Running Man

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Though I do not have any comparison, Uganda is a good place to train for a marathon. For one, the reservoir of sweat that I produce running any time before 9am means that is has forced me to see some wonderful sunrises, very underrated in the African sun movement ratings. You get a wonderful mist over the rough green patches of Jinja and look out to the Nile.

I often run down to the Source of the Nile where you can avoid the entrance fee if your there before 7am. It is there, just five minutes from the gym, that the hardcore of Jinja’s fitness community hang out. I struggle to get down to the river side and back up again as an assortment of sweat-banded people do press-ups, sit-ups, star jumps running up and down stairs and other unnecessarily painful looking exercises around me.

The longer runs generate more extreme emotions. It is definitely a great way to explore. The only way I have found to motivate myself to manage longer distances is to run in a general direction until I am lost and then I am forced to run the rest of the distance to find my way home or I will have to walk home from some random village in the pitch black. Either way I feel the experience will only make me stronger.

The things that happen on these longer runs make me think it will be a different experience if I ever decide to train in the UK. For one, there is the interest. As a white man walking down the street often generates a few stares and comments, it is not surprising that the running version sometimes creates wild excitement. I have learnt to embrace this and generally try to negate any shouting by loudly greeting everyone I pass.

There are times where these comments have been the only thing that keep me going. I only have to be stretching outside my house to get a “well done” called at me which starts me off with a spring in my stride. After 18 miles though as I slow down to a walk that is the only thing that will get me going again.

The interest is not always welcome though. If I am feeling reasonably good, I will reply to first few sweet children in raggedy clothes that shout, “Muzungu, how are you?” but after the question has been asked another 100 times (and I have run for a couple of hours) I would love to scream “I’m f**king knackered” at the unwashed and annoyingly happy youth that shouts at me as I stumble past.


The other thing that ranges between the disconcerting and the annoying is the people that decide to join you, Forrest Gump-style, as you run. Usually this is only for a few metres before the fits of giggles become too much and they no longer have the air to run and laugh at the same time. Others, however, will not take my inability to talk as a reason to leave me alone. On a recent run a group of school girls followed me for around 3 miles (annoyingly without any trouble at all) making me think that I was glad I wasn’t in England as I probably would have been arrested or lynched for being some kind of paedophile pied piper.

Other obstacles have been running through a herd of cows bravely using a motorcycle rider as my shield; nearly being paralysed by a tyre rim being used in some kind of street skittles game (I don’t think I was supposed to be the skittle); and being shaken down for money and threatened with a cattapult by some village children who could not believe that a white person did not have money on them.

Hopefully, though it will all be worthwhile when I run the Kampala Marathon this Sunday to raise money for UYWEFA. If you are interested in sponsoring me or finding out more about what we are fundraising for please visit my page at www.justgiving.com/uywefa.

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