Haemoglobin is our Friend

As I sit here with a slightly sore bum, I feel I owe it to those whom I have been cranky with over the past months, to explain my behaviour, and to warn all the runners out there of the perils of low iron levels.

The reason for my tender gluteus is that I’ve just received the third of a course of 10 iron injections. After some shocking race results, including my worst ever finish at the Northern Cross Country Championships in January, I had a feeling something wasn’t quite right.   Apart from slightly heavy breathing every time I ran up a hill, and a general lack of progression in training, there was nothing at that stage to suggest that I was ill. Oh there was the extreme coldness all the time, but I had just put that down to loosing weight and not being acclimatised to sub-zero temperatures. Things got worse from there on though, and slowly, one-by-one, most of the common symptoms of anaemia started to rear their ugly heads – general malice (ok, so I’m not sure what exactly malice means, but it’s one of those words you see in the medical text books relating to just about every medical condition known to man), slow recovery from training, muscle soreness and heaviness, mild chest pains, paleness, viral-like symptoms, severe headaches, crying, a mildly depressed mood, crankiness, oh and some more crying. The one symptom that I didn’t really experience was tiredness.

A blood test revealed a haemoglobin level of 10.0, and a haemotcrit level of 30%. Add to that serum ferritin levels of just 7, and it’s a wonder that I could run at all. Altitude training is supposed to increase red blood cells, but after spending 5 of the past 11 months at altitude, I’m in a worse position that I was to begin with. Not only have I wasted all that training, but the pale complexion is ruining the tan that I worked so hard to get!!!

Almost 6 years ago my progression as an athlete was completely ruined by the same problem. I went from the shape of my life, to the shape of a Joe-jogger in the space of 12 months. Now, just as I was finally getting fit again, the cycle repeats itself. I knew I had to be careful, and I knew what to look out for, and so, I have to ask myself what went so badly wrong.

I had been getting my haemoglobin levels checked every time I was ‘back-in-town’, but these failed to highlight that my ferritin levels were dangerously low. I suspect that two weeks in Ethiopia, on a diet practically devoid of any animal products, may have been the cause of the decreased iron stores. Almost 1 month, equivalent to the life-cycle of a red blood cell, after returning from Ethiopia, things started to go pear-shaped. If I had gotten a full blood screen at that point, I may have avoided the situation.

Now that things are starting to return to normal, I realise just how much my low iron levels were affecting me. I was experiencing severe muscle soreness for 4 to 5 days after each weights session that I did; now I’m back to the more normal 2 days of soreness. I don’t feel so cold all the time. And when I look in the mirror, I’m starting to see myself looking back, not some ghost-like caricature of myself.

Six years ago, my anaemia was accompanied by burnout, and because of the symptoms I was experiencing I was convinced that I had a virus which three separate doctors couldn’t diagnose. I took a month off training completely, wallowed in my own self pity, and never returned to the shape I had been in the previous year. This time round I’m far more in control of the situation. I’m running most days. While that was just 15 to 20 minutes to begin with, now I’m managing an enjoyable 40 minutes regularly. Sometimes I don’t even wear a watch, and am learning (after 16 years) to ‘run how I feel’. While I know I can’t push things, I’m determined to maintain as much fitness as I can, and, unlike before, am motivated to return to my very best.

Normal red blood cell levels are vital, not just for endurance, but for life in general. Be sure that you get your levels checked at least twice per year, and have them even more closely monitored if you are training at altitude. Beware of the symptoms, but don’t expect them to be the same in all cases. Don’t necessarily expect to feel tired.

If you want to find out more, a factsheet on iron, haemoglobin and red blood cells will be uploaded onto the website in the next few days.

If haemoglobin is our friend, mine has deserted me.  But, hopefully, not for long.

One Year a Nomad

This time twelve months ago, I was somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean aboard a rather cramped Continental Airlines flight to Newark, on route to St Louis Potosi in Mexico.  I'd had 20 minutes sleep (as I just finished work, and had my leaving do the previous night), had packed my bag in a massive hurry, and had not yet worked out where I was going to spend the next night.  Looking back on it all now, I can only conclude that I am indeed mad, and setting out on this adventure, as unprepared as I was, is probably the maddest thing that I have ever done.

