The longest month... the longest run

The longest month... the longest run

Today is May 30.  Confirmed COVID19 cases on planet earth have now reached the ‘magical’ number of 6M.  Yes, according to worldometrics, 6,058,196 to be exact, with 367,385 deaths.  Kenya has recorded 1,745 cases and 62 deaths.  So, why would I talk CV19, aka TT, when I vowed not to? 

This is why…. There is no longer anything like a ‘magical’ number when talking about this pandemic.  It shall continue to register infection upon infection until it runs its course, or we get a vaccine.  In other words, we need to learn to live with it.  They way you live with the weather – it may rain, it may shine – but you keep living.  You carry an umbrella, just in case, but you keep living.  That how we have to live with TT.

Worrying about it does not help.  Worrying that you may get it does not help.  Pretending that you have protected yourself from getting it does not help.  There are so many moving parts in this issue.  Just take the precautions to avoid deliberate exposure and know what to do should you get it.  Meanwhile, live your life to the fullest one day at a time.  Do what you like!  Do your runs….

I did my runs.  I have done my runs.  I used to duel with TT from mid-March, and could now be boasting of streak number 31.  I stopped recording these numbers.  I started living my life.  How to you fight an enemy like TT, who does not want to be fought?  Who does not want to give up?  To give in?  Why bother?  Just live your life…. and let TT live its life.  Let what happens happen should your paths cross.  But anyway, what is your gain, even if you worried daylong, nightlong… daily!?

I did my runs in May, and they were good.  I stopped competing TT and started running on my own terms, my own routes, my own rules, my own distance… and they were good.  As I take a rest to close the month of May, I am sure that May shall be the month that registers me the most mileage, sorry most ‘kilometerage’.  Yet… I do not feel the strain since I did my runs, on my terms, my own routes, my own rules, my own distance… and they were good.

I did my runs on the usual route – crossing Waiyaki way twice on each run session, every three times a week.  Doing the Vet loops, going down Kapenguria road towards Wangari Maathai institute, to the river, to Lower Kabete road.  Running past Mary Leakey school.  Crossing the University farm, desolate, abandoned, tranquil, even scary at time… three times every week.  Going through Ndumbo market on my way back.  It was same route for the month.  I did not even notice the intricate layout of this route since it was now so familiar… and I liked it.

I did my runs in silence.  I was my own person.  I was in my own world as I pounded the road, the tarmac, the trail, the stony paths, but I did it.  The silence was the norm, but norms are sometimes broken.

“Ni saa ngapi?,” someone asked me just as I was going past ‘the wall’ after Waiyaki way.  I was preparing to do the Vet loops… several of these loops.

It is a struggle enough to run on your feet.  How about adding the thinking-on-your-feet bit to the mix?  And you are also moving faster than the person asking – what a way to disturb a runner!

“Saa sita na nusu,” I finally say, when I am about five metres gone.  I say this without even looking at the watch.  I already know the time in my subconscience.

So, I did not run in silence all through the runs of the month.  The silence was broken in a few occasions.  Very few occasions.

“Unakimbia kila siku?,” I thought of heard.
I was on the Vet loop another day within May.  I was not expecting this question.  No stranger speaks to no stranger.  However, I am now a veteran of this route and I am starting to form a pattern of how things go.  And many things go on while I quietly run along.

I have observed how this girl and boy are always at the Vet loop road, just walking, just talking, just giggling.  I have seen them almost on each of my run while at the loop.  The security person at the locked gate is now a familiar person.  We now even exchange our greetings, though I am not sure if it is the same person or just members of the same security firm.  I greet more of the uniformed person, than the person behind the uniform.  Occasionally the person offers to open the footpath gate to get me to the ‘the wall’.  I politely decline and do a U-turn on the gate to once more take the same long route back.

I keep observing things.  We have these construction workers on a new building after ‘the wall’.  I see them several times as I do the loops.  They break for lunch at exactly one – believe me – at exactly one.  At that point they fill the road as they head towards Ndumbo, likely for lunch.  When I say ‘fill’, I mean ‘fill’.  They give you no space to run past or against their herd.  They would have all manner of rugged construction attire in them – old helmets, some torn; tattered overalls or trousers; dirty sweat-filled Tshirts; soiled boots or slippers… and all manner of filth spewing from their mouths.

“Unakimbia kila siku?”
I surely heard this from this guy, whom coincidentally has become part of the environment at the Vet loop.  I somehow, by some coincidence meet him at the Vet loop.  I did not even know that he notices me. 

Running on the feet is already tiring enough, add to it thinking on your feet, processing questions on your feet, conceiving responses on your feet, struggling to breathe through a facemask that is hanging inches below your mouth while on your feet, concentrating on beating that PB… while on your feet?  This is torture!

“Ndio,” I respond, while I am about ten metres gone.  I do not even pretend to look back.  I am so tired.
I have no time to explain to him that I only run three times a week.

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, May 30, 2020