Agnes Tirop was a 25-year-old rising professional distance runner who represented Kenya at the 2020 Tokyo Olympics in the women’s 5,000-meters. One month after she competed in her first Olympic Games, Tirop set a world record for 10K. Just as her promising career began to bud on the world stage, her life came to an abrupt end on October 13, 2021.

Tirop was found stabbed to death by her husband Ibrahim Rotich at their home in Iten, in the Rift Valley of Kenya, a training hub for many of the world’s top professional distance runners. Rotich, then 41, attempted to flee the country, but he was arrested and charged with murder.

RELATED: Iten, Kenya, Is Where Running Champions Are Made

Tirop was a victim of gender-based violence (GBV), one of the most widespread human rights issues in the world. GBV, as , can include publicly or privately inflicted physical or sexual harm as well as economic suppression, threats of violence, manipulation, and coercion through various ways, including intimate partner violence and child marriage. According to the United Nations, while men and boys also suffer from GBV, women and girls are most at risk worldwide.

±·ČčŸ±°ùŽÇČúŸ±â€™s , founded in 2001, states that the country’s women and girls make up a disproportionately higher statistic. More than 40 percent of Kenyan women experience GBV in their lifetime, and one in three women in Kenya has experienced sexual violence before the age of 18. In the U.S., 20 people per minute are physically abused by an intimate partner, according to the , and more than 10 million adults experience domestic violence each year. about domestic violence show that one in three women have experienced some form of physical violence by an intimate partner.

Female runners are among those numbers. Many Kenyan professional runners can fall into marriages or partnerships that take away their autonomy. Some of these women—powerful, driven, and successful in their careers—remain under the watch and control of their partners. Most women in GBV situations don’t know how to escape, or fear the repercussions of doing so.

Tirop’s tragic death made international headlines and served as a wake-up call about the dangers elite female athletes can face during their careers.

The Courage to Stand Up

In the aftermath of Tirop’s death, 34-year-old Kenyan professional marathoner Mary Ngugi took a stance.

“With my platform as an athlete, I have a voice that I can use to change,” says Ngugi, who has raced professionally for more than a decade and twice finished on the podium at the Boston Marathon. “I can’t change the whole of Kenya in one minute, but I can make a change in athletics with girls.”

RELATED:

Ngugi established in Nyahururu Town, Kenya, in October 2022. Through the club, located 100 miles north of the country’s capital Nairobi, Ngugi aims to shelter and support young girls as they simultaneously pursue their education and ambitions of becoming elite champion runners.

“The best thing is to mentor them when they’re young, to empower them so they know that they deserve better, [and] to know that they have a choice,” Ngugi says.

Ngugi, who is based in Leeds, England, with her husband, British sports photographer Chris Cooper, says that traveling the world to compete over the years exposed her to fairer treatment of women and girls compared to what she witnessed and experienced firsthand while living in Kenya.

“There are some things that have always frustrated me,” Ngugi says. “When I was 17, there were young girls in [training] camps who were abused by their coaches. Some [girls] are married at a tender age because of money.”

Ngugi says it’s not uncommon for young female runners to be afraid of their male coaches. Her idea for a girls-only running camp has been years in the making, initially as a way to give back to the community. Not until after the death of Tirop, whom she knew as an acquaintance, did Ngugi move her mission forward.

“It took a lot of courage to start,” she says.

Ngugi funded the camp entirely when it opened, covering the costs of housing, school fees, food, training gear, and other basic supplies for eight girls. Unlike most traditional training camps for runners in Kenya, which typically consist of small single-room apartments, the girls at Nala Track Club live together in a home under the supervision of a matron, who cares for and cooks for them. Ngugi stipulates that each member of the club must attend school if they want to remain a part of Nala.

“We don’t want to be just another running camp. We have loads of those in Kenya. Education makes a difference,” Ngugi says. “As much as I want all of my girls to make it, I know some won’t. That’s the reality of things. But I would like for them to come out of the camp with an education so that they can do something with their lives, pursue a cause or a degree.”

Should any of the girls become successful in their athletic careers, Ngugi’s mission is also to ensure they are equipped to make informed decisions, especially financially, that are in their best interests.

“These athletes could potentially earn millions of shillings,” Ngugi says. “How are you going to invest? How are you going to sign a contract? How are you going to carry yourself with the press when you get an interview? We want them to be able to handle themselves.”

Women Coaching Women

In a year since founding Nala Track Club, Kenya’s first all-girls running camp, its members have doubled to 16 girls and women between the ages of 14 and 22. Ngugi says the camp is now fully supported by Nike, her sponsor since 2006. She works closely with teachers and schools throughout Kenya to recruit national-caliber talent and prospects.

Ngugi splits her time training in the UK and Kenya. When she’s not on the ground in her home country, she helps oversee Nala from afar under the guidance of a few certified running coaches that help craft the training program, which is shared with Lilian Mugo, a local woman whom Ngugi is helping to mentor into a running coach.

Ngugi wants to develop female coaches in Kenya. To her knowledge, few, if any, women are currently coaching female runners in Kenya. “That’s one big reason why we started Nala,” Ngugi says.

Ngugi has never been coached by a woman at any point in her career. It’s a role she envisions transitioning into full time in the future, after she retires from competitive running. After a successful track career that included becoming a two-time world half marathon medalist, Ngugi transitioned to road marathons in 2019. She was runner-up at the 2021 Boston Marathon and finished third in 2022. Ngugi placed fifth at this year’s New York City Marathon.

Achieving that level of success as an elite athlete is a dream, though not the lone goal, for the girls of the camp. At the very least, Ngugi wants to develop members of the track club to compete on the international level feeling empowered. The name of the camp, Nala, is a Swahili word in reference to lioness and also connotes the idea of a successful African woman.

“I want them to be more than just athletes. I want the girls to know their worth and to be role models to others,” Ngugi says. “I always tell my girls, ‘remember what Nala stands for: Powerful. Confidence.’ That is what we want our girls to be.”

The post This All-Girls Running Club in Kenya Protects Young Athletes appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

If you’ve been to a yoga festival, you know the hum that takes place. Everywhere you look, there’s activity. Attendees are unrolling their mats on the grass, lecturers are offering insights, vendors are sharing artisanal wares, and food trucks are dishing out their creations. As the sun goes down, the live music becomes louder and the learning shifts to dancing. It’s an unparalleled experience.

In recent years, yoga festivals have evolved to appeal to those of all experience levels and interests. Some focus on traditional practices while others are more new age-y and “glittery.” Whether you’re just starting yoga or are years into your practice, there is a festival that will vibe with you.

Although each yoga festival has its own distinct personality, they all share the common threads of connection, presence, and celebration. The following list explores 11 annual yoga festivals along with some of the history and highlights of each.

11 Yoga Festivals You Need to Know About

1. Bend Yoga Festival

Bend, Oregon | June 8-11, 2023

Explore the majesty of the Cascade Mountains at . Situated in the beautiful mountain town of Bend, Oregon, this festival features a focused mix of world-class presenters, wellness sessions, and outdoor adventures.

This year, the Bend Yoga Festival moves to Riverbend Park, offering direct access to the flowing Deschutes River, stunning mountain views, and more than 15,000 square feet of lawn. During the festival, attendees can explore nearby natural attractions, such as the lava caves and . Join a guided hike to the top of Smith Rock, followed by a yoga practice and local brew tasting, or take to the river in an open paddle class.

Throughout the weekend, you can join international and locally loved presenters including and for afternoon yoga sessions at participating local yoga studios, all within walking distance of the main venue. You can also schedule your own yoga photo shoot with acclaimed photographer . Lodging isn’t included, so you’ll want to find a stay at a local Airbnb, campsite, or hotel.

2. Telluride Yoga Fest

Telluride, Colorado | June 22-25, 2023

For a fully immersive yoga experience, the is not to be missed. The four-day event offers more than 100 classes, including yoga, meditation, music, hiking, wellness talks, and social gatherings. The event takes place amid the intimate setting of a small village nestled at the base of the Telluride Mountains, surrounded by rugged peaks, mountain air, and crisp blue skies.

Start your day with a mountain-top meditation, hike the fan-favorite Jud Wiebe memorial trail, practice standup paddleboard (SUP) yoga on Elk Lake, or simply sleep-in. With its new campus in Mountain Village,Ìę connected to the historic Town of Telluride via a free gondola, the festival provides a unique gathering that’s entirely removed from the hubbub of everyday life. The festival has hosted some of the most well-seasoned yoga teachers, including , , , , and .