Twelve months on, however, I realise that setting out to follow my dreams, even if I have not fully achieved them yet, is the best thing I could ever have done.  And what a twelve months they've been!  I've learned a lot about myself, though I'm not quite sure I could say that I've 'found' myself; that was never my intention.  I had hoped to have finished my travels by now, and to have the book in it's final stages, but nothing ever goes according to plan!  The fact that I'm only about 6 months behind schedule, must surely be seen as progress?  Well either way, I've had a ball so far, and just wanted to share some of the highlights:

5. That moment, about 2 minutes after finishing the Great Ethiopian Run, when I wished I could do it all over again.

4. Spotting a bear in Mammoth Lakes.

3. Surviving Mexico.  I couldn't possibly have been more unprepared!  Anything that could have gone wrong, did, and I had to put up with pretty much my own company for 2 weeks...and survived!

2. The best week of training I've had in 7 years, in Flagstaff.  It had been a long time since I last just couldn't get enough of running.  The Grand Canyon was an added bonus.

1. Though nothing to do with the Altitude Training, the 48 hours that I spent in Russia at my brother's wedding are probably the best of my life, not just of the year!  It reminded me of how lucky I am to have the family I do.

And because I haven't put any photos on here in a while, here are my 5 favourite shots from the travels so far.

To celebrate the first year of Egan's Altitude Adventures, the sister website: AltitudeTrainingCamps.com has just been launched.  It will contain additional information, news and advice about altitude and the forthcoming book.  Please save the link to your favourites, check back regularly, and circulate to all your running crazy friends.

I had a dream, and I followed it.  I have no regrets. 

If you have a dream, follow it today!

Da Feckers

Unless you've recently rocketed in from another planet, you'll be aware of the current state of financial and economic crisis in which Ireland finds itself. For the past two years all we've heard is 'credit crunch this', 'credit crunch that'. Then there was the whole banking crisis, the government stepping in to guarantee depositors, and the nationalisation of Anglo Irish Bank. Back in November the Irish bailout was the hot topic across the world (it seemed to be all that I heard about in Ethiopia), and the EU/IMF deal is still making news headlines. With taxes and unemployment on the rise, everyone's complaining about having to emigrate to find employment (last I checked going to Oz to work was the cool thing to do). Then, the government fell, and for the past 4 weeks all we've heard about is the election, and how Fine Gael are going to put things right again. As if Ireland isn't enough of an international laughing stock, Jedward have been selected to represent us at the Eurovision. But today, as Fine Gael and Labour are deep in coalition talks, the main headlines drastically changed. News from Bangalore of a certain shock sporting result has got the nation talking, in only a way that Ireland's participation in a World Cup can.

I'm too young to remember Ireland's qualification for Euro'88, but I do know that their defeat of England at those championships was one of the great moments in Irish History. And I do remember learning shortly before Italia'90 that soccer was played with a round ball, which the players couldn't handle. The following year, during the 1991 Rugby World Cup I was finally able to distinguish it from rugby, the game that was played with the oval ball. Over the course of the Italian World Cup I, like the vast majority of Ireland, learned about throw-ins, corners, penalty shoot-outs, and the sheer heart-racing excitement of following a national team.

In a book entitled Feckers: 50 People who Fecked up Ireland, John Waters examines 50 influiental Irish people and details how they have each contributed to Ireland's perceived downfall. From DeVelara, to Bono and from Charles J Haughey to Louis Walsh, the rich and famous are each tried for their part in Ireland's demise. Bertie Ahern and Brian Cowen are implicated in the dying stages, and the final culprit is not an Irish man, but a French one. As the Hand of God II ended Ireland's hopes of another World Cup trip, so too it killed any sense of moral and pride left in this country of 'jump on the Ireland-success-at-a-world-cup bandwaggon' sportsfans.

While understanding the off-side rule in football gives me a great headstart over most females in a football conversation, any knowledge of cricket whatsoever marks me as a near expert among the Irish. And so, while everyone is excited about Ireland's dramatic and historic win over England in the Cricket World Cup today, it is the fact that we got one over on the old enemy, rather than the greatness of the achievement itself, that has the nation talking. Wickets, overs and innings mean very little, not only to the general Irish population, but to most of the sporting media too. In turth, had I not been living in England during the last World Cup, I would be as lost as the rest of them. Latith Malinga's historic 4 wickets from 4 balls in the West Indies made me want to understand this game, and 2,000 questions later I think Chris, my former landlord and housemate, has just about thought me the basics. In sport, knowledge truly does feel like power. In her excellent book, Get Her off the Pitch, Lynne Truss talks about the joy she felt when she was first able to decipher Match of the Day chat and determine who was playing who and where from club nicknames, grounds and managers. Today I got that same buzz from being one of the few to understand what 'Ireland 329-7 (49.1) bt England 327-8 (50 ovs) by three wickets' actually means!

