Running Stories

She heard their footfalls behind her before she fully turned to address them. She knew she was being followed, after all her pursuers were not exactly light of foot, but now they were catching up, gaining on her with each heavy foot fall, each kick, each yell. She knew that once she turned, once they saw each others’ eyes, the game would change.

They were right behind her now, growing quiet as they approached. She saw the soccer ball pass her first. It was soon followed by the unsure face of a boy not yet ten, and then the faces of his four friends, all younger. They smiled at her in a guarded way as they paced along side her, kicking the ball with them. She assessed and then without a word slowed to see if they would pass. They slowed with her, she grinned at them. Their unsure grins grew into those of mirth, she was playing their game. 

She took out her headphones and let them dangle around her neck.

“¿Como te llamas?” the oldest boy asked.

“Rebecca,” she replied. The boys laughed, though at her accent, her name, or the adrenaline she couldn’t be sure. Looking ahead they all saw a car approaching and the boys skittered to the side of the road while Becca continued on the far shoulder. They didn’t follow her for a little while and she found herself running with only the company of the wind and the sand once more. 

Sure enough after only a few minutes, she heard their impending footfalls again and turned her head just enough to see their grinning face reappear. They stayed with her again as the afternoon wind picked up. She smiled widely, even though she felt the sand of the dunes dotting her teeth in the process.

“Vamos pues,” she said (let’s go then) and they looked at her cautiously. Without another word she pushed forward, sprinting door the road and forcing them to follow her. They laughed loudly as they sped up too, running so hard she thought their little legs might detach from their bodies. They passed her after under a minute and she dropped back to her original pace, watching them yell and laugh together.

They all turned and waved at her as they continued on into the coming sunset. The biggest boy turning the yell, “Chao Señorita Rebecca” over the wind.

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She awoke on a chilly Saturday morning to post-rain wind streaming through her open window. She tossed one way and pulled the blanket tighter over her body, tossed the other and curling into a ball, but nothing would let her sleep in the frosty morning. After rising to close the window, she turned to the wooden beam above her bed and saw her running clothes hanging there. 

It was cold enough for a sweatshirt but she didn’t take one, instead she strapped on her running shoes and her fanny pack and headed toward the dunes. There were people out but not many, she waved to the ones she saw and reveled in the quiet of the early morning. 

They are two houses on her usual trail that house a large group of dogs, unfortunately they are within the same half mile and the first set’s barking usually starts the second set’s. In the recent weeks, the dogs had stopped seeing her as a threat and rarely even considered her as she puffed past them. She no longer carried rocks.

But a cold Saturday morning does something strange to a canine brain and though she passed the first house without a peep (for a peep from a dog would have been strange indeed), the second proved significantly more challenging. 

Becca heard the barks from far off but didn’t think to reach for a weapon as these dogs rarely approached farther than the edge of the road. She felt the normal panic as they rounded toward the edge of their yard but continued breathing and running past them. This time, however, they didn’t stop at the road; two large dogs crossed into the road and ran at her, teeth bared. Of course, on three miles of rock road, this was the only part of the path with dirt and no a single rock. Acting entirely out of a toxic blend of terror and anger, she reach for a fallen tree branch as long as she was tall and turned to the dogs, now only a couple of feet away. 

“I am so tired of you **********ing **********ers constantly barking at me! Back the **** up you ****faces or I swear to **** I will beat the ******** and the ******* out of you until you’re nothing but a *******ing pile of *****! *******!” she screamed at them, waving the branch wildly around. Their barking had calmed somewhat though a few growls escaped them, sounding oddly confused. She stood staring at them, and they at her. “AND you threw off my *******ing time! Ah!” she yelled, swung hard at the air one last time and took off again.

To her dismay, they following, growling at her again and she turned, now furious, and swung the branch at both of them. They stopped in their tracks and turned back toward the house. She heard only the small yips of large dogs as she ran toward victory.

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The big curve in the road marked halfway to the halfway point. It was a quarter-way marker kind of day: the sun was too hot, the sand too sandy and the moto-taxis too prevalent. This was exactly why she preferred morning running to afternoon running. The big curve also marked the last uphill of her run because everything flattened out from there and her return would be downhills; she tried to keep this in mind as she climbed the last hill.

She was at the crest when a moto-taxi approached from behind her and moved to her left to pass her, which it would have successfully done if that section of road was not also the sandiest part of the trail. It sank, the wheel spun, it sank further and the wheels spun faster. Becca considered running past it but seeing the panicked look on the young driver’s face, she stopped. 

Simply pointing to the back of the moto, she moved toward the back. Placing her hands on the metal bar at the back, she started to push as the driver put on the gas. The wheels spun, the moto sunk deeper, she pushed and the wheels spun, the moto moved ever so slightly forward and she pushed harder. In less than a minute they’d moved past the sandy part and the moto kept moving down the road. The driver threw an arm out to wave at her as they sped off and Becca found herself running again, just a bit faster though she was covered in sweat and sand. 

