Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts

Saturday, March 1, 2014

there and back again

While Mark was away in another S.E. Asian country,
this (below) was his home away from home:

The open-air deck (upstairs) is where Mark and his roommate slept, 
for the sake of a little bit of air flow on those hot, stuffy nights.  

 E, a little girl who helped out around the house, 
poses by the only running water source at the house - an outdoor tap. 

 Mark does his laundry -  each cycle required a manual fill and drain, 
and the clothes had to be moved into the spinner after washing.
(Great time to pause and give thanks for my washing machine...)

 The upstairs of the house where the 14 staff members slept.  
Through the 'Hobbit Hole' at the back of the photo is the balcony that was Mark's room.
(Notice his mosquito net-covered mattress on the floor?)

Mark poses with F, his room mate for 3 weeks.
F's servant's heart was so evident as he voluntarily swept and mopped 
the dusty upstairs floor every morning before work,
singing as he cleaned.

Above: a few shots from around the city.  Its claim to fame is that it's at the equator.  This friendly man on a scooter not only showed Mark the way to the equatorial monument, but also gave him a ride there!

Mark ran almost every morning he was there. 
He took this cool shot of one of his running companions on a hazy morning.

Mark had a few opportunities to explore the city - usually with his fellow-workers (top).
The little guy on the bottom left was a little wary of this strange man, but with some prompting from his mom gave Mark a thumbs-up.  And the friendly "bus" driver on the bottom right talked excitedly to Mark until he figured out that Mark didn't understand his language.

The world is a book, 
and those who do not travel read only a page.
- Augustine

We're so thankful you're back home, Mark,
but grateful too that you could make this journey...

Friday, August 23, 2013

holy ground


Or maybe more accurately, hole-ly ground.
That's a pretty big hole.
Whatever you call it, just don't fall in.


These photos, all taken within walking-distance of our house,
provide very good reasons for why Mark does NOT go running 
in this town after dark.


Thursday, August 8, 2013

the one less traveled by


Mark begins many of his days with an early morning run.
In fact, he's often up and out the door by 5:45, 
before I've peeled myself out of bed.

And on his 3-7 mile runs through the streets of the city,
he gets to see a different side of Davao than this non-runner will ever see.
He explores new and different routes all the time.

Mark loves seeing the city come alive in the morning;
the bustling market, the uniformed students walking to school, the maize steaming in huge cans,
chess games outside of bamboo houses, and chickens and dogs all over the place. 

Lately he's taken a camera with him,
holding it by his side to take photos
so that people won't be intimidated by the lens.

The following are a few shots
from a runner's view...

Down a foot-traffic-only road

A cart-load of pomelo in the market

Early morning along the Davao river
(Mark hopes to take the ferry that crosses this river on a run some day)

A neighborhood pick-up game of basketball

Weighing ginger root in the market

A makeshift home - complete with television (!)

A road-side gas station 
(the Coke bottles are the perfect way to measure a liter of gas)


Tin roofs and bamboo walls

A trio of guard dogs

And nearing our home again, a pig truck.
(We hear these trucks pass our house occasionally -
 all the squealing makes them unmistakable!)

Mark loves the interactions along the way,
the startled smiles as Filipinos see a foreign guy running past their homes,
or a "Hey Joe!" and a "Maayong Buntag" (good morning) shouted out.

Are you a runner? Come for a visit!
Mark will take you for a run on a road less traveled by
so you can see for yourself the heart of this city.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 
-Robert Frost