Hit the Ground, Running, and the Long Race
Hit the Ground
When Muslims pray, they touch their foreheads to the ground in an action known as “Salah”. Some especially devout Muslims have a mark on their head from thousands of repetitions of the Salah. One man, whose son I taught English to last year, runs my local maktaba (bookstore). He speaks a bit of English, wears plain and clean clothes, calls me by my name, and has a pronounced rasin-like mark on his forehead. This last month, over the Ramadan fast, he likely went to mosque every day, perhaps several times each day, to pray the Salah.
Of course, in keeping to my promise to keep the talk of religion light, I’m going to be focusing on the health benefits of fasting and not the spiritual ones. Still, you now have half the context for the title of this post.
It is very hard to separate out the spiritual and health benefits of fasting – I believe they’re closely connected – but the most striking part of eating only between sunrise and sundown is just how familiar you become with hunger. This year, I was able to fast through the entirety of Ramadan thanks to the hospitality of my host family and some better planning. I also was able to continue work through the month, amid the fast.
Beyond the fasting, Ramadan is a month that feels very “grounded”. It is the most holy time of the year, people are taking their days much slower, approaching work methodically and carefully, and frequently giving alms.
In a sense, I get a strange nostalgia for American Christmas movies. Isn’t that bizarre? There’s a communal celebratory nature in Ramadan that feels like it is totally missing from American suburban and city life – or at least the suburbs and cities I have lived in.
There were no lights in windows, evergreen trees, or caroling, but every evening, before breaking their fast, mothers and fathers across town would set up stalls outside of their homes and shops and sell cheap and filling foods for those who did not have the chance to cook. My second-favorite dish this Ramadan (after the soups that my host mother cooked several times a week for me) were the stuffed flatbread that I could buy fresh from the roadside stalls.
I did a bit of cooking of my own, but I was mostly sustained by soup, flatbread, lentils, milk, and dates.
This has made the adjustment to this month’s endeavor of running a half-marathon somewhat difficult: I can’t eat enough!
Running
In a sense, this feels like my perfect challenge. I have not had much success really “running” in my life. I was never a basketball or soccer player, and baseball really is more about sprinting than any kind of distance running: an inside-the-park home run is only around .5% of a half marathon. Out of all forms of exercise, running is perhaps the one I have the least practice doing. I’ve probably have even swam more.
My mentality feels totally maladapted to complete a long run. I believe that I am an excellent runner. I have healthy lungs, long legs, and can certainly cook up the fuel necessary for my training. But I have little to no experience setting myself on a long term goal and grinding every day at it. It’s quite embarrassing, to be honest.
I have about 30 days before the day of the event. If I can run 3 miles at my desired pace today, that means in total I need to add around two point five miles of maximum distance each week, without getting injured… which I have somehow already managed to do twice.
The only correct way I will be able to complete this task is through focus. Focus on proper rest, focus on proper nutrition, and focus on proper pacing. Most importantly, I must avoid my tendency to blitz until I crash. I tend to be quite “explosive” in my temper (as Slater knows too well), a trait which I must ease into my daily performance so that it does not build up and cause injury in my training. Running a half-marathon is not about having an incredibly impressive .1 mile at the end, it’s about having a consistent first 13.
The Long Race
Maybe it’s a bad idea to have three topics in a post where I am trying to '“keep focus” but I would be doing my readers a disservice if I left this part out.
“Jacob, what happened to your pivot?”
“Jacob, what are you doing now and what will you be doing next?”
“Jacob, it feels awkward calling you Jacob, can I call you Jake instead?”
The answers are “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you, and only if you know who Slater and Sarah are”.
Anyways, here’s where I tell you.
A large part of the pivot has already taken place. I presently have control over my time, schedule, and responsibilities, set mostly on my own terms with the help of active and interested partners. This allows me some great freedom: two weekends ago I visited Safi to attend Palm Sunday Mass with my friend Harry, and then also time to head to Marrakesh and show a Peace Corps Volunteer from Botswana (and her cool dad) around the city. The following weekend I headed up to Rabat to attend an Easter Sunday service, before going to Bouznika where I participated in a “full-program” Peace Corps Morocco Conference. In both cases, I found myself navigating and negotiating with a high level of autonomy and control. I was still beholden to my Peace Corps responsibilities of course: representing the US, keeping good contact with my local counterparts, and being ready for work on time and in a professional manner; but I felt in control, showing up prepared, ready, and on time.
Still, the pivot is incomplete. My language acquisitions skills have progressed, but with the state of US-Middle East diplomacy I have a sneaking suspicion the State Department might be looking for someone a bit less awestruck by Ramadan. I continue to have trouble justifying my past of headstrong jesting with the professionalism currently required by my highly visible position.
Right now I am striking a tough balance between genuine care and appreciation for the experience, opportunity, people, and values that I am immersed in and the pressing knowledge that I will soon return to a country that feels ever-more oriented towards “alternative values”. I struggle with long-term focus, what it means for me to commit to a place and an idea, and how I can come to peace with the daily work it takes to sustain that focus.
This is why, on the strength of my pivot, I have oriented myself towards returning to the West Coast. It is the place I know better than any else in the world. It is also a place that struggles with a sense of identity and self-formation, and the climate is similar to Morocco! I also feel a deep affinity for my family, and it seems like the place I would have the best chance of honoring and forgiving all that they have provided me in my youth.
