Monday, September 18, 2006

Every day here is a humbling experience. Struggles range from basic communication (questions like "what did you do yesterday?" to "what is your opinion about the expansion of the Panama Canal?" can throw me into confused blubbering), to running a 13K through the heat of a Panamanian morning.

Saturday I completed my second carerra in Panama. I was proud to come in fourth place in the women´s category; fourth out of five women, second-to-last in the entire competition. In the States, coming in behind almost everyone would most likely have ended my competetive running career. There are a few reasons that my pride was not completely destroyed. First, races here are attended by a small number of "elite" athletes. Sure, two of the women who beat me were in high school, but they have trainers! Seriously, I was asked who my trainer was by more than one person before the race. The other woman who finished out of sight, far in front of me, was most definitely a marathon runner, as were most of the men who competed, including my friend, Marcial. Marcial runs 20K on the beach every morning, and most afternoons bikes another 40K or so. I told a few people he was my trainer since a couple times a week I trudge along next to him for a portion of his sandy workout. Also, although I had goosebumps the morning of the race, by around 8:30am when the race began (a half an hour behind schedule, true to Panamanian time), the sun was out in full force and it was HOT. There was one water stop along the way, and the people with the water decided that they would drive their car about 200m in front of me, pacing with one guy, who had full water priveleges for the remainder of the race. I watched from behind, unable to catch up, panting, struggling, thinking I may pass out before I reached the end. However, I was motivated by the one person behind me (a 14-yr old girl), determined that I would not come in last, or at least that I would finish. And I did finish, completing the last torturous lap around the center of the town amidst staring and sometimes clapping Panamanians who were fascinated by the gringa with the reddish-purple face who was giving them odd looks because clearly she didn´t know the route of the race and there was no one there to give her directions. The best part was the brindis after the race. The Pepsi and hamburger were not traditional post-race fare, but they were awesome! Why didn´t the race people in the States think of this? Who wants a dry, bready bagel and some bland Gatorade when you can have syrupy soda and a greasy, mayonaise-smeared hamburger right after you run 13K?! No better way to rehydrate!

The first race I competed in here was a 5K, where I was almost lapped by the men running (3 laps around the fairgrounds) and actually did come in last because the one other woman running with me dropped out after one lap. So actually I won first prize, two Precious Moments coffee mugs, which truly are precious to me. The mugs are an emblem of the energy that keeps me going through these competitions, a concentrated form of the persistence that pushes me through each day. In the races especially, I am on exhibit, like the monkey on a leash at the agriculture fair... a strange species... a white woman who runs in races!!! The same qualities that place me in the minority status here in Panama (often attracting unwanted attention in the cities) project me to the celebrity class at my site. This can be a daily struggle for an introvert such as myself (read the article behind the link...it´s terriffic!!!). However, being in this environment is like an accellerated class in life lessons... the importance of persistence and humility for starters...just the experience I was looking for when I accepted this assignment. I have to admit, however, that I never imagined I´d learn from sweating gallons, feet pounding on a flat, sunny road through the sugar cane fields of Chiriquí.