A nagging feeling . . .

Trips to Kenya should come with a warning label. “Caution: individuals traveling to Kenya may experience unexplained disorientation and confusion on returning to their homes. Inattention may lead to hazardous driving, long silences, and immoderate consumption of alcoholic beverages. Individuals having experienced in small measure life in the Third World may also note a lack of patience with the trivial problems peculiar to the First World.”

I've been idling along since I got back from Kenya, going to work a lot, doing a (very) little bit of writing, and occasionally going for a run. Writing has suffered from a rather confused idea of what to do next, having finished one book and having a dozen waiting in the wings.

I started the novel about Grace, the main character in my future novel about Kenya. Started and ground to a halt over a bit of conversation. Meanwhile, the characters from the last book chattered away inside my head and the opening scene of the sequel popped. Eventually those voices overwhelmed Grace which means that her novel gets put on hold until I finish the series.

Or maybe not.

I'm toying with the idea of writing both at the same time. This morning, I happily spent an hour mapping the general outlines of the sequel. I have two possible endings for it, one pretty standard, the other a bit off the wall that I really need to understand before I try it. Tomorrow I'll try mapping Grace's story and see what happens.

To do both, I'm going to need to make a few choices. The biggest will be to deliberately forego income which is darn near Un-American. To make it happen, I'll need to focus on working with people that I like or on projects that I think are interesting. Those should generate enough to pay bills while I write, read, and run more. The second change is a deliberate effort to spend time in activities that are rewarding emotionally. That's more time with family, friends, and outdoors, less with bores, natterers, and nincompoops.

Life choice decisions like this aren't possible for the vast majority of Kenyans. For the small middle class, work is six days a week, a far cry from the American ideal 40 hour work week or the European 30 hours. For the rural areas, work is a seven day a week activity for everyone. When they aren't at their jobs, picking tea for example, they're working the family garden plot or tending to the cows. Cooking is still done over a fire for many women, laundry done by hand in a bucket.

We – you, me - live fundamentally comfortable First World lives which we are disinclined to disturb. That we can blame on evolution, which has hardwired us to be risk-adverse. As a survival strategy, it is highly effective. Surviving, though, doesn't translate to living fully, to rising up to meet our higher aspirations. For that, we need to take chances. More accurately, I need to take some chances.

It might work as well as the first, and last, man who thought domesticating a lion would work. If so, consider it an object lesson on what not to do.

Until I try, I won't know and that not-knowing will nag at me.

Snake River Half Marathon in Pictures

Again, my thanks to Taylor for taking so many great pictures!

Volunteering at the Snake River Half Marathon

The Palouse Road Runners held their annual Snake River Half Marathon yesterday. Weather for the race was an unseasonable comfortable 50 degrees with light winds, a welcome difference from the year that we cracked ice off the water jugs to fill cups. The Asotin High School runners crewed the turnaround aid station, also an annual event.

As every race director will attest, finding enough volunteers for a running event is like panning for gold, slow and tedious. Nominally speaking, the Asotin team gets paid for their efforts, the funds going into the cross country program, but Coach Tim Gundy is a fan of supporting runners, in all venues, so the bigger payoff for the team is the opportunity to volunteer.

This year, we only had three kids that have helped before, so we conducted an impromptu training session on how to hand out cups. Sounds simple, hand the runners cups, but the fact that said runners are in motion makes it like passing a liquid-filled baton on the track. They played, taking turns at both roles. Surprisingly little water hit the ground.

The race started at ten and, at 10:33, Jimmy Oribo went by, looking very strong. He was the men's winner in 1:09. Just behind him came the rest of the leaders and then, we got busy. The turnaround aid station sits at the six mile mark and gets hit twice as the runners grab a cup on each side. It's the most intense of the three aid stations.

It took a while for the kids to figure out that it's okay to shout encouragement to the athletes - they might have been the quietest group we've had there - but they got the hang of it pretty quickly, with their indefatigable coach leading the way. 

Since my self-imposed job is to keep the cups full and in plentiful supply, I couldn't take pictures. As it turns out, Miss. Taylor, one of Gundy's runners, is pretty darned good with a camera. In addition to handing our water, she took a bunch of terrific pictures.

The first female came through at 10:41 by my watch, and seemed very comfortable. As it usually the case, there were more women runners than men. A lot of writing has been expended in various running magazines trying explain why that should be the case. I'm not sure anyone has the answer. Me, I'll celebrate the folks that got off the couch to run.

The main pack kept us jumping but, having done this a time or two, we had our systems set up and handled it. We brought extra tables and water jugs and set up the station on both sides of the road. That saved a lot of effort crossing the road to serve the return group of runners.

The sports drink was Heed, a point that the runners made to the kids when the latter called it Gatorade. I suspect that the PRR will get a request to change to a more palatable drink next year as it didn't seem to be a big hit with the runners. Having used the stuff myself, I can sympathize. Good product, but the flavor . . . . well, let's just move along.

The long tail of the race arrived and the work tempo dropped off. The folks at the back of the pack are almost universally grateful. We told the kids up front that they might find a cranky runner or two - it happens - but that most of the people would thank them for being there. I'm not sure the first-time kids believed it. By the end of the race, they knew it. The quiet kids were laughing and cheering and enjoying themselves, feeding off the energy of the runners.

The Awesome Crew at the Turnaround Aid Station, Snake River Half Marathon 2016