UNEP marathon 2013 - the unending hills
Painful
I started participating in international marathons in 2007 and I can say this with authority, “The UNEP marathon course was the worst of them all.” Imagine 21km of pure painful hilly run – with little or no water and the hottest sun in Nairobi!
I have only been on the road for less than four weeks – non continuous. It usually takes 10-15 weeks of training to be ready for a 21k run. I was therefore taking a big gamble by being here today. The UNEP marathon also came at a ‘wrong time’. We build up the marathon training schedule from February towards October. We were therefore just getting started on stage 1 of the annual marathon preparation, when the UNEP marathon happened.
Call the Police
Many things went wrong with this marathon. Online registrations were not acknowledged, the run schedules for the day were not published until one day prior, run numbers were not available until D-day and the run was scheduled to start at a late hour of 9.45am. Who in their right minds schedules a long run after 9.30am? With all that sun? At least the organizers provided free Tshirts during re-registration on the run day. But the genius in some participants led to their getting more than 2 Tshirts. How did they do this? They just went to the registration desk and registered twice or thrice – using different names or same names on different tables. This led to the warning, “We shall call the Police on any participant having more than one Tshirt. Those registered, please leave the registration tables immediately. This is the final warning”
Long run
It is the norm that long runs should start first, followed by the shorter runs. But the organizers had a different plan. It was acceptable to start with the one lap juniors run, for under 10s at 8.45am (instead of 8.30am). However, deciding to stage the 7.5km school children run at nine, and forcing us to wait until the first ten finishers were back to the stadium was not taken well.
Safety
At 9.30am they asked the 21km female runners to line up for their event. Their run started at 9.35am. They then asked the gents to line up for their run.
“Remember to keep safe, since we cannot guarantee your safety along the route,” the announcer said, as we jostled to the starting lineup, at the main field of Kenya Technical Training College (KTTC)
During the Nairobi International Marathon, the roads are usually closed and cleared for about 4 hours, meaning that we do not worry about any threat from vehicular traffic. UNEP was telling us otherwise.
“We need assurance of our safety,” an athlete shouts from the crowd.
“You should be better organized,” someone else says.
“We want the roads closed,” yet another.
“We need to be safe since we shall be voting next Monday,” I join the chorus.
The organizers refuse to bulge. They repeat, “While on the road, take care of your safety. It is not guaranteed.”
Promises
At 9.48am, the mens run starts. Just a faint whistle and the run starts.
I started off slowly with George, a team mate from ICIPE. We were together in one team before he defected to a new employer. Thereafter, we have held joint runs to keep our teams in shape. As we circled the field ready to face the remaining 20.6km, we promised ourselves to try to make it in 1.40 to 1.45. If the course was ‘normal’, this was achievable. I however knew that George was just being polite. He is fast and always manages over ten minutes advantage over me for any run over 1 hour. During practice back at the hilly Ndumboini terrain, he just sprints leaving us breathless and completely useless chasing after.
We had been promised some water in at least 4 stations –milestone 5k. 10k, 15k and 18k and also at the finishing point. When we hit milestone 5k, the water was finished. This was just after tackling the first major hill that stretched from UNEP towards Ruaka, where each leafy compound is well marked. As I pass by, I could see ‘53 Ruaka’ on my left and ‘43 Ruaka’ on the opposite side.
No water
At the 5km point, we run enthusiastically in anticipation of water supply, only to find those supposed to issue the water helpless, raising their hands resignedly. They usher us on.
“I shall not manage this marathon without water,” I tell George.
For the first time in 25 minutes, I manage to overtake him. I believe he feels the same, though he says nothing.
A few paces later, he asks, “Should we turn back?”. This is in reaction to the sight of four or so athletes who have decided to turn back. They know that they cannot survive the dehydration.
“No, we have to keep going. There could be a water point at 10k,” I encourage him on.
Hills
We just kept tackling hill after hill, until finally we found a water point that had some water supply. I grab my 500ml bottle. After grabbing his bottle, George is energized and off he goes. He just sprints away and I never see him again for the next 10km. Just as we leave Muthaiga area, a big billboard advert by Aga Khan shows two women. As I pass by, I read, “Water bath”. Later, when my mind is comprehending and interpreting the ad, I realize it was “birth”.
The hills just kept coming – you finish one only for it to lead straight into another hill. The hills were so many I almost gave up on the run at some point.
More hills
I knew that Aga Khan hospital Parkland shall be on the 16km marker, since I had already studied the Google map of the run route the previous day. Joining Limuru road at this point would lead us straight back to KTTC. I was happy to welcome the last 25 minutes or so of pure torture – hot sun, no water, lots of hills. The torture was worth it, it was the only way to the finishing line. 5km final run was better that what I had endured. The stretch from City Park on Limuru Road, all the way back to the finish line was a series of two hills – each tougher than the other.
I do not know how I survived the last hill at the Canadian High Commission, but immediately thereafter, I could hear the public address at KTTC, meaning that I was just a few minutes away from the finish line – just a left turn after Kenol Petrol station, then another left to KTTC.
It was a relief to be through with the run as I stopped the timer at 1.44.45
At least I managed to run within the 1.40-1.45, but it was the worst run of my life. So, how did the winner mange to do this in 1.04.46?