A few minutes later she passed the same moto, parked on the side of the road near a large plot of cotton; the driver and an older woman, his mother, stood hand planting in the field and waved at her as she passed yelling “fuerte” and “mujer incredible!” (Strong, incredible woman).

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The road to Las Pampas was flatter than the other trail, though it was also longer and held more traffic from all manner of vehicles, people, and animals. On a trail still somewhat unknown to her, Becca passed neighbors planting corns and cotton, unfriendly but timid dogs, and horse drawn wagons full up with people who waved, grinned, yelled, or sometimes simply stared at her.

She had rounded the first mile faster than usual and found herself just around the corner from the second corner and the turn around point when she heard the thundering of hooves behind her. Careful where she placed her feet, on a road she’d taken a harsh tumble on before, she turned to see at least thirty sheep of all shapes and sizes exiting a gate to her right and moving out onto the round. The very last was not a sheep at all, but a young boy, probably twelve; the herder.

Normally they would have walked along with him in the back, watching for strays and keeping them together, but seeing Becca, the sheep broke into a panicked run and passed her as a giant group, leaving the boys to chase after them down the road. Becca smiled apologetically at him as he passed and he only waved. She watched him catch up to them and calm them to a walk not far in front of her. Seconds later she caught up again, startled them and they all broke again into a run until the boy caught up to them, calmed them and they walked once more. Until Becca caught up to them again...the cycle continued for another half mile.

Certain that the boy was annoyed with this silly running gringa, Becca stopped at her turn around point and watched for the boy, who had run into the field to chase one of the babies. He emerged from the field, jumping across on irrigation ditch, chasing a small sheep and laughing wildly. The sound was like music as he passed her to catch his sheep, only waving and shaking with a laughter she thought might just knock him over.

The Letter

It was a Wednesday morning. Becca sat in the relative calm of her room, ignoring the noise of the news blasting from the TV in the living room and the barking dogs and crowing roosters outside. She hadn’t slept well in about a month, at least not in the kind of way that really reenergizes you. From her imploding mattress which had been on a slow crawl to the bedroom furniture grave for months, to her overactive dream-brain, to the seemingly constant overnight parties loud enough to rattle her windows and her brain, it had not been a particularly restful time. Perhaps from lack of sleep, though probably more from lack of home, Becca was suffering what many have called a mid-service crisis, only a few months late. 

She’d tried to let it out through tears and conversations. She’d blasted “Let It Go” too many times to count. Still, no dice. So she took out a piece of paper and began to write a letter.

Dear You,

This life, this tiny, little life you’re living is incredibly, annoying, nauseatingly imperfect. There will be times that you are angry or depressed in an almost explosive manner and those times will suck, but the scarier times will be the apathetic ones. With two emotions, apathy and rage, you’ll try to navigate through your daily life, simultaneously counting the days until you return home and cursing yourself for doing so. 

At some point you’ll start to worry about what’s going to happen when you finally get home. You’ll be deeply concerned that no grad school program will want you, or that boy you thought cared won’t want you or no one will care that you’ve finally made it home. You’ll worry that home disappeared in the time that you were gone and was replaced with something unfamiliar and cold. 

The worrying will make you cry and the crying will make you sniffle and the sniffles will make you sleepy and the sleepies will make you sleep for hours and days until you feel numb to everything. And then you’ll wake up and take a deep breath and go outside and you’ll feel the sun shining down on you and drying out all the sorrow and then a man will walk by and whistle at you and the soft sunlight will turn to angry rage tears.

It will get better because frankly if it didn’t no one would encourage other people to do this crazy thing. It will become a part of your life that you characterize and the hardest thing you’ve ever done, that you think of fondly, that you miss as much as you miss home now. It will become “defining” and “a period of growth” rather than exhausting and horrible. 

Just remember that everything shifts, sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly but it always changes so nothing stays this difficult for too long. Just hold on to yourself and remember who you are.

Best,

Your Friend

Carnivales!

February marked the celebration of carnivales in Perú; a time to throw water balloons at one another and enjoy the carefree spirit of children, all culminating into the great celebrate on the Saturday of February which marked an all day water and paint fight. Because it is famously celebrated in Cajamarca, a region in the sierra, Becca took a few vacation days and visited Cajamarca for the first time.

Febrero fue la celebración de los carnivales en Perú; un tiempo para celebrar la juventud y lanzar globos de agua. Becca visitaba Cajamarca por primera vez para conocer y participar en el día mas importante de carnivales.

In her first day, Becca spent time with other volunteers, visited churches, ate delicious food and soaked in the famous local hot springs Baños del Inca.

