While I will admit that waking at 5:40 AM never became easy, when you wake up knowing that you simply have an hour of easy jogging, it’s not so bad.  First, before you protest let me explain how an hour run could be considered easy.

I began training as a distance runner as a 6^th grader going out for track.  Since that time I had run a competitive season at least once a year (of cross country and sometimes track) on into college.  In the summer after my sophomore year at Macalester College I went to Kenya to train with and learn about the successful running culture of some of the worlds fastest runners.  Before this morning, about 5 weeks into my 9 week trip, I had just completed possibly the hardest four days of training I had ever experienced, running between 1:45 and 3 hours a day while completing hard workouts that had me sprinting much of the time.  So while this morning 5:40 felt as early as ever, the thought of an hour of light running felt like a much deserved break after the previous 4 days.

I dressed and went outside the compounds gates where it was still dark.  In the early morning darkness it was always hard to tell which runners were who.  Was the person next to me someone I knew well or someone I had never spoken with?  Children bustled down the rocky dirt road on their way to school, and men and women either walked or drove to work.

As more runners began to gather and the time got closer to the magical hour of 6 am when the daily runs would begin, I looked for Elisha, my training partner, to see if we would run with the group or run on our own.  Finally, after spotting another young runner who lived in the same room as Elisha, I asked if he knew if Elisha was coming.  He assured me, yes he was running a bit late, but was coming.  The group started off as usual running very slowly down the rocky road to the tarmac.  I decided to follow suit but kept looking back for Elisha- not knowing if the group was going easy or hard today, and therefore if we would join them or not.  The pace was easy enough, not that that meant much for the first minutes of a run in Kenya.  You see, in Kenya, every run starts off extremely slowly.  Runners- many of them whom are world class athletes that have raced in the Olympics or have won some of the worlds most competitive marathons- would start every run jogging at 12 minutes per mile.  I was quite shocked when I first arrived to see runners who could average 5 minutes per mile for 26 miles running at a slower pace than most novice runners in the US would run.

But while the pace started slowly, it could quickly heat up to the point where I would be left after 20 minutes gasping for what little air was left at 6000 feet.  When Elisha arrived he briefly spoke to another runner in Kalinjin- their first language- and one which I did not understand.  I asked Elisha if we should stay with the group and he said yes.  Elisha knew that this was to be our easy day and so I trusted that he had just learned the run would be short and easy as I relaxed and tried not to trip in the dark.

The route though was scarily familiar- it was Monday’s run and on Monday the pace quickly went from laughably slow to impossibly fast.  As we turned off the main road onto another I felt the pace beginning to quicken slightly- nothing to write home about- but it had me wondering if this really was going to be an easy run.

As the sun begins to come up and the day moves sharply from dark to light I feel the pace accelerate again- ah it’s going to be like a Monday run I realize.  I start to drop off the back a bit, but Elisha motions for me to keep up.  He puts his arm down by his side gesturing for me to keep up.  The motion is out of encouragement; I can tell that he really wants me to try to stay with the group so I get back up there.

After maybe 30 minutes we make a sharp turn onto a narrow road that immediately begins to go up hill.  The effort increases on the hill and I really feel the hill repeats I did the day before.  But, at the same time that I’m feeling tired I get a bit of boost when I see other runners turn off or “stop to use the bush.” I recall what Robert- my other training partner told me- “You are strong, why do you think the other runners stop?  They don’t necessarily have to go to the bathroom but maybe the pace is too fast for them.”

I get dropped by the pack on the steep uphills- my legs are just too tired from the day before- but Elisha continues to motion for me to catch up and I realize that on the flat sections and down hill portions of the road I am able to accelerate and catch the group again.  At the beginning of the run I was frustrated, “this was supposed to be our easy day” I thought to myself, but as the run continues I realize that I have been running with the group while they are running hard longer than I ever have.

