So despite having done more trekking recently than I probably have in my life altogether before, I have been neglecting my running a bit. Now in Copacabana, Bolivia , I was determined to get a run in in a fresh location. My intentions were great and I set my alarm for 7am. However the determination weighed heavily on my mind, and I was plagued with dreams of running. Not lovely dreams where I ran through beautiful meadows looking and feeling amazing, but dreams where I had just finished a run and was thinking ‘thank god I’ve got that over and done with’. My alarm brought me back to reality and mild disappointment.

This morning’s run was plagued from the start. On heading out at 7.15 I realised that the gates to the weird hostel/compound/commune I was staying at were locked. I headed back to the room and lay on my creaky bed for another half an hour until I could run free. Undeterred, I set off at my usual pace feeling energised and full of life. This didn’t last long.

Sorry to go on about altitude again, but Copacabana lies at over 3600m, on the shores of Lake Titicaca, the world’s highest navigable lake (whatever that means). The best way I can describe the sudden pain in my chest and throat from running at this altitude, is that there was some sort of spiky vine wrapped around my windpipe. The vine was constricting my windpipe so very little air could enter, whilst simultaneously stabbing it and letting all the air inside out. I stopped to catch my breath and glanced at my watch. I had been running for 2 minutes and 35 seconds. I was no longer in the mood to enjoy the beautiful surroundings and the vast ocean-like lake to my side.

I set off again at a more manageable pace and made it around the bay, to the opposite side as my hostel. I had had my eye on the big hill which overlooks the town and began to scramble upwards, not able to run. The climb was also hard work and I made it halfway up, where I climbed out onto some rocks and shot some views of the pretty lakeside town below.

After a few minutes chill time I started to descend again and managed to run the whole distance around the bay, only stopping to snap a picture of the beach. This little town has A LOT of swan pedalos, I wonder when demand is so high for them.

I really can’t wait to be back down at sea level again. Unfortunately my next destination, La Paz is yet another climb.

I had intended to do a trek to Machu Picchu from Cusco, and signed up for the 5 day Salkantay on a bit of a whim, when 2 girls from my dorm said they were. Yep, sorry; another post which isn’t about running. We had a briefing 2 days before departure where we heard about the cold, altitude, bugs and other highlights. The next day was spent shopping for trek essentials: alpaca gloves and hats; toilet paper and coca leaves.

The first day of the trek consisted of a car journey from Cusco to the mountains where we would begin the walking with a short 3 hour walk to our first camp. As the hike began, we were all acutely aware of the altitude as we wheezed our way up the first hill. At the first rest point, everyone looked around and was relieved that they weren’t the only one struggling.
As the terrain flattened out, the walking became more chilled and I was getting to know everyone in the group better. We arrived at our first camp to an amazing 2 course lunch and warming coca tea to help with the altitude. We had been warned about the cold but I wasn’t quite prepared for the reality (must have been the cocky Geordie within me). It was a beautiful spot for our first night camping, especially once I had layered up in all of my clothes. I can’t remember the last time I have seen the stars so clearly.

Day 2 began with coca tea at 4.30am, an early start for the toughest day of trekking. Energised from a breakfast of pancakes and hot chocolate, we set off and started chipping away at the 22km we had to cover. The first four hours were a 700m climb through the rugged terrain to the summit of the Salkantay pass, at over 4600m. I know I bang on about altitude a lot but it doesn’t half make you feel unfit. When you stop to catch your breath (ha), you are suddenly aware of how hard your heart is pounding, even more so than a love struck young raver (I would imagine). The sense of achievement when we reached the summit and drank a carton of peach juice was fantastic, maybe as good as some feelings of said raver.

We still had 6 hours of walking left that day, and began our descent into the cloud forests and jungle below. It was incredible how the stark and snowy mountain landscapes changed so quickly into lush, tropical jungle. From a few prickly shrubs at the summit, we were soon (a few hours on) walking through thick vegetation of passion fruits, banana trees and orchids.

