Lisa's Lone Run

I really need to pee.  Never mind public toilets.  I am over ten miles by foot from the nearest port-o-potty, being smacked in the face with spider webs which jump out from nowhere on this forest trail. If I'm lucky, I only have to brush them off my face or hair.  Less lucky for me and the spider, I get a surprise high protein snack.  Yum. Welcome to my 30 mile trail run.

Let me be clear.  I am not a "feel the burn" kind of girl.  Six months ago, I would more likely be found watching TV.  Okay, I was a "casual runner".  Make that very casual.  Years ago, when training for my first would-be marathon, at Mile 10 of my first 14 mile training run, I called a cab to drive me back to my car.  That was the end of my marathon ambitions.  Until one January 2005 afternoon last year when I was home sick.

Watching Lisa Ling's report on Oprah about the conflict in the eastern Congo, shock waves went through me.  4 million people dead.  Women gang raped and tortured daily, many held captive as sex slaves, sometimes for years.  Innocent children tortured, starved, and left to die.  6 out of 10 children die before the age of 5.  Yet no one is talking about it.

Of the few organizations working in the war zone, one stood out.  I signed up immediately to sponsor two "sisters" in the Congo through Women for Women International.  For $27 per month, they match you with a woman, and give her the resources she needs to rebuild her life: support groups, rights awareness, and small business training.

But I remained haunted by this horror, which continues to be met with stunning silence by the world. What would I have done if I lived in 1939 Germany, or if had been aware of the 1994 genocide in Rwanda?  Oprah's challenge lingered, "Now that you know, you can't pretend you didn't hear it."  I had to do more.

I tried to enroll friends to join me in creating a run for the Congo women. I even put out feelers at my 30th birthday party.   (Nothing kills the party vibe like talking about mass atrocities!) Not one of my friends bit.  No one knew anything about a conflict in the Congo, much less were they willing to put sweat into it.  I couldn't find anyone to join me.

I decided to run alone.   The distance would have to be far enough to reflect the seriousness of the suffering in the Congo.  I set the goal: I would run the entire length of Portland's Wildwood Trail, just over 30 miles of rugged forest trail which winds its way up and down Portland's West Hills.  My goal: To raise enough for 31 women to be sponsored through Women for Women's program -- one woman for every mile I would run.

There was one major catch.  I was not in great shape. I hired an ultra- running coach.  Six months of painful training ensued.  Every day I would hit the trail alone, fueled by what I hoped to do for women in the Congo.  Most of my toenails fell off, many of them twice.  Bloody blisters, severe leg pain, and chaffing became daily companions.  And my summer look had a special accent: The mustache tan. Soooo sexy.

Every week I went on the longest run of my life. Often I could barely walk afterwards.  But whenever I wanted to blow off a training run or quit, I remembered the women living in the eastern Congo.  They can't pick up a cell phone and call a cab to take them out of the war zone.

These last 8 miles are brutal.  My legs are seizing, in shooting pain.  The blisters on my feet are bleeding, and I am on the verge of losing another toenail.  After 7-1/2 hours on the trail, I'm running so slowly that walkers pass me.  A grandma and her fat dog are gaining on me fast.  But I am on fire, so I keep running every step, refusing to walk one foot of the hills.

Every half-mile represents a real woman's life, and the lives of her children.  They will know that someone cares, that their lives are significant. More than 80 women, who are raising hundreds of children, will be sponsored through this run. They will be safe.  They will have medical care and food for their children, many of whom would otherwise die. Their children will go to school. They will build businesses.  They will heal some of their trauma.  For the first time in years, they will have a breath of hope. They will have a different life.

And so will I.

When I round the last bend and descend to the finish line, I am met with cheering supporters, many of whom I have never met before. When I started, it never occurred to me that anyone beyond my immediate circle would be interested in this run. But awareness of this forgotten war has taken hold along with the sponsorships. People are eager to do all they can when they learn about the atrocities in the Congo.

Postscript:  On September 10, 2005, I finished the 30.16 mile run in 7 hours, 45 minutes.   Sure, I've developed the reputation of the woman who always talks about mass atrocities in Congo at parties.  But guess what: I'm not alone. In 2006, I completed a second 30 mile run for Congo Women, joined by hundreds of other runners in 10 states and 4 countries. A movement was born. And now I'm back on the trail training for another Run for Congo Women in 2007, and the movement is spreading. Join us!