Lucky Star Barefoot Marathon

The marathon was awesome! Held on October 20, the Lucky Star Marathon runs from Walvis Bay to Swakopmund along Namibia’s coastline. The marathon is sponsored by the Walvis Bay-based Lucky Star fishing company, who make pilchards. Pilchards are my favorite type of canned fish here, kind of like giant sardines in a spicy tomato sauce which goes great with oshifima. I know am the proud owner of a Lucky Star t-shirt.

The marathon itself was run under ideal conditions. Because Namibia’s coast is cooled by the Benguela current, a cold-water current that comes from Antarctica, it is usually cool and misty. Marathon day was no exception, with overcast skies and temperatures around 50 or 60 farenheit at the start. My friends Chase & Erin drove me to the start—well, almost. Their car died about 3k from the beginning, and a nice race worker took us the rest of the way.

The race began on time – no mean feat in Namibia. At the start, I was running with two 23-year old Peace Corps volunteers, Paul and Adam. Within the first 500 meters, they sprinted ahead of me, fueled by youth and enthusiasm. As I watched them turn a corner away from me in the distance, I thought to myself, “I’ll catch up to you guys.”


The first few k’s wandered around the affluent town of Walvis Bay, which was controlled by Britain and then South Africa. When Namibia gained independence in 1990, South Africa retained control of Walvis for another four years before finally ceding control back to Namibia. Walvis is the only significant port in Namibia, and goods which come into Walvis are shipped to Botswana, Zambia, Congo and Zimbabwe. In fact, after the marathon I met Frans, a trucker who is friends with another volunteer. He drives frozen chickens from Walvis Bay to Lumumbashe in the Congo. Hopefully, I can convince him to take me with him on one of his trips.

After Walvis, the race headed straight up a good coastal road, with large sand dunes on my right and the cold Atlantic Ocean to my left. I stuck pretty steadfastly to my pace of 9 minutes per mile. There were more people than I expected on the running route, because the race was also being run as a 4-person relay for school kids. So, every 6.5 miles, there was a big group of kids waiting for the runners from their school to come in. These kids were amazing: many were running on the tar road barefoot, in flip-flops, or merely with an ace bandage wrapped around the ball of each foot. Over 50 schools from around the country participated, including several teams which were brought by WorldTeach and Peace Corps volunteers. It was a smart, interesting way to get kids hooked on running.

As the miles pounded on, I continued to feel good. Around mile 18, I caught up with Paul, one of the 23-year old Peace Corps guys who had sprinted ahead of me. We chatted for a bit, then I ran on ahead. Seven miles later, I caught up with Adam as well. With just over a mile to go, I sprinted to a 3:55 finish, a personal record, and the satisfaction of running faster than the 20-year olds. Overall, I had what will probably my top-place finish in my life: 36th place! Of course, only 79 people finished, but I still like to think I came in 36th.

Float Like a Butterfly, Clomp Like a Donkey

One of my absolute favorite things about Namibia is running. It might seem odd to love running in a place with little water and temperatures that routinely get over 100 degrees farenheit. However, running here is my haven, my challenge, and my way to explore rural Namibia.

When I first got to Namibia, I was getting back to running after foot surgery six months earlier. My first runs were fairly tentative – 20 minutes here, 30 minutes there. But pretty quickly, my Peace Corps friend Robin and I started running together a couple of times a week after work. We always ran on a gravel road that headed away from the mission, and if we timed our runs correctly, we could sometimes catch a sunset on return trip. Those runs were also a welcome chance to process all the cultural adjustments that I was going through with a more experienced volunteer.

As I became more confident both in my running ability and in my navigation skills, I began to head off the gravel road onto the sand and dirt tracks that crisscross the landscape here. There are no maps of these tracks, but more often than not, following one eventually led to a small village. During these ‘exploration’ runs, I found four villages that don’t appear on any map: Ohamutsi, Oshipala, Okangombe, and Oshiputu. The locals know where all these villages are, of course, but to me each one was an exciting discovery.

When winter came, I got more serious about training for the Swakopmund Marathon, which I will run tomorrow, October 20 (wish me luck!). Grudgingly, I dragged my butt out of bed at 5:30 each morning to run, because there was never enough daylight to run after school. These morning runs became my favorite time of the week. Each morning, I left my room in dim light of dawn. The sky began to turn colors during the run, from pale bluish to a glowing stereoscope of oranges and reds. Then it faded nearly to white, and finally the sun rose, a giant fiery ball hanging on the horizon.

I’ve had many running companions during the year in Namibia. On one of my first morning runs the hostel dog, Lolly, came to the mission gate and asked to come with me. Lolly and I have become good friends, despite the bite she gave me during my first week here! She’s young and in pretty decent shape, so I thought she might be able to do 8k or so. However, after just about 3k, I turned around and she was nowhere to be seen. Oh shit, I thought, I’ve lost the hostel dog. What are the kids and the staff going to say? Panicked, I aborted my run and spent the rest of my time zigzagging back to the mission shouting her name. She knew her way around, however. When I got back she was there, waiting for me and wagging her tail.

On many runs, children and occasionally adults run along with me for a kilometer or two. In the morning, groups of young children on their way to school often join me. Despite their long grey slacks, button-down white shirts and dress shoes, those little buggers can keep up with me for over a mile! On these runs, I feel a little like Muhammad Ali. When he trained for his “Rumble in the Jungle” with George Foreman in Congo in the 1970s, local kids swarmed around him during his runs. I don't have a swarm around me, but last week I had a respectable group of ten tykes running with me for 40 minutes. Unlike Ali, however, I don't "float like a butterfly and sting like a bee." Let's just say that I'm a bit less graceful.

During evening runs, occasionally an old meme (an older woman) in traditional dress and head scarf runs alongside me for 25 meters or so, which her friends always think is a hilarious joke. Meme Relax, who I greet when I run through her village, shouts at me, “Hurry, hurry!” But my most faithful running companion is Gotard, who works in the hostel and loves running. He has shown me many new running routes. Two weekends ago, for my final long run before the marathon, he took me to a rural Angola border post which was just 12k or so away. Gotard has caught the running bug, and he plans to race in a half-marathon in Oshakati next weekend.

When I’m alone, of course, I have a lot of time to think on my runs. One thing that I’ve been thinking about a lot is trying to raise funds to start a scholarship fund at Canisianum. Our school is excellent: while the passing rates on the national exams hover around 30% nationwide, the passing rate at Canisianum is 99%. Unfortunately, not every learner who is strong academically can afford a school like Canisianum. I’m thinking of using the marathon (well, perhaps the ‘post-marathon’) as a fundraiser to establish a scholarship fund. A year’s tuition at my school is approximately US$100. If I could raise US$5,000, interest on the principle alone could fund five learners every year in perpetuity.

I’m curious to hear what you think of this idea – particularly if you have any experience with establishing scholarship funds or foundations. What sort of safeguards can you build to make sure the money goes to learners who need it most? How are such funds set up and managed? Would you – dear reader – be willing to part with $50 or $100 to allow more kids access to quality education?

Well, that’s it for running here in Namibia. Wish me luck on the race tomorrow!