At this point I am working really hard to keep up, and look at my watch and see that we have already run out in a single direction for almost 50 minutes.  I see a familiar cut off point and ask Elisha if we can take it.  He responds “I think it’ll be better if we just catch up with the group again,” ahh OK I think, we hit a down hill and I am able to catch up again with the back of the group.  Then Elisha turns and says to me “Now go to the front!”  My brain immediately thinks “WHAT?!?, doesn’t he know that as soon as the runners see the new/foreign runner go to the front they will take off?”  After all describing these types of runs as competitive is an understatement.  But to Elisha, I just laugh and say “OK, but this is my last push” and he replies that we can jog after we reach the forest.

So I make my move, I know that no one is going to easily let me pass on the narrow road so I have to run on the side at times to pass the runners.  And while I can tell they notice and are definitely surprised that I am still with the group at this point, they let me pass.  I almost get up even with the leader passing Wilsion Boit Kipketer- former world record holder in the steeple chase who acted as my mentor on the trip.  We round a sharp turn and I get cut off on the inside forcing me back a few feet.  I kick it up another gear to get back up with the leader when- wow- I take in the view of the open road in front of me.  Rather than seeing the backs of other runners- for the first time while running hard with the group I am able to see the road ahead- I am leading the pack.  Then I realize- I’m not even going 100%, I’m not even sprinting! And I am leading some of the best runners in the world.  I almost became choked up: never did I imagine that this would happen when I dreamed of spending a summer running with world class athletes.  Other words from Robert went through my head: “remember, they are working hard too.”  I naturally pick up the pace as I see the forest coming closer and closer ahead, but I feel great and keep pushing the pace on into the forest.

-Martin

The open road ahead

This article was first published on EntertainingYourself.com on June 8, 2010.  Following his summer in Kenya, Martin Mudry returned to this beautiful country to film a documentary about these amazing runners.  The movie is called “Where Dreams Don’t Fade” and after touring the world at numerous film festivals, it is now available on DVD.

For the most part this has worked out well enough. They’ve been able to get past my comments such as “I think my favorite beer is Coors Ice- Coors Light poured over a big glass of ice,” and I’ve been able to ignore their Indiana Jones like reactions in beer shops to a rare “one of a kind” find.  But this weekend a connection was made – I have now become a beer “forager.”

It all started a few years ago- Alex had discovered wild hops growing near Colorado Springs.  He had seen it for a few years and after many smell tests found when it would be most ripe for harvest.  It just happened to coincide with this past Saturday, so Alex, Maddy (Alex’s girlfriend), Dan (another beer advocate) and I hopped into the car.

We arrived at a familiar running spot, and started hiking up the road keeping our eyes peeled for what I perceived to be these “illusive” hops.  On the way, I found my eyes (and mind) wandering away from the task at hand, to the crags and rock walls along the path, wondering which I could climb.  I pointed an especially nasty looking one out to Dan, (an experienced climber) wondering if I’d be able to attempt the route while being securely roped up.  Reading my mind he declared: “That’s about the limit of what I’d do without a rope!”  Instantly I was in disbelief and awe for it was 100 feet of near vertical and overhanging rock. We continued on, me pondering Dan’s skill level and the rest of the group searching for the still undiscovered hops.

The trip was not without treasures. We did stumble upon a rare squirrel that looked like a cross between a bunny and the devil.  We photographed the demon and moved on.

Throughout the search, I was completely ignorant to what hops looked like and imagined us gathering long stalks of brown wispy wheat-like plants.   Our prospects weren’t looking too good until finally Alex spotted the “elusive” hop.

I could not have been more surprised.  Rather than brown, tall and thin, it grows as a vine and has little buds ranging from ½ to 1 inch long.  We smelled them and were mildly impressed but moved on to see if there were more.

BOOM- we found the bumper crop.  A small pine tree was covered in them.

This bunch smelled different and we all went back and forth, on which we liked more.  In the end we gathered half a plastic bag full of both varieties and headed to the home brew store.

And despite the excitement of our find, I was still pondering Dan’s declaration about the rock climb, so before we reached the car I convinced Dan to try and “free solo” (climb unroped) his peak, except that I was horrified when he actually took up my challenge and started up.  I thought my stupid dare was about to lead to the witness of my friend falling onto the sharp rocks below.  Luckily, fear or reality got the better of him and he decided ascending in sandals sans rope was not the best plan.

