First International Marathon of 2019

First International Marathon of 2019

The hill

“Do you see a bar around?,” Fay asked.

We were just hitting the 10km mark, on the first international marathon of the year.  That was a strange one.  By this time, we were walking up the hill, on this new international route.  The very route that has a 6km hill that stretches from the Ndumbo river on the 4k mark, all the way to Nakuru highway on the 10k mark.

Earlier on, we had started with a run – just the two of us.  She was doing her first run on the new route.  I was on my third.  The usual B-and-B team was not participating on this particular run.  One B has just disappeared without a trace and gone incommunicado.  That is why I was on F-and-B on this Friday the twenty-fifth day of January.  The FB team left ‘the Generator’ at exactly 4.35pm, having been ‘generated’ (being at the ‘Generator’) by 4.32pm.  We did not wait for anyone, nor was there anyone to be waited for.

At the gate pit-stop, we met Ben, who was supposed to have been ‘generated’ with us, but had somehow succeeded in getting late for his first international run.

“Edu shall show you the way,” Fay had told him while he disembarked from the motorbike at the gate.

The run started well, and was going at 7min per km by the time we were at Ndumbo on the 3km mark.  This was after we had a first-aid break near Vet Lab at the loop.  What are the chances that you adorn a First Aid jacket, as a fire marshal, and you actually do first aid?  The chances are low, and the first international of 2019 was one of those rare occasions.

First Aid

All of a sudden, Fay slowed down and almost stopped.

“This hurts,” she said, pointing at the back side of the leg.

“It is called the calf,” I responded, “You can take a rest and confirm that you are still able to run.”

She did take the rest by sitting on the grass patch and starting to have a feel of the leg.

“You need to help me out with some first aid,” she said.

“I am a fire marshal.  Let not this jacket fool you.”

“You branded yourself as one.  This is your chance to prove yourself,” she said as a matter of a fact.

The first aid break did not take long – just 5 minutes max.  From there we were back to the normal pace.  The sun was still hot, but the temperatures were starting to lower with the approaching evening.  After Ndumbo we met Edu in a big car.  He flashed on us and shouted in our direction that, “Ben is just ahead.”

We could momentarily make out Ben’s form, as we now rolled down to the river ready for the 6km hill.  We ran and walked up the hill and eventually reached the Nakuru highway.  By this time we had already caught up with Ben and were running and walking together as the ‘international’ trio.

I was wondering whether Fay seriously needed a drink, but kept the thoughts to myself.  The marathoner creed expects us to ‘judge not’ and respect other marathoners points of view.

“Here is one,” I pointed towards the roof of a side building.  While I said this, Ben kept going and left us behind.

“Let’s get in,” she stated and led the way.

We got in.  I stood near the exit, while observing the almost dark internal, with loud vernacular music and smell of barley spewing towards the entrance yard.

“What drinks?,” the waiter asked.  By that time Fay had somehow disappeared into some place in the dingy.

“Not yet,” I found myself saying, then momentarily started the downstairs walk out of the building.

Running is a must

Fay would soon join me and explain that she is having a day similar to Isaac’s.  I later got to learn that that ‘similar’ situation meant a stomach problem.  Though I asked her whether we should turn back and call off the run, she maintained that we had to finish the run on the prescribed course.  We therefore just walked and ran until we got back to Kanyariri road ready to face the downhill back to the river.  

We then had the reprieve of the downhill to keep us going all the way to the river.  We once again caught up with Ben and kept going uphill to Ndumbo.  With only 3km to our finish point, nothing would stop us from finishing the first international in 2019 – and that is what we did exactly – finish the first international marathon of 2019 in 2hr 39min and 55sec.

Though we missed the teq, which was one of the marketing goodies for this run, we still managed to have a substitute when we ‘door-crashed’ a staff party and still got our fill.  It was however not long before I saw a reminder on WhatsApp that we have the next marathon already planned.  

The ‘no-love-lost’ Valentines marathon on Friday, Feb. 15, 2019 promises to bring the best of the marathoners since the rules for the day have already been set – you are allowed to run your best run… ‘without looking back’.  Whether the experiences of the day influences the participation by Fay (and Ben) remains to be seen, in 3 weeks’ time.

WWB the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Jan. 25, 2019

Running a new 365

Running a new 365

Look back

I start today’s blog by revisiting 2018, my most active marathon year yet.  Though I only have one medal to show for the 365 days of activity, there was much more that I achieved that year than any other single year.  That is the year that I did six, yes, six ‘international halfs’.  Add to that the Ndakaini marathon and the Nairobi International full, then you can see why it was the most active of years.  Those are 189km of competitive run distance – real feet on real roads.  The annual average is usually 63, in 2 or 3 competitive runs.

It was therefore a very deserved break when I did hang my running shoes after the last international on Dec. 21 and took my 2-week annual break, where I remained sedentary for all of these days.  It was a great relief.  I could now manage to wake up without being on the edge or feeling tired.  I am usually on hyperactivity mode most of the year.  I find myself oscillating from run-tired-rest then the next run awaits.  It is usually an exciting long-period-of-time to be on edge.  I like it!  However, the break is equally exciting and I find myself having a December that has mixed fortunes.  In 2017 I was at my rural home accepting a sister’s bride price…. In 2018 I was at my rural home attending a funeral of my cousin’s wife.  

Greenery

Staying at my shags is the most exciting part of my end year break.  The place is quiet, with an amazing greenery.  You can see the full horizon coloured in nature, with hardly any disturbance of the natural environment.  The air has natural aura.  It still rains even in December, upon which you can smell the sweet earth, permeating the evening air.  It tends to rain in the evening.  The sun will usually not go down on such a day… the rain would have taken care of the sundowner.  Then the dusk would creep in slowly, whereupon you notice the darkness just sneak in, and soon it is pitch dark.  