Telluride offers a selection of hotels, condos, and private residences that cater to every budget.

3. LoveShinePlay

Asheville, North Carolina | July 20-23, 2023

The , formerly known as the Asheville Yoga Festival, is a four-day event held in downtown Asheville, North Carolina. The festival offers an expansive schedule that includes more than 70 styles of offerings, including Bhakti and anatomy, Kundalini and Yin, and everything in between.

Asheville is considered the wellness capital of the South, and the festival takes advantage of its surroundings, allowing attendees to expand their knowledge and practice in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Throughout the weekend, attendees can experience lectures on practical astrology, Ayurvedic yoga classes, “yin yoga and story time,” plus classes and concerts from and .

Classes are dispersed around Asheville in hotels, community centers, and outdoor stages, all walkable from the marketplace. The central hub for the festival, the marketplace features 60-plus hand-selected vendors offering high-quality wellness products. You’ll also find food trucks, free community events, and outdoor spaces to rest.

LoveShinePlay started in 2016 as the Asheville Yoga Festival and has since grown to include partnerships with Lululemon and Yoloha. In 2024, the festival will expand and offer a similar incarnation in Charleston.

4. OM Festival

Manchester, Vermont | July 26-30, 2023

Dance, flow, and play your way to wellness at the annual , a summerfest held on 150-plus mountainside acres overlooking the Battenkill River. Also known as the Vermont Yoga Festival, it offers five days of yoga, meditation, dance, and flow arts classes where festival-goers can flow, play, and groove.

The OM Festival combines natural beauty and historic charm. Classes take place in a 200-year-old barn on the expansive private grounds and in the perfectly coiffed meditation garden. At night, the festival comes alive with music and embodiment celebrations, including kirtan, bhakti yoga, and ecstatic dance DJs.

Most guests stay on-site, either at , the hub of the festival, or camp in a private field or alongside the river (river camp sites are limited and sell out quickly). Those staying at the inn can expect romantic, antique-y rooms, mountain views, and farm-fresh dining.

5. Soul Circus

Elmore, UK | August 17-20, 2023

somehow manages to be both healthy and hedonistic. And somehow it works. Spearheaded by the charismatic founders, Roman and Ella Wroath, Soul Circus is a holistic yoga, arts, and music festival set in the rural countryside of Cotswold, United Kingdom. The combination of yoga asana, wellness workshops, and live music is undeniably more glittery wellness rave than traditional yoga festival. With its world-renowned DJs and afterparties that last until 2 am, Soul Circus wants to help you tune in and let loose.

By day, stretch out in yoga tents dotted along the countryside or join sought-after yoga instructors and wellness practitioners in any of the 300-plus wellness sessions, including cacao ceremonies, astral projection, lucid dreaming, and ecstatic dance. It’s a chance to indulge your woo-woo side.

As the light fades, the festival takes on an entirely different vibe. DJs set the skies alight with exhilarating music and dance. Those who need a reset after a marathon dance session can settle into a wood-fired hot tub or sauna at the on-site Soul Spa, which also offers daytime holistic therapy sessions.

Soul Circus is an undoubtedly energetic and unique yoga experience.

6. Dirty South Yoga Festival

Atlanta, Georgia | August 25-27, 2023

The , held at the end of August, is a homegrown celebration that’s all about promoting community and mindfulness in a way that embraces the “rough around the edges” energy of the South.

Founded in 2013 by a group of Atlanta-based yoga teachers, Dirty South Yoga arose from a need for authentic connection in the wellness community. The group cites the Zen Buddhist Monk Thich Nhat Hanh and his famous saying “No mud, no lotus” as a foundational inspiration and will be the first to admit they’re not prim and proper. They regularly practice falling and try to show up to themselves, their practice, and each other as best they can.

The festival takes place at The Loudermilk Conference Center in downtown Atlanta, where participants can revel in an entire weekend of workshops, classes, and activities. Founder has said she knows what it’s like to long for connection in the yoga world, and with Dirty South Yoga, she hopes to provide a place of support, guidance, and friendship. It’s yoga, real and raw.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CoYRp9NPMgR/

7. Mammoth Yoga Festival

Mammoth Lakes, California | September 14-17, 2023

is a getaway for those seeking adventure, growth, and connection in California’s Sierra Nevada Mountains. Every September, it offers “yoga and meditation for every body, every age, and every ability,” making it accessible to all who wish to make the pilgrimage.

Whether you’re a curious beginner or a yoga teacher seeking to expand your understanding of how to share the practice, Mammoth Festival shares an array of classes to help you develop your practice. Anyone can attend early morning sessions on creative yoga sequencing, the power of cueing, and decolonizing yoga. And every night, the Vendor Village Market lights up with performances from mystically-minded musicians, which included , , and in recent years.

Weekend asana and meditation classes from teachers such as and will help you settle a restless spirit and immerse yourself in the present. Also, presentations from yoga and health institutions such as Mammoth Hospital and the work trade and job opportunity website, , allow instructors to diversify their teaching tools beyond advanced asana. The festival is recognized as an approved Continuing Education Provider by the National Academy of Sports Medicine, making it an excellent opportunity for yoga and fitness professionals to gain needed continuing education credits.

8. Lamu Yoga Festival

Lamu Island, Kenya | October 25-29, 2023

From sunrise yoga sessions on pristine beaches to moonlit meditations beneath the stars, emphasizes total, undisturbed bliss. This celebration of yoga, culture, and tranquility happens in the coastal region of Kenya and immerses in a world of serenity, culture, and mindful exploration.

Yoga, breathwork, and meditation are taught at a dozen unique venues and studios. Discover the allure of Lamu Old Town, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, with its charming architecture and captivating history. With no cars in sight and donkeys and boats instead dotting the landscape, the scene creates a true escape from the everyday. Experience the local culture and traditions through an awe-inspiring opening ceremony on the beach, a traditional Kenyan dinner, a scenic sailing trip, and a mesmerizing bonfire to close your journey.

9. International Yoga Festival

Banks of Ganges River, India | March 2024

A week-long celebration of yoga and meditation, the in Rishikesh, India, attracts thousands of people from around the world to the birthplace of yoga. Nestled among the Himalayas on the banks of the holy River Ganga, the festival takes place at Parmarth Niketan Ashram, one of the largest interfaith yoga institutions in India. It’s a tranquil environment where participants can connect with themselves and their spiritual practice.

The aim of the International Yoga Festival is to “expand global consciousness and bring healing back to the planet, one person at a time.” In support of that, it hosts some of the greatest teachers from both eastern and western lineages of yoga, making it an ideal pilgrimage for dedicated students looking to connect with the origins of the practice.

The extensive schedule includes a mind-boggling array of activities, from early morning kundalini sadhana to evening kirtan and everything in between, including asana classes and talks. It regularly draws more than 2000 participants from 80 countries, offering a unique opportunity to come together and share in the transformative power of yoga. The festival’s emphasis on the origins of the practice is a testament to yoga’s enduring spirit, influence, and ability to unite people in the pursuit of growth and well-being.

10. Sedona Yoga Festival

Sedona, Arizona | April 2024

Many believe that certain locations on the planet experience a higher vibrational energy than others. With its seven vortices, or energy centers, Sedona is one of those places. The , now in its tenth year, draws on this enigmatic energy to foster community and spiritual growth.

Billed as a “consciousness evolution conference,” the festival boasts an impressive roster of speakers and rich coursework and continues to be a pioneer of large-scale mindful events in the United States. Workshops and immersions take place amid Sedona’s mystical landscape and world-class performing arts facilities and offer opportunities to explore all eight limbs of yoga.

Attendees can gather in the mornings for a communal ceremony before dispersing into lectures or desert excursions. There are more than 100 sessions to choose from, including yoga practices amid the red rocks. Evenings feature keynote addresses from top-tier spiritual minds, lectures, sacred chanting sessions, and live entertainment.

11. BaliSpirit

Ubud, Bali | May 2024

If practicing yoga in Bali is your dream, the in Ubud may be the ultimate destination. Held annually at the , this three-day “spirit festival” encompasses yoga, dance, martial arts, breathwork, personal development, and more, making it a catalyst for transformation.