The next 2 days hiking were not so long compared to the previous, but with our aches and pains and longing for toilet seats, were still tough. The morale and support from the group kept everyone going, and we were all so grateful for the great company in the group and from our guide, Yuri. I was lucky to not be too badly affected by the altitude, tummy upsets, mosquito bites or sunburn, but some others were suffering quite badly. I was really impressed by everyone’s spirits and determination despite their ailments. The amazing food also kept our spirits up; we had a daily tea party with popcorn, hot chocolate and biscuits. Every meal was at least 2 courses and the best food I have ever eaten to have been cooked in a mud hut/tent.

As the trek progressed we had more treats in store, including a visit to some hot springs where we could soak our aching feet and bodies. I also had the chance to go zip-lining across the valley of Santa Theresa, which was amazing. Our final stretch of walking took us through the jungle, following the train tracks to Aguas Calientes, the town closest to Machu Picchu. Here we were greeted with a hostel boasting wifi and toilet seats. Utterly content, we bed down ready for the pinnacle of our mission the following day.

We woke at 3.45, our earliest start yet. This was so that we could enter Machu Picchu before the hoardes which descend on it every day. We were through the gates just after 6am and the sight as we turned the first corner could only be met with gasps and sighs. The lost Inca city was bathed in clouds which were gently rising around us, a truly magical spectacle. As the clouds cleared over the next few hours, those postcard views became a reality, and I felt like a very lucky girl.

I arrived back from a 5 day trek yesterday and have a few posts to catch up on. This one is from Friday, my last day in Cusco before leaving for the Salkantay. So again I’m being naughty and departing from my running theme. Unofficially I’m extending the theme to exercise in general, but  rosagentlyexercisingaway  doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

Last Friday, the first sunny afternoon there had been in Cusco since I had arrived, I bumped into some guys from my hostel at the Plaza del Armas. They had been chatting to some local artists, who sell traditional paintings to tourists around the city. The painters meet every Friday afternoon to play football for a few soles and a bit of fun, and had invited the guys from the hostel to play against them. I declined their offer to join team gringo, but happily agreed to go along and be the official photographer for the afternoon. After a short taxi ride up from the Plaza we arrived up at the football pitch, a small concrete yard nestled in the favela-style houses of the locals which sprawl up the hills above the city. The views from the spot made it a pretty special place for a casual game of footy.

The football kicked off and team gringo started off well, despite the high temperature and altitude. I had some fun snapping some action shots of the first game from the rocks above the pitch.

When the ball got kicked over into one of the surrounding houses, it was retrieved by a painter who found another ball presumably lost on another Friday afternoon. The spare ball was given to the kids who were watching the game and they invited me to play with them. Just next to the pitch was a disused swimming pool, which became the kids’ (and Rosa’s) pitch for the afternoon. The pool was littered with broken glass and empty bottles but despite taking a fair few tumbles, the kids gave our little game their best efforts. And so did I!

Cusco’s altitude was still affecting my aerobic abilities, but I had such a great time playing with these local kids. It certainly highlighted my need to improve my Spanish skills, but also showed me how leaving the beaten track and meeting the locals can be one of the best things to do in an unfamiliar place. I hope to do this a lot more on my travels! I asked Bill, Rafael and Liseth for a photo before they had to head home for tea, they certainly have their cool poses perfected:

After a great afternoon the scores were in, Rosa and Bill beat Rafael and Liseth 8-5 and team gringo had won their first game and lost their second. A mint day in Cusco topped off with a curry and a few drinks before I hit the hay, ready for the impending trek. The best day of my travels so far.

After a long but smooth journey I arrived in Lima early yesterday morning. I spent the day exploring the neighbourhood of Miraflores, where I am staying, and hit the hay for an early night.

I woke up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated after 12 hours sleep and decided to have an early run before breakfast. It was 8.30am and 18 degrees outside, seemingly good conditions for me. On leaving the hostel I realised the one thing I hadn’t considered, that it was rush hour in the city. And a busy city at that; 9 million people and endless streams of crazy drivers populate Lima. After a hairy taxi ride from the airport the day before, I had learned not to trust that vehicles will stop at red lights and that everyone loves beeping their horns and blowing whistles. I have developed the (so far) foolproof tactic of crossing the road next to old ladies or parents with small children. I’m assuming the drivers of Lima, however crazy, must have some compassion.

