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Running in Rwanda #1   by Mike Ormsby

Our dog Dora sees it first, a few yards ahead of us. Her long pointy ears prick to attention, her body goes rigid with curiosity, hackles up, pink tongue hanging out like a slice of boiled ham, her throat alternating between puzzled, friendly whines and cautious growls. She glances back at us, as if to say Check it out guys, here  in the long grass.

My wife and I stop in our tracks and exchange puzzled glances, breathing hard. The unexpected pause is not unwelcome. The soles of my Brooks Beast are thick with crusty red mud, so I take a moment to kick a rock and dislodge the weighty gunk.  Then I check my watch. We’ve run a good forty-five minutes in a fierce, dry heat in the middle of Africa. Then there’s the altitude: Kigali is around 2000 metres up, maybe more. Running in Rwanda is tough going, no matter how fit you are.  So a break is fine by me.

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