Runner’s high that is. Living in high altitude has it’s perks: feeling winded when you walk up a flight of stairs, flat hair, dry skin, and an incessantly dry mouth. Due to the lack in oxygen at this level of nearly 14,000 feet above sea level, your heart pumps faster and your lungs work harder to deliver the oxygen needed to your tissues. After a few days your body begins to compensate by producing more red blood cells to carry the oxygen needed- hence more issues with viscous (thicker) blood, and so forth. But eventually you are supposed to acclimatize and feel somewhat normal again.
Athletes around the world train in high altitudes in order to enhance their performance at lower altitudes, although the effects of more red blood cells (and greater capillary density in your tissues, therefore more oxygen and less fatigue when performing) usually dissipate within a few days. I, however, am no professional athlete, I certainly don’t have a coach, and I am not here to “train.”
So how do you begin running again in high altitude? I gave myself ten days to buff up on my RBC’s, trying to keep myself super-hydrated and building up my daily walks and hikes to a point where I felt maybe not quite as winded as my initial days here. So today was the big day: the goal was to venture out in running tights, Baltimore t-shirt and ipod loaded with “please don’t die going up the Cusco hills in front of hundreds of tourists” motivational songs and attempt a run.
It. Felt. Amazing.
Well, that’s not completely the truth. I nearly did die going up the Cusco hills, which I chose because they have much less foot and vehicle traffic- running through the streets here is constantly stop and go with people and cars. My lungs felt like they were going to explode. My heart was beating at about 200 bpm after only a few minutes of jogging. But once I got into the swing of things, I ran up to the entrance of the Sacsayhuaman ruins, looped around some back roads, then headed home through the Plaza de Armas.
Plodding along on the dusty back roads, the euphoric runner high that I am so addicted to re-emerged after lying dormant for almost three weeks. Every time I go out for a run, I remember why I love it so much. Time to think, time to process what is going on in my life, even time to just tune out the noise in my head and focus on pushing my body to it’s physical limits. I can’t explain it; it just feels damn good.
There is also no better way to take in the scenery that is the ancient Andean town, the “navel of the mountains,” so called by the Incas, than by foot. It’s quiet and peaceful on the outskirts of town, locals scurrying about their daily chores. I appreciate more and more the beauty that is the Andes each day I am here.
The most difficult part of this morning’s run was getting past the idea that I look completely out of place. Imagine being in a town full of tourists and locals, perusing store fronts, selling el menu del dia...then this loca gringa comes running by. I am sure it was a sight to see...locals yelling at me, “Run gringa run!”
I came back dusty, sweaty, lungs exploding, but...
...la gringa está corriendo!
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