En los primeros días, ella pasó tiempo con los amigos, visitó las iglesias, comió la comida rica (como siempre) y sitios turísticos y bañó en los baños del inca.

Saturday morning, Becca woke up ill with food poisoning. In between rounds vomiting she cursed the street food she’d so enjoyed the night before. Luckily, by mid-morning she was feeling better and headed into the streets with a group of other volunteers and began battle. The streets were filled with people playing music, marching in groups and of course throwing buckets of water and paint at each other.

Sábado por la mañana, Becca se levantó enfermera de la mala comida. Ya se descansó y con buena suerte se sintió un poco mejor a la mediodía. Ella con los voluntarios, entraron las calles para empezar la guerra de pintura. Las callas se llenaban con personas lanzado agua y pintura a otras personas. 

With a squirt gun full of blue paint water, Becca found herself engaged in full-on war with other volunteers and people she’d never met. In minutes she was covered in a rainbow of paint colors.

Con una pistola llena de agua y pintura, Becca estaba en una guerra grande. En pocos minutos ella estuvo cobrada con diferentes colores de pintura.

The battles went on for hours as they joined groups of locals and marched around town often being attacks by groups of kids or people throwing water from their windows. Becca sat a few times because she wasn’t feeling well only to be surrounded and covered again in paint. She really couldn’t help but laugh.

La guerra continuaron para horas y los voluntarios se marcharan y bailaron en las calles. Becca se sentó un rato para descansarse pero se atacaron un grupo de jóvenes y cobraron a ella de nuevo con pintura. Ella rió mucho. 

After nearly five hours, the volunteers were tired so they stopped to have lunch. Afterward Becca returned to her hostel and finally relaxed and took a long, much needed shower.

Después de cinco horas, se cansaron los voluntarios y salieron la guerra para almorzar. Por fin Becca regresa al hostal para descansar un rato y, por supuesto, bañarse.

Valentine's Weekend

Valentine’s Day is Becca’s favorite holiday; a celebration of friendship and love through pretty colors, valentines, and cake, what could be better? Nothing, that’s what. 

El Día de San Valentín es el día favorito de Becca; una celebración de amistad y amor con colores bonitas, tarjetas, y cake, ¿que más se necesita? Nada.

For Valentine’s weekend, Becca’s friend, Jane, a volunteer further north in Peru, visited and they had a picnic on the beach, wandered the boardwalk and then enjoyed a nice piece of cake. 

Para el fin de semana, su amiga, Jane, una voluntaria de Tumbes, visitaba para tomar un picnic en la playa, pasear y comer cake. 

The following day, Jane visited Becca in her community, Morrope, to meet her host family and cook them breakfast.

Después Jane se visitaba Becca en Morrope para conocer su familia anfitriona y cocinar un desayuna para ellos. 

They ate and then Becca’s host mom lead a tour of Morrope so that Jane could see the town from the park to the fruit trees. 

Comieron y salieron a pasear para que Jane podría conocer Morrope desde el parque hasta las chacras. 

They rested for a little while and watched You’ve Got Mail. Afterward, they went for a walk in the dunes to see the sand and the trees.

Se Descansaron un rato, miraron “You’ve Got Mail” y después Becca y Jane salieron a pasear por las dunas y conocer los arboles. 

Jane left the following day, both of them happy they got to see each other.

Jane se fue la próxima día pero las dos se quedaron felices por el tiempo juntas. 

Navidad en Cuzco

It wasn’t until she was standing in the horde at arrivals on Christmas Eve that it finally felt real; after almost a year of waiting, countless hours of planning, and one long combi ride to the airport, Becca was finally in the last 20 minutes of her wait to see her best friend, Jess. 

Becca and Jess had met twelve years earlier in the early months of seventh grade (http://bettywhiteinabearmascotsuit.tumblr.com/post/73633213931/story-of-my-life-week-3-soul-sister) and had been best friends ever since. Becca thought herself lucky to have such a talented, kind, smart, and almost criminally hilarious person in her life, and one she considered more a sister than a friend.

Parándose en el aeropuerto a las llegadas, Becca no pudo creer que después de un año y tantas horas de planear, por fin su mejor amiga, Jess, estaba llegando. Becca y Jess han conocido hace doce años en la primaria y han tenido una amistad fuerte todos estos años. Becca pensaba que está con mucha suerte a tener una persona tan amigable, inteligente, y divertida en su vida, y una persona mas como una hermana que amiga. 

After the longest, most fidgety hours of her life, Becca finally watched her Christmas miracle wander through the gate and she ran to hug her. In about 33 seconds they were chatting and all was back to normal; no one would have guessed that it had been 16 months since they’d last seen each other.

They stayed up that whole night talking about everything from oldmemories to people back home to time machines and back again. By five AM as they boarded their flight to Cuzco they were finally tired enough to sleep. And sleep they did, through takeoff, flight, and landing. 

