Fartlek

Fartlek means “speed play,” and refers to a wide variety of workouts that involve changing speeds.  Today I joined a training group for their Thursday fartlek.  I had been warned that the pace would be fierce, and it might be a bit much for me.  My neighbor Rashid and I went together.  Rashid’s run 29:16 for 10k, so I knew that once the workout started I’d be on my own.  But it was nice to have someone to show me the way on the warmup.

We met at 8:30, instead of 6:15 when the group meets other days.  Hard running always occurs a little later in the morning.  There were about 60 runners today, a little smaller than normal.  As is typical of Keynan runs, the warmup began very gradually, at little more than a walk.  We warmed up for just over 20 minutes, heading steadily downhill.  I knew we were near the start of the workout because the men started peeling off to the side to pee in the bushes.

We spent about 10 minutes milling about and stretching as more runners arrived.  One man announced the workout: “25 one-one.”  One minute easy, one minute hard.  Twenty five times, for a total of 50 minutes.  The women gathered up first and I asked if I should be joining them.  Some men told me no.  Did they know how slow I am?  As I watched the women run away I thought that I should really be with them.

The male pack started a few minutes after the women.  We counted down to synchronize our watches.  We started with 1 minute easy, then one minute hard. I put myself at the very back of the pack.  The first one wasn’t so tough, but one minute isn’t long to recover.  I was pleased to see that I was running with three other guys.   They were running a little more steady pace, so I would pass them on my hard sections, and get passed back on the easy sections.  But after 5 hard sections, they stopped!  I was on my own at the back again.

As I watched the lead group, which was already about a minute ahead of me, I thought of my experiences in the first mile or so of Bloomsday, watching a wave of Kenyan runners floating quickly and apparently without effort across the countryside.  There were still at least 30 people in the lead group.  I was worried about getting lost, especially as the lead group got farther ahead.  There were a number of stragglers though, so I thought if I could keep a few people in sight.  I was catching up to another runner, but right before I passed him he took a shortcut back.

About this time we passed a much larger group going the other direction.  It was made up of at least 120 runners, and they were far more spread out than my group.  Perhaps I should join this other group next week!  I might have more company.  Shortly after this I passed the women from my group coming back towards me.

We were on a route I had run, which was rolling downhill for about 6km and then steadily uphill for another 6k.  There was a runner about 30 seconds ahead of me, but then he took a turn I wasn’t familiar with that led in a direction I hadn’t yet gone.  What to do?  If I follow the runner, who was now the only one I could see, and then he stops (or goes home) I’ll be on my own and could get lost.  But I didn’t want to lose the group and have Rashid worry that I was lost.  These thoughts played through my head during the last 15 seconds of a hard minute, when there wasn’t much blood going to my brain anyway.  I took the familiar path.

I was on my own for the last 8 one-ones.  They were pretty much all uphill.  At one point two men passed me on my easy minute and they were moving.  They gave me a target and I was able to stay even with them during my hard minute.  A neighbor had told me that after the last interval the Kenyans walk for about 10 minutes.

“You might think, why walk?” he told me.  “But after that workout, it feels pretty good.”  I walked for about 10 minutes, and then jogged back.  The rest of the group was back at the meeting place.  They had run a loop which finished at their starting point.  I talked to several people.  They complimented me on finishing the workout.  I have a goal now: finish the actual loop.

I’m still avoiding the track.  Several hundred runners meet at the track every Tuesday.  They run very fast.  Vasili, my Russian friend, said that next to them “you look like a disabled person.”

Iten

We are in a small town called Iten.  Iten is on the Western edge of the rift valley, at an elevation of about 7400ft.  If you walk to the edge of town you can look across the rift valley from the edge of the Elgeyo escarpment.  The valley floor is about 3000 feet below the edge of the escarpment, and is home to the Kerio River, which flows north towards Lake Turkana.  Iten is the high point of the road from Eldoret (30km to the west of us) to Kabarnet (in the valley).

Iten is pretty much the running capitol of Kenya; this pretty much makes it the running capitol of the world.  There are dirt roads and trails leading in all directions, challenging hills, altitude, and temperatures in the 70s each day.  Runners flock to Iten from all over Kenya, and for that matter from all over the world.  Our first few days we stayed at the High Altitude Training Center, a beautiful facility known locally as “Lornah’s Place” after owner Lornah Kiplagat.  There were athletes on the national teams of several countries training there while we stayed.

We moved about 800m north to a house in a neighborhood known as Lilies.  There are runners everywhere.  People all around are wearing running clothes.  Laundry is dominated by running clothes.  Nearly everyone you see is a runner.  At 6 AM about 100 runners leave on a daily training run from a spot about 100 feet from our front door.  There are other meeting places as well.  Whenever you go walking you see dozens of people running.

There are several small apartments right next to our house.  I’ve been running with the people staying there.  They are friendly and welcoming.  One guy, James Kongogo, ran 3:35 for 1500m and if he were American he’d be well known.  As a Kenyan he is in the second tier trying to move up.  Another neighbor is a Somali-Dutch runner who is making a go as a professional runner.

All of the runs I’ve done go through the countryside.  Most of the countryside is made up of small farms, called shambas.  People grow maize, wheat, passion fruit, tomatoes, potatoes, onions, and sukuma wiki (a relative of kale).

It is easy to see why runners flock to Iten!

The Kindness of Strangers

I just got internet today.  I've written all my journal entries by hand, but I should have been thinking ahead and written them on the computer.    I should be able to post more frequently now that I have a modem.  Here is a story I wrote yesterday:

Uhuru, Apollo and I went for a walk through the countryside this afternoon.  We were greeted with the usual “How are you?”s from the children.  Many adults stopped and greeted us by shaking hands as well.  We met a farmer, David, and his brother Ruda on the road when we had stopped for a break in the shade.  They introduced themselves, and then walked with us for about a half mile.  I asked David about his farm- he grows mostly maize and wheat.  He said water is a crucial issue.  He invited us to come to his house the next time we passed.

A little farther along, we took a turnoff signed “Ministry of Public Works.”  I was curious what I could learn about the infrastructure here.  We took a wrong turn at an unsigned fork, but continued walking.  A woman greeted us enthusiastically from her field.  She told us “Please come around.  Welcome.”  She introduced herself as “Salome,” and asked where we were from.

She was very kind.  She offered us tea.  She was very affectionate towards the children.  She stroked Uhuru’s hair and asked about her school.  “Do you want to stay in Kenya?” she wondered.  Next Apollo, who was a little shy, was hugged and questioned.

I asked about her water- she had a 60 foot deep well (known here as a borehole).   She collected water with a  5 gallon jug on a rope.  She lowered the jug, allowed it to fill part way, pulled it up a few feet, and then dropped it again to allow it to fill completely.   She’s on top of the hill, so I imagine her water is pretty good.

Salome had moved here just over a year ago, and was eager to show off her improvements.  She had a small garden of cabbage, potatoes and onions.  She had a well build hen house and enclosure (most chickens I’ve seen roam free).  Salome told Apollo that she would give us a chicken before we returned to the U.S.  She had a larger field of crops (I couldn’t figure what they were) surrounded by trees, including a couple recently replanted banana trees.

Salome asked us if we wanted to spend the night.  We told her we had to be going, thanked her, and headed back home.

I was thinking of the contrast with the U.S. Who would see a group of strangers (or obvious foreigners), invite them for tea, and then invite them to spend the night?  Especially when she probably didn’t have a lot of extra food or money.