A magnet for conscious travelers and spiritual seekers, BaliSpirit has grown considerably since it was founded in 2008, bringing economic growth and evolution to the town of Ubud. Held in a traditional Balinese open-air venue surrounded by wildlife and flanked by a sacred river, the fest offers a unique opportunity for attendees to connect with themselves, others, and the surroundings.

The holistic approach of the festival is reflected in its more than 150 workshops representing different styles of yoga (including Hatha, Yin, Anusara, and Ashtanga) as well as other types of movement (Capoeira, Qi Gong, Silat, Poi, Laughter, and hula hooping). Each night ends with a musical lineup of global performers, creating an intimate concert experience leading to deeper connections and sacred celebration.

About Our Contributor

Sierra is a writer, yogi, and music lover living in the Pacific Northwest. She’s been practicing yoga for nearly a decade & got certified to teach in 2018. She writes and teaches all about connection: connection to the body, to nature, and to the universal love that holds us together. She’s also the author of , a moon magic journal and witchy workbook.

For free yoga and witchy wisdom, find Sierra at , on Instagram , and on .

The post 11 Yoga Festivals You Need to Know About appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

In April, Kelvin Kiptum clocked the third-fastest marathon in the history of the sport at the London Marathon. He’s from Kenya. Hellen Obiri won the 127th Boston Marathon in one of the most exciting women’s races in history. She’s from Kenya. And Eliud Kipchoge, considered the best marathoner of all time, missed a water station and hiccuped his Boston marathon performance, but remains the greatest runner of our time. Yes, he’s from Kenya.

It’s widely understood that Kenya has produced, is developing, and will continue to develop many of the world’s fastest and most formidable runners on Earth. But why? This question has been prodded and churned by many professionals, along many disciplines, and the answer is complicated and multivalent. But if there is one common denominator, in one specific location in Kenya, where champions are made, it’s in the Rift Valley of Kenya. And, for many champions? It’s the coach Patrick Sang.

In (Pegasus Books, 2023), sportswriter Sarah Gearhart takes a headlong, behind-the-scenes look into the world of the Kenyan super-elite as she investigates less the physiology or Vo2 max advantages that erupt from this corner of the world, less about the comparative analyses of workout and training architecture, and more about the social ecology found at the Global Sports Communication training camp, in Kaptagat, Kenya, a small rural town at the western edge of the country, inland about 200 miles from Nairobi and an hour’s drive south from Iten.

Here, Gearhart seeks to understand the collective weave that reinforces greatness, the mentorship and coach dynamics that create the best marathoners the world has ever seen, and she does this by traveling nearly 8,000 feet above sea level to the Rift Valley to meet the legendary Patrick Sang, famous for being Eliud Kipchoge’s coach, as well as many other elite champions, including Geoffrey Kamworor, twice a winner of the New York City Marathon.

If the name Kipchoge sounds familiar to you, bravo. But I’ll bet most, like me, won’t know much of anything about Sang. That’s partially because the 59-year-old coach is private, as this book illustrates, but also because his coaching philosophy is not exclusively geared only for individual success. Rather, it’s about elevating together, something admittedly hard for much of the Western world to understand fully.

It’s about the athletes, yes. It’s about their success, yes. But most importantly, Gearhart suggests, Sang’s goal is to cultivate the whole human athlete, to identify their Why as rocket fuel.

An Elite Athlete and Coach

Near the beginning, Gearhart paraphrases Sang, saying that coaching a good athlete to become a great athlete comes by “shaping a person to have the ability to critically engage with the world with honest intention and undauntedly navigate whatever life presents.”

Patrick Sang himself was one of Kenya’s finest athletes, and it’s around him that We Share the Sun sets the table. Sang ran at the University of Texas, becoming a three-time All-American, and proceeded to become a two-time Olympian, running the steeplechase for Kenya at the 1992 Summer Games in Barcelona. In addition to his silver medal in those Olympics, he also brought home silver from the 1991 and 1993 world championships, helping him earn his nickname of “Silver Sang.” (He also dabbled in the marathon in the late 1990s, running a personal best of 2:14:03 in 1999.)

Here, Gearhart clearly establishes the street cred of Sang as Athlete, followed shortly by Sang as Coach, establishing his tone of authority from both sides. What unfolds from here is a thoroughly reported tapestry of athletic achievement that stems from his early success and his philosophy of sport, Sang’s primary terms for life: “You are given an opportunity. Work hard.”

Sang’s Greatest Athlete: Eliud Kipchoge

Many will know Kipchoge from the Breaking-2 Project, the INEOS 1:59 Challenge, or as the G.O.A.T. with near-flawless running form. But early Eluid was also earnest and relentless. Sang first met Kipchoge as a teen in 2001. Kipchoge was a fatherless boy with big dreams and an even bigger appetite for guidance and training plans. Sang delivered structure for young Kipchoge to grow into the disciplined athlete he is today.

“Do your best. There’s nothing else,” is Kipchoge’s primary credo, and that’s a direct import from Patrick “Silver” Sang.

RELATED: Why We Have No Choice But to Root for Eliud Kipchoge, the Marathon King

Throughout the book’s 30 chapters, Gearhart establishes heft in the front end with longer portraits connecting Sang and Kipchoge, and then, right around midway, the book’s pace starts to pick up. The chapters get punchier. Shorter. More lyrical. It’s almost as if the book was mirroring a progression run—a staple workout in East Africa where the runner will start off slow and build to a whipping cadence by the end.

In flittering snapshots, Gearhart takes you through a brief history of how Sang established the running camp in 2002. She finds some of her most evocative language to describe the landscape, the roads, and the intimacy between Sang and the more than 50 athletes he coaches. “Daylight begins to surface just shy of 6:15 A.M., revealing a blanket of fog kissing the top of cypress trees,” writes Gearhart. “If you arrive at the end of April or beginning of May, stripes of lilacs on both sides of the road offer a mark of direction toward Sang and his world-class associates at Global Sports Communication training camp.”

As the book drills into the common themes of Kenya’s success in elite long-distance running, a clearing begins to form. Gearhart’s punchy chapters and scene-setting help the reader become immersed in the place, as well as the self-affirming atmosphere created in Kaptagat by Sang.

Occasionally, we pan out and fold back to offer needed context for those of us—including myself—who haven’t yet committed to memory the complex history of colonial Africa and the origins of the Kenyan elite running at global events, which really took off in the 1980s. But generally, the book steers clear of geopolitics and stays with portraits of the athletes, the camaraderie, and the collective task of making elite running a career, depicting the training camp a workplace, not a hobby.

Here, Sang’s coaching approach proves less a hyper-individual focus and more about the collective, a way of building the greatest runners in the world, not by lionizing one athlete but by building in a culture of mutual flourishing. Much of this is shown through time spent in Kaptagat, and through Sang’s relationship with his athletes.

At times, I was hoping Gearhart would look squarely at this, offering more contrast of coaching techniques and cultural differences between Kenya and running programs in the West, to better understand the consequences of a more hyper-individual hype-machine of social media that readily invites athletes in the West to double down on self-as-brand and lose focus on the business of winning.

Developing the Why

There’s a constant refrain of Sang’s importance of developing the Why in his athlete’s training regimen. “Those who are here understand their Why, just like Sang understood his Why when he was a competitive elite athlete and trained alone,” writes Gearhart. “The Why is crucial. The Why pushes one to be better everyday.”

Thus, Sang’s recipe becomes apparent: collective elevation through hard training together; aiming for a higher purpose, a reason for being there. “Grab a higher branch” is an analogy both Sang and Kipchoge use to stay optimistic and driven to succeed, despite setbacks.

Though a higher proportion of the book focuses on male athletes under Sang’s leadership—in large part because the ratio of men-to-women at the camp is significantly disproportionate—Kenyan female athletes are certainly part of the book, including Faith Kipyegon, a two-time Olympic champion and two-time world champion in the 1500 meters. She joined Sang’s group in 2019, who helped train her back to excellence after maternity leave. “He knows everything,” said Kipyegon. “He reads your mind.”

“The people around you determine what you become, what you think,” Sang says, which I find one of the clearest lessons of the book, one that the author continues to illustrate throughout the work. Excellence is never wholly individual; it’s always dependent on others. The best marathoners in the world are indeed talented individuals full of drive and discipline, but they are also almost always part of a group, a team that reminds them of the ultimate project: mutual flourishing.

