The fourth international aka Mutuini Half marathon
Running is a must
My run group now have monthly marathons. These monthly run must happen. It is now predictable as surely as the sun rises from the East that there shall be a marathon every month – guaranteed. The fourth half was conceived immediately after the still-being-talked-about Divas International marathon of March. Mutuini just popped up as we were planning for the fourth international…. and here we are, doing our fourth monthly marathon in 2019.
While the Mutuini registration process was seamless, just a few button presses on the cellphone and payment by mobile money, the actual nuts and bolts of participating was not easy. Every runner needs a runner number and optionally a runner kit. It was unclear upto 24-hours to the run as to how these shall be sorted out. I decided to get my kit on the Saturday before the run.
I was going to a place that I had never been to. I just alighted from the matatu at Dagoretti market and started walking to what I thought should be the venue – Mutuini Primary School. I was almost there, just near the Southern By-pass when I had a wait-a-minute moment. I rechecked the ad for the marathon and noted that the venue was actually Kirigu Primary.
“How do you hold Mutuini marathon at Kirigu?,” I asked the air as I turned back after having walked almost 2km from Dagoretti.
Tech-fail
I walked back to Dagoretti and started a walk on what my online map indicated to be the general direction of Kirigu. By Murphy’s law, my phone map then failed just as I left Dagoretti mart. The blue dot that should normally indicate your geolocation in relation to the map just failed. It was not there. A restart of the phone… the phones did not resolve. I still got a static map without any interaction.
I was generally going to rely on instinct only. Using the phone to map my location relative to where I was heading was not going to be possible on this day. Instinct told me to turn right after the railway flyover and keep going until I get lost somewhere. That is what I did. Another 2km of walk would get me to Kirigu Primary.
“Finally – I made it,” I thought loudly.
Another w-a-m* moment hit. This was not the registration venue. The registration venue was Mutuini Hope Centre. Would this maze ever end!! There was no directional sign nor was my dead phone map of any help. A motorbike would come in handy to take me to the very hidden location of the Centre, just 200m the school.
*wait-a-minute
Receiving runner no. 440 and a red T-shirt is what had caused me all this trouble.
“Bring him a bag,” the registrant finally said. This seemed like a consolation.
It was not. It turned out to be a shopping disposable. But having visited the Centre convinced me that the organizers needed to maximize on the proceeds. We did not get runner guides nor route maps. We would have to rely on good old ‘scouting of the route’ to get our way. Nonetheless, the organizers had promised to send me the route map by WhatsApp “in a few minutes”.
I walked back from Hope to Dagoretti, just to ensure that my mapping of the route was solid. It was. Even the phone that had gone ‘static’ on me earlier, was now working and I could see the blue dot on the map following me around the road as I moved along.
I would not be surprised when I would not get the route map on my phone by mid-night. Soon a block diagram of the route would be shared on our runners group. It was some unclear, unfamiliar block diagram that indicated a start point at Kirigu, then some rectangular kind of route that led back to the starting point. Bottom line – it was of no use. We would have to scout the route and take it as it comes.
Public transport
I left the house at 5.00am on the run Sunday and got public transport, first to Kawangware Equity, then another vehicle to Dagoretti. I walked the now familiar road to Kirigu and would soon meet the rest of the team. It was now just a few minutes to seven. The run scheduled for 6.30am was going to start late. The reason why I did not get to the starting line early was because their inaugural run of last year started at 8.30am. I expected a similar start time. That is what was on the runners guide – sorry, there was no runners guide.
At seven-thirty one of the organizers used the power of the vocals to call on runners to assemble at the main stadium.
“All runner, go to the field. Warm up. Ready to start,” he kept moving around shouting.
We obeyed and would soon be on warm up. Next to me was a face that had graced our TV screens for many years in the late 90s and early 00s. This was a face associated with national comedy. His trio of comedy act was the icing of every weekend entertainment on the screen. He was now the member of national assembly representing this constituency.
Jammed
We, runner no. 440 included, then moved out of the school compound to the external road ready for the start of run. KJ, the local MP would give some inaudible speech at the starting line. All runners were already excited, talking amongst themselves, taking selfies and just gearing up for the run. Then…
KJ would say, “We start the run in three, two, one… ”
And… and there was no pop-sound. All were confused. The first runners sprinted off for ten meters already before being called back.
What the… was going on?
