The first time I walked away, I’d left Yea (pronounced yay, means Grandma) sitting on the muddy road amongst the potholes and stones. Her face was dirtied from the fall that had occurred when she tried to catch the tail of her dogs that were chomping at my running legs. She sat there, swearing quietly to herself - at the dogs or at me, I didn’t know. I’d tried to help her up but with exasperation in her voice and the dogs still yapping, she told me to “just go!!”.
I didn’t venture any further down that street and the next two were also blocked by fighting dogs (it’s mating season). I turned homeward and gave up on my 8km attempt, settling for 7.12kms. Besides, my heart just wasn’t in the run anymore.
These dogs are really testing my commitment to running. I’m not the first. Two other potential running partners (for the longer distances) have recently retreated to the treadmill and I’ve half a mind to join them.
The thing is, not only is running on a treadmill excruciatingly boring (and therefore mentally tough), it is also relatively expensive. At $3.50 a visit to the gym down the road, it’s more than 70% of Cambodian’s live off each day (that said, income is only one dimension of poverty – for more reliable indicators of the incidence and severity of poverty in Cambodia see here). Nevertheless, over a day’s wages for half an hour of running on pretend pavement, when there are “perfectly good” roads outside… I can’t get past it (just yet).
Yesterday morning I skipped my run and went to visit Yea, armed with a bag of oranges (incidentally costing less than $3.50). She received me graciously and showed me the bruising and scratches on her knee. She refused to take the bag but finally accepted a small peace offering of two little oranges.
That day, I left her with smiles and a bridge built. Now, if only the issue of running in Phnom Penh (or poverty in Cambodia!) was so easily solved.
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