We Share the Sun is an engaging book for those who want to explore the structural, social, and relational foundations of Kenyan elite marathoners. Both compelling and accessible, I wouldn’t see this book resonating as much with those having zero knowledge of elite road marathoners, as it does get into the weeds in its traversing of races, results, and athletes. That said, I came to road running from a trail and mountain background and found Gearhart’s guidance through this world captivating.

If you’ve ever asked: Why are Kenyan marathoners consistently so damn good? What is the subtle edge that cultivates such deep distance running talent? Though this book doesn’t fully answer these questions—mainly because these questions are complex and involve many factors—Gearhart effectively delivers the message that success comes best when shared, best when you believe in your inherent greatness and potential, and best when reinforced constantly by your community and peers. This, combined with Sang’s approach to building whole athletes, athletes who are connected to their Why, is a time-tested recipe for greatness.

The post Eliud Kipchoge’s Running Coach Wants to Know Your Why appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Moses Amira told his story to producer Caro Rolando for an episode of The Daily Rally podcast. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I learned of his death at the airport in Dubai. I had a two-hour layover, and another six hours of flying to come after that. I’m with my son, who I was carrying on my chest. That evening immediately got really tough, because I had this little bundle of joy who was making me smile, and I have these emotions inside me that are making me cry.

My name is Moses Amira, some people have called me Mkubwa, which means “the big one” in Swahili slang. I am currently in Manila, Philippines, with my wife and our one-year-old son. I’m Kenyan, and my wife is German.

One of my biggest passions in life is cycling. It has brought me a lot of joy and friendship and connection. I got into the cycling community in Kenya, thinking that I was giving back to the community and being there for whoever needed help, in just small ways that I could manage. At some point while doing this, my cycling friend, Caleb, was cycling on a road in Nairobi, Kenya, called Thika Road. He rammed into a stationary bus parked in the middle of the road on the highway. Without reflection, without anything. It was the dark of night and he was going fast. He died.

It became a big deal in the cycling community. So we organized to go cycle the same road and let our voices be heard, that we are not happy with the situation of the roads in Kenya and the way things worked there.

One person came up next to me, and told me he had just driven 500 kilometers to come and be with us, and he was going to drive back immediately after. The empathy really touched me. I asked this person who they were. And said he’s called Suleiman Kangangi.

The name rang the bell. I knew he was a cyclist who has been representing the country in many races abroad. The empathy to have traveled just to attend this bike ride and go back got me. I told him, “Hey man, as long as you are in Nairobi, my house is your house from today, henceforth.” So I was thinking, Oh, OK, I’m helping this young man here. He started coming to my house, and he became regular until he joined the household. Every week he would be living with me at some point. We would go out cycling together. Slowly, I started noticing, Oh, this guy is not the same as other people that I have met.

He had a fire in him. You could see it was a very mature fire, like somebody who has really found himself. So I started taking notes of the way he talked, the things he was doing, and his story. His story was extremely touching.

He didn’t know who his father was; he had a single parent upbringing. His mother had a terminal illness. He just fought for everything.

He started training to do a thousand-kilometer bike ride from Nairobi to Mombasa and back to Nairobi. Most people were trying to do Nairobi to Mombasa at the time, and you were like royalty if you were able to do that one in a day. So he decided he wanted to do Nairobi to Mombasa and back to Nairobi in three days.

I somehow started looking up to him. You are really sure you are helping someone, but then you take time to be with this person, and slowly you realize the person is actually the one helping you. It’s not like they’re doing anything that is giving you any financial gain, it’s just an enrichment from within. And you start finding peace. You also become better, because you get motivated to be better at something. He became my best friend.

I don’t understand how he managed to live a life so full. Even in the one year that I was with him and I thought I was empowering him, he empowered and enriched me.

I was on the way to Manila from Brussels, I was traveling with my wife and my son. At the airport, my phone would not stop. I was receiving a ton of messages, and people trying to call or whatever to ask me what was wrong. I have a close friend from the cycling community. When I saw his call, I was like, OK, there’s a problem. He said, “Moses, it’s not good.” Then he told me that unfortunately, Sule has passed on.

He was in a cycling race in the US. It was a gravel race, one of the biggest in the world. All of us will deal with grief at some point, because nobody came into this world alone. But, it’s never something you can be ready for, I feel. As much as we all know it’s going to happen.

As an African man, it’s seen as a weakness to cry. You’re scolded as a boy, and you grow up with the fear of seeing your own tears or tasting any salt from upwards of your mouth. You have to allow yourself to cry, to let it out.

We organized a sendoff in Nairobi, where the cyclists could get to say goodbye to an icon. So many people came through; the cycling community in Kenya was amazing.

We went to Nyayo Stadium in a procession, the team that he was cycling with when he passed on at the front. We ended up with around a hundred of us. The cyclists put their bicycles up on the sides of the road, and they were singing and crying and whistling, and it was so beautiful. I was looking at it and I was thinking, I’m very sure Sule must be happy, at least, where he is.

Moses Amira is a cyclist, computer scientist, and videographer. He continues to honor Sule’s life and legacy by advocating for better biking conditions in Kenya and around the world. You can watch videos about Sule and much more on .

You can followÌęThe Daily RallyÌęŽÇČÔÌę,Ìę,Ìę, or wherever you like to listen. and to be featured on the show.

The post Moses Amira Embraces the Tears appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Nestled six hours northwest of Nairobi, Kenya, sits the small town of Iten. At 8,000 feet above sea level, Iten is marked with lush vegetation and striped with Kenya’s iconic red clay roads. Running champions are made here, on the edge of the Rift Valley.

Specifically, the region centers around Eldoret, 20 miles from Iten, which has become the epicenter of long-distance running in Kenya since the country began to rise to prominence on the world stage in the 1960s. Most runners come to Iten to elevate their running in training camps with a desire to compete in the world’s most competitive and prestigious races thousands of miles away. That includes scores of Kenyan athletes, but also, at any given time, a handful of international runners seeking inspiration and, at least temporarily, uncomplicated focus on their training.

Two American runners, marathoner Nell Rojas and 10K specialist Natosha Rogers, have been training in Iten this month, in the hopes of soaking up the greatness that surrounds them. Rojas, a Nike-sponsored athlete who lives in Boulder, Colorado, is taking part in a two-week camp with the Sweat Elite training team.

“I first heard of Iten when my friend Luis Orta began putting on running camps here,” Rojas told Women’s Running, via email from Kenya, in between sessions. “I remember watching his videos of workouts at the Eldoret track, long runs on Moiben Road, and easy runs in the forests surrounding the town. The talk of the perfect training environment hooked me.”

Rojas, 35, was the top American woman finisher in the 2021 and 2022 Boston Marathon and is training for a return appearance at this year’s race on April 17. She is also partnering with photographer Mike Thurk, and the pair is hoping to speak with as many women as possible about what it’s like to be a female runner in Kenya.

“After paying attention to [runner] Mary Ngugi and her efforts in stopping violence against women in Kenya, and watching a documentary on [runner] ’—an organization that protects women against gender-based violence—we wanted to learn more and put a spotlight on the violence against Kenyan women in distance running,” Rojas says.

Rogers, 31, who lives in Denver, is spending a month in Iten after signing a new sponsorship deal with Puma. She was a finalist in the 10,000m at 2022 World Athletics Championships last summer in Eugene, Oregon, and is preparing for a season of racing on the track and roads in the U.S.

“I hope to gain a rekindled love with running and a newfound mentality [while in Iten],” Rogers said. “In the world we live in today, it is easy to get caught up with what everyone else is doing and be too focused on the outcome. With no Wi-Fi and being so far away from everything, I can truly just do what I love, and my performances come as a result of that.”

The Home of Champions

Both Rojas and Rogers said that the natural beauty and running culture of Iten is blowing them away, as well as the depth of talented runners who train there.

“When I saw videos of the workouts on the track in Eldoret, a city 45 minutes outside of Iten, I thought it must have been a special day because there were hundreds of elite-level runners on the track,” Rojas said. “I was wrong. On any given Tuesday there will be packs of the best runners in the world forming a train around the track, Eliud Kipchoge often included. On a walk back from a run, you will bump into 2:17 female and 2:06 male marathoners who are happy to talk with you.”

Rojas also said the natural terrain of Iten is exquisite: “Iten sits over a vast valley with lush forests, and the colors of the sunrises and sunsets set the dirt roads on fire.”

