March 21
So we had our final competition for sports day. Since the
JHS (Junior High School) is being build exactly on top of the our old
soccer/track “field” they bulldozed another spot for us to run and play on.
Unfortunately it is only about 80 meters long, so for the “200 Meter Dash” the
kids had to run down, turn around, and come back. Nothing like braking around a
cone to slow down your momentum.
Every single sports day the male teachers in charge say “Its
sports day, Liz, wear your PE dress!” So every single sports day I run back to
the house to change into shorts and tennies, and every single sports day, I
don’t participate in any sports. Until today. I came wearing khaki capris,
flats, and a polo, and no one told me to change into my PE dress, so I didn’t.
We watched the final House Competition to determine the fastest runners in the
school. After the student’s finished the last race, they announced “Now its
time for the teacher’s race!” and I looked around to see the participants. The
only ones out were the 5 young male teachers under the age of 30, and I thought
to myself “Where are all the women?” I took it upon myself to represent them
and walked over to the starting line.
Here is a list of things that I did not stop to think about:
1)
Liz, you’re wearing khakis and flats. You can’t
run in khakis and flats.
2)
Liz, this is a straight up gravel track. You
can’t run fast on gravel. Especially in flats
3)
Liz, just because you ran track doesn’t qualify
you as a “natural runner.” The last race you ran was 5 years ago.
4)
Liz, you also haven’t exercised for like a year.
5)
Liz, this is Africa. You are running against 5
young African males. Who do you think wins the Olympics? Africans. They are
fast. You are going to humiliate yourself.
Here is a list of things that I did stop to think about:
1)
I ran track in high school. Sprints are my
thing. These teachers won’t know what hit them when a small white
girl totally blows them out of the water.
If I only had a brain….
Take your mark. Get Set. Go.
And we were off. I was amazed at how in the first 3 meters
someone could so clearly take the lead. Who knew the French teacher was so
fast?
10 meters
later.. Hey I’m not last! That has to count for something? Just push it a
little more…
20 meters
later.. my shoe came off and Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. It goes without
saying that flats are for the cuteness factor only, and are not as versatile as
previously thought.
The teachers left me in the dust while they competed for the
winning title. The entire student body (yes, I wiped out in front of the whole
school) ran onto the track and surrounded me to see if I was okay. I was
laughing to cover up my injured
pride, gashed and bloody knee, and scraped forearm. I tore right through
my khakis, and Hilda, the 3rd grade teacher, helped escort me to the
nurse.
The nurse was actually amazed at how beat up I got, and kept
asking if I was okay. (I was, until I felt the powerful effects of rubbing
alcohol cleaning my wounds). After she bandaged me up, I felt like I had to
bandage what was left of my pride. I marched back up to the male teachers and
respectfully requested a rematch next week. As I walked up to the house to
change out of my battle uniform, I remembered numbers 2-5 of “The List of
Things I Did Not Stop to Think About” and realized that they are applicable to
my race next week. I’m going to humiliate myself twice in one week.
If I only had a brain…
