FLHM 2016 – A good run with a chaotic end

FLHM 2016 – A good run with a chaotic end

Early

I was in town early.  I left the house at 5.30am and walked to the highway.  Being a Sunday, there were few vehicles at the highway, but was lucky to board a matatu at 5.50am that did not waste time on the road.  I disembarked at 6.10am and walked from Odeon towards Kimathi house.  I then walked on Kenyatta Avenue to Nyayo house and joined Uhuru highway all the way to Nyayo.  The roads were already closed from Kenyatta Avenue and the whole of Uhuru highway from Nyayo (house) towards Nyayo (stadium).  A few runners, evident by their running kit, the Tshirt of which had a big portrait of the first lady on the back side, were already enjoying life of the closed road as they headed towards Nyayo.  All of a sudden there was a siren behind me, and before long, a big car almost knocked me off the tarmac.  I was lucky to see a convoy of over ten vehicles negotiate the Haile Selassie roundabout towards Nyayo.

“The road is closed for crying out loud,” I cried out loud!

As I approached the stadium I saw the big cars parked beside the road.  I was in time to hear the flagging off of the 10km wheel chair race, which started at 6.30am prompt.  I still had 30 minutes before my run.  I counted the cars – 14 big cars and 4 limousines – even if it is power!

There were no washrooms around the starting point, so I had to get into the stadium compound, where there were just a few Excloosive portables.  How did they expect to manage the ‘water out’ needs of the expected multitude?  I started sensing some form of impending crisis, but there probably was a plan B.

I hanged around the stadium compound to about 6.50am, when I started making my way to the starting line outside the stadium, on Uhuru highway.  I cannot express my chagrin when I headed to the exit point only to be turned back that it was closed.  This was the nearest exit to the starting line.  I had even used it to get to the stadium less than ten minutes prior.

“So, what gate do we use?,” I asked, as other runners behind me benefited from this query.

“Eh, I don’t know… Maybe…. Eh…,” the unhelpful person responded!

“Sasa nini hii!  You people are so disorganized!,” a lady runner behind me could not hold back.

There was no time to argue.  The only way out was through the entrance gate to the stadium, near the Police post, next to the Basketball court and Swimming pool.  Then one had to make their way back to the starting line – as if going round to just get to where you are from!.  I had to run, with only five minutes remaining.

Watery course

The run just started while I was recovering from the short sprint that I had just done from inside the stadium compound.  The weather was good – cool, no sun, a bit cold.  The start time was new on this course.  I am used to starting at 7.30am.  Of course I started at 7.00am when I was doing the three 42k in 2008-10, but it has been ages since I started a run this early.

The run to city centre, then Kenyatta Avenue to NSSF building was at a good pace.  We turned to get into Uhuru Park and benefited from the first water point at the 3km mark.  This was timely, since immediately after that point was the Upper Hill section that runs from the park all the way to Kenyatta Hospital.  From the hospital back to Nyayo is generally flat, with some mild uphills.  There were about five water points on this Nyayo to Nyayo stretch.  I was at Nyayo in about 43 minutes.  This was to be the 10km point.  Was I that fast?  Were records going to be broken today?

The turn to Mombasa road was something I was expecting.  In fact I even knew its profile.  This would be a 10km circuit, followed by the final 1km to the finish line.  In my mind this was the ‘tarmac’ route, which I have run often when practicing.  It is exactly 10km and a circuit too.  I just tuned myself to the feel and imagination of ‘tarmac’ and just let myself flow.  (Though this route has nothing compared to the hills on the ‘tarmac’).  In five kilometers I faced the extreme turning point, after only two water points.

“Discrimination!,” I thought of shouting.  How do you provide five water points for the first 10k and only two for the last 11k?

“Dip you fingers in the ink!,” someone shouted from ahead, interrupting my mind that was on the ‘tarmac’.

“Make sure you dip your fingers in the ink!,” someone else reminded us?  Yes, reminded us.

