Someone (a Rwandan woman) recently told me that I was the most beautiful American she’d ever seen. She said she didn’t believe Americans could be beautiful until she met me. I tell you this not to brag, but to provide context for the day I tell you that I’m never leaving this country.
BB ran the half-marathon on Sunday. Freddy and I had fun watching him. It was a really tough run (according to BB, which is saying a lot as he’s a bit of a masochist when it comes to running). It was hot, sunny, no water (he purchased some along the route), and extremely hilly. He finished only slightly slower than his best times in Chicago so it was a great accomplishment.
More than that, we enjoyed the cultural experience. The race was actually really well-run, and it was fun to see all the Rwandans running. Freddy and I watched him come by our neighborhood near the start of the race.
Then we went to hang out at the finish. When I got to the stadium the security guard thought I was asking to run the race instead of just watch. He was skeptical that I could run 13 miles with a baby on my back.
We watched them setting up and enjoyed listening to strangely dubbed American rap music (i.e. leaving in some explicit swear words and dubbing out words like “lick”).
Here’s a photo of the winner being interviewed. Rwandans have a different idea of personal space than I do.
I got distracted at the end so I didn’t get a good photo of the finish, but here’s BB leaving his running mate just a few yards from the finish.
Way to go BB! A good memory for all of us.