On Sunday the largest road race in Africa that is held annually took place in Addis Ababa known as the Great Ethiopian Run. It’s an International 10 km with roughly 44,000 participants. The money raised from this race goes to a number of different charities promoting the support of women and children. This year the cause was for the equality of women. Some of the world’s finest runners are groomed here so this race was a monumental event that is widely celebrated. Upon entering Ethiopia I knew about this race and had my heart set on running it. The only problem? By the time I got to register for this race entry was closed. In this blog I will walk you through how I got to be apart of this very special moment.
I had been sick for 2 weeks with little motivation to figure out how I could be a participant myself. I talked to taxi drivers over the week conducting research in how I could get in so late in the game. I gathered where the race was being held and where the start was so I had some hope. I had the mindset that I would show up on race day as a ‘bandit runner’ which is an illegal racer. The day before the race a few people from another team were able to some how register for the run at a hefty price. I desperately asked for their help as I was at a lost for how to get in as well. I was met with a lack of empathy and zero effort in assistance and instead I was handed disrespect and contempt. Feeling dejected by this I sat in sorrow with my team and expressed my pain at the heart of it. Besides feeling hurt from the selfishness of others at the core I felt cheated by God. I was the only one who actually knew about this race and yet here I was left in the dark. My team heard and felt my pain with me which was a first for me. I never had a community that supported me and didn’t dismiss my feelings simultaneously. If the only lesson I took away from this is that my feelings are valid than it was ultimately worth it. Later in the evening I broke away from my team and wrestled with the Lord. “Why is it that you know my deepest desires and yet leave me with longings left unmet?” I had tunnel vision and could only see how dismal the situation was. With a heavy heart I went to bed with plans to still try to make an attempt at getting in the morning.
I was accompanied by my friend and teammate, Laura Leigh, who from the start at training camp has been my adventure partner. We have found ourselves on some pretty crazy rides together. You can check out her blog about the Great Ethiopian Race from her perspective here: https://lauraleigharmstrong.theworldrace.org/post/run-the-race
I woke up at around 6 am and asked if she was still down to run this race. She was ready, full of expectancy, and eagerly waiting to leave the house. I was more so the opposite, thinking we wouldn’t be fruitful with our efforts yet propelled to proceed with our plans. We left at 7 am and as we made our way to the entry point of the road race we saw people wearing the green race shirt migrating from all over the city. Excitement started to fill my heart as as we were dropped off near the starting line. After talking to security at the first choke point I was able to convince him to let us through upon showing him our passports. Feeling pretty content with myself we walked down the road with a throng of racers. We were then hit with two lines of military personnel patting down people. There was no way we were getting passed AKs. We went on both sides of the line trying to talk to the soldiers asking where we could attain a race shirt which was needed to run in this race. None of them spoke English and they grew more concerned over our presence there. We started asking people around us who were clearly running the race where we could get a shirt last minute. Those we asked were extremely helpful, some even calling their friends to see if they had any shirts available. To no avail our search had turned up unsuccessful and over and over we were told it was impossible to register as it was closed and no more shirts were available. I told Laura Leigh that regardless of the circumstances that it was going to be a good day and we were going to cheer on all the Ethiopian runners either way. Not ready to throw in the towel and call it quits just yet Laura Leigh wanted to walk around the gated off areas which jutted out to the main road. There was a Marriott hotel across the street and we decided to walk over and see if anyone could help with our hunt for race shirts. Laura Leigh asked hotel security if they knew anyone who could get us a race shirt. The hotel staff walked away and shouted something in Amharic over the railing of the building. In a few short minutes later a man who appeared out of thin air came over with two shirts in hand. What the heck? How did he have the exact amount of shirts we needed? I asked how much for a shirt and he said 1,000 birr each for these black market shirts. Laura Leigh and I pulled out all the money we had on hand and pooled it together and it still wasn’t enough. I told him this was all we had and we really needed those shirts. After a few minutes of negotiating he said no problem and handed us those shirts. We ended up paying less than half the price the other team had paid. I stood there in disbelief that we were now holding the ticket we needed to enter the race before us.