I saw about three stretched out basins, with some bluish fluid.  I dipped in my left hand, reluctantly, as I ran to the turning point and started my last 6km back to the stadium.

In this era of timing chips, one of which was surely affixed on my race number 7794, who still dips their hands on ink as proof of adherence to the run circuit!

Since the first lady was running the 10km (could it be that they did not care much about the rest of us to even provide more water points because we were on our own!), the 21km route was relatively uneventful.  Last year there was a continuous stream of security forces all along the route – but that was last year – and she was running the twenty-one thousand meters then.

I reached the stadium just as the first fast 10km runners were finishing off their run that had started at 8.00am.

Though I finished the run and stopped my timer at 1.32.56, the overhead LCD at the finish line was displaying 1.30.50.  On this run, I trust my timer, but miracles still happen that the timing crystal in the watch may have been faster by 2 minutes? – No way, I still trust my timer.  How about the distance – 20.85km.  Well, I still trust my timer – but let us wait for the official results.  The ‘gadget’ provided me with the run stats as follows:

Date – 06-03-2016

Time – 1.32.56

Distance – 20.85km

Speed avg – 13.5 km/h

Speed max – 31.5 km/h

Cal/h avg – 1054 kcal/h

Cal/h max – 2131 kcal/h

Calories – 1633 kcal

Time in zone – 00.23.05

Km01 – 4.35.89

Km02 – 4.16.17

Km03 – 4.17.22

Km04 – 4.43.41

Km05 – 4.57.38

Km06 – 4.40.49

Km07 – 4.16.73

Km08 – 3.58.23

Km09 – 4.20.14

Km10 – 4.24.11

Km11 – 4.28.09

Km12 – 4.29.57

Km13 – 4.08.78

Km14 – 4.21.57

Km15 – 4.32.05

Km16 – 4.29.08

Km17 – 4.28.57

Km18 – 4.33.05

Km19 – 4.26.10

Km20 – 4.48.44

Km21 – 3.41.22

Chaos 1

After the finish line, runners were being directed to the terraces.  No one had an idea why there was a queue at the terraces.  I just joined the queue of sweaty runners.  Another queue formed up, and someone shouted, “Ten kilometers”, in the direction of this second queue.

For some reason, the queue that I was on, the 21km queue, was not moving at all.  After staying on the same spot for some 30 minutes, runners become agitated and started shouting.

“What is going on!,” a chorus shouted.

“Give us certificates on the queue,” some follow-up shouts.

“Give us medals.  To h**l with certificates,” yet others.

I then came to realize that the queue was for medals and certificates.  A first one, since they did not honour the runners last year.  Thinking about it, I deserve two sets, to compensate for last year or…

My thoughts were cut short when a scuffle ensured on the 10km queue.  Water bottles were being thrown in the air while tables and chairs were evidently flattened, from the sound that was coming from that direction, just five meters to my right.  Our own 21km queue got messed up momentarily as people feared for a stampede.  I lady runner stumbled and fell on a table top that had them thrown towards our queue.  A plastic chair rolled following the table and crashed on the legs of those on the 21km queue.

After some hullabaloo, peace was restored and whatever was going on, continued going on.  Meanwhile, there was no movement on our queue, while the crowd of runners kept swelling.  I observed some contributors to the lack of movement – someone was for a second time, reading the runner bibs and recording the numbers on a paper.  He was at the queue and each runner had to find him or vice versa.  What was this for?  First the ink that was never checked and now scribbling numbers on a piece of paper! 

But that was not all – some other lady was putting a tick mark using a felt pen on the runner bibs too.  What the *?.  And to add tiredness to tiredness, after being issued with blank certificates, the calligraphers were just next to the issue desk taking their time to pen down each name, a process that involved one fishing their ID card, to ensure that the right name spelling was captured, then taking their sweet time watching the artists do their thing.  (And I can tell you for free that art takes time!).  Then they had to pay the 50/= fee and in many instances wait for change!  The worst thing you can do at the head of a queue!  Go write the damn certs at home using a biro pen for crying out loud!  (Or at least write on them somewhere miles after the issue desk!  Simple non-common sense!).  All these conspired against us to keep us on the queue forever!

