Running in Sand

You know all that Nouakchott sand I mentioned? I went running through it. Now, I’m an OK runner. Maybe a tad on the slow side, but I can hold my own. Sand, however, is a whole new ball game.

A couple of the DOD guys who work at the embassy accompanied me and the PAO to the beach to go for a run. It’s really the only place to run here that’s not on a treadmill, as the security rules prohibit us from walking around too much downtown. Also, it’s apparently not recommended that girls go to the beach by themselves, so we go with big tough military guys to protect us from the evils of the world.

Driving to the beach was an adventure in and of itself. We took a paved road to the outskirts of town, then turned off onto a packed-sand path wending through more sand. Are you sensing the theme of sand yet?

The weather was – I am told – very strange for Mauritania. There was an eerie fog everywhere and through the fog the sun looked like the moon. As we drove closer to the beach, a sprawling, half-built hotel appeared. Apparently the people who were building it ran into too many roadblocks and abandoned ship. The area was completely deserted – it was chilly and very windy – so the PAO and I parked (ie stopped at the end of the path; there was definitely no parking lot) and waited for the guys to show up. We waited outside the car until a rogue donkey started charging towards us and we jumped back in.

Once the boys arrived we headed over to the beach (the donkey had run away by this point and was no longer a threat). Other than a small group of people dancing around in a lean-to/hut type of thing, the entire beach was empty.

Unfortunately the tide was pretty far in, so we had to run through some pretty deep sand. It became clear almost immediately that running on sand is NOT ANYTHING LIKE running on asphalt. I suppose I knew that in theory, but to experience it was something else altogether. Especially when trying not to look like a wimp in front of a couple military guys. (No luck on that attempt, unfortunately). I felt like I was hardly moving but very quickly my lungs felt like they were about to explode. They didn’t, though, don’t worry. Anyway, I survived – we only ran about a mile and a half, dodging the incoming tide as well as dead fish and birds along the way. Good workout, though!

Final thought: The title of this post would probably be a great metaphor for trying to make diplomatic progress – you’re kind of moving forward, but with every step some geopolitical complication drags you back a few inches. Or something like that. But I don’t have enough energy to flesh that out right now. So we’re sticking with the literal.