Christmas Day was a calm day of napping, talking, and wandering about the city. They met an adorable little boy who asked if they were millionaires and took in the amazing architecture. 

Después de unas horas bien largas, Becca miró su milagro de Navidad entra el aeropuerto y les abrazaron. En solo 33 segundos, las chicas estaban hablando normal como nunca pasó nada tiempo.

Por toda la noche, la noche buena, las chicas hablaban de todas las cosas; de sus amigos, memorias, y por su puesto, machinas del tiempo. A las cinco de la mañana entraron al avión a Cuzco y durmieron por todo el viaje. Pasaron la Navidad descansando, conversando, y caminando en el Cuzco.

They finished the evening with a Chifa dinner (Peruvian-Chinese food) and called it a night.

The girls spent the following days exploring Cuzco in the markets churches, restaurants, and a lovely day hike to see a statue of Jesus on the hill. 

Terminaron la Navidad con una cena de chifa. En los días siguientes, las chicas ya caminaron de todo Cuzco y los cerros, incluyendo a un Cristo blanco. 

They woke one morning, packed, and took a two hour van ride to Ollantay Tambo, a small town closer to Machu Picchu that boasted its own ruins. After arriving at the hostel and venturing out to eat alpaca burgers, the girls took one look at the masses of tourists filing around the ruins and shuddered. They asked the waiter about local hikes and he pointed them to a large hill across from the ruins saying the view was fantastic, he was not wrong.

Se despertaron una mañana, hicieron sus bolsas u tomaron un combi de dos horas a Ollantay Tambo, n pueblo mas cerca que Machu Picchu con ruinas. Después de llegaron al hostal, las chicas comieron unas hamburguesas de alpaca y caminaron a los cerros al lado de las ruinas. 

As they watched dark clouds roll in, they decided to play a casual game of cards in the ancient ruins, like you do.

Mirándose los nubes oscuros llegando, decidieron a jugar con tarjetas un rato en las ruinas y regresar al hostal. 

The following morning was MACHU PICCHU DAY! They awoke before five AM to pack up and walk to the train station.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on a train,” Jess noted as they entered the “B” car and found their seats. At about two hours, the ride was lovely, following the river and winding into the valley between the old rock giants. Aguas Calientes (or Machu Picchu Pueblo) featured a stunning view of the mountains and beautiful bridges over the river. Unfortunately it also featured a bucketload of tourists and a tourist industry to match. Bec and Jess saw the overcrowded, overcharging buses to the ruins and decided to hike the 2.5 hours, 1500 foot elevation change, and four miles that added up to a beautiful trail of rock stairs carved into a mountainside. 

La mañana después fue ¡EL DÍA DE MACHU PICCHU! Se despertaron antes que las cinco para hacer las bolsas y caminar al estación de tren. 

“Nunca he estrado a un tren,” se notó Jess mientras entraron el tren y se sentaron. El viaje fue dos horas y bien lindo con las vistas del río y las montañas. El pueblo de Aguas Calientes tenia vistas lindas pero también muchas turistas. Por eso, Bec y Jess, decidieron a caminar los 2.5 horas y 7 kilómetros a las ruinas de escaleras de piedra.

Arriving at the park entrance felt like arriving at the gates to Disneyland so the girls moved quickly through the crowds toward Machu Picchu Mountain; their second hike for the day would be rock stairs, 1500 foot elevation change, nearly 3 hours, and 5 miles. Within the first 20 minutes they stopped and wolfed down their lunches before beginning again.

Llegándose al la entrada de Machu Picchu, las chicas se movieron rápidamente a la montaña de Machu Picchu; la segunda caminata del día de 3 horas y 9 kilómetros. 

They spent the rest of the day meandering through the ruins and again playing cards before returning to Aguas Calientes to eat dinner and wait for their nine o’clock bus. 

The following morning they woke late, showered, packed, ate a solid meal, and said goodbye to Ollantay Tambo. 

They returned to Cuzco for another day to try new foods in the market, buy a few souvenirs, and Becca had her tarot cards read. They spent their last hours of New Year Eve in a cab, a plane and two airports until midnight when they hugged and Jess ran to catch her flight. Saddened by the farewell, but grateful for the visit, Becca wandered back through the airport, unsure what else to do.

Pasaron el resto del día caminando por las ruinas u jugando con tarjetas otra vez. Regresaron a Aguas Calientes para cenar y tomar el tren. 

El día siguiente, se despartieron tarde, hicieron sus bolsas, desayunaron, y se despidieron Ollantay Tambo para regresar al Cuzco. 

Pasaron el 31 en Cuzco, comiendo, comprando y conversando hasta su avión llegó para ir a Lima. A la medianoche, se despidieron para que Jess podría regresar a los estados unidos. Triste para despedir su amiga pero feliz para el tiempo juntas, Becca salió al aeropuerto.