The adventure continued as we drove way out east of the mountains to the plains.  The homebrew store was a combination of a warehouse and bar.  Across the street was a strip club.  We entered the store and Alex and Dan rummaged around, selecting their special ingredients (malted barley extract, yeast) and tools (tubing, buckets). Alex and Dan already had much of the gear but after two batches of last year’s brew had resulted in explosions, Alex wanted new tubing to prevent another round of infection, which he speculated might have been caused by wild yeast entering the beer.

The owner rung us up and delighted in informing us that tax was only 4.7% – we were out of the city now where tax was 9.8%!

“Gotta love being right on the border” he joked.  “But the winter was a drag, snow plow didn’t even plow the street.”

“But you gotta love that tax,” I told him, “hell, I bet you’ll put the plow on your truck and make your own path.”

He gave a hearty laugh, it appeared I hit the nail on the head.  (I wondered if he had a deal with the strip club guy).

Fast-forward to the next day and our cottage was transformed into what could easily be mistaken for a meth lab.  Tubes, and buckets everywhere with a big vat of wort (beer before it has fermented) on the stove.

The smell was… interesting, but it grew on me and over all the hops smelled great.

Alex and Maddy did most of the actual brewing, while I hung around on the sidelines, watching in wonder.  Now, after all the excitement and activity, for once I can honestly say that I’ve never been so excited to crack open a beer.  I’ll let you know how it goes in 4 weeks!

~Martin~

This story was a submission to EntertainingYourself.com’s first ever “Best Running Story in a Foreign Country Writing Contest” – April 2011. Our story’s author, EY Contributor, Martin Mudry, an avid traveler and runner, is currently filming a documentary in Kenya called “Where Dreams Don’t Fade.” You can follow his latest project on a special facebook page devoted to the movie.  Or check back here for more stories to come!

Carl had just arrived in China. Wade, Megan and I picked him up at the airport in Kunming, the city he’d be spending the next 4 months in for his study abroad. While Wade, Megan and I had been traveling around China together for a few weeks, Carl should have been tired, jet lagged, and ready for bed. So what did we do? Immediately upon returning to the hostel we made him take a shot of one of the strongest and foulest drinks known to man called Baijiu. At $.50 for the equivalent of 5 shots, it also must be one of the cheapest drinks available anywhere.

The rest of the first night was pretty tame. We walked around a bit past some empty stores, through the big square where our hostel was located and then went to bed. The next morning we all went out to breakfast together before bidding Wade and Megan goodbye, as they flew back up north to the city where they are both teaching.

Once they left, Carl had quite a bit on his plate. He had just arrived at altitude, (Kunming’s altitude is 1,800 meters ~6,500ft); he was with someone who has a dairy allergy but doesn’t speak any Chinese; he was adjusting to a 13 hour time difference from where he had just come; oh yeah, and this was his first time traveling outside of the United States, EVER!

So as a good friend, what did I do to ease the transition? Take it easy for a few days? No! Carl and I immediately headed out to the city outskirts and hiked into the nearby mountains where I had previously seen a few hotels. We hiked up to an even higher elevation at which point the real fun began- watching Carl barter for a room with people in Chinese. The problem was, aside from Carl not having practiced Chinese for a few months, he also had to speak to people who barely knew Mandarin- the only dialect he had been taught.

We checked out one place, which seemed nice, but the price was a bit high, so we decided to check out another knowing we could always come back and try to drive the price down more.

At the second place, the guy showed us rooms but opened each door by sliding open the room window first and then unlocking the door from the inside with his hand. But the price seemed right after a little negotiation, so we made the decision to stay and asked for the room key.

What? The guy didn’t seem to understand. “The key to the room” Carl said again in Chinese. He seemed very confused and reluctant, but took a key off a key chain that appeared to hold only the master keys. We went back to the room, where I took a closer look at the window- thinking: “Great, no lock, so the key is useless per his little trick to get in.”

