Two marathons, the full ones…. in two weeks

Two marathons, the full ones…. in two weeks

Episode 1 - First half of first marathon

It was a bad idea from the beginning.  Two marathons, the full marathons, in two weeks.  This was in keeping with the tradition of the unlimitedness of the human spirit – an ‘Ineos159’ thing.  The main run was supposed to be the ‘ultimate’ international marathon – the one that closes the year – scheduled for Friday, Dec. 20.  There was nothing supposed to be held before this year closing event.  

But things do happen.  I had seen many other marathons still being advertised on our marathoners groups WhatsApp.

“Is this a scheme to sabotage the ‘ultimate’?,” I found myself asking as I saw marathon after another being promoted.  There was no talk of the ultimate.  If anything, my single announcement did not elicit any response.  I was already reminding myself of the November international, codename ‘route eleven’, where only my own two legs turned up.

It is the usual convention to scout the route before a run.  I had already scouted it for ‘route eleven’ hardly a month prior.  Surely, nothing could have changed in that time, could there be?  There was only one way to find out.  The finding out took place on Monday, Dec. 9.  I left for the evening run in a relaxed ‘scouting’ mood – no pressure.  This was just the usual 21k on the usual international route, with the usual 10km hill.  Nothing new.

That feeling would soon be short lived just as I crossed the main Nakuru highway at Kabete Police, bottle of water in hand, two cells at hand to time the run with two different apps.  I started feeling pain in my stomach.  That was strange.  That was new.  

I had been on a usual watchful diet.  My last heavy meal had been the late breakfast at ten – just a cup of black tea and a piece of sweet potato.  I had thereafter taken two more cups of tea and about a half litre of water in the timespan between ten and four.  I took the last sip of warm water just past four, ready for the run that started at 4.45pm.  The stomach pain hardly fifteen minutes from start of the run was a strange one.

I was in a run-stopping pain by the time I started the Vet loop part of the run on the second kilometer.  I encouraged myself to continue monitoring the situation.

“Push it to Ndumbo river on the 4k,” I told myself.

“Gauge it there and be ready to turn back,” I continued the self-talk.

The rains earlier in the day had made the path muddy, before I could get to the tarmac road at Ndumbo.  The weather was a bit cold.  It was drizzling as I ran down towards Ndumbo river – the point of decision on whether I would continue the run or not.

It would not be long before the decision would be clear – the run was on.  My stomach pain had subsided and I started up the hill with an energetic leap.  The drizzles also subsided and the weather would remain dull through the run.  The tummy pain would however resume just past Kanyariri school.  I still had that final two kilometers of hill towards Nakuru highway.

“Do I turn back?”

I kept going, albeit with slowed pace.

I somehow got to the highway with pain on my stomach.  It was now the turning point of the 21k and there was no going back on this run now.  I now just had to go round the big circle of Gitaru market and start my way back.

My mouth did not feel like taking a sip.  I could not even imagine taking in any water.  Just the thought of it almost got me throwing up.  I would be running ‘dry’ on this run.  I kept going with my full bottle of half-litre of water on this half-marathon.  The stomach pain would subside as I ran down towards Ndumbo river.  

I now had only three kilometres to the finish.  The effects of dehydration were evident.  I was finding it hard to pump in any more powerful kicks as I faced the final hill to Ndumbo market.  I was tired!  I longed for water, which I had at hand, but my mouth had refused to pertain any.  It took willpower to cross Waiyaki way and get to Kabete Poly for the last kilometer.  But having done twenty already, I had just to push through that last one – even if it was the last thing that I would do.

I stopped my timer at 1.46.01.  Runkeeper gave me 21.82km while Endomondo gave me 21.23km.  I had given myself 1.50.00.  I was glad to have been vindicated despite how I felt.  The run was a 5.00min/k pace.  

