Marathon Training in West Africa

An eight-year-old girl beat me in a Ghanaian marathon. I passed her within the first five miles. Her entourage included a police motorcycle escort and a car full of adult males yelling at her in a local language. At mile 25, the motorcycle and car reappeared ahead of me, and at the finish line, race officials recognized the eight-year-old as the youngest participant, with a faster time than my 4 hours and 50-something minutes, which was twenty-something minutes slower than my first marathon time.

I ran my first marathon in St. Louis with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training, working through the winter to build up for the April race. The program included a schedule, weekly team runs, an encouraging coach who sent email tips and fans on race day. Participants raised funds for blood cancer research, and the cause provided extra motivation.

In early 2008, while serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in Togo, I decided to run the Accra International Marathon (AIM) that September. My motivation for this second marathon was less altruistic. Yes, AIM raises funds for Ghanaian quality of life, but I wanted to say I’d run a marathon in Africa. Maybe this would be the start of a Six Continent Marathon goal (forget Antarctica). I also liked the idea of eating an entire pizza post-race and drinking a margarita at a sports bar in Accra. Plus, I had plenty of time to run between hanging out at the clinic and reading a book a week. So why not run a West African marathon?

Training would take place mainly in Sagbiebou, my northern Togolese village. That alone is a reason not to run a marathon in Ghana – training in Togo. While the four-month schedule I chose would occur mostly during rainy season, I would have to train through the hot season just to get in shape for training. Running on cement aggravates my knee, but the unpaved paths and roads around my village offered plenty alternatives to the national highway; however, none of these paths included a water fountain. Gatorade and energy bars were completely unavailable, even in the capital’s expat supermarkets, and my best bet for finding running shoes within the country were the second-hand clothing vendors in big city markets. But I signed up to run the Ghanaian marathon anyway.

So, how do you hydrate in a village without running water? How do you survive marathon training in hot season? What about shoes?

1. Hydrating –Peace Corps Togo gives volunteers water filters, and I used mine ‘til the end. When my runs exceeded 30 minutes, I ran with a small, South African Airways water bottle and sipped along the way. For really long runs, I filled it with Oral Rehydration Salt mix, which has the same effect as Gatorade, but tastes like tears. Vendors in most towns, and even some villages, sell water “sachets” – water in plastic bags. These are usually safe, unless they look homemade.

2. Temperature – I ran in the early morning, starting between five and six, to avoid heat and sunburn. Training in approximate race conditions made race day less challenging. I can’t imagine training in a northern climate, then trying to run in the tropics, although there were a few participants who did.

3. Shoes, gear and energy boosts – Ok, I cheated here. In January, Peace Corps sent me to South Africa for health reasons, and I bought shoes at a mall. I went to the States in August and I bought another pair then, as well as energy gels. My parents arrived in Accra two days before the race, and they brought more gels and two sleeveless wicking shirts (meaning the material doesn’t absorb sweat, unlike the cotton shirts I trained in). Other volunteers ordered shoes online, had them sent to a family member in the States, who then sent them overseas. That’s risky, because some packages never arrive. I brought back a pair for a friend, and at least one woman I know trained in shoes she found from a market vendor. There is also a Nike store in the Accra Mall.

4. Distance – I still don’t know if my four-mile run was really four miles. I estimated that I ran about a 10-minute mile, so for a seven-mile run, I would run an hour and 10 minutes, timing it on my cell phone (I carried it between my two sports bras. This is not recommended, as sweat may damage the phone). My village was on the national highway, which has markers every five kilometers, but their accuracy is questionable. I ran my 18-mile run from Dapaong, my regional capital, and a friend biked ahead with a bike odometer, water and snacks. If I were to train in the bush again, I would definitely measure my distances this way. Or I could get a watch that does all those things.

5. Nature calls – when there are no public restrooms, the world is your toilet. While I didn’t have to go to the bathroom once during the marathon (a bad sign for hydration), there were plenty of pit stops off the road, in ditches and behind ant hills during training. Always run with a few squares of toilet paper.

6. Gawking – A foreigner running in West Africa – especially a woman – is unique. Women at the water pump will yell at you and call their friends so they can see you, too. Passers-by will encourage you (or tell you that you look very tired and should just stop). Children will chase you. If you’re going to run 26.2 miles, it might as well be interesting.

Training this way probably prepared me less for the marathon than if I’d meticulously measured and timed my runs, alternating long runs with hills and sprint days. Clearly an eight-year-old had a better training plan than I did. Or, she cheated. But I wasn’t running to win, just to run a marathon in Africa. Mission accomplished.