Back to the daily grind. Finally some regular running. I guess I ran the three days the first week I was here but finally I'm getting into enough of a scheduling group to stretch it to 6-7 times / week. At first I was running laps ad infinitum on Yarmouk University's poor excuse for a track, where at least I could get away with wearing running shorts. But that got old after about 25 laps. Probably had something to do with covering more than 10k in a circle. Everybody has limits.
When I ventured off campus, I donned trackster pants and a t-shirt. That was fine during the unseasonably cool first 5 days or so, when I would run in early morning or late evening, but it had seemed implausible lately as the weather took a turn for the normal. So...
Today I got the green light from our Director-in-Residence Khaled and our Jordanian liason Ayham to bust out the short shorts off campus.
I know what you're thinking. And you're right, I do have nice legs. But aside from the attention that my exceptional pair would draw (anywhere), things have changed a lot even in sleepy Irbid in the last ten years and shorts are very common for athletic activities, and among the shabab even for walking around in on hotter days. Don't get me wrong I'm not planning on slipping on the nike racing shorts for a trip to the grocer, but it was pretty amazing to get back to natural running again.
Around 730, the sun is setting so long shadows and constant slight breezes keep my shorts/dry-fit t-shirt combo very comfortable. Today I christened a 10-miler 'heartbreak hills.' It starts with a 4 mile flat stretch on a wide gravel road (a perennially-unfinished highway leading into the countryside), along which several pick-up games of kids soccer and the odd over-aggressive dog keep me engaged. Then it breaks through some empty fields behind houses before climbing a pair of 3/4 mile hill at a very honest grade--with equally rewarding downhills. Then it splits groves of olive trees and farm-fields on a dirt road that spills back out into the city, where I have to navigate pedestrian and the ever-shifting lanes of cars for a couple miles back to the University gates.
The kids are usually curiously-friendly and the adults dispassionately-respectful so their is no problem interacting with the Irbidians. In fact, I get far fewer car horns and lame insults here than back in the states. Probably because no one expects to see a runner where the national obsession is soccer and handball and so my very individual pursuit must seem masochistic. What's the hurry? or Take a rest! they could be thinking.
There is, however, the occasional young boy that decides to sprint up to catch up with me and accompanies me for 100-200 meters. Which is nice, because I have only the occasional jaunt with my roommate as far as running partners go. I tell the kid he is winning and to hurry up...but I can't squeeze another 10,000 meters out of any of these 8-year olds. Not sure what's wrong--cultural barrier?
Anyway, now armed with my choice pairs of running shorts I can start properly decompressing after long days of class, al hamdu allah.
1 comment:
I can empathize with those 8 year-olds. I spent 2 years trying to keep up with you for 100 meter segments. Glad you're back on the dusty trail buddy. Thinking of you often and named the latest pair of Elites after ya. Take care of yourself and keep the blogs coming!
-Andy
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