Running without a spare wheel

Running without a spare wheel

My run ended even as the rains intensified.  I would get into the house dripping from top to bottom.  I was just in time to pop into the house as the COVID numbers were running across the screen: worldwide infections stood at 24,518,049 with 832,771 deaths.  16,986,374 had recovered.  At rank number 65 in list of countries ranked by total infections was Kenya, with the numbers being 33,389, 567 and 19,368 respectively.  I continued starring at the screen, squinting as I did this, since I do not see much without glasses.  The cold clothes were causing a shiver through my body.  The effect of that 1.24.48 duration run apparent as the tiredness set in.

I matched across the living room to the bathroom.  I would have to wash off the run.  I had intended to do a long run, but ended up doing a shorter one – five kilometers shorter.  This shorter run was forced upon me by my aching right leg.  My last run was last week Friday.  I had thought that a one-week rest would have helped my leg heal.  I was wrong.  I usually do not feel the pain on the knee when walking or seated.  It only starts when I start running and gets worse as the run time progresses.  Today was no different, despite the week’s rest.  The first run step brought the pain to the knee immediately.  I tried to gauge the run over the first five warm up minutes.  The pain persisted.

I was for a third time using the new route that I had now established at this home of champions.  I did the first one-kilometre warmup run to the road junction, where I would then turn right, then run the whole length of the road to as far as I wanted to.  I would then do a U-turn, hopefully at about 10.5km, and be back.  This expected run was however not likely to be possible today.  I was feeling the pain on the right knee with every step that I took.  I was resigned to probably running less than ten kilometers today.  And that was if I was even lucky to make it that far.  At this rate, this pain was not going to get me even to the three kilometre mark!

I kept going, ready to do a U-turn at any point.  I now did not care.  I had no hope of doing the full half marathon on this day.  I was now just running to prolong my turning point, which would be inevitable with each passing minute.  I kept going and kept getting the pain.  The pain subsided briefly at the seven kilometre mark, but it was back by the time I got to the 8k junction, where the road makes a slight left turn.  I would normally have pushed on for another ten minutes before getting to the U-turn.  Not today.  My run was already overstretched by this point.  I was doing a U-turn here… not a metre more!  I was glad to be doing this U-turn at this point.  I was finally getting back home.

I started my way back.  The very way back that gives you the perception that you are going downhill, when in reality you are going uphill.  Even the way the body feels would confirm that you are going uphill, but the eye shows a downhill!  This route is crazy.  That marvel kept me going until a raindrop fell on my right arm.  I was about 6km from the end of run.  The sky was still clear, with very few clouds.  This cannot be rain.  This one drop cannot be.  Even the sky was still clear for shouting out loud!

I had to run another five minutes before more drops became apparent on my arms.  And then the sky started darkening as the dark clouds started enveloping the blue sky.  It was going to rain.  It was just a matter of time.  I was still hopeful that the rain would come down after about an hour or two, based on how clear the sky seemed to be.  I was now four kilometres from the finish when the light showers started.  This rain would fall sooner than I thought.  I tried to increase pace, but that right knee could not be pushed faster than it was already enduring.  I just had to live with it and the reduced pace.

Three kilometres to the finish and the light showers turned into a light rain.  It was now inevitable.  I would have to run a distance of anything upto three kilometres in the rain.  The hilly terrain, which looks like downhill, was becoming harder and harder to run through.  I kept going while the rain hit from above.  It was now a full heavy rain by the time I was two kilometres from the finish.  The cold waterjets hit me from all directions. 

I had already decided that I was not going to take shelter.  I would have to run the last ten minutes through the heavy rain.  My shoes were already wet by this time.  My T-shirt and pair of shorts were dripping.  The phone was in the left pocket of the shorts.  I knew that it would still be wettened, but not as bad as being carried by hand.  I just hoped that it would not kaput, like the other phone that failed forever when I ran with it through some rain in the city.

I finally made the last left turn for the last kilometre.  The rain was heavy!  I just tore through the waters and kept going knowing that my run would be done in another five or so minutes.  It was a relief when I finally got back home dripping and ready to hit the shower.  However, those COVID numbers welcomed me back after the 16.5km run and made the rest of the day dull. 

Even the weather than turned sunny by four did not improve the feel-bad over TT.  It was not even a surprise therefore when the Government extended the COVID restrictions, including the curfew, for another thirty-days.  Corona was now our way or life for the long run.  I cannot even believe that we have already survived five-months of restrictions!  We shall without a doubt survive month number six.

