At home 9,000 miles away

Several weeks ago I got to experience a number of "first evers." At my age, I can assure you that most first-ever experiences are not things you want to share with a lot of people. However, my recent adventures were not only wonderful and exciting, but they also confirmed many of my long-held beliefs about the nature of runners and the universal running community.

While I have been exceedingly fortunate over the years, I had until completed every run in my life in North America. (I also ran in Hawaii during our honeymoon 35 years ago.) I can now say that I have run in Africa. For someone who thinks Cable, Wisconsin, is a good distance from home, my trip to South Africa was a real eye-opener.

Our youngest son, Zak, lives and works in Cape Town. Upon his college graduation, Zak took a job with a nonprofit organization called Grassroot Soccer (GRS). This nongovernmental organization trains professional soccer players to go into the townships and teach a curriculum designed to stop, or at least slow, the spread of AIDS and HIV. This is a daunting task, but GRS is a great organization - in my naturally unbiased opinion.

With Zak living 9,000 miles away, we don't get to see him too often. Naturally, he said that I should come and visit. So it was on a rainy day in late December that I found myself at Madison's Dane County Airport getting on the first of five flights that would take me to the southwest coast of the African continent.

I arrived in Cape Town at 11 p.m. At least that's what the clocks in the airport said. After 30 hours of travel, my internal clock had no idea what time it was. The next morning my first full day in Africa started the way most of my summer mornings start. (Remember, when it's winter here, it's summer in the Southern Hemisphere). I went for a run.

Cape Town sits in an absolutely gorgeous setting. One side of the city is bordered by the Atlantic Ocean. The other side is hemmed in by mountains. My first run in Africa was completely along the ocean. Aside from the jet lag, I felt neither out of place nor alone.

There were dozens of runners out for their Sunday workout, and some looked serious. South Africa is the home of several of the world's most competitive ultramarathons. The Comrades Marathon is a 56-mile race whose 20,000 runner limit was reached six months before it was last held.

There were also entire families out running. Single men, single women, old guys, young kids, all were out enjoying the sunny 80-degree weather. And those I encountered confirmed a long-held belief of mine: Runners are naturally gregarious and friendly. While I'm sure I looked slightly out of place, people waved, said "How's it?" - I replied with "Hi" and got a few perplexed expressions - as if I was already one of the gang. Relieved, I knew that running in Cape Town would be a comfortable experience.

Chapman's Peak

Several days later, Zak took me for a run up and down Chapman's Peak. A couple of his nonrunning friends asked why on earth we would want to run this road when it would be so much easier to drive. (Here again, some things do not change from one continent to another, like the disbelief of nonrunners.) Chapman's Peak is a beautiful road climbing up along the Atlantic Ocean. The road is literally carved out of a mountain. The 6K climb is actually part of the Two Oceans Marathon, a 35-mile race, with the ascent and descent coming between 18 and 23 miles. This may be one of the reasons why so many tough and talented runners come from South Africa.

Throughout my stay, I was able to run in some beautiful places with spectacular views. Never did I feel uneasy or unwelcome.

We had one run particularly unique to the locale. At a national park on the western side of the cape, we followed a trail through brush and grassland. The scenery was sparse, the temperature was hot and 250 meters away from us powering across the veld at top speed were ostriches. Now, I don't know too much about ostriches, but my impression is that they are not that smart. While Zak was a bit interested in venturing closer, I was happiest at a safe distance from these 7-foot-tall, two-legged athletes with wings. We had been told previously that ostriches will eat anything, including rocks. I wasn't too concerned with being eaten, but I figured any creature willing to eat rocks was sure to be unpredictable.

A New Year's Eve race

Perhaps the crowning run of my trip came on New Year's Eve. Despite having run very little over the preceding six weeks (due to it being winter and ski season back in Wisconsin), Zak and I entered a race. Over 1,000 people arrived at the oceanfront to run the Brooks Runners Memorial 8K. It was 80 degrees, the wind was blowing 45 mph, the waves were crashing and I didn't know what to expect. Yet, it was here that the universality of the running community again became ever so evident.

We found a parking spot in an overcrowded lot and headed to the registration area. Nervous pre-race chatter could be heard in English, Afrikaans, Zulu and a smattering of other languages. We each received a small number in a baggie with a pin to attach it. The race director called over all the international runners, which included myself (how cool is that?), so he could get a list of all the countries represented.

Like at any other race, many of us searched in vain at the last minute for a restroom. Some of us warmed up along the ocean. Others just chatted amicably with friends and club mates. Many had race singlets identifying not only their clubs but their age groups. People were helpful, friendly and, in many cases, very competitive. (For example, the top 50-year-old finished fourth overall in 25:26, averaging 5:06 per mile.) Aside from some language barriers and the unfamiliar surroundings, it felt like any other race I have run for the first time. I asked about the course and people were more than happy to provide me with a description, a list of landmarks and turn-by-turn instructions.

Zak and I took our places near the front of the group. Zak wasn't too sure how fast he could run and I, too, couldn't predict a pace. Due to fracturing a foot in August, followed by the start of ski season, this would be only my 25th run over the previous four months.

The race started into a strong headwind. Zak took off while I jostled my way past some slower runners. I was also passed by a number of competitors. Women, men, some elementary school-aged kids were all pushing hard into the wind. The course was a double out and back so we ran into the wind for about 5K of the 8K race.

Every kilometer was clearly marked, as were the two water stops. The water was handed out in small sealed plastic bags. I had never seen anything quite like this before, but it made drinking easy and efficient. I labored over the final kilometer and found my son was waiting for me after having run his fastest 8K ever. At the finish, friends greeted each other, shared stories (at least I think that's what they were doing), enjoyed the post-race refreshments and celebrated a job well done. I felt right at home 9,000 miles away from home. I was in the company of runners and part of a worldwide community.

With my first race as an international runner complete, Zak and I headed back to his apartment for some pasta, beer and a quiet New Year's Eve.

Before leaving Madison I was a bit uneasy about traveling so far from home. How wonderful it is to have children to visit and a new people with whom you can share a common bond. If you get the chance, grab it.

Good running to you, no matter where it might take you.

Tom Kaufman, of Madison, Wisconsin, has run more than 50 marathons in as many years of running. He teaches high school phys ed and coaches high school track and cross country teams, as well as community and masters athletes. He has a master's degree in physical education and a specialization in exercise physiology.