Race

Partly cloudy, 92 degrees

Though it sometimes works against us, using what we like to call the white-girl (or oyibo) card, is typically advantageous.  While this ID is not something we  carry in our wallets, it is always with us and can get us the best seat in a crowded bus, to the front of a long line, and, as I recently found out, an invitation to run a professional mountain race as a mediocre, recreational runner.

I had planned to take the year off from racing.  I didn't want the pressure of training/competing and the time off would be good for me. That was the plan, at least, until I stumbled upon an opportunity I couldn't pass up.  The Obudu Mountain Race, an uphill running race held in the beautiful mountainous state of Cross River, about 8 hours southeast of Abuja, had my name written all over it.

When I first found the race's website, which, in true Nigerian fashion, contained much less information than I would have liked, registration was open to both recreational and professionals runners.  It was only after I had my heart set on running it, and had been training for 4 weeks, that they made the decision to make it open to only invited professionals because of a change in the course from 80% asphalt road to 80% trail.  At this point, I was committed to doing the race and I was in no way, shape, or form ready to take a pass.

When I emailed the Race Director, I didn't expect to receive a response.   Why would he waste time telling yet another non-professional runner the race was now invite only?  To my surprise, he responded, but with a heart-breaking "Thanks for your interest, but registration is closed." Though the response was disappointing, I had his attention.  In my desperate state, what else was I to do except try to convince this man I was professional (enough) to compete in his race?  In a carefully worded email, I explained I was qualified to race elite/professional triathlons (these are not the same categories, but I pretended they were) in my home country and was positive I could handle the course.

It was a couple days later that I received an email asking for my biodata (still not sure what this is?) and record of performance.  I crafted a race resume, including some of my better race results, my birth date, and most importantly, my hometown.  I would like to think he was impressed by my race record and, as a result, gave me the invite, but truth be told, I'm fairly certain it was the Evansville, Indiana, United States of America printed (in large font) across the top that convinced him to let me run. 

I received my invite only 24 hours before I was scheduled to leave for Lagos en route to Obudu.  At the time, I was also recovering from what we think was a case of schistosomiasis (don't look it up - it's gross) that I had picked up while staying in rural Nasarawa State the week before and the allergic reaction I subsequently had to the meds I took to get rid of it.  To say things did not look promising is an understatement.    

In a short and hectic 12 hour period, I pulled myself together, packed my bags, and jumped on the first flight to Lagos the next morning.  This was my first time flying domestically in Nigeria, and although security was a joke - not once was I asked to show an ID and I was allowed to take bottles of water and other liquids in my carry-on - I was pleasantly surprised to leave only 5 minutes behind the scheduled departure time and arrive a full 10 minutes ahead of schedule.  By my account, Nigeria has a better record than the US on domestic flights. 

Upon arrival to the private terminal, I met the other international athletes.  Oh, that's nice, I thought, the athlete's families have come with them.  The girls (or, as it turns out, women) I was looking at turned out to be the athletes themselves - not their daughters.   Since I'm sure most of you have seen professional Ethiopian, Kenyan, and Ugandan runners, I don't need to spend a lot of time describing them, but they are, in one word, tiny.  These were my competitors.  Though to call them my competitors would be demeaning.  I knew it wouldn't be a competition.  They were going to smoke me.  While I was merely hoping to finish the race, these ladies were running for their livelihoods - and a $50,000 cash prize. 

The fact that I was just there "for fun" and not looking to bring home any awards was bewildering.  Why would anyone want to run (especially up a mountain) for fun?  In each of my 5 interviews, I had to explain how running was simply a hobby and my only goal was to finish the race.  By the 3rd interview, I had learned to control the natural giggle that came in response to most of the questions I was asked, but when asked about my aspirations for the upcoming Olympics, I couldn't control myself.   Are you kidding? I asked.  Turns out they weren't.  They might have been, however, had they known before the race, where I would end up finishing.

Dead last.  Out of the 27 women that finished the race, I finished 27th.  If this was any other race, I would have been disappointed, but in this case, I was proud.  As one encouraging spectator told me, I won first for my country.  Though I cussed and questioned what I was thinking more than once, I was elated to simply be there. 

The 8 kilometer course was made up of 2 distinct sections.  The first 6k was straight up (Colorado Spring-ers, think The Incline - times 3 or 4) and physically impossible to run - even for my 95 pound professional friends, but once you reached the summit you were rewarded with a rolling track, cooler temperatures, many more cheerleaders, and a fabulous view.  Well worth it!

The race itself was grueling, but even more exhausting was the constant attention and special treatment.  The moment I stepped off the plane, it became clear that my main job (as the only white female) was to smile and look good in the hundreds of pictures that were to be taken, allowing the "international" race to show how truly international it was.  Though I joked I was charging a fee of 50 naira (equivalent to around $.33) per photo, I now regret not collecting on it.  I could have made a fortune. 

 

The entire weekend was awesome - awesomely exhausting, awesomely fun, and awesomely unique.  I made friends with world-renowned runners, stayed in one of the most beautiful regions in Nigeria, and ran up a mountain.   I really couldn't have asked for much more.  I am considering returning next year to do it again, as many inquired, and I might even "train properly" as some suggested, "and win."  Though I won't come close to medaling, I may do a little better with training the next go around.

I know I've not been great about blogging the last couple months, but I promise to make a conscious effort to do it more frequently after the holidays.  Before I get locked in to a new year's resolution, however, I'm headed out for a 3 week 'Tour de West Africa.'  Taking advantage of a long holiday break, I'm visiting our neighbors, spending 2 weeks in Cameroon with my one and only (my flat mate, McKinley - sorry to excite those who continue to enquire about my love life) and a week in Benin.  I'm very much looking forward to the trip, but with this being my first Christmas away from home, I'm sure I'll be thinking about family (and friends) constantly.

Catch you in 2013.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!