Those shirt sizes were comical by the way. Laura Leigh got a ripped kid’s XL shirt that barely fit and I got a men’s XXL that went past my knees. None of that mattered. We proudly donned those shirts as fast as we could. There’s another part of this story that is astonishing. As we were leaving the hotel I had a minor inconvenience to deal with: I had my backpack with me and was prepared to run a 10 km with it. Yet in the moment I decided to ask if the front desk of the hotel would be willing to help me out and hold my bag while I ran. I was asked if I had a room at the hotel and when I said no I was told to talk to security about the matter. I walked outside and explained my situation to the staff who just helped us acquire our shirts and without hesitation I was told it was no problem. I went back inside, mentioned to the lady at the desk that security said it was okay and she looked me in the eyes and said “you don’t have a room and we never do this but only for you we will watch your bag.” How in the world was this feasible?
We made our way through the security checkpoints and were finally in the corrals. The excitement was electric and transferable through the crowd. Tables were set up in the gated area with vendors selling items from hats and sweatbands to painting the Ethiopian flag on people’s faces. When we were offered this service Laura Leigh and I both declined saying we had no money on us. The man looked at us, took a moment and exclaimed “no problem, it’s on me!” I asked three times if he was sure but he was already slathering glitter on my face.
It was a little after 9 am when the crowd joined in a harmony of Ethiopia’s national anthem before we commenced the run. I looked over at Laura Leigh and asked her how we were here right now. I was swept away with adrenaline and pure joy. This was unlike any race I had ever been in. This was a celebration and everyone was so welcoming. Of course you have your elite Olympic runners way at the front in the first wave but for the rest of the crowd this was an event meant to be enjoyed. Live music and dancing took place at every mile marker and people would stop mid run to pause and partake in the festivities. Every so often I would catch glimpses of the multitude of runners before me and it was a sea of thousands of green shirts marching forward. At some points the road would narrow out when going through an underpass and we were packed like sardines but everyone I was surrounded around were smiling from ear to ear and there was no worry over race time being affected.
At each mile marker we stopped and made friends with locals and took pictures with one another.
At the half way point water was being handed out and runners around us came up to us and poured the water down our backs. People with hoses were up on buildings spraying the crowd below. It was such a carefree and playful atmosphere. The streets were soaked and we were ready for the second half of the race.
There were many uphill climbs as the route winded it’s way to the finish. It was near mile marker 8 where the uphills started to catch up to me. In no time we were 500 meters away from the finish and my chest was on fire. In the distance I could hear the crowd of spectators start to chant “Ethiopia!” I refused to stop and wanted to finish strong. Laura Leigh stuck with me the entire time and there was an older gentleman next to my side cheering me on. Adrenaline overrode my physical body and through burning feet and lungs we peddled forward. We crossed the finish line in the time of 1:30 ish, I don’t remember the exact time as that was honestly the last thing on my mind. We walked through the corrals and collected our medals. There were three different colors each denoting the bracket one finished in. Green was for the people finishing in the first wave with a faster time, yellow was second place in the middle of the crowd, and red for the last wave to cross the line. We met a guy who had two medals, a green and yellow, and literally ran the race twice! It didn’t make a difference to me that we finished in the middle. How could I complain about the place we were in with everything that had transpired?
I left this race with far more than just running a 10 km. The Lord showed me that He is so much bigger than I make Him out to be and not confined to race entry deadlines or obstacles of this world. He surely illustrated His sovereignty and moved on behalf of his two kids who wanted to be apart of this race. We were seen. We were heard. By the almighty and living God. That blows me away. When I begin to doubt and grapple with whether the Lord cares about what I care about I have real and tangible proof that He does! When I start to get anxious over fundraising I can draw upon this moment knowing that He can easily make a way when all seems impossible.
I fell in love with Africa all over again and Ethiopia along with its people that day. We were welcomed into a community so rich in history and culture with roots in Christianity, jazz and bluegrass, and the beloved coffee. With the two year visa I now have you can bet I’ll be back for round two next year.
-Saha