Episode 2 - Second half of first marathon

It was a Friday, four days after the painful Monday run.  I had already enjoyed a day of rest in the name of Jamhuri day holiday on Thursday.  I was ready to take myself back on the 21k route.  This run was more of a confirmation that my body was still working well.  Maybe the Monday experience was telling me something.  I was going to find out.  It had not rained since Thursday morning.  It was getting drier.  Some dark clouds around four threatened to culminate into a rainy evening.  It did not.  The evening was sunny – hot even.

I started my run at quarter to five, a bottle of water at hand.  The warm weather propelled my steps and I was soon crossing the Waiyaki way at Kabete hardly ten minutes after starting the run.  The run was just too smooth.  

There was nothing special on the route.  Just the usual no-other-runners, the usual vehicles hooting you out of the way despite the road being too big to accommodate the single vehicle and one runner.  The usual evening sun that can be hot when it means to – and it did mean to on this Friday.

I reached Gitaru market without much ado.  I had already taken a few sips of water.  I would go around the market partly on Wangige road and be back to Kanyariri road before long.  The spice of the route is the downhill run from Gitaru market back to Ndumbo river.  I found myself down acceleration lane as I covered this part without much effort.  I was just on top of the world on this run.  The sips of water helped keep me hydrated.

A vehicle flashes me with full headlights as we both converge on the same road bump going in opposite directions.

The driver waves.  I hardly notice him since our relative motions are increasing our separation with each passing second.  I wave back.  I am useless without my specs.  I am not sure which runner that is.  All I know is that he is a runner.

It is not long before it is the turn of a motorbike.  I am running without a care, when the motorbike approaches me and hoots.  I give it way before the passenger draws my attention.

“Dabliu Biiiii!,” an excited sound comes from the passenger of the motorbike, which has now slowed down towards a stop.  I am already five metres gone, heading towards ten metres gone.

I try to look back while maintaining a front motion.  I am not sure whether I should stop or not.

I recognize the passenger.

“Haki woiye!  Good work!  Dabliu Biiii!!  Haki wewe!!,” Lavender shouts back at my retreating form.

“Thanks!,” I shout back loudly.  I am now past ten metres and going.

I run the last four kilometres without noticing much around me.  I am just doing a run that shall soon come to an end.  And coming to an end it does.  This second half marathon of the first marathon ends with a time of 1.39.55!  This was a 4.42min/km pace. 

“That can’t be true!,” I shake my head as I get into the compound.  Shaving off seven-minutes from the half is just unimaginable!  Both the apps record this run as a 21.27km event.

Episode 3 - First half of second marathon

“My medal number 22 at Tigoni,” Janet declared on the WhatsApp page with photographic evidence.  It was a Saturday. 

“The last run in 2019,” she adds.  

I now know why she is not running in next Friday’s ‘ultimate’ international.  Will anyone turn up for this final run?  I ponder.

How about medals?  The ultimate run would have none.  

I had imagined that I was a diligent runner in the year, with 1,110km ran since June 1, but I only had five medals to show for it.  Tanzania’s Kilimanjaro full, Kenya’s Muituni half, Kenya’s Alliance twenty k, Norway’s Stavanger full and Netherlands’s Amsterdam full – But twenty-two medals!  How is that even possible?  Where have I been?  I started having self-doubt as to whether I was running a lost cause.

This third run in the second week was proving to be the hardest to arrange and execute.  It should have been on a Monday, but the SMS from the doc was categorical, “You have a 3.00pm appointment on Monday.  Do not miss.”

I liked the ‘Do not miss’ part.  It was as though I was due for some important award.

If this third run was not to be done on a Monday, and yet I had the ultimate on Friday, then when would this third run be ‘squeezed in’?  Tuesday seemed too late!

I was seated, more like reclined on the dental chair at exactly three.  I was able to look through the large window on this first-floor room to see the newly constructed Ngong road section just a stone throw away.  I could see matatus and motorbikes competing for space on the vast road, hooting each other loudly.  

It is not the poking of my teeth with that sharp thing that looked like a screw driver that cause my dread, it was the tick-tock towards the evening run that got me thinking.

