Roatan Run Part 2

“I said I don’t want it!”

Cooler day today on the beautiful island of Roatan, Honduras, and a little overcast (it rained this AM).   I woke up early and tried to get an early start before the sun intensified it’s greeting.  I had planned to eat a nice island breakfast (fried green plantain, fried fish and some fresh fruits) but it just didn’t happen.  Caught a snag while trying to assess my Papa and administer his morning medicine.  You should have been there (and I asked myself why his other 4 dry-head daughters and ever-missing-son cant suffer some of the torture this ole man puts me through)!  I had to ascend on him like a guerrilla warfare in action.  They would call this abusing the elderly in good ‘ole America, but a I threatened him with calling a distant relative(maybe?)/friend of his who has taken good care of him some years ago.  Someone who loves him very dearly (and tried to kill him—at least this was his report).

Mangrove creek

Finally, I said a prayer for protection (Lord knows ya need it in these now-a-days in Roatan—strange stuff happening lately around here—and I cannot mention some ’cause the municipal and tourism department knows where I live.—you know how small this little place is), and a prayer for protection from injury (got a history of this as some folks know—Kyle Richardson, leave me alone!), and so I put on my Vibrim shoes (someone prescribed them so that I can strengthen my metatarsals that has a hx of fracture halting my groove), grabbed a bottle of water and got Chuckie to land me over the Bay in our little skiff and off I went.  Running free with my Ipod and Nike+ listening to some Soca music and it felt like heaven cause I was far away from all the depressing country music I have had to painfully endure lately.  Well, it wasn’t but a few minutes in my run that I, with my good good eyes, saw the swarm of black mosquitoes dancing the Macarena around me.  Lawdie!  I went flying back to the wharf but Chucky was peeled back on that skiff—probably thinking, “That fool!”  He was already through the Mangrove Creek and in Fiddler’s Bight on an errand to pick up the helper (that crazy gyal Annalee).  I hit Chucky up on the phone and pleaded that he turn around and get me the OFF (Mosquito repellant).

descending Mt. Goliath

Okay, I was now ready to hit the road.  Those mosquitoes still danced the Macarena around me, but like Mike Hammer said in that hit song, Can’t touch meh.”  Yeah, that’s what I said and I was on my way running to greet Mount Goliath (my own nomenclature for that rough hill up there)!

There are a few cautions you must take while running in this here beautiful island of Roatan.  Some of them they are as follow:

  • HYDRATE WELL! Drink lots of water before your run (just before you sit your rump in that skiff to be landed over on the other side or before you head out the door).  The sun gets hot  here early.  So if you wake up one morning feeling like a Jack Ass and get a late start John Crows (island buzzards) may get a free and early invitation to the party (I swear they are our national birds–too many of ‘em flying around here)!  So remember to HYDRATE! 
VIBRIM–I absolutely LOVE ‘em!
  • WEAR PROPER ATTIRE. All you hoochies nurses and other folks who love to wear bonky coolers(AKA Daisy Dukes—I suggest you wear bright ones—to spot you on the hill and all)  may do so.  Just a few words of advice, Christians are not allowed to wear these sorts of clothing on this island (they would rather see you parch to death and have a stroke around here!)  You will get a cross-eyed look and banished to the last (back) seat in the church the next Saturday or Sunday).  I’ve got good news for you though.  Most of these church folks would not be caught dead trying to engaging some physical exercise, and they are afraid of Mount Goliath (“Nah me.  I aeent ghaying deh,” (translation: “not me. I am not going there”) is what they told me).  So, you will be on a basically deserted trail.  Yes, I am caaalen (calling) all the Hoochies out! For if you start late, that beautiful bright Sun will have no mercy on you, and the trees will lend no shade.  It will be a run in hell!  Okay? Oh, and bring your Sunshades and a sweatband.  I warned you.
  • IPOD:  If you are one that like shaking your bum bum up a hill or needs an extra push to keep going and is in the habit of using the IPOD to get your running MOJO on, please make sure to turn the volume low enough in case a stray car or motorcycle comes your way. The sound of a motor may be confused for the bass line and other instrument in some songs. I was groping up the last incline before reaching Mount Golliath, and 2PAC came on—”Only God can hear,” song and I thought the sound was all coming from the IPOD (I saw the John Crows (buzzards) circling hard around me) then realized it was a big truck coming around the corner!
Neese Berry (I think)

Now, lets get on with the fun.  The terrain and the view is beautiful all over this island from east to west. As I mentioned in the previous post, the route I take is only about 4.5 to 5 miles long and is hilly (the incline feels like a good 90 huffing-and-puffing degrees—not Celsius nor Fahrenheit either) uphill.  There are lots of fruit trees on the way such as Mango, Craboo (anyone knows the real name of that small yellow fruit with the two little hair that sticks out of it’s bottom?  In Spanish they are called Nance), Coco Plum, Coconuts, some little berries whose name I’ve forgotten (see photo), and many other treats (big red ants if you are low on protein).  The terrain is rocky with pink rock and black rocks with glitters in ‘em (hence the name Diamond Rock).  Since it rained early am, there were many areas one the road with puddles of red mud and some areas with black mud in the mix as well. The road was not as slippery as I espected.  One must watch not to run too close to the side of the road where that cutting grass could grab ya.  Also, there are some ferns with prickles reaching out to grab you too.  So stay clear of the bushes!

Young girl Booby (I hear they perk the sister up!)

I sure enjoy the the many different colors of butterflies.  If you love butterflies, it’s a butterfly heaven (so I think).  For some odd reason, I’ve always been turned on by wild flowers.  And if you are a freak of such caliber, you would love these hills.  Okay, maybe that was too much for you (tuned on—in my dictionary it means:  anything that gives one added fuel.  AHA!  Gotcha!).

In conclusion, I really ended the run with a few waster stops—cheated a bit really, with a few bend-down-and-breathe-with-the-tongue-as-far-out-as-you-can-protrude it—now I know why some animals do this.  Sure makes labored breathing a little easier!  At the very end of the road (after pitifully passing up Mount Goliath), I raced my cousin Sheree’s vagabond dog (he left her house since yesterday) down the road and beat him (poor ting looked dehydrated or with goma or hang-over) passed her house.  Finally, I heard the IPOD’s report that I’ve ran 4.3 miles and for the life of me (I was so wasted) I cannot report to you how long it took me to run that behemoth of a hill.  I’ll do better with my record keeping next time (cant find this run anywhere on my IPOD).  Figured my glucose level was so low that I may have accidentally pressed DELETE.

OYE!  See you on the next run!

ps.  OYE in Spanish  means “LISTEN.”