Not only is the win over England a significant result, but the manner in which it was achieved and the never-say-die attitude of the Irish suggests that, while Thierry Henry put the final nail in Ireland's coffin, this beast may well have been burried alive. After the wicket of captain Will Porterfield was taken on the very first ball of the innings, and given that nobody has ever successfully chased a target of 328, an Irish win didn't look bleak; it looked impossible. During play, bookies were offering 400:1* for Ireland to win (of course, Ireland being the betting nation that it is, someone had €25 on at that rate), but with Ireland's Kevin O'Brien achieving the quickest century in World Cup history (50 balls), and a determined display by the rest of the team, Ireland were in with a shout. With 5 balls remaining, Ireland achieved their target, and sent Irish sports journalists, news reporters and radio deejays running straight to wikipedia to try and workout what it all means. Thank goodness Duckworth-Lewis didn't have to come into play! 

When asked, many have proposed Stuttgart, June 12th 1988, as the birth date of the Celtic Tiger. If that be so, mark Bangalore, today, March 2nd 2011, as the day that the ageing feline gave birth to cubs. I have no idea whether or not they should burn the bondholders, or even what that means, but I do know that today the Irish public found a new bandwaggon to jump on!

The 6p Challenge

As everyone knows, I'm a little strapped for cash at the moment. But I have been gifted with some great friends. And one of those friends gifted me with 6p on Monday last. Now 6p doesn't sound like much, but it has come with a challenge. And there's nothing I like better than a good old challenge!

The condition of receiving the 6p, was that, in a 'One Red Paperclip' fashion, I would try to turn it into something of considerable value. The idea is to go through a series of swaps, whereby I always come off with a slightly better deal, until I have earned myself something valuable. The original suggestion was to gamble the money, but I'm not quite sure I would even get much of a kick out of 6p, so I'm going for the slightly less risky option.

If you have something that you want to get rid of and which you would be willing to accept 6p for, or indeed if you are in dire need of 6p and have something that I might want, then don't be shy. Drop me an e-mail, post a comment on here, or message me on twitter, and we'll see if we can do a deal. All suggestions are welcome.

You can follow my progress on here, and who knows, maybe someday I'll be a rich woman!

Winter Solstice

I was woken this morning by a text from my brother. It read ‘Get up, get up…Best day of the year! Uphill from here :-)’. The funniest thing about this message is that if I had woken first lil bro would have been receiving a similar text from me.

And why is this day so special? Well, in a sort of glass half full optimism, the shortest day of the year offers hope and motivation to us poor athletes who have to contend with dark evenings when it comes to planning training for the winter months. If we can make it to 21st December, well everything gets better from there on. Training in the city means that the roads are the only option on the dark evenings, but in the country it’s even worse. Come 5pm if you haven’t got your training done, you aren’t going to get it done, well not outdoors anyway! We don’t have the luxury of streetlights where I live, and while the dark starry sky has a certain degree of romance about it, it’s not the best for training.

And so, from Midsummer’s day each year we dread the onset of the long nights, and once we’ve made it to 21st December we know that we’ve survived another winter. Of course I’ve cheated somewhat this year given that I was in Africa until 22nd November, but maybe I can find somewhere to get to in February to balance things up again.

Last year 21st December held a special significance to me, as it was on that day that I decided to pack it all in and set out on this wonderful adventure. This year things were somewhat quieter. It did snow though, and I made another attempt at perfecting the faceplant. Slipping on some snow and ice I banged my knee pretty badly on the way down, and scratched my leg similar to what I did in Mammoth Lakes earlier in the year. I even managed to get the marks running parallel to the scars from the last time. I guess if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right. I’m pretty sure the scratches will heal, but I’m not so sure about the third knee that I’ve developed.

