By Andrew Cawthorne

ITEN, Kenya, March 30 (Reuters) - It's the mecca of world-class distance running: Kenya's Rift Valley.

Everywhere I looked, knots of star runners jogged over the hills, disappeared into forests, sprinted toward the horizon. The glorious views and high altitude added to the intoxication.

So though a mere amateur, it seemed natural to ask a couple of Olympic hopefuls on their afternoon run if I could join them.

Being courteous Kenyans -- or rather, Kenyan-born Qataris running for the Sheikh these days -- they assented, pretending not to compare my cheap running shoes (14.99 pounds at a sale in Stoke-on-Trent) with their state-of-the-art garb.

Disastrous idea. Forty minutes later, I was jumping into the back of a support car, aching, gasping and muttering my excuses.

It was the Qatari-Kenyan pair's third workout of the day, a gentle sunset warm-down after earlier, pre-dawn exertions.

"You did well, don't worry," lied Yobes Ondieki, a past Kenyan champion coaching them in the picturesque, highland village of Iten at 2,300 metres on the edge of the Kerio Valley.

Sitting later with the athletes in front of a log fire at a quiet hotel with great views over the Kerio valley, it was hard to imagine what they had just been through.

Training in the Rift Valley became a hazardous business earlier this year, with Kenya's post-election violence disrupting the routines of many an Olympic aspirant.

A mob killed one Eldoret athlete. Others were injured by rocks and beatings. All had family and friends caught up in the chaos.

Most of the runners gave up training for a couple of weeks at the height of the protests against President Mwai Kibaki's re-election, as gangs ruled the paths and highways.

Driving -- and running -- round the area, I was stunned by the ferocity of the violence even though I'd written plenty on it from Nairobi. House after house lay in ruins, huge boulders lay beside the road, phone and electricity cables were cut.

"Everyone felt these problems. I had to stop for two weeks because of the roadblocks everywhere. It slowed us all down," my Kenyan-Qatari running mate Daniel Kipkosgei Kemboi said.

There's time, though, for them to recover before Beijing.

FROM IRAQ TO SOMALIA

Undeterred by my humiliation in Iten, down in Eldoret town the next day, I found a stadium named for local champion Kipchoge Keino.

Winner of Olympic golds in 1968 and 1972, Keino has become a wealthy businessman, landowner and benefactor in the area. Several schools bear his name. Various new buildings are his.

Without company this time, I chose to while away 25 leisurely, 400-metre laps of the "Kip Keino Stadium" reflecting on a litany of memorable runs I had done on Reuters assignments.

There was my first ever half-marathon that took me through Revolution Square in Havana, Ernesto "Che" Guevara's vast visage looking down beatifically. Then jogging round-and-round the roof of a hotel in Somalia because the streets were too dangerous.

And an extremely rash, late evening run around the perimeter of Saddam Hussein's old palace in Tikrit, Iraq. U.S. soldiers occupying the place hurtled up in a Humvee to point out that carrying a torch might make a good target for insurgents.

In my mind, I had just reached Belfast -- a relaxing run outside Drumcree village after a day covering Catholic versus Protestant riots there -- when my reflections were interrupted.

"Hello sir, you train for Olympics? You are American or Dutch?" The boy, who had crept up from behind on the track, was obviously joking or being exceedingly polite.

Bored with my pace and inability to keep up conversation and run, he soon disappeared. My reflections went downhill: turning 40 a few days earlier was starting to look even worse.

Now I'm back in Nairobi, running with my normal friends and find -- with a bit of altitude training behind me -- I feel like a champion. (Editing by Mary Gabriel) (For full Reuters Africa coverage and to have your say on the top issues, visit: http://africa.reuters.com/)

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