As I debated whether we should leave our stuff in the room while we went for a run, I realized that there was a key to the bathroom and if we locked our stuff in there, chances were he wouldn’t be able to get past that second door.

So with our passports and cash secured behind one door with virtually no lock and behind another door as flimsy as balsa wood, we went out for a quick walk and then a run.

As we were leaving with our backpacks to explore the area, we ran into the guy who had given us the room and key. He asked us for the keys. Carl tried to tell him that we had it, but he kept asking for it. I, of course, didn’t know what he was saying, although it was pretty clear that he was motioning for the keys. Finally Carl told him for the 4th time that we were just going for a walk; that we would be coming back; and that we were taking the key but would give it back before we checked out.

On the run we went through small villages, down single track trails and came upon some kids. They appeared utterly terrified and I’m sure the youngest thought the foreigners were going to kill her and leave her dead in the forest. We tried to tell them it was OK and the older ones actually start to laugh, but one of the youngest continued to run in terror.

We ducked by some houses and got back out onto a main road. A few more times we took trails that came to dead ends. One looked nice but quickly ended at a small temple in the hillside. Another led us down a path toward a village but soon we were surrounded by huge German shepherds, which while chained, were barking furiously, giving us the clear message about which way to go (back the way we came). We wandered through more fields, before finally coming to a trail that led down a steep path and crossed a beautiful hill of tall grass.

It reminded me a lot of the hills on the coasts of Northern California, with little halftrack trails. Carl was out running in front when all of a sudden he slipped. The image flashed before me of Carl tripping and tumbling a hundred feet down the steep slope. Luckily he caught himself.

Feeling like my mother, I warned him: “Be careful Carl.” “I know” he said. A few minutes later, he tripped again, and then again. I felt at a loss, and could picture having to call his parents to tell them how he slid down a hill in rural china. Again, with a little luck, we found a way up and over and finally were on the path heading back to the hotel.

We planned to go out to eat, but after a shower Carl was exhausted and just wanted to call it an early night. I didn’t blame him. When Wade Megan and I first arrived at altitude, we took it really easy. With Carl, I’d had him hiking, running, and translating from day one and maybe the jet lag was finally catching up with him. I read for a bit then lay down as well and we both dozed off until 9:30 pm or so.

We were both awake and talking when we heard a car pull in and the doors slam. Then, all of a sudden, loud piano music. It sounded so real – could there be a piano somewhere??

Carl and I were like what the ??, until the background music started and people started singing karaoke in Chinese for the next few hours. The music randomly went from loud to unbearable at no discernable intervals.

The absurdity of the situation – high up above Kunming, on the border of mountains and farmland – people were blasting music and singing as if their sole goal was to break glass.

Hours later the music stopped. Then we heard footsteps coming downstairs to where our room was. Then there was someone at the door trying to get in. We tried to say hello, but then the window slid open. I quickly got up to turn on the light as Carl yelled “What do you want?? We’re in here” in Chinese. As I turned on the light, whoever was there left quickly and that was the last we heard of them.

The next morning, we got up early and caught the sunrise on the hill. It was completely quiet and we were the only people. It was a complete 180 from the day I had discovered the place with Wade and Megan.  That day it was New Years and there were hundreds of Chinese people in high heels, suits, and dress shoes, miraculously scrambling over the rocks and shouting to each other across the valleys. This time we were alone and the light was perfect.

We hiked around a little more before returning to our room to gather our stuff to leave. Our friend who was so worried about our keys and maybe was the one trying to come into our room the night prior was no where to be found.  We left the keys with his wife and headed out.

We had 20 miles to hike and many more memories to be had before the day was up.  It may have only been Carl’s first few days in China, but it was important that he learn the rules to successful travel- do it while you can, push yourself, and don’t forget to go for a run.

~Martin~

EntertainingYourself.com writer Martin is off on an adventure in China!  He’s traveling around the country on foot and via trains, boats, and buses to find the best views.  Here he’s seen climbing his way to the top of Green Lotus Peak overlooking Yangshuo!   So this is what it’s like on top of the world!

