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| Race 4 OYE Team |
When I first applied for an internship position at OYE, one
of the many facets that attracted me to the organization was their commitment
to community involvement through several different media, one of which is
sports.
Now, before reading any further, it might first be useful to
know a little factoid about me that might explain my reluctance to participate
when my supervisor first informed me that he had signed us up for the half
marathon in San Pedro Sula this past Sunday to raise money for OYE. Having
played soccer my entire life and now continuing it in college, I have never
really been required to run for extended periods of time. In fact, I’ve made a conscious effort
to avoid runs over two miles whenever possible. As it turns out, I’ve been
rather successful in this endeavor and with the exception of a very roughly
estimated 7-mile jog through my home town during one particularly disappointing
high school season – which was the first and last time I “hit the wall” and had
to hobble around it – I have, up until last Sunday, avoided all long-distance
physical assaults. I could fall back on the excuse that soccer is not, by any
means, a sport in which you run for extended periods, especially as a defender,
where short bursts are more appropriate, and that’s precisely what I intend to
do. Even when I was younger, and
general athleticism was enough to succeed at most sports before puberty, sprints
of generally no more than 30 yards were enough in football, baseball, and
lacrosse. It doesn’t look like
that has changed much after puberty either. This is why I became fascinated with long-distance track
runners and their willingness to subject themselves to such an archaic form of
self-torture – I figure it’s a result of some sort of traumatic
experiences. Why else would anyone
voluntarily run for so long, if not to get away from some terror? The only problem with this theory is
that, at least in high school, they were constantly running in an oval so could
never get any farther away from whatever demons were chasing them.
That being said, RACE 4 OYE not only presented an
opportunity to get into better shape than ever before for my upcoming soccer season,
but also served a much greater purpose.
Running in La Maratón de la Prensa for OYE was an opportunity for the
staff and scholars of OYE to raise funds for the organization, funds that will
be used to provide scholarships to a number of new and existing young students,
funds that make it possible to expand OYE’s capacity to support these scholars
financially. So, while I knew my
lack of training, not to mention my aversion to the Honduran climate during an
event like this, might leave me withered and wasting away on the streets of San
Pedro, the cause was definitely worth the physical trauma. Cue the dramatic
music.
I am not quite sure what gave me the impression that RACE 4
OYE would be a lot like the 5K Proniño marathon we participated in a few weeks earlier,
in which about 50 racers gathered by the park in El Progreso and most of whom walked down a dusty, dirt road
eventually stopping at the orphanage (while I missed the turn to the finish and
proceeded to run almost all the way back to the starting line only to be
found later, half-dead, by my supervisor, Michael). No, the Proniño race did
not boast quite the same environment as La Maratón de la Prensa. Instead, last Sunday we entered a swarm
of what must have been around 2,000 very diverse participants, ready to begin
the race. Where some runners isolated
themselves off to the side to better prepare with various stretches and
exercises, others took a more leisurely approach, chatting with friends while
concealing their muffin-top figures in brightly colored spandex. Nevertheless, this maratón was a much bigger
deal than I had expected.
Decorated by sponsors and supporters, the event also showcased runners
from all around the world, including the mighty Kenyans who would soon live up
to their reputation as marvels of the running community. Something in their unpurified water,
perhaps.
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| Race 4 OYE Team |
As the marathon began and my fellow OYE racers and I
struggled to pin on our numbers, we could see the tension in Michael’s face as
he waited patiently until everyone was ready before taking off through the sea
of neon garb. As for me, I took my
time choosing a pace I thought I could maintain for 21 long, long kilometers
only to later find out it would be impossible to sustain anything faster than a
leisurely stroll for that distance.
However, being new to maratónes, this tiny detail eluded me at first and,
as I passed other racers gingerly trotting in packs, I grinned, thinking about
the pride I would feel after finishing.
When I reached the first mountain (and I call it a mountain because I
never received the memo that there would be a number of steep inclines during a
MARATHON, half or otherwise) my determination, my confidence, and my pace
quickly faded. Even as I jogged past
a man in a wheelchair, an all too inspiring and impressive feat but never you
mind that, I began to feel my legs give up around the second kilometer, which
must be why it crossed my mind more than once to ask him for a ride
downhill. I know that doesn’t
sound like much, but you have to realize just how many uphill struggles I had
to endure and, please, refrain from saying “so did everyone else” in order to
fully appreciate the situation in which I had unknowingly agreed to
participate.
But I was motivated to finish and with the hundreds of
people scattered around the perimeter of the race, handing out bags of water, wet
sponges, and encouragement, how could I not? Well, I’ll tell you how. It was the memory of those annoying hills
that did it. For what seemed like a lot of time to be deliberating whether or
not to begin the second lap after completing the first 10.5K and having a
little fuel left in the tank, I nonetheless deliberated whether or not to begin
the second lap. My consideration was soon overpowered with the realization that,
although I could run somewhat longer, no way could I finish another 10.5
kilometers running through the rollercoaster streets of San Pedro. My talents
were better suited to drinking free water, eating free bananas, getting a free
Icy-Hot leg massage, watching the attractive dancers on stage, cheering on the
other runners crazy enough to continue, and waiting patiently for the OYE
family to arrive. After reuniting
with Erick and Pao, who must have had similar sentiments, we awaited the
victorious, albeit tired, face of our fearless competitor and leader, Michael,
to reach the end after a grueling 21 kilometers. And though he didn’t beat the Kenyans to the finish line (as
for myself, I’m just glad I wasn’t lapped by them), I expect it was only
because he got a late start after lingering while the rest of us took our time
to suit up. We’ll compare times
when they’re released, just to make sure.
Although some of us could not overcome the heat, or the
distance, or the mountains to finish the full race, we won where it mattered
most – the reason we ran in the first place. Because, although running La Maratón de la Prensa is complete,
the race continues. As a team, the
members of RACE 4 OYE have raised a total of $2,175 so far, for which we thank
our generous contributors from around the world. OYE truly appreciates the support of its past and present
enthusiasts who have helped to provide scholarships and better opportunities to
our young scholars. Our supporters
continue to donate to the cause and all are encouraged to do the same, if you
can. And, honestly, I’d be pretty
relieved if OYE receives more contributions without my having to run another
race.
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| Pao Canales and Erick Estrada |
Chris Benedict is a Politics major at Princeton University and a summer intern at OYE.