The night power source is likely to be a kerosene lamp, however, we have now seen the advent of solar systems and we have installed one in our boma.  The rural electrification scheme is still a dream of a few since each beneficiary has to part with $150, which is no small fee still.  On this day that we have had the evening rain, you can forget the solar power.  It shall support the lights, which is the main concern anyway, but it shall be on ‘beep beep’ by eight, and then momentarily go off.  That is the evening to switch back to kerosene.  

On days when there is no rain and no cloud cover, you can rely on the solar to power all systems, light and sockets until the next day.  On such days, when there is no rain, the crickets cricket through the night.  They tweet their melody from early morning through the night.  The fireflies take over the evening and soon control the night.  They twinkle around undisturbed.  The night is otherwise pitch dark and you cannot see further than the fireflies.  It is claimed that the night people aka night marathoners, use them to light up the way, I don’t believe this.  On such nights, you make your way from house to house in your typical homestead by pure intuition and imagination on how the route should be.  Occasionally, you do stumble on something or even someone.  

With my village life concluded, I finally have to walk back the 6km distance to the main highway to enable me get a vehicle back to the city.  I am forced to cut short the good ambience of the village.  As I walk back, I see all manner of crops growing on both sides of the small path.  The path is covered by thicket fences on both side.  It is the conclusion of the short rains, hence the maize has ripened and some land is being prepared for the next season.  Cassava and sweet potatoes dominate the rest of the otherwise maize fields.  Everything else is greened with grass, shrubs and trees.  Every fifty or so meters you see a homestead appear by the roadside.  There is bound to be someone in the homestead.  You are bound to say Hi.  It is the tradition to say Hi, regardless of whether you know the occupants or not.  Tradition has already taught us that we are all sons and daughters of the soil.  Were’s creation, they call us.  All the sixteen sub-tribes of the Luhya have a linkage to Were Khakaba.  No one came from any other creator but Were.  You are therefore obligated to acknowledge and greet any villager – all villagers.  I leave the village with nostalgia that shall last until it is quenched during a next visit.

Switch One

Back to the city, the end of the once peaceful village life comes to an end.  My full days spent under the mango tree have ended.  The dinner under the moonlight with my folks become a thing of the past.  The salutation, where elders call you, “My father”, simply because you were named after your grandfather is gone.  This salutation is gone for sure.  The city folks just shout at you with a “Hey there,” if you a lucky.  You are soon back to civilization as defined by the city dwellers.  You are soon back to the period of tiredness.  You are soon back to routine.  

In the village there is no routine.  One day you are waking up early, around six, since you have to set off while the sun is still hidden, to visit some distant relations.  Another day you are sleeping until late, not caring about breaking the fast in any hurry.  On those days they usually send one of the children in the compound, usually a grandchild, to wake you up from your house, if you are lucky.  If you are unlucky, the elders shall just shout you out of sleep in their coarse bass and chatter.

“Hey, our father, are you still alive?,” you shall imagine you heard while still in the depth of sleep.  You actually heard right.  That is likely to be about eleven.  On such a day you shall take breakfast at noon, lunch at three, dinner at seven and top it up with before-bed tea.  Tea is not a meal.  It is not counted.  It does not count.  It is taken through the day – from starter to stopper.  There is no routine, anything goes, apart from the three ‘routine’ meals every day, which remain compulsory.

Switch Two

Back to the city, we have our routine marathon runs – three times a week – as strict as a doctor’s prescription.  You miss out and you have to start the dose afresh.  It is in our system and we have to live with it.  On many of these Monday, Wednesday and Friday runs, I get to go for the lunch hour run with a colleague from the marathoners group.  That is how the B-and-B team came about, of course, leading to that very team breaking a record for the worst time ever posted in the international halfs, but that is a story already told.  Nonetheless, the record remains.  Had it been at the village, we would not be contemplating any runs.  The mention of a run evokes negative emotions.  It is by default associated with the night ones.

Back to the city, I can remember one of these lunch hour run, with the B-team.  We were going on the 8km ‘the river’ route.  We usually do run and walk, depending on how the runners feel on the particular day (and also the solar level).  On this particular day, it was quite sunny and hot.  We had as a result only run to the 4km turn-back point, then decided to walk back the hill, and continue walking back to our starting point.

“I am too tired today,” Beryl said, “It is you who forced me to come for this run.”

“That is not true,” I said.

“Why now?”

“This run was already planned in the big scheme of things,” I stated, “It would have happened whether you like it or not.  There is nothing you could have done to prevent this run from happening.”

This is big

We discussed this big-scheme-of-things, which some call fate or destiny, with different points of view and did not have an agreement by the time we finished the 1hr 10min run-with-walk.  We have discussed this topic many other times, usually with no agreement, and it thus brings me to the New Year message…

Let your destiny in 2019 be guided by your decision to do your runs.  Commit to these runs since it is part of a healthy lifestyle.  If you decide to do your weekly runs, then go ahead and do them.  If you decide to join our monthly international halfs, then by all means do that.  If you want to join us for the Kilimanjaro marathon in March, just be there.  In the ‘big scheme of things’, there is nothing you can do to prevent what you want to do from happening – it is unstoppable and beyond your control.  Plan for it.  Show up for it.  Surrender to it.  Give in.  Flow with it.

Happy New Year 2019.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Jan. 6, 2019