Concluding the December 21st chat, lets spare a thought for the poor sods that waited years for their turn to witness the sun shine into the chamber at Newgrange, only to be disappointed by the grey snowy skies. Not only did they have to endure the cold, but they didn’t even get a flicker of light into the ancient time-machine to make it worth either the wait or the journey. Better luck next time!

Winter Wonderland

When I awoke at 8am this morning, this is the view that greeted me.

Beautiful! ...Well that is unless you had planned on making a 6 hour journey to the other end of the country sometime today. I knew it was bad news when they scheduled the Irish Intercounty cross country championships for Derry, and I knew that after spending the past two months close to the equator that the Irish weather was going to be a bit of a shock to the system, but I never though that it would be snow that would prevent me from making it to the championships this time around. I have missed these championships with injury or illness for 5 of the last 6 years now, and feeling in great form all week I was looking forward to toeing the line this year. Most of all I was excited to see how easy the race would feel after last weekend's slog. Ah well, somethings just can't be helped. There will be other years I guess. For now I'll just have to get used to running around in the snow and hope that it clears enough for me to get out of Wexford sometime soon. I love the place, but I hate being stuck anywhere.

Ethiopia by Picture

To give you a better idea about my experiences in Addis and my stay at Running Across Borders, here are some photos, with a brief description, from my two weeks in the Ethiopian capital. More can be viewed on my flickR account.

7am in Meskel square.   There are lots of guys playing football on what used to form the old stadium.  And lots of smog in the background.

The old steps of the stadium are used as a training ground for emerging athletes and keep-fit enthusiasts.  Doing a 40 minute run over and back the tiers in that pollution felt a lot harder than it should have.

The new stadium is just down the road and currently undergoing some renovations.

And it's not just in Meskel that they play football.  Like all Africans, they're football crazy and play just about anywhere, and not always with a proper ball.  Premier League games are regularly shown on Ethiopian TV (even though they only have 2 stations), and live viewing of the New York marathon was interrupted to show Liverpool v Chelsea.  That would never have happened in Kenya!

As the Running Across Borders camp is right on the edge of the city, beautiful views of the countryside such as these are only minutes away.

But life in the countryside is hard work.  This guy is harvesting his crops by hand. Or at least he was until he spotted us with the camera.

The crops then need to be carried home, by hand or by donkey.

And then there's the water to collect.

Even quarrying, to meet the huge demand for stone for the new roads being built right through this area, is done by hand.

The children are incredibly photogenic and don't mind posing to have their picture taken...

...though that's not to say they won't ask for money.  When this group started begging, we gave them a doughnut to share between them.  They seemed happy enough.

This is Arsama.  She fell in love with my sunglasses...

...

...but they do look better on her than they do on me!

That's me with some of the lads at Running Across Borders, though some of them are more interested in watching the football than looking at the camera.

At the camp time between training is spent playing cards, scrabble and draughts...

...and some more draughts.  I thought the guys how to play pairs - that card game where you turn over two cards and if you get a matching pair you get to keep them and take another turn - something which I later regretted.  These guys have photographic memory, and are really competitive.  I still won my fair share of games though.  What can I say?  I'm a little bit competitive myself.

As in Kenya, Toyato Hiace vans are the main form of public transport (only they're blue and white rather than white and yellow), and the private taxis are almost all Lada cars...

... and for the areas where the taxis don't run there are bajaj...

...and horse-drawn 'carriage'.

It's not unusual to see somebody climbing into a taxi with some chickens, a sack of corn, or, in this case, a live sheep being brought home to slaughter.

Addis even has its own Unicorn! Well white horse at least.

The city of Addis from Mount Entoto.

And another beautiful sunset.

Farewell Africa...for now

-->Yesterday morning we were up at the crack of dawn to take our place with 35,000 others on the startline of the Great Ethiopian Run.  In it's 10th year of running, this is the biggest 10km in Africa.  The elite race boasts the likes of Haile Gebreselassie, Gebregziabeher Gebremariam, and Sileshi Sihinas it's past winners.