Hundreds of runners will attend local group training runs on the sprawling roads outside of Iten. These long runs start slow, but gradually get much faster and nearly all of the runners maintain theÌę elite-level pace. Athletes can also train at one of the small gyms in Iten (don’t expect air conditioning) and stay at one of the many accommodations in town that provide runners with everything they need to be successful, including incredible food centered on the Kenyan staples of ugali (cornmeal swallow) and chapati (unleavened flatbread).

“I have never eaten so healthy in my entire life,” Rogers said. “Every day is a well-balanced meal [consisting of] meat, veggies, fruit, chapati, ugali, and lots of tea. I have been trying to eat twice as much because of how much [energy I] seem to be burning here.”

The Iten Way

Training in Iten is unlike anywhere else in the world. It’s impossible not to be giddy about being around some of the speediest runners on Earth. Rogers described the Kenyan workout sessions as “systematic and regimented, yet simple and not over-complicated.” Rojas described how a simple-sounding fartlek workout with the Kenyans in Iten was much harder than it appeared on paper.

“The most famous Kenyan workouts are the fartleks they do on Thursdays. I found a lady to try to pace off who turned out to be a 2:23 marathoner and dropped me six repetitions in,” Rojas said. “The terrain [in Iten] is incredibly hard to run fast on, it’s more like trail running [in the sense of] having to search for a flat place to put your foot.”

Nearly 200 runners may show up for the Thursday fartlek, and the workout is not given to the runners until just before the start. They can choose between two courses, one of which, aptly named “Boston,” mimics the downhill start and challenging, rolling hills of the famed marathon course. Regardless of which course is chosen for the day, the fartlek workout consists of 50 minutes following one of these interval options:

• Option 1: 1 minute “on” / 1 minute “off”
• Option 2: 2 minutes “on” / 1 minute “off”
• Option 3: 3 minutes “on” / 1 minute “off”

The simplest workouts, Rojas says, become very challenging when trying to keep up with runners who all easily surpass a 2:30 marathon. A week of training in Iten might look something like this:

ČŃŽÇČÔ»ćČčČâÌę

• 6 A.M.: Moderate 20K on hills in the forest
• 4 P.M.: 30 minutes easy run, ending in “diagonals” (long strides) followed by “exercise,” which is a group core workout

°ŐłÜ±đČő»ćČčČâÌę

• 6 A.M.: 20x400m on Tambach Track
• 4 P.M.: easy 8K

Wednesday

• 6 A.M.: easy 8K
• 10 A.M.: 12 x hill repeats,
• 4 P.M.: easy 30 min run followed by “exercise,” which is a group core workout.

Thursday

• 6 A.M.: easy 8K
• 10 A.M.: fartlek (outlined above)

Friday

• 6 A.M.: easy 12K
• 4 P.M.: easy 8-10K

ł§ČčłÙłÜ°ù»ćČčČâÌę

• 6 A.M.: 40K progressive long run

Sunday

• Rest

To counterbalance such workouts, runners of Iten take their recovery seriously—napping, reading, eating, and preparing their bodies for the next session. These elite runners generally thrive on routine: same wake-up time, same workout time, similar routes, similar meals, same bedtime each day. There are benefits to this: less stress, fewer decisions to make, and a comfort that comes with repetition.

Journey to a New Perspective

Rojas described the journey to get to Iten as long but beneficial, even if she was physically exhausted from the 8,700-mile journey which takes over 30 hours of travel.

“I’ve been describing the mentality as ‘No problem, I can do that,’” Rojas said. “[The runners look at everything as] positive and achievable
I will try to take that home with me.”

Rogers, who usually trains solo, has experienced a tremendous benefit from doing sessions with other runners. “[Training in Iten] has made me realize that training truly is better together and holding each other accountable to a routine,” she said. “I highly recommend getting out of one’s training bubble. Don’t stay stagnant in your ways. Challenge yourself!”

Though most of us lack the resources, time, and ability to train with Kenyan champions in Iten, we can all benefit by adopting their positive mentality, group energy, accountability, nutritional habits, and training patterns. The results might surprise us.

The post Iten, Kenya, Is Where Running Champions Are Made appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Kilimanjaro could soon look quite different, and not just because of itsÌę. The Tanzanian governmentÌęÌęconstruction of a cable car on the 19,341-foot peak, the highest summit in AfricaÌęand the tallest freestanding mountain in the world. Still, while it may technically be approved, the project is far from a sure bet.

The nation’sÌęgovernmentÌę the cable-car idea in May 2019. Its goal: to increase the area’s tourism by 50 percent. Before the COVID-19 pandemic, Kilimanjaro attracted some 50,000 tourists a year,Ìęroughly 35,000 of whomÌęattempted the summit. Others admired the landmark from its surrounding national park. That same year,ÌęConstantine Kanyasu, then deputy minister of tourism for Tanzania, told me the cable car would help students and travelers under 15 years old and older than 50 experience the mountain’s beauty.

”țłÜłÙÌę urged the government to reconsider, andÌę erupted with opinions. Porters and guides joined forces in opposition through local lobbying groups, while climbers launchedÌę. Tanzanian officialsÌęremainedÌęmostly quiet on the topic, promising that they’d study feasibility and environmental and societal impacts before moving forward.

But in December 2020, the government gave its blessing for the cable car.ÌęPaul Banga, the Tanzania National Parks Authority (TANAPA) spokesperson for the project, has emphasizedÌęthat approval does not mean confirmation, however. “We are waiting for instructions from the Ministry of Natural Resources and Tourism before we start looking for investors,” Banga said during a TANAPA workshop, according to theÌę. WhenÌęBangaÌęresponded to me on WhatsApp in January, he told me thatÌęif and when officials move forward on the matter,Ìę“the government decision will be communicated to the public.”

Timing for such aÌędecision, like many details surrounding this project, remains unclear. But as a Kilimanjaro climber and frequent Tanzania traveler, my curiosity got the best of me after the 2019 announcement. I’ve spent nearly two years tracking this project, from messagingÌęTanzanian government officials to speaking with at least a dozen local and global experts. Here’s what I’ve uncovered about itsÌęmost pressing questions, including insider perspectives on whether it will actually happen.

Where Would the Kilimanjaro Cable Car Run?

All reports and inside sources point to Machame, a scenic and popular route on the peak’sÌęsouthern side. Machame attracts nearly half of all Kilimanjaro climbers, with its high success rate (85 percent for a seven-day climb) and beautiful passageÌęthrough fiveÌęecosystems. Machame is also easily accessible from A23, the region’s main road, so it’s a natural choice for this kind of tourist attraction.

Merwyn Nunes, a TanzanianÌęwho opposes the cable car, worked for theÌęMinistry of Natural Resources and Tourism before serving as a tourist representative for the Kilimanjaro region. Nunes now owns , a company that runs toursÌęfrom the Serengeti to Kilimanjaro National Park. He shared his best intel on what a proposed route could look like.Ìę

The plan, he said, is that “six pillars strong enough to carry 15Ìęcable cars will be built along the route.ÌęEach cable car will carry six people on a 20-minute ride to the Shira Plateau.” One of three volcanic cones, the ShiraÌęis located at about 12,000 feet on a high plateau that stretches for eight miles before meeting Kilimanjaro’s tallest volcanic cone, Kibo, and its summit, Uhuru peak. With Kibo’s views and a relatively flat, open plateau, this area would be the most practical cable-car landing pad.Ìę

Could Altitude Sickness Pose Issues for Tourists?

While specifics are forthcoming, it’s likely the cable car would start near the Machame gate (elevation 5,380 feet) and climb roughly 7,000 feet to the Shira Plateau in 20 minutes, according to Nunes. Could this cause altitude sickness? Yes. Altitude effects can start anywhere fromÌę4,900 to 6,500 feet. Ascending too quickly increases the chancesÌęof altitude-related illnesses, like acute mountain sickness,Ìęs that includeÌęheadache, nausea, dizziness, and shortness of breath.Ìę

In fact,Ìę from the Mayo Clinic suggests that 20 percent of those traveling to higher altitudes below 18,000 feet will suffer some form of altitude sickness. But a lot depends on the amount of time visitors remainÌęat high elevation. One study in the peer-reviewed journalÌę notes that symptoms typically present upon 6ÌętoÌę12 hours of arrival at altitude—but that’s much longer than tourists usually spend atop a cable-car route.Ìę

Will a Cable Car Affect Kilimanjaro’s Biodiversity?

