The Kenyans are Coming!

I write to you from almost midway through the Mumbai marathon, panting amidst a sea of Indians on a road to nowhere. It is 8:15 AM, the sun is illuminating the bumpy road, and I am on my 9th or 10th kilometer when I hear a helicopter cutting through the air. I look up in between breaths and it seems to be coming straight at me. The cameras are on me, and I'm thinking I'm going to be on Indian CNN tonight. Then I hear insistent honking behind me, and a guy on a megaphone is screaming at me to get out of the way. A double decker bus goes streaming past, and it is followed by an SUV carrying photographers. Behind them are two motorcyclists speeding along carrying guys who are sitting backwards and adamantly yelling at me and my fellow half marathoners. Their wildly waving arms violently express the need for us to move out of the way!

Ten seconds later, there are footsteps, methodical and light. A tightly packed crew is suddenly at my side. I turn my head to see an army of eighteen Kenyan marathoners go gliding by. What's left is a saucy display of short shorts and tight butts. They appear to be doing a 100 meter sprint; it's effortless. I look around at my fellow runners and we express admiration for their strength and speed and agility, amidst a sea of well-meaning expletives. It was truly amazing.

It was not nearly as amazing, when the race leaders passed me yet again, as I was in my last 500 meters. By this point, I was hobbling, and had given up all hope of pulling out a valiant sprint to the finish. Once again, I was told to get out of the road, because the Kenyans are coming! I, and the 85 year old man that was setting my pace, made our way to the curb to let them have their space. Good thing we did. We enabled three Kenyans to finish in the top three. Two Ethiopians followed quickly behind, then another five Kenyans.

Needless to say, I did not win the race. SpongeBob SquarePants and I crossed the finish line at the same time. He couldn't see out of his costume, and had two people holding his hands. I won't reveal my time...but, this should give you an idea: I got passed, not once, but twice by the Kenyans.

Unfortunately, the photographer I hired (my special male friend) turned out to be a better cheerleader and race-day driver. The camera refused to cooperate as I went, ahem, sprinting past. Please accept the other attached photo as a memory and symbol of the resilience and strength expressed by many people during the race--this man ran the marathon without shoes.

In all seriousness, running the race was an incredible opportunity to witness the humanity in Mumbai. People from all walks of life--from the slums, from high rise apartments--came out of their homes to watch and cheer us on. The most surreal moment occurred when two furry sheep galloped down the road as if they were running to the finish. I have no idea where they were going. Perhaps, like me, they were spurred on by the beat of the Bollywood music playing on the loud speakers.

I ran the race on behalf of an NGO based in Mumbai called Apnalaya. They support women and children living on top of a landfill/dump in Shivaji Nagar. To learn more about Apnalaya, go to www.apnalaya.org.