Unfortunately, though I'm not quite good enough to be among the elites who start in Addis stadium, and must instead make my way to the mass startline in Meskel Square.  Having pushed my way close to the head of the field, I'm still concerned of what might happen once the gun goes, and many of those in front of me look far from serious runners.  Even in Ethiopian there are fat people, and I'm not sure there should be that many of them in front of me on a 10km start line.  The sun is belting down on me, as we stand there in anticipation for almost 30 minutes (as predicted nothing in Africa starts on time), I wonder how long I can cope with my individually tailored race teeshirt (the sleeves have been shortened to allow for some air circulation and the collar has been removed to prevent me from chocking). I try to remain calm.  Myself and Jacob (the one reason that I don't return home speaking complete broken English) who is standing beside me on the startline have been training together for the past week and decide to run together until a couple of kilometres out when it will be every man for himself.

The gun goes.  We don't move.  I push through some people in front of me.  Nobody seems to be in any hurry to go anywhere.  Everybody is in a carnival mood.  I feel trapped.  I've been looking forward to this for months.  My legs are fired up to race (must be all those carbs), but they can't get a clear run at it.  It seems like I'm going to have to push and shove my way through this one.  That's that last I see of Jacob until after the finishing line.  Having a habit of going off too fast in races of this distance, there shouldn't be too much concern this time.  But I know I'm waisting too much energy.  The people in front have decided to get into the spirit of things and run along shoulder to shoulder.  My spirit is racing.  I barge through.  I spot a slight gap on the left hand side of the field close to the footpath and choose to take that, though I know that there's a right hand turn soon.  I pass a few hundred people.  I thought that we were only about 20 people back from the front at the start but there are still thousands stretched out in front of us.  While I was struggling to get going on the startline it seems that thousands of people on either side of the wide line stormed through.  I reach 1km in about 5 and a half minutes.  This is going to be hell!

After 2km in something over 11 minutes I remove the teeshirt.  Sod the decency, this is croptop weather!  At what must be 3km I run straight into two 'civilians' stupidly choosing a 35,000 person stamped as a suitable point to cross the road.  I'm not sure if the escape uninjured, but I battle on.  I haven't seen the 4km marker yet and my watch is approaching 25mins.  There's a marker ahead.  To my relief it's the 5km marker.  Crossing the halfway point has never felt so much like finishing a race before.  The revised finishing time of 50 minutes is still possible.  There are still hundreds of people obstructing the way though.  And people in front who shouldn't be.  I pass people who are walking and haven't even worked up a sweat yet.  I wonder if they started at a later point.  No time to ponder though, still plenty of obstructions to pass.  After 6km I see a sign for a shower.  That's a huge relief.  A splattering of water is exactly what I need at this point.  More obstructions though - half a dozen people have stopped to make the most of it.  I barge through.  Not far after the drinks station at 7km I pass a guy with a walking stick - surely he can't have gotten here quicker than me?  Can he?  I battle on.  I pass 8km and I'm still in one piece.  Just 2.2km to go.  My mind has obviously gone dead - how can a 10km race be 10.2km.  What am I thinking?  I battle on.  The 9m mark.  I up the pace.  Finally there is free running room.  And a downhill stretch.  Time to make up time.  I break into a canter.  What's this?  Meskel square?  The finishing line?  I'm closer than I think.  Time for one last effort.  I cross the line.    I'm relieved.  I swear 'never again'.  Jacob crosses soon after and we congratulate each other.  A guy with a mike grabs me and asks some silly questions.  I mention something about it being the hardest think I have ever done.  Someone else wants to interview me.  I pick up my finishers medallion and free water.  I take a sip.  My mood changes.  I feel like I haven't raced at all.  I want to do it all over again...

It was with some disappointment that I packed my bags to leave Addis this morning - I guess the thought of 26 hours in transit isn't really appealing to me too much - but a good long warm shower, and some food with something other than carbohydrates won't go a miss.  After saying goodbye to all the guys at the camp I got a lift to the airport in the camp bus.  I didn't really pay too much attention to the driver's surprise when I told him where I was from, and it was only when himself and his assistant (yes it took two of them to get me to the airport), started saying that they preferred Thai jeans to Chinese ones that I realised they had miss understood me.  I didn't have the heart to tell them that I wasn't actually from the South-East Asian manufacturing superpower, but rather I was from the small bankrupt island on the edge of Europe.

And so that draws to an end my African adventure...well at least for now (I plan to visit Morocco and South Africa later in my travels).  It's time now to return to the British Isles, catch up with family and friends, and most importantly get the passport renewed.