The project’sÌęenvironmental impact is a major concern among opponents. Kilimanjaro’s five diverse vegetation zones encompass everything from forests and farmland to desert and glaciers—which haveÌę, a fact that has made many a headline. But Kilimanjaro’s receding glaciers highlight more than a rapidly changing climate; they’re representative of the area’s fragile ecosystems, home to vulnerable species like elephants, who wander the surroundingÌęforests, and migrating birds that travel through the nation’s Endemic Bird Area, which encompasses both the peakÌęand much of southern Kenya.

To protect Kilimanjaro’s ecosystems and natural beauty—two factors that helped Kilimanjaro National Park earn UnescoÌęWorld Heritage status in 1987—the Tanzanian government promised to conduct an environmental and social impact assessment before approving the cable car. In August 2019, Kanyasu, the former deputy minister of tourism, told me that theÌęenvironmental element of that study was complete.

But the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) isn’t convinced. AÌęspokesperson for the organization said that while the environmental and social impact assessment did recognize the area’s diverse ecosystems, it “does not assess how they will be impacted by the cable-car development.” As the nature advisory body for the UnescoÌęWorld Heritage Center, the IUCN sent a letter to the state party of Tanzania recommending itÌęnot pursue the project due to negative effects on the environment and “outstanding universal value.” The group hasÌęyet to hear back.Ìę

On the other hand, the mountain’s tens of thousands of annual climbers already stress Kilimanjaro’s environment with litter and trampled vegetation, according to theÌę. Steven Dale, a principal at the architecture and engineering firmÌę, which specializes inÌęcable-car consulting, and who is not affiliated with the project, says a cable car in and of itself is environmentally benign. “As a means to convey people from the bottom to the top of a mountain in an environmentally sensitive area, there’s probably no better means to do that,” he said.

Will Porters, Guides, and Climbing Outfitters Lose Business?

The 2019 announcement left Tanzania’s climbing community in shock. Would porters and guides lose their jobs? Would travelers choose the quicker, cheaper route up part of Kilimanjaro versus trekking for six or seven days to the summit? ConcernedÌęparties joined Nunes’s local anti-cable-car lobbying group, Voice of Kilimanjaro, “to give voice to a mountain that has no voice of its own,” said Nunes.Ìę

While many of these guides and porters are still not fans of the project, they’re less worried about job loss and more concerned about the sanctity of their treasured home mountain.ÌęÌę

“I think people who really want to climb Kilimanjaro would still choose to climb Kilimanjaro to reach the summit instead of taking a short cable-car ride for sightseeing,” said Vivian Temba, director of marketing for the Tanzania-based climbing outfitterÌę. “But the overall appeal of Mount Kilimanjaro as a natural attraction might diminish. ImagineÌęyou’re beginning your Kili climb,Ìęand instead of seeing the mountain in its natural glory, you see steel towers and cables.”

SoÌęWill the Kilimanjaro Cable Car Actually Come to Fruition?

From a purely logistical standpoint, it could. “A system like this could be constructed in a year,Ìęalthough my suspicion would be, in a location as geographically isolated and complicated politically and logistically, it would take one to two years,” said Dale of SCJ Alliance. “But the proof is going to be whether or not they can get it across the line financiallyÌęand from a permit perspective. That’s really what this all boils down to. It’s not about the idea. We can debate about whether it’s a good idea or not. The question is really, Can they get it across the finish line?”

Experts well versed in the Tanzanian government’s inner workings, like Nunes, have doubts. “There appears to be some dragging of feet in government circles on this project,” he said. “On the other hand, I am holding my breath, not knowing what to expect. The danger that I see here is that the ruling party and present government’s policy is pegged on industrialism of the economy. Cable cars are looked upon as an industry. My personal feeling is that it will not happen.”Ìę

The post Tanzania Approves a Cable Car on Kilimanjaro appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

You’ve heard of Kilimanjaro, but what about Mount Kenya, which stands at a proud 17,057 feet? Owing perhaps to its subordinate status, Africa’s second highest peak has not been as romanticized in Western culture as its Tanzanian counterpart—at least if and Hemingway are anything to go by. The discrepancy also applies to the realm of high altitude long distance running. If you look up , you will find a number of athletes, including a certain dauntless Spaniard, who have targeted the mountain for an FKT attempt. When it comes to Mount Kenya, the list is more modest. In fact, until this week, it only included only one name: —a retired ski-mountaineer and “” from Italy. Meraldi’s Mount Kenya FKT dates back to a 1995 , and doesn’t appear to have any GPS data to back it up. In effect, an “official” Mount Kenya record has yet to be run.

That is, until last Friday. On the morning of November 20, two Kenyan athletes named Kenneth Kemboi and Susy Chemaimak set men’s and women’s unsupported FKTs for the out-and-back trek from the Sirimon Gate entrance to Mount Kenya National Park (elevation: 8,694 ft) to Point Lenana, which, at 16,354 feet, is the highest accessible peak on the mountain that doesn’t require a multi-pitch, roped climb. Kemboi came home in 7:00:40, while Chemaimak ran 7:50:07. (Both had the distance at around 48.5 kilometers, or 30 miles, on their GPS watches—almost seven kilometers more than what back in ‘95.)ÌęÌęÌę

Unless you happen to be the most obsessive running fan on planet Earth, neither Kemboi or Chemaimak’s name is likely to ring a bell. By the otherworldly standards of Kenyan distance running, they are third-tier athletes, at best. Which means that they are still good enough to demoralize the competition in some of the more low-profile races around the globe. Last year, for instance, Kemboi won the , in Sicily, by running 2:14:20; the (2:16:07); and Thailand’s (1:07:26). Winning these races earned him $1,350, $6,000, and $1,500, respectively. But his biggest payday of 2019 came against his toughest competition; at the , he finished third (2:15:43, at 7,000 feet, no less) and made $10,000.Ìę

If being a journeyman professional distance runner was a rough way to make a living before, the pandemic has made it virtually impossible. In a world with no races, it’s rather difficult to stay afloat when your primary source of income is from prize money. As a wave of event cancellations made this niche economy obsolete, Kemboi reached out to his sponsor with a simple yet urgent message: he was broke and needed help.Ìę

Alas, Kemboi’s benefactor was not a behemoth corporation with endless cash reserves, but a small startup named , manufacturers of “the first Kenyan-made running shoe.” The brand was co-founded in 2015 by Kenyan lawyer Navalayo Osembo and British American social entrepreneur Weldon Kennedy. , Enda is “Kenyan founded, Kenyan led, and with majority Kenyan investment.” It also makes a point of sponsoring local runners, like Kemboi, Chemaimak, and 30-year-old , who won the women’s race at least year’s Detroit Marathon (prize money: $4,000).Ìę

“We aren’t a big company,” Kennedy told me. “We don’t have big contracts with these athletes. We pay a little bit, but it’s definitely not enough for them to live on.”

So Enda dreamed up a short-time solution to promote its brand while helping to ease some of the financial burden on its few sponsored athletes: a series of paid FKT attempts up Kenya’s tallest mountain. (To help drum up financial resources, Enda recruited several co-sponsors including apparel maker , the GPS-watch brand , and the hydration pack company .) Among other things, the concept was consistent with Enda’s Kenya-first ethos. that the inspiration for the brand was that the country known to produce the fastest distance runners in the world should also be producing its own running shoes. In a similar vein, it only felt right that Kenya’s most symbolically significant FKT should also be in Kenyan hands.Ìę

For his part, Kennedy maintains that, rather than a mere PR stunt, Enda’s FKT project was meant to also reignite a perpetually intriguing debate on the competitive ultra scene: What would happen if sub-elite Kenyan athletes began taking part in marquee races? He believes that it would be transformative for trail running—not just in terms of elevating the competition, but by making the sport more of a global phenomenon.Ìę

“I think there is a growing recognition for the need for inclusivity and greater diversity within the trail running space,” Kennedy told me. “I really hope that more race directors seek to invite and include more diversity from their running populations.”

But is the economic incentive there? As I’ve written before, the lack of diversity in the elite trail running world probably isn’t a consequence of race directors not being inclusive enough, so much as the fact that there really isn’t that much money to be made in the sport—even compared to the modest sums of lower-tier road racing. Competitive trail running, and, for that matter, the fevered pursuit of random FKTs, remains largely the prerogative of affluent amateurs with enough disposable income and time to spend their weekends endlessly gallivanting in the Marin Headlands. With very few exceptions, even the best athletes do not make their living from a pursuit where many of the most ballyhooed events offer no prize money whatsoever. I can’t imagine Kemboi would be super stoked to fly halfway around the world to race Western States for the chance to win a belt buckle.

