Running Wild

16:30 every day at my house. That is the time we set off. Me, I've got my Nikes, my IPOD, and my LA Marathon t-shirt. The seven of them, sometimes in skirts, sometimes in dresses, always barefoot. Our numbers change on a daily basis, the boys want to see where we are going, or little siblings tag along. We head down a different path each day, we run for 40 minutes, taking new turns each day, crossing fields, passing cows, goats, and pigs. Hurdling bushes, watching for snakes. After 20 minutes we stretch, each child getting to listen to a bit of music on my IPOD before heading for the second part of the run.

We learn about each other. They know my right knee starts to ache at mile 3 and I'll go at whatever speed the slowest runner needs. I know Lisa is one amazing hurdler and we're all slowing her down. I know Cholwe will get us home regardless of how lost we've gotten ourselves. Brillian runs to try and do something better than her sister Brenda. And on and on it goes. And I can see it in all of them, a desire to belong, to run at the same pace, to not be left behind.

In the future we'll talk about HIV, how they can protect themselves. We'll talk about the biological and cultural factors that cause HIV infection rates in Zambia to be 4x higher for girls in their age group, that 1 in 6 Zambians is already HIV infected. I'll tell them that if current prevalence persists, more that 1/2 of the 15 years will die from this single disease. And together we'll figure out ways to keep this disease from ruining their lives.

All in all it is just an hour, an hour I'd spend working out anyway. But hopefully, somewhere in between strides God is using the time to draw us-closer to Him and closer to each other. In spending time with me these girls are catching a bit of my passion for them-that they can be more than barefoot and pregnant; they can be barefoot and running, chasing their dreams.