This is Ethiopia

Before I came to Ethiopia, all that I knew about the place was that it bordered Kenya, had a famine about 20 years ago, and produced a multitude of the world's top distance runners. For those of you, who like me have little knowledge of the place, I've done a little research (in other words I've got a few bits from Wikipedia), and what follows should give you a bit more of an idea about Ethiopia and its people.

Ethiopia has more than 80 different ethnic groups and tribes, and a different language to go with each. The country's official language is Amharic (with it's own crazy squiggly alphabet, called Fidel), though, as I mentioned earlier, English is becoming more widely spoken, and is even used by the government.

A poster in the Ethiopian Tourist Office in Meskel Square reads: 'Ethiopia - 13 months of sunshine!' At first we were unsure if that was a genuine mistake, or an exaggerated comment to emphasise just how much sunshine there is in the country. Later I learned that it was neither. I have known for some time that Ethiopia does not operate on the Gregorian calender like most of the rest of the world, and that it is actually some years behind the rest of the world - 7 years to be precise - but what I didn't realise is that it's months are actually different too. In Ethiopia each month is exactly 4 weeks, and the remaining 5 days (6 in leap years) are bundled into the 13th month (called Pagumen). The Ethiopian new year isn't when we would expect it either, it's 11th September (or 12th September in leap years) and today's date is actually (Hidar 11, 2003). As if being stuck in some sort of a time warp isn't enough, their daily clock is different too. Time starts at about sunrise (6am our time), and so lunch time is 6 daylight hours in Ethiopian time. The Ethiopians have definitely tried to be different!

The 2010 census estimates the population of Ethiopia to be just over 85 million people, making it the second most populous country in Africa. The area of the country is 1.104,300km squared, and is the world's 27th largest country. Ethiopia is divided into 9 ethically based administrative countries and two chartered cities. Addis Ababa, or Addis as it is known locally, is the capital, and in 2007 had a population of just under 3.5 million. As with all other developing countries, people flock to the city to make their fortune, and thus the inhabitants of Addis cover every ethnic group within Ethiopia, and some from outside. Addis is where the African Union is based, and thus is often referred to as the Capital of Africa.

Ethiopia is a land of natural contrasts, with spectacular waterfalls and volcanic hot springs. Ethiopia has some of Africa's highest mountains as well as some of the world's lowest points below sea level. The largest cave in Africa is located in Ethiopia at Sof Omar, and the country's northernmost area at Dallol is one of the hottest places year-round anywhere on Earth (Dallol currently holds the record high average temperature for an inhabited location on Earth, where in an an average annual temperature of 34°C was recorded between the years 1960 and 1966). The country is also famous for its rock-hewn churches and as the place where the coffee bean originated. Currently, Ethiopia is the top coffee and honey-producing country in Africa, and home to the largest livestock population in Africa.

Ethiopia, which has Africa's second biggest hydropower potential, is the source of over 85% of the total Nile water flow and contains rich soils, but it nevertheless underwent a series of famines in the 1980s, exacerbated by adverse geopolitics and civil wars, resulting in the death of hundreds of thousands. Slowly, however, the country has begun to recover, and today Ethiopia has the biggest economy in East Africa (GDP) as the Ethiopian economy is also one of the fastest growing in the world. This is clearly evident from the construction of roads, house and office blocks on the suburbs of Addis where I was staying.

Ethiopia has close historical ties to all three of the world's major Abrahamic religions (monotheistic faiths emphasizing and tracing their common origin to Abraham or recognizing a spiritual tradition identified with Abraham; Judaism, Christianity, and Islam). It was one of the first Christian countries in the world, and though it still has a Christian majority, a third of the population is Muslim. Ethiopia is the site of the oldest Muslim settlement in Africa at Nagash. Until the 1980s, a substantial population of Ethiopian Jews resided in Ethiopia. The country is also the spiritual homeland of the Rastafari religious movement, and I saw many rastafarians around Addis during my stay. Rastas claim that Haile Selassie I who was the Emperor of Ethiopia from 1930 to 1974 is the resurrected manifestation of Jesus Christ. They also claim that he will lead the righteous into creating a perfect world, called "Zion"

The climate of Ethiopia is predominantly tropical monsoon, with wide topographic-induced variation. The Ethiopian Highlands which cover most of the country have a climate which is generally considerably cooler than other regions at similar proximity to the Equator. Most of the country's major cities are located at elevations of around 2,000–2,500 metres above sea. Addis is built on a series of hills so the altitude varies depending on which part of the city you're in, but were we were living and training was approximately 2,400m.