After weaving through commuters and traffic for around 5 minutes I descended to the beach which is to the South-West of the city. The majority of my route by the beach was either through or alongside a building site where they are improving the road by the beach. Well, misogyny is certainly alive and well in Lima. At these times I am glad that my Spanish is shocking but the wolf-whistle or kissing noise is a universal calling of the arseholes. My rough guide informs me that whistling is a traditional greeting in Peru and not to jump to conclusions. However I’m quite confident that these men don’t say hi to their mum like that.

Whilst passing a site of especially charming builders I spotted this little fella on the beach. I’ve only met a pelican once before and he was quite aggressive, but this guy seemed chilled and happily obliged to my photoshoot.

I then made my way back up the steep cliffs to city level and shot this view of the coast, just as the sun was emerging through the fog and it was time to head back. After a few wrong turns I arrived back at the hostel, red, sweaty and ready for breakfast. A fairly successful run for my first time in South America I’d say.

My second blog post and I’m already departing from the unifying theme I prescribed myself. How fickle. I’m not even in Peru yet; I’m still in Rowlands Gill. How boring. However, yesterday’s events were slightly dramatic and still exercise related so I thought I’d fill you in.

Since I am to be leaving the UK very soon, I decided to have one last whirl through the countryside in the saddle of my trusty steed (bike). The weather wasn’t great and I didn’t really know where I was going but that’s never put me off before. Maybe it should have. Whilst hurtling down a steep gravelly hill somewhere near Sunniside, I managed to launch myself over the handlebars and land on my face. I now look like this.

I think it’s safe to say there will be no Latino romance on the cards in the near future. I have been told I look solid though, every cloud… After spending four hours in A&E I went home with some codeine and the knowledge that my injuries are mainly muscular. You will be relieved to know that since my face took the brunt of the fall my new trainers are still looking fresh. Phew.

So the big pack was left to today! It was surprisingly easy and I seem to have been quite efficient. I have about half as many clothes as I took to Bestival last month; a five day festival. I definitely won’t be looking as fabulous as I did then, but I will be able to carry my backpack (depending on what injuries I have). So this is it, my life for (up to) a year stuffed into my little navy knapsacks. I think I should be scared.

It is now just 4 days until I fly away. And equally importantly, it is now 0 days until my leaving party. So what better way to ensure I am feeling fresh and energised for a night of dancing and getting happy, than to start the day with a run in the sun?

“But Rosa,” I hear you asking, “how do you motivate yourself to have the ‘get up and go’ to get up and go for a run every morning?” Well, what could be better motivation than a lovely new outfit?! Since I want to make a good impression when running all over the world I decided to treat myself to a new running outfit, as modelled by me below at the end of my street.

I am particularly fond of my new trainers, (Nike Free 5.0’s if anyone cares). Those who know me will know that I have somewhat of a trainer obsession; my trainer collection works on a rotation system of at least 4 pairs, depending on the occasion, potential for dirt etc. I intend to condense this to just 2 pairs (!) for my travels. Except I am already feeling precious towards my new 5.0’s and have swapped my usual woodland runs to road runs to avoid them getting muddy. Let’s hope Peru is lovely and mud-free for my new beloveds.

So Recently I have been making myself go for a run every day (thereabouts), hopefully having conditioned my body to think of running as a daily necessity such as those other daily bodily functions… mind-1, matter-0! Running around my home village of Rowlands Gill can be very pleasant, especially on a crisp and bright autumn morning. I have seen deer, foxes, loads of grey squirrels and a red squirrel over the past few weeks. I’m including some quaint English views from my runs as a comparison to my worldwide runs to come.

It’s exciting to think that my next post will be on location, somewhere in Peru. It may be at altitude and it will definitely be at a temperature my fair Geordie skin is not happy with. Howay South America, let’s see what you’ve got for me!