WWB, the coach, Eldy, Kenya, 27-Aug-2020

Same run, but different run

Same run, but different run

The Friday run was to be a repeat – a reconfirmation that Monday was not an accidental run.  On that Monday I was forced to take a thirty-minute break at the very middle of the run, at the turning point, when the rains just started from nowhere.  That break was a good rest.  After the rest, it was a smooth run back through the 10.5km.  However, I noted that I was really struggling with my run, as if some force was pushing me back.  I however managed to finish the run and break a 21km record in the process.

On this Friday, I wanted to confirm that this run was still possible, without a break.  I left for this run at about 12.30pm.  The sun was already overhead, though it was not very hot as it had to also contend with the cloud cover that came on and off over time.  The start of the run was fun, without any pressure and the route was easy.  I now had the route profile in memory.  I would just run the 8km, then make a gentle left turn for another ten minutes, and would then do a U-turn when I felt like it.

The run to the 8km was good.  Though the route seemed to be hilly, in my sight, I found it quite easy to run on.  My right wheel was however still giving me trouble.  It pained as I ran, but seemed to improve with time.  I could feel the pressure of pain on my knee and had to reduce speed at places.  Accelerating was out of the question due to the pressure that the knee was struggling to handle… and failing to handle.  The knee pain subsided and was virtually gone as I headed to Kipkenyo.  

After the 8km turn, at Kipkenyo, I started on the 2km stretch that would get me to the DEB school, where I was rained on last time.  I passed by the school and kept going for another five or so minutes, before I found a place that I would do a U-turn.  The sun was still hot as I did the turn, ready to replicate the run back to my starting point.  

My troubles started when I was now back to the DEB school, hardly 12km onto the run.  I started feeling that force pushing against my run.  I reduced speed and kept going, almost coming to a halt, even halting at some point.  I was feeling the fatigue of the run.  The road profile, in my eyes, was generally downhill.  So why would I be struggling with a downhill run?  If anything, I should be rolling without an effort!  But believe it or not, I was hardly able to keep up with the run.

I could have abandoned the run altogether, but I was already too deep in the run, and of course, did not have any alternative.  I had to make it back to the finish line, or otherwise be lost many kilometres from my destination.  I motivated myself that I had done worse runs before and that kept me going.  I kept struggling but kept running.  I kept estimating my remaining ‘survival’ distance as I kept going.

Finally, I reached the last left turn for that spelt the last one kilometre.  I was re-energized.  I was going to make it to the finish line.  The sun was still hot but that did not mean a thing.  I was going to finish the run.  And soon, in another five minutes, I did finish the run.  I recorded a distance of 23.28km in 1.54.00.  The verdict for this particular run was that I barely survived.  

For a second time in four days, I was still unfortunate not to meet any runner at this home of champions.  Maybe my run time was occurring at the wrong time?  And just like my initial denial on Monday, the map profile on Runkeeper and Endomondo still indicated that there was a 100m uphill run when I start the run back after the U-turn.  My eyes may have been seeing otherwise, but the geography of the earth did not lie – the last 11km was a continuous uphill.

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, Aug. 21, 2020

When I had to rate Eldo-rate... the run way

 When I had to rate Eldo-rate... the run way

The taps of the heavens opened up fully just when I got to my intended turning point.  The timer was just reading 10.75km.  I had to take shelter on the front canopy of a roadside shop.  I would soon be joined onto the same corridor by a motorbike and passenger.  The two disembarked and the rider pushed the bike onto the corridor space.  A second motorcycle with a passenger would soon join our trio onto the corridor.  The rain persisted.  It was heavy.  I could see the main tarmac road, traversing my line of sight just about ten metres ahead, full of rainwater.  

Vehicles would speed up on either direction, splashing a full shower onto the roadsides.  It was heavy.  A third motorbike would momentarily force itself onto the corridor.  This one had just a single rider.  It did not take long before a fourth bike, with its carrier full of boxes, forced itself onto the corridor that now had six people standing.  All fourteen eyes were soon gazing through the rain, onto the road.  The rooftop iron-sheets made a noise, momentarily deafening us.  We remained quiet.  We kept gazing.  It kept raining.  It was heavy.

The rain subsided after about thirty minutes.  It was not just about two o’clock.  I was the first to leave, when the rains had turned into drizzles.  I would start my runback as a steady pace.  The four bikes would soon overtake my running frame.  I did not care.  I was running my run, going back through the route that I had already traversed for about fifty minutes.  I knew it all too well, only that it was now wet and muddy, unlike my earlier dry run.  