Kennedy concedes that the absence of big paydays means that we are unlikely to see the same kind of East African depth on the trails as we do on the roads. In his opinion,Ìęit would be naive to expect a prospective influx of Kenyan runners in trail running to mirror the ascendance of the Kenyans in road racing during the ‘90s and 2000s—a time when a surge in popularity of big city marathons saw a massive increase in race fields and cash prizes.

“The money in trail running isn’t 50,000 people on the road behind you,” Kennedy says, alluding to the fact that the sport’s limited field sizes mean that it can’t make millions of dollars in entry fees. “The money in trail running is in hundreds of thousands of people shopping for products.”

Maybe so. But it remains to be seen whether this potential uptick in consumer spending on trail running gear will actually benefit athletes trying to make a living in the sport. FKTs are nice and all, but they don’t pay the bills.Ìę

The post Behind the Scenes of a Unique FKT Attempt in Kenya appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

Super tuskers are aÌęhighly poached population of elephants that areÌęknown to have ivory tusks that drop to the ground.Ìę, from filmmaker , looks at how the film’s namesake conservation area has become the last sanctuary for theÌęsmall but resilient group that is left.

The post Saving the Last Great Super Tuskers appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

What does desperation do to people? That’s the question at the heart of , a documentary setÌęin KenyaÌęamidÌęa crackdown on poaching. The effortÌęreached a dramatic apex in 2016, when the government symbolically burned 105 tons of ivory to signal a zero-tolerance stance.

The film,Ìęwhich was has been across the U.S. this winter, follows three men with different relationships to the deadly trade as they struggle to survive in a tightening market. Lukas’s family has hunted elephants for generations;ÌęusingÌętraditional knowledge, he finds his livelihood challenged byÌęstiff competition and stricter regulations. X, an ivory trader whose poacher dad was killed by rangers, hopes to build a more stable life for his son. And Asan, a wildlife ranger, hasn’t been paid for his government work in months; his wife is pregnant, and he’s becoming frantic with anxiety. X and Lukas hunt the endangered elephants that Asan (a former poacher himself) is trying to protect.

TheseÌęthree men formÌęthe backbone of the filmÌęand the audience’sÌęwindow into the seldom-seenÌęaction that surrounds big-game poaching. When Lambs Become LionsÌęreveals vivid personal histories and stakes on both sides of the trade. So much of the film’sÌępower comes fromÌęthe main characters’Ìęvulnerability, as they reckon daily with life-and-death choices regarding poaching, survival, and providing for their families. Sometimes Lukas, X, and Asan seem like tough guys, stone-faced and violent. Other timesÌęthey look like frightened kids, unsure and guessing.

Director Jon KasbeÌęfollowedÌęLukas, X, and AsanÌęfor three years. The film owes its success to this feat of extended access, which helps viewers understand what drives people to hunt beautiful, prized animals in the first place. When Lambs Become LionsÌęreveals itself to be a devastating story not only because elephants die in it, graphically and violently, but also because it captures how HIV/AIDS, government overreach, and domestic abuse allÌętrickle down throughÌęgenerations.

The film’s cinematography beautifully immerses us in the world of the protagonists—from wide shots of the open savannah,Ìęto actionÌęscenes of Asan chasing poachers in a park,Ìęto tight, close-up city shots of X and Lukas making their way to a club andÌęlistening to Biggie. We’re right there forÌęelephant huntsÌęand government holdups. But we also see more quietly revealing moments: X sits with Asan’s wife as she goes into labor; Lukas finds frogs whose toxins are used toÌępoison his arrows, so the elephants will die silently. “Better to kill the poacher and spare the elephant,” Asan says at one point, flipping through digital pictures of carcasses he’s found in the bush.

To call When Lambs Become LionsÌęa documentary about elephant poaching hardly captures the story. The film becomes far more complicated than who survives, elephants or people. It's less about how poaching is carried out than why.

The post ‘When Lambs Become Lions’ Explores a Violent Trade appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

When her Kenya Airways flight touched down on Mahé Island in the Seychelles on October 6, Jessica Nabongo said it finally hit her.

“I’m done,” said the 35-year-old. “I’ve been to every country in the world.”

Surrounded by her family and closest friends, Nabongo was ebullient and humble. She began livestreaming to her 130,000 .ÌęPeople from six continents tuned in to watch, from the Democratic Republic of Congo to Finland.

Nabongo, who grew up in Detroit, Michigan,Ìęand is the daughter of Ugandan immigrants,Ìęestimates that she had already been to 105 countries when she publicly set her goal in April 2018. A dual Ugandan-American citizen, she spent time in East Africa as a child and teen, visiting her parents’ families. She moved abroad to teach English in Japan in her early twentiesÌęand then got a master’s degree in international development from the London School of Economics at the age of 26. She moved to Benin, in West Africa, to work for an NGO, then landed a job in Italy as a resource-mobilization consultant for the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations.

There are 193 UNÌęmember countries, in addition to the Vatican and Palestine, which are nonmember states. That left 90Ìęplaces for Nabongo to visit when she set her goal.ÌęOver the past two years, she was on the road about three weeks a month, departing from Detroit. She supported herself through her travel business—a tour operator called Jet Black—as well as funding fromÌęa Kickstarter campaign and help from select tourism boards for on-the-ground expenses and hotels that comped stays.

I first met Nabongo at a coffee shop in New York City’s East Village in August. She arrived wearing a turquoise and blue shirt from Studio 189, a Ghanian brand. Adorned with rings from Kenya and bracelets from Botswana, she called herself a “walking passport.” Fresh off a weekend at theÌęAfropunk Festival in Brooklyn, she had a few days in New York before heading back to Detroit for a week of rest.

In the previousÌęthree weeks, she had been to Palau, South Korea, Mongolia, India, Bhutan, Oman, and Pakistan. She had four countries left: Venezuela, Algeria, Syria, and the Seychelles. NabongoÌękeptÌętrack of the countries sheÌęvisited on an app calledÌę,Ìęwhich notes each place on a list and a map. She’dÌęfilled upÌęthree passports in the past two and a half yearsÌęwith stamps from each country. Additionally, sheÌęposted photographic evidence of every country on her .

Even as a young child, Nabongo wanted to visit every country in the world. But it wasn’t until she read about Cassie De Pecol’s for the Guinness World Records’ fastest visit to all sovereign nations that she learned about country counters and came up with her own goal. A small but avid group of worldwide travelers, the country-counting community is tight-knit and shares information. Nabongo estimates that there are about 150 people who have been to every country. They connect in the Facebook group .

“I am trying to change the narrative about black people in the travel space,” said Nabongo. “When I am traveling in Delta One or domestically flying first class, people are like, ‘Oh, are you an employee?’ I am like, ‘No, but I am Diamond,’” referring to Delta Airlines’ top tier of frequent fliers.

“Some people have been critical and saying, ‘Oh you’re doing it too fast,’” said Nabongo. “I’ve been traveling my whole life. I almost look at this as taste testing.”

NabongoÌęaveraged around four days in each of the last 50 countries she visited. While that might sound like breakneck speed, compared to other country counters who tag some countries in a day, it is downright slow. While Nabongo isn’t averse to solo travel, she journeyed with many longtime friends throughout.

In the country-counting community, is the de facto gold standard for verification. The organizationÌęhas 5,000 members and verifies country visits by asking for proof of aÌęrandom 20 places.ÌęNabongo’s efforts have been confirmed by it. (Other groups, like the Travelers’ Century Club, mainly rely on the honor system.)

“A lot of people ask me which countries are safe for black people to travel,” Nabongo recently wrote on an Instagram post from the Seychelles. “This question typically comes from black Americans. The U.S. has perfected racism in a way that I’ve not seen in other countries, so I would urge you to travel WHEREVER you want to, no matter who you are and what you look like. I did it! And just because you hear one or two negative stories from someone doesn’t mean you should write a country off of your bucket list. We all will have different experiences and you shouldn’t allow your race to hinder you.”

As the celebrations in the Seychelles continued, Nabongo shared some of what she learned along the way to our reporter.

Getting in to North Korea and Syria

North Korea and Syria are tough countries for Americans to enter. While North Korea welcomes Americans, the U.S. government bans its citizens from visiting. This is when Nabongo’s Ugandan passport came in handy.

