I take the Proverb “the wicked run when no one is chasing them” very literally. Which is why all sorts of exercise that push normal physiological limits—especially running—have always been a big no-go for me. So how I somehow ended up in the breathtaking hill ranges of Kasese, Uganda, for my very first half marathon (21 km) on 23rd August, remains a mystery still under investigation.

Kasese, tucked away in Western Uganda, is home to the great Rwenzori Mountains—the highest non-volcanic, non-orogenic mountains in the world. (Don’t ask me what “orogenic” means; I just stole it from Wikipedia). Famously called the “Mountains of the Moon” because of their snow-capped peaks, they create a surreal, otherworldly landscape that looks like something straight off the moon, despite sitting almost smack on the equator. The name traces back to Claudius Ptolemy, a Greek geographer who in AD 150 declared them the legendary source of the Nile—a theory that was later disproved.

Now, the journey there? Pure chaos. If I remembered my geography well, roads leading to tourist destinations are supposed to be smooth, inviting, and “up to standard.” But this Wakiso–Fort Portal road? My goodness—the potholes, the dust! If you can afford a helicopter, please, take it; it’ll be worth it. And this is coming from someone based in Kampala, where the roads aren’t exactly heaven but they’re nowhere near this bad. Sitting for over 10 hours in that bus? Not ideal. Fly if you can.

I signed up mostly for the fun and the travel, but on race day, my stomach turned into an Olympic gymnast, reminding me that I had no business being there. Considering how much I loathe running, I had barely trained. I could have easily chosen a shorter distance, but for some unknown reason, I insisted on the half marathon—despite the fact that I hate  challenging my body. At the starting line, everyone was in such high spirits; I’m not sure if they were aware we were going up against hills, but I bottled up my anxieties hoping they’d morph into rocket fuel. We set off in pitch darkness, and within 500 meters I was already panting like a dog. 😂

But then the sun rose, and so did the locals. That’s when I started to enjoy myself. Lining the tracks, they cheered enthusiastically, no matter if you looked strong or completely comatose. Their energy was infectious. I even learned from another runner—whom I shamelessly latched onto for the last 15 km—that the people here are from the Bakonjo tribe.

The hills were stunning, winding endlessly, with the beautiful River Nyamwamba flowing nearby. Fed by the melting glaciers of the Rwenzori Mountains, it’s lined with gorgeous rocks I now wish I had picked up as souvenirs. At some point, I remembered: I came here for the Rwenzoris! So I asked my new running buddy, a local, if we were actually on the mountain because all I could see were hilltops. Turns out, nope—we were only in the foothill ranges. Clearly, I was not attentive in the geography class. I was a little disappointed, but the scenery more than made up for it.

Crossing that finish line was something else. The locals were still there, cheering us on, even us “slow pokes,” shouting encouragement as if we were Olympic champions. By the time I staggered across, I felt like I was carrying the pride of my entire ancestry on my shoulders and did not realize how big of a distance I’d just covered.

The following day was for nursing my poor, very shocked body and exploring a bit more of Kasese before my short trip ended. The Equator Monument was a highlight. As a child, I used to believe that standing on the equator line would make it lazor beam and burn a hole straight through you. Im glad I got a chance to disprove my 7-year-old self.

Kasese turned out to be truly beautiful; the nature, the people, the running experience, new friends; and I can now highly recommend you do your own 21k😂. I wish I had more time to explore, but honestly, I’m just glad I got to escape the concrete jungle of Kampala and breathe in something new.