‘The doc’, sorry ‘the dent’, would finally say, after three cycles of examining the x-ray then the poking, “This image does not look like what I see now.  You must have healed in the last one month.”

That was music to my ears.  The nursing assistant also seemed relieved.  I was expecting one of those prolonged ‘sit-ins’, sorry, ‘recline-ins’.  This would not happen today.  This was to be the shortest stay on that chair.

It was now just past 3.30pm.  I had to ‘somehow’ make it to the run in an hour.  The distance was not the issue, the means of travel was.  Matatus are so untimely and unpredictable once you are on board.  

How many times have you been forced out of the matatu before your destination with a simple, “Mwisho! Mwisho! Shukeni! Tumefika mwisho!  Gari inarudi!”

Just like that, without a care in the world – rain or no rain.  No refund and no refund!

That would probably be three to five kilometers from the expected destination!

How about the route being changed without notice!  You are heading towards your destination, which you can see right ahead, then the matatu diverts to a bumpy side road that takes them longer in the name of ‘avoiding traffic’.  Please do not get me started on matatus.  I just use them though we have a hate-hate relationship.

I ‘somehow’ got to my destination at 4.15pm.  This was in good time for the run.  This run would happen.  Let ‘us’ get this run done with… and that is what ‘we’ did.  You need to read a previous blog to know the origin of this pluralization.  To refresh your memory, I got it from the same dents, who keep using plural for their individual selves.

I started the run at the international starting line at exactly 4.45pm.  The weather was good, if anything it was hot.  A second hot run in four days.  It did not take long before I was feeling the heat, even as I crossed Waiyaki way after five minutes of run.  The run was the same usual run.  Through the route that is now etched into memory.  I can close my eyes and replicate that route any day, or night if the Addis experience of nightruns can help in this route.

There was nothing much to write about on this first half of the second marathon.  It went on as planned – a relaxed run without any pressure of any sorts whatsoever.  I eventually finished the run, stopping the now well-behaved gadgets at 21.20km in 1hr 42min 05sec (Endomondo) and 21.17km in 1hr 42min 09sec (Runkeeper).  A 4.49min/km pace.  

I say ‘well-behaved’ since I have the secret of eliciting this behavior on these gadgets.  Switch on the Airplane mode when you are using them.  That forces all background apps to freeze, leaving the gadgets with only one thing to do – track your run – and that is what you want, right?.

Episode 4 - Second half of second marathon – the ultimate

There was now only one run standing, sorry running, between me and a four-run streak – this was the ‘ultimate’ marathon planned for Friday, Dec. 20, 2019.  This was the run to close the year – the very last one – the ‘ultimate’.  

However, it did not seem to stand much chance of success.  If the November ‘penultimate’ was largely shunned, yet the runners had not even tasted the festivities yet!  How about this one that was occurring two-weeks after the employer had hosted the staff to a lavish end year bash?  This ultimate run was technically off, but unfortunately it was part of the 4-run streak and I would have to partake, even if it was the last thing that I was doing this year.

“Coach!  Long time!,” Edu shouted in my direction as I approached his trio.  They were like ten metres away.  It was lunch hour.  A Thursday.  One day to the final run of 2019.

“Oh!  Hi there yourselves!”

“Kupotea nayo!?” 

We had now met and were exchanging greetings.

“Niko!  Hata kesho kuna mbio – the last one!  The ultimate!!”

“Ah, you mean?,” he started.  

I already knew his next sentence, but still waited for him to say it, “Sisi tulishafunga mbio mpaka next year!”

Now, this ultimate thing is not going to happen.  If the likes of Edu, had called it ‘a year’ already?  The real veterans in my group!?  Then who else would dare make it to the ‘ultimate’?

I was packing up for the evening, ready to face the inevitable solo ‘ultimate’.  I was already resigned to that inevitable fate.

“Bad things happen,” I thought loudly.  

