Que es una corrida?

Today I learned a new word. Last week, one of the student mentors posted something about a running club and inquired if anybody was interested in joining. We emailed back and forth a couple of times (all in Spanish), and from what I understood, there was a group that was meeting on Sunday at Puerto. Perfect right? 

 So I woke up, threw on some running clothes under my make-shift pajamas, (it was too cold for just the t-shirt and shorts combination), grabbed some bread to go, and jogged down to the metro. Apparently the metro doesn’t like mornings (8:30 isn’t even that early..), and although I couldn’t read the pealing sign, the gates were locked and there was no metro in sight. No worries though; I decided I’d try my hand out on taking the micro (the little city buses). I’ve never gone on one alone before, and I didn’t really have the best idea as to where I was going (I only knew the metro stop), but I flagged down a micro anyways, paid the fee, and hopped on (thankfully it was the right micro!). There are no planned stops here, nor are there time schedules. I got off when the micro started to turn away from the Mar (the majority of my sense of direction is based off the mar), and I wandered around for a bit until I found some people wearing running attire. I followed them to the main plaza in Valparaiso, and much to my surprise, I found myself not at a meeting spot for a running club, but at a race! 

At first I was completely overwhelmed and wanted nothing more than to turn around and go right home. Races are always chaotic, and this one was even more so, especially since I had no idea what was going on or what I should do. 'I can’t race. I didn’t register earlier and I only have a the equivalent of two dollars. Plus I probably can't even find the registration tent. Bummmmmer.' Except as I was walking back towards where I had come from, I saw people writing, the typical last minute registration process. I causally watched for a while and learned that not only was the process was incredibly easy, but almost nobody pre-registered, and it was completely free. There went that excuse. A woman handed me a registration form, and having no other choice really, I began to fill it out, looking over other people’s shoulders when I didn’t know what the questions were asking. I don’t currently have a Chilean ID here, and when I saw that we needed to have one, once again I was greattttttly disappointed. 'Darn. Guess I’ll just have to go back to my warm house'. But it turns out they don’t even look at the registration forms, for the moment I stopped writing, the same woman whisked away the uncompleted form and handed me a couple of pins and a racing bib. According to my bib, I had about 45 minutes before the start and....I was running a 10K. Now just to clarify, I’ve run a total of TWO times since I left the United States and neither of them were serious, and I’ve run a total of ONE 10K race ever in my life. So here I am, standing in a plaza crowded with other runners, most of which are speaking Spanish with their running friends and wearing actual running or racing attire, and I am all by myself, about to run 6 miles. Also, it’s chilly, foggy and misty. Cool. 

No time for self pity though as this scrawny Chilean man came up to me and began speaking to me in rapid Spanish. I explained that I'd only been here for two weeks and that I have no clue what’s going on. “No problema!” he promised. “Tu peudes correr con migo!” I met the rest of his family, and together we all warmed up, stretched and then just ran around and around and around. Right before the start of the 10K, he wished me luck and disappeared up into the front of the pack. “Adios chica!!”

Again, I was alone, but here is what I love about running (and music, and biking, and soccer, and braiding hair etc). After the Spanish count down finished, and the gun went off, it didn’t matter that I was dressed differently (I left my pjs-“warm-ups”-at a tent specifically for things like that, but I still was wearing shorts and a t-shirt). It didn’t matter that I couldn’t speak/understand Spanish perfectly. It didn’t even matter that I was the only gringa in the entire crowd. When the gun went off, I was part of the group. I love the beginning of races (especially when I'm not actually racing-just running), and this time was even better because it was clear at that moment that we were all there for the same reason: our common love for running. I was no longer an outsider. 

 My time was not anything impressive, and I didn’t place in my age group (18-35 years), but I had a wonderful, wonderful run. I adore the Wisconsin countryside for running, but if anything were to compete with that, it would be the scenery here, the city line along the coast, the ships, the port, the hills. Early on in my run, I found somebody with a similar stride and a pace I liked, and I latched on. We didn’t exchange a single word, but when I sped up or slowed down, he matched my pace once again. He was only doing the 5K though, so eventually I was on my own. Near the end, I ran behind a boy cheering on his girlfriend, and I enjoyed listening to his encouragement, taking notes on good phrases to use for when I start volunteering. About 1K from the end, the man who warmed up with me met me along the course. He had finished 4th in his age group and was on a cool down! Anyways, he ran along side me a bit, pushing me to push myself. I definitely appreciated his kindness. 

A couple of differences I noticed during my run. Here, I was in the minority, being a girl and wearing shorts and not only because it was chilly. However, there’s no need to worry cross country boys; the guys here wear short shorts, and because girls here usually wear leggings while they’re exercising (or they just don’t exercise at all), the male shorts were the shortest. Less people were listening to music during the race, but everybody was wearing sport specific clothing. T-shirt material did not exist. There was a surprising lack of cheering from bystanders (I didn’t see anybody actually), and my guess is that that supports the idea that Chileans are shy until they know somebody-something the tourguide told us a while ago. There was no real timing system, except for the first couple of finishers. I only have an estimate of my time from when I glanced up at the clock before crossing the finish line. The race was put on by a Universidad, and I learned that that’s the normal (the free part is normal too-cool, right?!). Since there are street dogs here (and lots of them too), sometimes I had a friendly, four legged running buddy.   

After I finished, I grabbed a water and a banana, said goodbye to my new running friend, and headed home. I had left a note for my host mom that I would be home around 11:30, but because the race started later, I thought I should let her know that I was okay and coming home late. (This is for you mother and grandmother) I know enough Spanish to talk to a carabinero (Chilean police officer), explain my situation, and talk to my host mom on the phone in Spanish. There is no need to worry about me here :) When I got home, I was greeted with an huge, sweaty (on my part) hug and an even bigger meal. Yum! 

My casual run turned out to be quite the surprise, experience and adventure, but I'm glad it happened. Hopefully I’ll be able to run in another Chilean race soon, for now I know a “corrida” is more than just a training run; it’s a race!