It's week 1 and I've already decided that I hate running in the mornings. Lyndi and Drew seem fine with waking up while it's still dark, running through the smoke of villager's cooking fires and sprinting past parked trucks with their drivers either fast asleep at the wheel or looking out their windows at us in incredulous wonder. My feeling is, mornings are for cups of coffee, the newspaper and struggling with my sari.
Meg and I have decided to run in the evenings. It gets dark early here, same as most of the world right now, so we are often jogging towards fast approaching darkness.
We took a new route tonight that took us through the migrant worker's tent village across the river. There, exercise is not something one chooses to do for their health. I wonder if staying 'fit' even crosses their minds. Staying fed is their driver. They work hard in the sugarcane fields all day, the women bend over their wash at the river; beating the life out of their clothes to clean them - why would they want to run on top of that? The crazy white girls are providing some entertainment, that's for sure.
It's still week 1 and I'm feeling pretty good. My legs haven't reached the leaden stage yet. Maybe that won't happen, but I'm guessing it will...
Until next time...