I feel like I haven't slept in weeks. First there were the alcaldía (mayor's office) olympics...

Last year they happened while I was home for Christopher and Sheri's wedding (Belated congratulations on a year, you two!), so when Lourdes dragged me into city hall to put my name on the list for a uniform, I didn't protest too much.

The day we were to leave for Yacuiba, that dusty rodeo town, my new alcalde (mayor) called an inspirational meeting. Remember I told you my mayor was ousted back in May? I was misinformed and never corrected myself. He actually stuck around until about a month ago, despite multiple subsequent efforts to kick him out. Apparently he's a smooth talker. Well, the opposition finally succeeded in October, and this meeting was my first opportunity to meet the new alcalde in person. TALL, jovial, and reminding me of my middle school science teacher, the new Honorable Alcalde Paúl shook my hand warmly while we chatted about what Chicago was like.

Hon. Paúl opened his spiel with a motivational statement about the need for the Uriondo Province to be well-represented at this event, how the alcaldía would pay for transportation to and from Yacuiba, and how all players and supporters would be well-dressed in Uriondo uniforms. Logistics for the trip were worked out in group discussion, and a list was made of those who would be attending -- 38 in all. The perk of free Uriondo memorabilia perked my interest, so I signed up. (Who am I kidding? I just miss team sports.) The bus was to leave from the Valle plaza at 8pm.

I showed up ten minutes late and sat around for a good hour, making small talk with the corner shop owners and speculating on what time we might actually reach Yacuiba. After boarding the bus an hour late, we drove into the city, stopped for another hour to pick up more alcaldía employees (for a grand total of 23, pictured to the left) and the coveted team uniforms, and by the time we left for real it was almost 11. Thankfully that's about two hours past my bedtime, so I slept contentedly the entire twelve hour trip.

Hon. Alcalde Paúl had gotten me all pumped up for some bonding with my female coworkers, saying that it didn't matter if we brought home a trophy as long as we returned more united and productive and ready to work for the advancement of the Uriondo province. Based on that statement, I assumed that one of the main purposes of the trip was to actually play some sports, though not necessarily to play them well, so I packed my tennis shoes and my game face. As I looked around at the group of middle-aged women, I tried to reserve my judgment of their athleticism, knowing that Bolivian women are generally fiesty on the court, despite how they may appear. And even if this particular batch weren't so fierce, we would probably be facing similar squads of unathletic, middle-aged alcaldía employees, and the whole thing would be a barrel of laughs.

While watching our men's team lose in futsal (a basketball court-sized version of soccer) I started asking around about which women would be my teammates. Nobody seemed very enthusiastic. My friend Noemí promised to play, and I assigned her the task of motivating three more women, but she didn't seem to be taking it too seriously: She found one. By game time, I was commanding one of our boys to donate his shoes to a woman whose excuses didn't satisfy me enough to allow her not to play. (And no, ¨I've never played before,¨ is not a satisfactory excuse.) Our ragtag team of four took to the court to face our opponents. All sixteen of them. All my age or younger. All with experience. My team immediately began accusing them of cheating, of stacking their team with girls who couldn't possibly be alcaldía employees, but that didn't help the fact that we were outnumbered and outplayed. At halftime our fifth player showed up and we were able to start scoring. Nevertheless, we lost about 20-2, but really I lost count of the number larger than 2.

After our pathetic futsal loss, it seemed an insurmountable task to try to rally the troops again for our basketball game the next day, so I didn't put too much effort into it. Not to mention one of our five players had injured her hand while playing goalie in the futsal game and seemed to be completely incapacitated. The event immediately shifted focus from competition and athleticism (But who am I kidding to say the focus was there to begin with?) to bonding through shopping and the consumption of alcohol. (See Noemí and Ana pictured to the left drinking beer and Coke. Yes, I said beer and Coke. Together.) I'm not a big shopper, but I still managed to have a good time with the ladies, and I think we accomplished at least one of the goals set forth by our Honorable Alcalde, although I have no idea if there has been a rise in productivity on account of that weekend's binge.

A few days later, I found myself in Buenos Aires, preparing for the marathon. And by ¨preparing¨ I mean eating delicious foods and drinking delicious wines and going out dancing until sunrise. You know, the traditional marathon preparation routine. Thank you to all the well-wishers who sent me encouraging messages. I have to say that although the pain in my legs grew from bad to almost intolerable from mile 13 on, the race as a whole was an amazingly enjoyable experience. Here´s a picture of our pasta dinner the night before the race with Heidi and the Robinsons.

It began on the five lane highway overlooking the city and proceeded to wind through lush parks and city blocks with various street performers for entertainment. I got a fantastic tour of the city, though I had no idea what I was looking at, and we finished with a few riverfront miles and a huge park where families were enjoying the perfect weather and playing with their dogs (something you don't see often in Bolivia). Every sight and sound made me smile.

The generosity of Sarah's dad, Mr. Bernie, outfitted me in a bright red shirt with my name written boldly across the chest, so the cheering squads could gleefully scream specifically for me. As promised, the route contained very few and very slight hills, and -- probably due to the race being at sea level -- my lungs and heart felt fantastic the entire time. The presence of only 4500 runners made it a more intimate experience than I imagine other marathons to be, and it gave us the opportunity to bump into other Peace Corps volunteers from Peru and Paraguay. I never thought I'd run 26.2 miles smiling the entire way. Wonderful sideline support was provided by Heidi, who was visiting me, and the Robinsons, who had come down to cheer Sarah on though a last-minute injury prevented her from running the whole race. (She did, however, run the last ten miles with me, helping me finish about 20 minutes sooner than I otherwise would have and very cruelly making me sprint for the finish line. The picture was taken when she joined me.) The weather couldn't have been more perfect. Those factors, complete with a gorgeous setting made the experience not only memorable but wonderfully enjoyable. If you're thinking of running a marathon, I highly recommend Buenos Aires.

So those have been my recent athletic activities. Marathon training made it a bit easier for me to be the only one really enthusiastically playing futsal with my alcaldía, but the experience turned out to be not at all what I expected athletically. Still good, but unanticipated. Now recuperated from my much more serious marathon excursion, my legs are itching to get back on the road while my competitive spirit was only whetted by the olympics. You rugby girls better be ready for a snow scrimmage when I come home in LESS THAN A MONTH!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!