The main tarmac remained fairly deserted, with a vehicle zooming past in either direction after about every two minutes.  I would just have to persist with my run on the return route, until I finally finished my run.  The run was however a bit difficult.  I could feel the efforts that I had to put on my legs to kick forward.  Nairobi runs seemed easy over similar distances.  But this one?  Not this one!  This was having a toll on my legs, despite my runs being just less than fifteen kilometres done by this time.

But how did this run come to be?

I had decided on a lunch hour run since I had observed that it tended to rain over the evenings.  I was therefore continuing my runs over the lunch hour, just as I had done in the big city.  Mornings were out, because morning are sleep times for the time being, special thanks to TT for forcing humanity into lockdown and stay homes.  By morning all should be in self-isolation, which should end from around ten-ish.  I was confident that the lunch-hour time slot was still the suitable one for a run.

It was a Monday, and so it was a run day.  I left for the run at 12.40pm.  The weather was downcast.  I could hardly see a ray from up there.  It was however cool with no signs of rains.  I was running on a new route, just formulated by looking through Google maps.  I was to run by a tarmac road from Eldoret suburbs on the Eldoret-Kipkenyo-Simat road for 10.5km, then turn back when I got to that mark.  

Simple enough, but maps and the reality on the ground are sometimes different.  The satellite imagery used on maps could be old, failing to capture new features on the ground.  I had that in mind as I did the run.  I had that map etched to memory as I translated it onto the run route practically.  It would be a generally straight run on the tarmac to 8k, then a gentle left turn for another 2.5k, then a U-turn back.

This is the first-time route that I was to run on this day.  I run, I did.  Starting slow on the built-up areas of the suburbs, before hitting that main road to turn right.  The road was a good quality new tarmac, but had very few vehicular traffic.  It was also wide with a separate pedestrian walkway far from the tarmac.  I kept to the side walkway as much as I could.  I could have run on the tarmac if I wanted to, since the road was fairly deserted, but I decided to keep to the dusty side road.

I kept running through unfamiliar territories, but I kept going.  I had the option of turning back at any time if I wished to, but I was at the same time determined to get to that 10.5k mark, before I turn back.  I would finally get to the anticipated gentle turn towards the left on the 8k mark at Kipkenyo.  

I was glad that I would in about ten minutes be turning back.  Just a little more run and I would be done.  However, I must have spoken too soon since this is exactly where ‘the rain started beating me’.  It started with a drizzle, then a heavy drizzle, then a full rain as I ran into that canopy of that shop.

The rain would drum on the roof as I waited.  The three motorbikes and their humanity would join me on the small space of the shopfront.  We would endure the thirty-minute of standing about, each of us preoccupied, saying nothing.  My gaze would jump across the road.  

I would read a signboard written near a fence on that side of the road, ‘DEB Mutwot Secondary School’.  I would wonder what would happen if the rain was to continue ‘forever’.  Would I be able to get back home by running through the rain?  I usually do not carry money during my runs.  Would I somehow get a ride back without paying up?  I was almost 11k from my finishing line!

However, the rain would stop at about two, and I would run back.  The run back seemed so hard on my system.  The route looked fairly flat, but the effort was just too much.  What is it with Eldy and the run?  Is there a reason why it is the home of champions?  Is it that the champions have ‘put something in the air’ to prevent the likes of us joining them in the club?  This was a tough run!  It however came to an end, and in good time.   A first half marathon in Eldy at 1.42.09 over a distance of 21.79km.  

I was looking at the run map on map after the run, when I saw that run elevation graph.  It had 225m of elevation, 110m of downhill and another 110m of uphill.  The uphill was on my way back.  The altitude at the home of champions turned out to be 2200m at my starting point and 2000m at my turning point.  

There was nothing ‘in the air’ preventing anyone from joining the champions.  Of course, COVID19 was still a real threat with 21,943,454 infections worldwide, with 775,228 deaths.  Kenya at ranking number 63, based on infections, had 30,365 infections with 482 deaths.  Despite this, there was surely nothing else in the air that could prevent a runner from running.

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, Aug. 17, 2020

Running in the heat of corona medicine

Running in the heat of corona medicine

My Monday run was done in the most blazing heat that I experiencing for the first in over five-weeks.  I started the run at 12.40pm when it was already shinning overhead.  The usual overcast weather of the last month was gone.  I hoped that the sun would relent, and probably give way to a cloud cover, but this did not happen.

“This is bad!,” I talked to myself as I passed the 3km mark on the other side of Waiyaki way.  I would soon run under the Uthiru flyover, and turn right to head towards Ndumbo.  The shine persisted even as I passed by Ndumbo.  If anything, the temperature was added a notch higher.

