So today my host brother, Facary (Fa-kah-ree), and Ellen went running. The whole ordeal was quite scandalous- what with Ellen and I being toobab women AND wearing running shorts. A couple of guys even yelled at Facary, "Hey, you runnin' with two toobabs!" We ran down a road that follows the coast of Dakar, and I'm pretty sure we went a total of six kilometers. During the whole run, Facary never even lost his breath. He told me he does 200 pushups a night. Disgusting. But not uncommon among the freakishly fit Senegalese men.
On our way back to the house, a guy on the road called out something along the lines of "It's hot out, eh? I can see it in your face!" My conclusion: I haven't quite acclimated to the heat as well as I'd like to think.
The only excuse Ellen and I could come up with for our sluggish pace was "It's the rice." (Which, you should know, we eat as the main ingredient in two of three meals every day.)
At least I have plenty of time to get used to it!
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