I was just about to walk home, when a friend requested for some two reds to sort out something.  I was doing the lending by mobile money, one hundred at a time.  The first hundred went through successfully.  I could even here the beep beep from the phone that was just placed on the seat.  I would momentarily hear another beep beep.  

I then transferred the second red and heard those double beeps.  It was not long before the owner of the phone came back to the office and possessed the phone.

“Have you sent me the money?”

“Yes, of course I did!”

“Mbona sioni?”

“I have just sent.  Check your phone!,” I responded with conviction.

“Sioni kitu, are you sure?”

“Yes, si numba yako ni seven eight seven?”

“Ai, wewe!  Sasa mbona ulituma kwa hiyo namba?”

I was taken aback.  I had to process.

“What do you mean, ‘mbona’?  Isn’t that your number?”

“Yes, lakini hiyo ina fuliza.  Imagine that money was ‘chewed’ immediately.”

I had to loan another two additional reds to the right number.  This is just crazy!

It took me the whole length of the 1.2km walking home to get to know what this fuliza thing that ‘chews‘ money was all about.  Even as I reached home and prepared my running shoes ready for the ultimate.  I believed that one more night rest was all that was needed to crack this run.  Only time (and weather) would tell, whether the ultimate succeeds or not.

And…. time and weather did tell when it was finally a Friday and it was 4.45pm – time for the run.  The weather was good.  The evening sun was bright, warm and quite inviting as I flagged myself off at the generator.  I was the only one at the starting line.  That was expected.  I was feeling quite on top of the world as I started the run.  However, the Friday run would soon become similar, in fact congruent to the Monday run!  

My stomach pain started hardly five minutes after I started the run, as I crossed Waiyaki way at Kabete Technical’s N-junction.

“This is not happening, again,” I told myself even as I crossed the highway.

My speed had started reducing by the time I was at Ndumbo having just done about fifteen minutes of run.  By then my stomach was so painful that every step that I took seemed to increase the pain.

“I shall not make it this time round,” I shook my head as I went down from Ndumbo towards the river.

I do not even remember how I got the energy to carry me from the river for the 1km run to the elevated tank.  It was the most painful uphill run.

“I give up!,” I said when I reached the tank, and if anything made up my mind to cancel the run by diverting to the right ready to just do the Mary Leakey route and get back.  I would have to make do with a 13k instead of 21k.

I was running slowly through the university farm when the pain in the stomach subsided and was soon gone.  I had hardly gone a kilometer through this dusty footpath.

“Now what?,” I said while turning back, deciding to abandon the Mary Leakey alternative and going back to the original run. 

Maybe the pain was just a temporary thing.  I may as well just do the intended full run.  After all, maji ukiyavulia nguo lazima uyaoge (when you strip you just have to take a bath).  I was already stripped for this bathing.  I just had to do it.  I turned back and was soon back to Kanyariri road at the elevated tank.  I turned to my right and continued with Kanyariri road, to do the initially intended run. 

The eye of the stomach however must have seen that I was back to Kanyariri road, since it was hardly five minutes after rejoining Kanyariri that the stomach pain resumed.

“I have no choice, I shall have to do this run…. Painfully.”

I had now just covered about 6km.  

I still had another 15km – Wowi!  Fifteen more?  

I had not even done half!!

So I did the run, one painful step at a time.  Fifteen thousand more such steps!

As I said, the run was similar, sorry congruent to the Monday run.  Same feeling, same pain and no appetite for water.  I finished the run when I was as dehydrated as a stone in summer, yet I still had my full bottle of water at hand.  

This stomach thing was now a serious thing.  It did not seem to be related to diet.  I must have been bit by some form of bug that now needed medical intervention.  

I stopped my gadgets in 1hr 54min 56min for a distance of 22.86km - A 5.05min/km pace.  The worst pace in the four run streak.  The final lessons from the coach after 2 full marathons in 2 weeks – forget legs.  You need a good stomach for your runs.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2020.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Dec. 20, 2019