25
JOURNEYS magazine
Volume III, 2014
heart, and we love training with
them. After the race, we’re all
donating our gear to them so it
doesn’t really matter who wins,
because we all win.
Right now I’m lost and not
winning anything. Why am I
suddenly passing the beach? Just
ahead, a man and woman sit on
a ramshackle porch sipping icy
drinks with fresh mint leaves —
mojitos? “Excuse me,” I call to
them. “Which way is the triathlon
route?” They don’t understand. I
continue running up the road until I
am face to face with a man leading
three cows on the road. “Hola!” I say.
He grins and offers me a crumpled
piece of bread. I put my hand
on my heart to thank him just as
the race official peddles up on a
rusty bicycle and jabbers away in
Spanish as he points for me to go
in the opposite direction.
By the time I cross the finish
line, the post-race party is in full
swing. A live band plays such
sizzling hot music that I put down
my drink and get up and dance,
my finisher’s medal bobbing
around my neck.
This
is the best
way to be lost.
A live band plays such sizzling hot music that I put down my drink
and get up and dance, my finisher’s medal bobbing around my neck.
This
is the best way to be lost.
LEFT
The Great Theatre of
Havana, located in
the Paseo del Prado,
is home to the Cuban
National Ballet.
© Sunsinger
© The Visual Explorer
