what appeared to be sealed and therefore full boxes of bottled water all around, so I suspected the water intended for the runners had been “diverted.” Apparently nothing is exempt from the corruption that is so endemic here.
I got some water at km 5, however, and managed to hobble along until the end, when I used the exertion as an excuse to spoil myself with rich meals and drinks on a poolside patio for the balance of the day.
There was also a 10km disabled race. The disabled racers don’t have the racing wheelchairs you see in Canada. In fact, most people don’t have wheelchairs at all. Instead, people fashion pads for their knees and wear flip flops on their hands and crawl around the town, which is dangerous considering the traffic. Those same people who doggedly crawl through life also crawled through 10 kilometres under the hot sun. Do you ever have those moments where you feel like the biggest whiner on earth for having ever complained about the relatively trite difficulties in your life? Yeah, me too.
posted by Cara at 5:21 AM
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