What had happened? There were murmurs and total confusion.
Then keen eyes would see the discussion and gestures going on around the starting line. Believe it or not, the gun had jammed! It failed to fire!!
A second attempt at the trigger, a minute later would signal the start of the run with the characteristic ‘pop’ sound. What a start!
We left the starting line without much jostling since the crowd of runners was not that big. I started it slowly, and increased to a comfortable pace by km 3. The road has marshals at all the major junctions to guide the runners. We also had chalk dust markings to guide on the general direction. There was no getting lost. Nothing to worry then…. Not really….
“Tokeni barabarani,” a matatu makanga would soon shout at my thinned out group of about three runners filing along the road.
“We wacha,” one of my colleagues ahead gestured to the overtaking vehicle, evidently annoyed.
The roads were not closed and we would have to co-run with vehicles. Fortunately, at least when I was on the route, runners-and-machines generally shared the road well, for most part.
Lost
I was lost on the unfamiliar route so far for about forty minutes. Then we reached the unmistakable Naivasha road at Kabiria junction. I now had an idea as to how this run would go. We would go to Kawangware Equity (the stage that I had alighted at in the morning to get my second matatu), then run on that route all the way to the starting line in Dagoretti. Dagoretti was far when I used the matatu in the morning. Now I had to find out how far by running it out. Believe me – it was far!!
It was at this selfsame point, when I was considering whether to just head back home by running down Naivasha road for 3k or keep to the run for another 11k, that I was overtaken… almost...
This other runner just raced me along and soon his form was just next to me. One centimeter behind, even parallel. We ran along for about 100m. I expected him to overtake and go. He did not. He just kept along. I tried reducing the pace to let him pass, and he did the same, reduced. I tried to increase the pace to get him out of chase, but he also increased and would be just alongside.
I would not have minded company, but the following company rules apply…
Do not give company if none is needed
Overtake if you want and stop teasing runners
Overtake in a reasonable time, do not take forever to overtake
Drop back if you cannot overtake
Allow yourself to be overtaken
It was unfortunate that he was just gauging me out, which goes against rule 2. After 2km of gauging me out, he just stopped and started walking. I felt my empathy. I knew exactly what had happened to him. He was exhausted. He had overrun his pace. Something that a seasoned runner should never do – never run the pace of another runner. Know your pace and just stick to it. But I am not forgiving him for having continually disgusted my running path by spitting and mucus-ing on my path every ten seconds. I respect all runners and their characteristics, but that behavior no!
Basin
We found a basin waiting for runners at the junction to Dagoretti market.
“Dip your hands in the basin,” a marshal shouted at the approaching runners.
At the same point, another route official had a signboard written, “15km”.
I had thought that after the turn toward the market I would just go through the road I had walked earlier in the morning to the starting point, but the route would swing one final surprise at us. When I got to this junction, I saw two route officials shooing us on. That would not be the turning point.
I now started wondering how this run would end. We were now going under the railway and then taking the road parallel to the Southern by-pass. I know how a 6km final stretch should feel, but this final bit was starting to feel like 10k! We just kept going and going and going, but not reaching the finish line.
“Will this run ever end?,” I asked my internal spirit which was now almost giving up.
As if to answer the question, we would soon cross the railway and then immediately turn left. I recall seeing some railway symbol on the block diagram of the run route. From that map, the railway was not far from the finish. But you never know with those not-to-scale maps. I just kept going. The run would end when the run ends. Surely, it must end at some point!
And ending it would, in less than 5 minutes. I would see the familiar road to Kirigu Primary and then get to the school for the finish – just like that! I was handed a small piece of paper written “89” while I stopped my timer with the screen display as “1.45.29 date 28-Apr-2019”. And just like KJ’s startup gun, my timer had also jammed and had recorded the time and not the distance.
I would then hand over the small piece of paper to the registration desk in exchange for my name being recorded on their register.
“Show?”
I raised by purple-coloured left hand. They took the number.
One hour later I would get my medal from the MP, just like the rest of the participants. The blank certs would then be issued.
Two hours later I would be at home, sleeping.
Three hours later, Kenyans would be winning the men’s and women’s marathon in London in 2.02.37 and 2.18.19 in the names of Eliud Kipchoge and Bridgit Kosgei.
Fourteen hours later, my legs still on fire, I would be waking up to narrate the Mutuini story.
WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, 28-Apr-2019
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