Chaos 2

The peace did not last long, since after this first scuffle, more runners came to join the queue, now that the two major runs were coming to an end and the mid-pace and slow-pace runners were getting to the finish line.  Even the first lady was finishing her run, this being around 9.30am.  I had stood at the same spot for almost one hour!  Things were bad.  This was the most disorganized medal issue point on the planet.  I thought of even giving up on this medal issue thing and going home.

An evidently agitated NYS staffer, in full regalia, started commanding runners around.  He was at the 10km section.

“Songeni nyuma au nisukume nyinyi*,” he said, pointing at the sea of runners on and around the 10km runners queue.  It was more of a 10km runners congregation.  There was no queue at all.  None, I tell you.

(*Move back or I shall push you back)

“You did not run!  We are the runners!  We are tired!  Give us our medals now!,” the crowd roared back.  They did not attempt to move at all.

He stood on something to make his frame more distinct.  He was by then joined by five or six other staffers of NYS.

“You over there, move back!,” he tried to command, while pointing somewhere in the sea.

“Hapana!  Hatusongi.  You did not run!,” came the response.

“Waiguru,” another runner shouted from the crowd, causing momentary laughter.

‘Momentary’ is the word, since the second scuffle ensured when he pushed a runner back.  The other runners surged ahead and almost ran over the contingent from NYS.  No chair or table was left standing.  There was shouts and runs all over.  There was near stampede.  Water bottles were thrown on top of peoples heads again.  There was total confusion!  Blows were exchanged!  There was total chaos!

Somehow, things came back to normal and the situation was calm once more.

Chaos 3

It was now time for our very own 21km to be messed up.  A big crowd just joined from nowhere and we no longer had a queue.  We ended up with a congregation.  Nobody was moving.  Nobody knew what was going on and the agitation was evident.

At some point, there was a semblance of a queue.

“I am not running this event ever,” the runner ahead of me told the air.

“They should have let Standard Chartered marathon organizers take over,” an equally angry athlete responded to the first one.

There was small talk on how Nairobi marathon aka Standard Chartered marathon was miles ahead in organizing such events.  But give credit where due.  The FLHM is trying, being just in the third year while Nairobi marathon has done thirteen.  However, the small talk was not convinced that experience was to blame.  After all, you do not have to experience all instances yourself – you can learn from others – that is what FLHM is currently lacking – the ability to learn from the best.

Chaos 4
“They did not even give us bags!,” someone added to the list of misery.

“Yes,” another one joined in, “Not even a runners guide!  They could not afford to give such a simple booklet!”

“The website did not even show the starting time of the runs!,” someone reminded us.
“TShirts of size Large or XL were also missing.  Imagine they gave me the option to pick either a Small or XXL instead of Large.  Can you imagine?,” someone else shared.
“That's not all,” someone gave a rejoinder, “There were no kits at Nyayo stadium from 24th Feb or even at KICC, yet they had asked runners to collect from 24th”.
“Do not even remind me of the misery,” a runner shared, “I was at Nyayo on 27th but nothing.  Even at KICC there was nothing until 1st”.
“Sikimbii tena.  Never!  Umechoka halafu you queue for one hour!  Sikimbii tena hi mbio ya first lady,” another disappointed runner added.

One and a half hours after finishing my run, I managed to get a blank certificate of participation, signed by Her Excellency.  I also managed to bag my first medal in 2016.

As I walked back to city centre with Mandy, a colleague at the work place, who ran with the first lady on the 10k, we had lots of experiences to share.

What a run!  Would I do this run again?  Maybe one more time, just to see if the medal issue debacle recurs.  It was something worth writing about.

Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, March 6, 2016