“At this rate, I shall surely collapse!,” I heard that inner voice saying.  I was on a routine Monday run, where I would normally not carry my water bottle.  It is a run that would last for about 100 minutes.  I would normally manage such a run ‘without a sweat’ when the weather is favourable.  

But today?  Not today.  I was already suffering a thirst when I hit the 7km at Lower Kabete road junction.  I was soaked sweaty even as I now faced the uphill run that would result into the left diversion to Mary Leakey, then through the deserted university farm.

The heat continued.  My thirst started up.  I kept going.  The run would continue at a steady pace despite the heat.  I somehow managed to get to Kanyariri ACK church, then to the shopping centre, where I would normally U-turn back.  I however, kept going.  I wanted to add one kilometre to the day’s run.  That meant pushing myself into the hot draught upto Gitaru market where I would do a U-turn.

Gitaru market came, and Gitaru market passed.  I did not do the U-turn.  I kept going.  I had now decided to just go round the big circle around the Gitaru market.  That would mean getting to Nakuru highway at the Southern by-pass turn off, then taking a bit of Wangige road, before getting back around Gitaru market.  

This is the second time that I had failed to do a U-turn when I had the opportunity to do so, but sometimes the run can get the better of you and make you forgo even the best of pre-plans.

The heat was however unrelenting on this day.  I could hardly notice the now completed tarmac road towards Wangige.  The very section that had been blocked and full of soil for the longest time possible before today.  The tarmac was still under finalization, but the vehicles were already using it.  I ran on it for about a half-a-kilometre, before I was forced to turn right to get back to Gitaru market.  

I was then faced with the run back on Kanyariri road.  The route that would take me back to Ndumbo.  How I survived that 6k back to Ndumbo is still a mystery.  It was hot!  I was thirsty!  I was dehydrated!  My fuel reserves had all evaporated in the sun.  I was just forcing a leg forward followed by another.

I regained confidence that the run would somehow be finished when I rejoined Waiyaki way under the Uthiru flyover after about two hours of running.  I now had only 3km to go.  I would have to finish these 3k, even if it is the last thing that I did….

My mind would drift back to a meeting a had hardly 24hrs before, in a house just behind my back at Uthiru.  It would not take long before the corona topic came up.

“Hakuna korona,” I would inform them.

“What do you mean ‘hakuna’ and people are dying like the end of the world even in the US?”

“My conclusion is based on the study of the TZ case.  Their last corona case was in early May.  They have never had another statistic since then.  That surely means that there is no corona!”

My sis-in-law would immediately confess that a colleague of her’s – the next desk person – was surely diagnosed with TT in June.  It forced the whole office staff into tests, isolation-as-they-waited-for-results, before they were cleared back since they were not infected.

“Imagine the guy just complained on a sore throat.  I jokingly encouraged him to go for a covid test.  Little did I know that the test would be positive!  I was kind-a-joking but it happened so fast!”

“Hata mimi I had some flu-like symptoms two weeks ago,” my brother updated us, “And I was forced to go for the corona test!  I am glad I did not have it.”

“Na hiyo test,” my in-law started and shook her head, “Wacha tu!  Hiyo test!”

‘Wacha tu’ would mean leave the test(ing) alone.  Do not dare.  Do not try it!

“Wana kuingiza ka kijiti kakubwa kwa mapua!  Ni uchunguuuu!  Wacha tu! I tell you!”

That is it!  Do not dare!  Do not try it!  The test is nasty, bad, something not to wish on your worst enemy of enemies.  However, what must be done must be done and there is no gain without pain.  So, when the time comes, do a ‘Wacha tu’ after the test!

Soon we would get suggestions on all manner of medicine for COVID-19, as volunteered by the discussions among the six or so adults in the room.  They recommended the ‘corona medicine’ as a mixture of ginger and lemon.  There it is – the corona medicine.  Do not say that you did not hear of the medicine.  There, you see it?  They did not go into the details of how many parts of what goes into the mixture.

“There it is!  That is the medicine.  Take it or leave it!  Do you want it or not?”

The discussions at that meeting of yesterday just filled my mind as I kept running on autopilot.  I was all smiles as I finished my 27.5k run in 2hr 15min 06sec on this hot run.  I am glad that my mind had drifted into the TT territory, since that had kept me going and finally smiling.  

However, the number of global infections had just reached 20M or 20,147,024 to be numerically correct.  736,098 people had died while 12,990,691 had recovered.  That meant that the active cases were about 6.4M.  Kenya’s numbers were 26,928 infections, 423 fatalities and 13,495 recoveries.  My smile would momentarily change into a hopeless stare at those grim stats.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, 10-Aug-2020