Wanjawa W. Barack, Nairobi, Sunday, February 24, 2013
Painful
I started participating in international marathons in 2007 and I can say this with authority, “The UNEP marathon course was the worst of them all.” Imagine 21km of pure painful hilly run – with little or no water and the hottest sun in Nairobi!
I have only been on the road for less than four weeks – non continuous. It usually takes 10-15 weeks of training to be ready for a 21k run. I was therefore taking a big gamble by being here today. The UNEP marathon also came at a ‘wrong time’. We build up the marathon training schedule from February towards October. We were therefore just getting started on stage 1 of the annual marathon preparation, when the UNEP marathon happened.
Call the Police
Many things went wrong with this marathon. Online registrations were not acknowledged, the run schedules for the day were not published until one day prior, run numbers were not available until D-day and the run was scheduled to start at a late hour of 9.45am. Who in their right minds schedules a long run after 9.30am? With all that sun? At least the organizers provided free Tshirts during re-registration on the run day. But the genius in some participants led to their getting more than 2 Tshirts. How did they do this? They just went to the registration desk and registered twice or thrice – using different names or same names on different tables. This led to the warning, “We shall call the Police on any participant having more than one Tshirt. Those registered, please leave the registration tables immediately. This is the final warning”
Long run
It is the norm that long runs should start first, followed by the shorter runs. But the organizers had a different plan. It was acceptable to start with the one lap juniors run, for under 10s at 8.45am (instead of 8.30am). However, deciding to stage the 7.5km school children run at nine, and forcing us to wait until the first ten finishers were back to the stadium was not taken well.
Safety
At 9.30am they asked the 21km female runners to line up for their event. Their run started at 9.35am. They then asked the gents to line up for their run.
“Remember to keep safe, since we cannot guarantee your safety along the route,” the announcer said, as we jostled to the starting lineup, at the main field of Kenya Technical Training College (KTTC)
During the Nairobi International Marathon, the roads are usually closed and cleared for about 4 hours, meaning that we do not worry about any threat from vehicular traffic. UNEP was telling us otherwise.
“We need assurance of our safety,” an athlete shouts from the crowd.
“You should be better organized,” someone else says.
“We want the roads closed,” yet another.
“We need to be safe since we shall be voting next Monday,” I join the chorus.
The organizers refuse to bulge. They repeat, “While on the road, take care of your safety. It is not guaranteed.”
Promises
At 9.48am, the mens run starts. Just a faint whistle and the run starts.
I started off slowly with George, a team mate from ICIPE. We were together in one team before he defected to a new employer. Thereafter, we have held joint runs to keep our teams in shape. As we circled the field ready to face the remaining 20.6km, we promised ourselves to try to make it in 1.40 to 1.45. If the course was ‘normal’, this was achievable. I however knew that George was just being polite. He is fast and always manages over ten minutes advantage over me for any run over 1 hour. During practice back at the hilly Ndumboini terrain, he just sprints leaving us breathless and completely useless chasing after.
We had been promised some water in at least 4 stations –milestone 5k. 10k, 15k and 18k and also at the finishing point. When we hit milestone 5k, the water was finished. This was just after tackling the first major hill that stretched from UNEP towards Ruaka, where each leafy compound is well marked. As I pass by, I could see ‘53 Ruaka’ on my left and ‘43 Ruaka’ on the opposite side.
No water
At the 5km point, we run enthusiastically in anticipation of water supply, only to find those supposed to issue the water helpless, raising their hands resignedly. They usher us on.
“I shall not manage this marathon without water,” I tell George.
For the first time in 25 minutes, I manage to overtake him. I believe he feels the same, though he says nothing.
A few paces later, he asks, “Should we turn back?”. This is in reaction to the sight of four or so athletes who have decided to turn back. They know that they cannot survive the dehydration.
“No, we have to keep going. There could be a water point at 10k,” I encourage him on.
Hills
We just kept tackling hill after hill, until finally we found a water point that had some water supply. I grab my 500ml bottle. After grabbing his bottle, George is energized and off he goes. He just sprints away and I never see him again for the next 10km. Just as we leave Muthaiga area, a big billboard advert by Aga Khan shows two women. As I pass by, I read, “Water bath”. Later, when my mind is comprehending and interpreting the ad, I realize it was “birth”.
The hills just kept coming – you finish one only for it to lead straight into another hill. The hills were so many I almost gave up on the run at some point.
More hills
I knew that Aga Khan hospital Parkland shall be on the 16km marker, since I had already studied the Google map of the run route the previous day. Joining Limuru road at this point would lead us straight back to KTTC. I was happy to welcome the last 25 minutes or so of pure torture – hot sun, no water, lots of hills. The torture was worth it, it was the only way to the finishing line. 5km final run was better that what I had endured. The stretch from City Park on Limuru Road, all the way back to the finish line was a series of two hills – each tougher than the other.
I do not know how I survived the last hill at the Canadian High Commission, but immediately thereafter, I could hear the public address at KTTC, meaning that I was just a few minutes away from the finish line – just a left turn after Kenol Petrol station, then another left to KTTC.
It was a relief to be through with the run as I stopped the timer at 1.44.45
At least I managed to run within the 1.40-1.45, but it was the worst run of my life. So, how did the winner mange to do this in 1.04.46?
Wanjawa W. Barack, Nairobi, Sunday, February 24, 2013