For more fun pictures of Martin’s adventures check out EntertainingYourself.com’s facebook page! 

Or check back here – we’ll be sure to update again soon.

Santa Monica Bike Path

With less than two weeks to go until my first marathon, I decided to head to the famous Santa Monica bike path for one final effort to gauge my fitness.  Since most of my runs have been on hilly and mountainous trails I thought a flat run with mile markers would be a good way to find out if some of my ambitious goals were reasonable for this race.

From the start of my run I was chomping at the bit to get going fast.  Rather than a long warm up, and easing into an effort as I usually do, I felt almost paranoid to get down to business and begin my workout.

During the run I felt slightly discouraged despite hitting the mile times I wanted to be running.  My brain was saying “wow this is pretty hard, I couldn’t hold this up for 4 times as long. There’s no way I could run an additional 19 miles at this pace.”  Yet in the end I reached my goal and maybe even ran a little faster.  It was a strange feeling to have just accomplished what I set out to do and yet not feel satisfied.

After the run I went to get water, and all of a sudden had the idea to go in the ocean.  It hit me so quickly I almost went with out doing a cool down.  Sure there were questions like what will I do with my shoes?  Will I lose my car key if I jump in? But I decided to risk it and take the plunge.

Within minutes I was playing in the water and diving through the waves.  I couldn’t remember the last time I had played in the ocean like this and the feeling of surfing a wave reminded of summers from my childhood on Long Island.  Afterwards I retrieved my shoes, and lay out in the sun to dry.  Of course in a significantly better mood.

I came to the beach to run without even the slightest notion of swimming and yet going in the water turned out to be the highlight of my day.  After the swim I was able to see my run in a different light.  During my run I accomplished what I set out to do.  Sure it felt hard, but training runs usually feel much harder than races.  And with long runs in the days prior to this and hot weather I should have expected today’s run to feel hard.  What I was hoping for was this magical feeling that can occur in a run where you are able to surpass your expectations and have it feel effortless.  What I forgot is that those experiences rarely occur when in the mindset I was in when I set off.  Those special runs occur when you are completely relaxed, when you decide to have fun, or get the urge to go after it.

I don’t know what time I am going to run during my marathon next week, but I do know today’s run was certainly nothing to be discouraged about.  And I was reminded that even when pursuing one’s goals, there are always hidden opportunities waiting for you.  I suggest you let go and jump in.

-Martin

“It’s made out of old tennis shoes?” The look on most kids’ faces was priceless. And I admit that when offered a skateboard to “try some tricks” the surface began looking awful hard for shoe rubber… But it’s true, Nike teamed up with Paul Rodriguez (aka P-Rod) and the LA84 Foundation to build a new kind of skate park, made out of recycled materials including old shoes.

The vibe at the event was awesome. I showed up over two hours before the grand opening and there were already over 200 skaters as young as age 5 skating around. Before the park was officially unveiled, skaters killed time by meeting new people, doing tricks for their friends, or waiting in line to be one of the first to get P-Rod and the rest of the Nike Skateboard Team’s autographs (some came over 5 hours early just to be first!).

The event took place on “go ride a skate board” and which happens to fall on father’s day. Fittingly, the event officially kicked off with a humorous speech by P-Rod’s father Paul Rodriguez Sr. As he switched off between English and Spanish for the widely Latino/a community, Paul shared stories of his son growing up in the nearby neighborhood and what it was like watching his son become a professional skate boarder.

When the park was finally opened for skating, literally hundreds of kids rushed the park to say hi to P-Rod and ride the new ramps, stairs and rails. Order was maintained through sheer awe as the pro riders started doing huge tricks over the stair gap.Some riders watched, while others ventured to different areas of the large park to create their own skate sessions for family and community members to watch.

Seeing all the young skaters that came out to this event made me realize how important places like this are for kids. This park in particular was created to look and act like real street skate spots rather than a cage filled with ramps. While older and hardcore skaters will continue to seek additional street spots, for younger and new skaters this place offers a legal and safe place to practice and hang out, which ultimately will attract and keep more youth in the sport.

-Martin-