“North Korea doesn’t care if an American comes,” said Nabongo. “They knew I was an American, because my Ugandan passport shows that I was born in the United States, and because when I was exiting and going to China, I entered China with my U.S. passport, so they had to have both of my passports.”

While in North Korea, Nabongo was astounded by some of the messages she received from her American fan base. She attended the Mass Games, an annual synchronized-gymnastics and dance festival featuring 100,000 performers. After posting some photos of the event on Instagram, some of her followers commentedÌęthat she shouldn’t have visited the country at all. While Nabongo tries to remain apolitical about her journey, which at times causes issues with her followers, she was shocked by how many Americans were upset. After her trip, Nabongo told Nomad Mania: “I spent six days in North Korea, and aside from some quirky things, I thought it was surprisingly normal. We saw couples sitting in the park, we chatted with some college students, saw people drinking in a local bar, kids on school field trips, and people going to work on the subway. We never really see pictures or ‘normal’ life in North Korea, so this was very surprising.”

Meanwhile, Syria was a holy grail for Nabongo. Although now relatively safe in certain government-controlled areas, the country has restricted access for Americans. (One was recently released from detainmentÌęafter entering.)

Nabongo applied for a visa using her Ugandan passport and was denied. She tried again in Pakistan using her Ugandan passport, but her contact at the Syrian embassy in Pakistan wrote down that she was a journalist. She was told that her visa request would take a long time.

In the end, in September, Nabongo visited the occupied Golan Heights—which is recognized as Syria by the Guinness Book of World Records—via Israel.

How to StayÌęOrganized

Calling herself the visa whisperer, Nabongo admits that without her hyperorganizational skills, her accomplishment wouldn’t have been possible. She used Google Docs and Google Sheets to list her remaining countries by continent, so that she could organize flights based on regions.

One tool that Nabongo recommends for travelers is . It lists all nonstop flights into every airport in the world. “You can get to Paris from anywhere,” said Nabongo. “But when you’re going to Tuvalu?”

To acquire visa information, Nabongo recommends . The website offers an overview of visa requirements for every country based on nationality. As a dual citizen, Nabongo found it particularly beneficial, because it allowed her to compare access to a country for both her passports, noting that knowing geopolitical situations also helps when it comes to getting access to countries.

“I closed the tab today for Passport Index, and I got a little bit sad,” Nabongo told me in August. “That tab has been open on my browser for two years.”

She tried to travel on her Ugandan passport whenever possible to save money on visas—for example, for an American going to Nigeria, the visa is $160, but for Ugandans it’s just $2—and to bring awareness to the idea of Africans as tourists. “I want people to see a Ugandan passport literally just coming for tourism and leaving,” she said. Nabongo visited 42 countries on her Ugandan passport, saving an estimated $1,200.

The Top șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Countries

Nabongo found two unexpected adventure destinations: Jordan and Namibia. Nabongo was impressed with Jordan’s efforts to ramp up itsÌęoutdoor tourism, from camping in the beautiful desert escape of Wadi RumÌęto exploring Aqaba, a port city on the Red Sea.

Describing Namibia as “phenomenal,” Nabongo saw the Milky Way for the first time while staying in the Namib Desert at Sossusvlei, thanks to the miniscule amount of light pollution. She also climbed the huge nearby sand dunes.

Some of her other favorite nature experiences included swimming with humpback whales in Tonga, the Molinere Underwater Sculpture Park in Grenada, whale-watching in the Arctic Circle, surfing in Peru, and hanging out in the Devil’s Pool at Victoria Falls in Zambia.

Getting Around

Nabongo triedÌęto maximize her experiences by how she physically traversedÌęcountries, from train rides in Uzbekistan and Austria to helicopter rides in Senegal and South Africa.

One of Nabongo’s favorite ways to explore is with a hired driver and guide. Although she’s a proponent of local group tours—she estimates she’s been on about 40 in her time as a globe-trotter—she says that having a private driver allows for independence. On a recent trip to the country of Georgia, the tourism board provided her with a driver and a guide. After a wine tasting, they decided on a whim to stop and buy locally made bread at a local Georgian’s home.

“The way they make the bread was similar to how I saw it made in Yemen,” recounted Nabongo.ÌęShe showed the Georgian woman a video of a man making bread in Yemen.

The Most Challenging Experience

Most of the trouble NabongoÌęran into happened with immigration officers, like in Pakistan in September, where she was searched for drugs as she was trying to leave the country. Although she’s careful to note that she loved her visit to Pakistan, describing it as “pleasant and fun,” the immigration experience at the end left her traumatized. “I have more racist issues occur with immigration than with people [in the countries] themselves,” she says.

The Easiest Place to Be a Woman Traveler

Throughout her travels, Nabongo said that she found Muslim countries the easiest to be a woman tourist. “I felt very comfortable as a woman in Pakistan as compared to India,” Nabongo said.

“Americans don’t realize how conservative Americans are compared to the rest of the world,” she added. “Everybody wants to talk about how Muslim women are oppressed because they have to cover their heads, and I’m like, Look at the gender pay gap in America.”

The Thing She Never Leaves Home Without

Compression socks. Describing them as essential to her self-care,Ìęshe rarely flies without them.ÌęShe also loves Allbirds walking shoes and Flight 001Ìępacking cubes.

The Merits of LearningÌęa Few Local Phrases

In Japan, Nabongo prided herself on her basic language skills. She also speaks French, which has proven useful in her travels.

Everywhere she went, she tried to learn at least how to say hello, goodbye, please, and thank you.

But she wasn’t always able to communicate, especially in places with different alphabets. Still, Nabongo said,Ìę“I feel comfortable communicating with people, even if we can’t speak the same language. In Uzbekistan, we had a great timeÌęeven though we couldn’t speak [the language]. This one woman, we had a conversation. We were not using words either of us understood, but I still understood the meaning of what she was trying to tell me:Ìęthat I need to get married very soon, because when I get old I will be very ugly, and that I should have children soon. I was like, OK, thank you.”

Her Favorite AirlineÌę

After years on the road, Nabongo’sÌęfavorite airline is Delta, because she says it hasÌęthe best frequent-flier program and consistently good customer service.ÌęNow that she usually flies out of Detroit, a Delta hub, her allegiance to the airline is even stronger. She has Diamond Medallion status.

How to Extend a Layover

Nabongo has always been a layover hacker. The key, she says, is to plan.

“Long layovers are really great” to get a taste of what a country has to offer, she says. “What if you fly somewhere, you’ve spent all this money, and you don’t love it?”

National airlines often offer free extended layovers. Specifically, she recommends airlines like Emirates, Etihad, and Qatar, as well as Iceland Air.

“During the booking process, call the airline and just ask them for a free stopover,” said Nabongo, explaining that a stopover is usually one to two days. “A lot of airlines allow for it.”

Read the Reviews

“I read reviews, reviews, reviews before I pick anything,” Nabongo said. “You can cross-reference Google Reviews and TripAdvisor.”

Find a Good Meal

“The problem with guides is sometimes they want to take you to ‘the best restaurant’ that tourists love,” Nabongo said. “And I’m like ‘No, I don’t want to eat where other tourists eat. I want to eat where you ±đČčłÙ.’â¶Ä

The Most Difficult Place to Travel

“Oh my God. The South Pacific is a logistical nightmare,” she said. “No one island-hops in the South Pacific, and it is therefore incredibly expensive to fly, and flights are super infrequent. But there are definitely some gems there. Like, Tonga is phenomenal, swimming with the whales. It was a humpback whale and me. It was just right there.”

What’s Next

After seeing so many local marketers around the world flooded with made-in-ChinaÌęgoods (a notable exception was in Vanuatu, where the government mandates that all goods sold in the main market must be produced on the island), Nabongo wants to create an online store for select, locally produced goods from around the globe.

Calling it the Catch, she plans on launching it this fall. She also wants to sell sustainable goods, like collapsible cups for airport travel.

Nabongo is also galvanized to tackle the world’s plastic problem, after seeing its effects during her travels. Pointing out that the travel industry is one of the worst culprits, she wants to consult with hotels and airlines to help create solutions to the environmental nightmare.

“This is a single planet. Forget about national borders,” she said. “If you drop a plastic bottle in the water, it can end up anywhere in the world.”

The post Jessica Nabongo’s Lessons from Visiting Every Country appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.