With daily temperatures averaging between 20 and 25 degrees, Addis has fairly uniform year round temperatures. The seasons are largely defined by rainfall, with a dry season from October–February, a light rainy season from March–May, and a heavy rainy season from June–September. The average annual rainfall is around 1,200 mm (47.2 in) - more than 50% greater than the annual rainfall in Ireland!

Ethiopia is also one of the oldest sites of human existence known to scientists today, having yielded some of humanity's oldest traces. Among these are the remains of Lucy (or Dinkenesh as she is known locally), the common name of A: 299-1, several hundred pieces of bone representing about 40% of the skeleton of an individual Australipithecus afarensis. Lucy is estimated to have lived 3.2 million years ago.

When Africa was divided up by European powers at the Berlin Conference, Ethiopia was one of only two countries that retained its independence (the other being Liberia, founded with the support of the USA for returned slaves). Knowing this, I wrongly presumed that Ethiopia hadn't had much contact with the Western World. This contributed further to my surprise at the progressive nature of the country and the widespread influence of Western life in modern day Addis.

From my experiences, Ethiopia is definitely a country of contrasts; a place of cultural diversity; and a land of hope and opportunity. I look forward to returning in the future, not only to see what progress has been made, but also to travel beyond Addis and to delve further into Ethiopia's rich history and culture.

Can I be a 'Funrunner' for a day?

The main reason that I've chosen to visit Ethiopia at this stage in my travels was to take part in the Great Ethiopian Run, the largest race in Africa. Yesterday I made my way to the Hilton Hotel to pick up my race pack, only to be disappointed on a number of fronts. I knew before I came here that I would be expected to race in a teeshirt provided by the race organisers, and while I didn't expect the most high-tec sports garment, I didn't think that I would be given a medium men's sized bright yellow thick cotton tee-shirt with a tight neck, advertising coffee flavoured condoms. It's been getting warmer and warmer every day this week, and when I toe the starting line alongside 35,000 other 'fun runners' in the polluted city centre at 9am on Sunday morning, I'm pretty sure that all the Sure '24 hour protection' deodorant in the world won't stop me from having massive sweat patches. What I'll look like when I finish only time will tell.

After getting my head around the fact that I wasn't getting a tee-shirt that actually fits me, I proceeded to open my race pack to see what goodies were inside - a calender so small that I cannot see, a condom leaflet in a language that I cannot read, an advertisement for vehicles that I can neither afford nor drive, and an invitation to a prerace pasta party which, given its location, is not top of my list of things to do before I leave Ethiopia. Oh and no race number or timing device. Despite the £26 entry fee, if I actually care about how long it takes me to cover the course (as normal athletes do) and not just about how much I've raised for charity, in addition to the massive aforementioned tee-shirt I'll also have to wear a watch to time myself.

The Hilton hotel reminded me of everything that is wrong with the world. In the middle of a developing city, is a hotel of most epic superfluousness, where the guests, many of them aid workers and international dignitaries it seems, can be isolation from the poverty, and deprived of the culture, outside of the hotel compound. I'm not sure my ragged bottom tracksuit pants and torn trainers went down so well in this 5 Star hellhole, but I came to Africa to experience Africa. 'We can end poverty by 2015' the slogan on the back of the race tee-shirt reads. I'm all for a bit of optimism, but surely that's stretching things a little too far, especially when so many people live in complete ignorance of the growing gap between the rich and the poor, and when a hotel so disgustingly extravagant can exist in a city so poor.

Trying not to get too outraged, I did manage to smile at one thing in the hotel. Alongside the other sandwich boards and pull-up banners informing of events taking place was a sign for the 'Ambassadors and Heads of Mission Souses and Diplomatic Spouses' Diplomatic Bazaar 2010. Is that like W.A.Gs of the diplomatic world?

Before I get a barrage of hatemail, I do admire those who give their lives to helping others, and who do what, in their opinion, they can to help those in the developing world. After all I can't really speak. All I do is travel to these countries and spend a small few pennies on bananas, a fruit, which with or without my miserly investments will be extinct in a few years anyway.