June 27, 2005

Mt. Kilimanjaro Marathon

Only one more to go! Greetings from Tanzania...

After three and a half days of climbing, I arrived at Uhuru - 19,400 feet, the roof of Africa, the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, the tallest peak on the continent, at 8am on Wednesday, June 22nd. I was greeted by 50 mph winds, minus 15 degree cold, and snow and fog that prevented me from seeing anything but the sign marking the peak. So much for the sunrise over the Serengeti. But that was enough. I'd done it. I didn't want to hang around. It was the most grueling, physically challenging thing I'd ever done. The climb up was cold and rainy, staying in unheated huts with non-existent hygiene. Rats scurried around our feet the second night as we ate the dinner prepared by our porters at the Horombo hut. I didn't even want to see where or how the food was prepared. It was torture to have to get up in the middle of the night when nature called because it meant getting out of your sleeping bag - the only place it was warm. The only saving grace were the hallucinations produced each evening by the Altitude Mountain Sickness medicine I was taking - diamox. One night when I closed my eyes there was an old fashioned slide show projected on my eyelids that began with a sepia photo of my great grandfather and continued with photos of my mother in her wheelchair. Another night I had a conversation with God and Meryl Streep (they weren't together). One night Linda tried to give me a new wedding ring designed by David Yurman but I didn't want it. VERY weird....

My climb began in a rain forest with velvet monkeys playing in the trees above me, continued through misty moors, took me across a windswept desert called the Saddle, and eventually deposited me in the arctic conditions at the top. It was a miserable time, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. It gave me greater self-confidence and translatable skills and experiences I can use in the office and at home. But boy, was I glad to get off that mountain and take a shower on Thursday night.

Friday I rested, yesterday I toured the marathon course, last night we had a pasta party, and just 90 minutes ago I completed my 6th marathon on my 6th continent in a time of 4 hours and 16 minutes. I feel great. But I gotta tell you. I've now run over 80 marathons, and this is one I'll never forget. Here's
why...

I was originally signed up to do the Safari.com marathon in Kenya. Just a few months ago they moved the date to July 3rd, which was the date of my final marathon which is on the Gold Coast of Australia next Sunday, July 3rd. So I had to hustle around to find an African marathon in June. I googled and googled and finally found the Mt. Kilimanjaro Marathon scheduled for today, June 26th. Perfect. This would be the 16th year of the marathon in Moshi, Tanzania, at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro. A climb prior to the race was included. I registered, without doing any more research. I just needed a marathon in Africa in June.

Remember that old Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney movie where the two of them are in the barn and say "Hey! Let's put on a play!", using whatever is available in the barn? That sort of describes the approach taken with the Mt. Kilimanjaro Marathon.

A kind, somewhat eccentric, seventy-something womanfrom Las Vegas who has never run a step in her life organizes this marathon. She also produces beauty pageants around the world. Surely you see the
relationship? Neither do I.

I arrived last Saturday night late at the Mt. Kilimanjaro International Airport on a flight from Amsterdam. Fittingly, I came directly from a national March of Dimes board meeting in New York. I met the organizer and her assistant, who turned out to be her granddaughter. I also met a pediatric ER doctor from Asheville, NC and her 17 year old son. When pressed, the organizer admitted we constituted 60% of the
American field in the race. That's right - 5 runners from the US. The other two thirty-something guys from Orange County, one a schoolteacher and the other an Italian restaurant owner were not doing the climb and would arrive the following Friday night. And I thought the climb was mandatory!

I subsequently learned that there would be about 30 Tanzanians running in the race and 6 schoolteachers from Canada, who happened to be teaching in Dar es Salaam, about 8 hours away. That was the entire field. (My first thought, however, was hey! maybe this is my first chance to place in a marathon!)

At the pasta party last night at a Chinese restaurant that specialized in Indian food here in Africa, we all
sang the Tanzanian national anthem and then we five Americans sang the US national anthem. We talked about our homes and our families and our jobs and why we were here. After we had the cake shaped like Mt. Kilimanjaro to celebrate one of the runner's birthday, we went home to bed early.

Race day dawned this morning cloudy and cool - perfect conditions. It was to start "around 8am". We first had to wake up the "water boys" from a local Catholic boarding school and get them in their places. Then we had to paint arrows on the street and kilometer marks on the trees to mark the course. It seems the balloons and other festive markers used in years past always disappeared before the runners got to the first kilometer marker.

THEN we were ready to start. A man counted down from five in Swahili, leaving us five Americans who were huddled in a group at the back of the most impressive Tanzanian field, somewhat bewildered. When the Tanzanians shot out of the starting line, it startled us, and prompted our pole pole start (Swahili for "slow, slow").

The race went well. I felt good the entire way, which surprised me since I thought I might be still fatigued from my trek to Uhuru. Perhaps my thinned blood worked to my advantage in the race. There was plenty of water, lots of exhaust fumes, and occasionally a spectator. The Tanzanians smoked us. They spanked us. The winner finished in 2 hours and 17 minutes. That would win many marathons in the states, certainly the Flying Pig. And this was a little Sunday run for
them.

The Awards Ceremony was most poignant, but what happened afterwards really got to me. (I did get the
third place trophy, but in light of full disclosure, there were only five in my non-Tanzanian group, counting the three Americans and the one guy from Canada...). After the awards were distributed in a dusty little field on the grounds of the Moshi Athletic Club, I noticed the shoes of one of the Tanzanian finishers. The side had become unattached from the sole, and in one place the sole was worn through. I looked around. Most of their shoes were in similar condition, and yet they'd done so well.

How good could they be if they had better equipment. One by one, the Americans started taking off their running shoes and offering them to the Tanzanian runners. The look of joy and gratitude on their faces spilled onto our faces as looks of admiration. I've never seen a group of more appreciative people, their eyes were shining with happiness, and all for a bunch of old running shoes.

I have run many marathons. Most were in exotic international locals, had thousands of people involved with corporate sponsors and entertainment and elaborate expos and bountiful pasta parties. But I don't think I'll ever forget this ragtag little marathon today in dusty Moshi, where fortitude, spunk, creativity and most importantly kindness, produced an event that brought together a group of very different people in a spirit of brotherhood and understanding.