Rain and dark – the two enemies of the runner

Rain and dark – the two enemies of the runner

I have been resisting the urge to share my experience about the Monday run.  I deliberately avoiding this write-up on that Monday and did the same avoidance yesterday.  The urge on the fingers is just too great today that I have no choice but to talk about it.  I was ashamed to tell this story due to the bad choices that I made on that Monday, but you cannot hide from the truth, so here goes…

I was attending one of those online meetings when things go wrong for no apparent reason.  My computer decided to disable the microphone for reasons best known to itself, yet it had worked so well in a previous meeting earlier the same day.  I therefore could hear and see, but could not be heard (and seen, since the camera on the laptop is inactive when the laptop is folded and fixed on the docking station).  I was at least able to assure the participants that I was still with them by virtue of typing comments now and then on the chat box.  I would eventually excuse myself at five, while the meeting was still on, and start my preparations for the run.

It has already rained earlier in the day, with more showers manifesting around the lunch hour break.  I knew that the ground would definitely be muddy at some point in the run, but maybe it could as well have dried up, since it was now over three hours since the last showers.  My main concern on this day even as I started the run was the time.  I would be starting the run just past five and I expected to do a two-hour run.  That would mean finishing the run past seven.  That would be late by running standards.  Runners are not encouraged to run in the dark… for safety reasons and also for reasons of culture (think night + runner).

I leveraged on the likelihood of the darkness not being manifest until past seven as a an assurance that I would run in the dark.  Afterall, the earth’s revolution was still just around the equinox, and the daylight hours should therefore be longer.  I therefore started the run just about five-ten and was on the usual run route that would take me from Uthiru to Ndumboini, then down Kapenguria road to some part of Lower Kabete road, then I would divert onto the road towards Mary Leakey school, then University Farm and finally would emerge at ‘the tarmac’ on Kanyariri road.  I would then run about 3km to my turning point past Kanyariri shopping centre, and then start my way back straight on that tarmac to Ndumbo, and back to Uthiru.

This is a run-route that has accommodated my usual once-a-week runs.  It springs no new surprises.  It gives you the strain of the hill, from about the 5km mark at ‘the river’ and keeps the hill-pains burning until the U-turn point at the 15km mark.  The turnback is a relief, since it provides you with a downhill terrain all the way to the river before Ndumbo, where we face a final 1km uphill before you are generally done with the run of the day with those last 2kms.

I did not expect any surprises on the road, but I was proven wrong.  I had just passed Ndumbo market, hardly 30-minutes since I started the run, when the first drops of rain hit me.  I kept going with the hope that these were just intermittent drops from the earlier rain.  This wish was however not granted.  I had just started on the downhill from Ndumbo towards Wangari Maathai institute when the heavy rain started from nowhere.  I encountered a few passersby trying to run the uphill, with little success, while cursing the rain.

“Sasa huyu mbua natoka wapi yawa!,” I overhead as a group of three or so gents tried to run uphill, while I enjoyed the comfort of going downhill.  They looked like manual labourers going back home after a day’s job.

The rain did not relent.  I had second thoughts of whether to just do a U-turn and go back to Ndumbo, then either shelter at Ndumbo or run back and abort the run, but that did not happen.  What happened was that I kept going, even as a sheet of rainfall engulfed my whole body, blinding me even as I passed by Wangari’s institute.  The waters were cold and chilly.  I shivered as I kept going towards the river.  I was now completely at a point of no return.  I would not be encountering any form of shelter now, until I get to KAGRI and Kabete Children’s Home, some one kilometre ahead.  The last shelter was now equally about a kilometre back.

It was still raining heavily by the time I got to the river.  I saw a few people take shelter under the trees besides the main tarmac.  They seemed to look at me with some pity.  I did not care.  I was already having my own troubles with the soaked clothes and wet feet, after the running shoes had been completely flooded with the rain waters.  I was in a dilemma at to whether I would continue running in the rain or would have to give up at some point.  I now cursed that decision of keeping on with the run, when I had the option of turning back.  The only reason why I kept running was because I was already in the shower, “maji ukiyavulia nguo, ni sharti uyaoge”. 

I was starting my run on the uphill after the river when the rain started to relent and then stop, just like that.  I would soon meet a group of about five runners coming from part of KAGRI farmland, definitely having been taking shelter from the rain.  By this time, the rain was almost over.  The drizzles were few and far between.  I once again applauded my decision to continue with the run, since the rain would have soon been gone anyway.  I reached Lower Kabete road as the only wet and muddy soul on the road.  I did not give a damn at the stares that I got, in a manner of asking where I was coming from with all that mud.

The run went well until I diverted towards the left, from Lower Kabete road, to start onto the road that would lead me past Mary Leakey school, then towards the University farm.  This is a dry weather road and the earlier rains had made it a bit wet and slippery.  I kept going though at a reduced pace to try to counter the effects of the potentially slippery road.

It would get worse when I diverted to my right to start the over 1km run through the Uni farm.  I once again regretted taking this run.  I should have obeyed that first instinct when the rain started, and I should have turned back and gone home.  Now I was surely in the thick of things.  And I do mean ‘thick’!  A thick layer of mud soon engulfed my running shoes, and I could hardly run, leave alone walk.  Each foot felt like it was lifting a 5kg load due to that thick layer of mud.  I have never struggled with a run in my life!  Removing the mud was an exercise in futility, since the shoes would momentarily be muddy and heavy once more after only a few steps.  I tried my best to keep running despite the pain of the heavy legs.  It was painful I tell you!

Endurance conquered the day, and I would eventually emerge at ‘the tank’, to join the Kanyariri tarmac ready for the 3km run.  It was a relief to hit the tarmac.  I ran on the sides of the road to dip my shoes in the water puddles and through the grasses to clean them up.  The shoes were relatively free of mud hardly five minutes after hitting the tarmac.  The rest of the run turned out to be smooth, albeit the gentle hill.  It was just tarmac all through.

It came to me as a surprise when I did the U-turn after Kanyariri shopping centre only to notice that it was getting dark.  It was just too early for any darkness to befall.  If it was getting dark when I still had about an hour of run, then I would be running in total darkness for more than half of the remaining run!  I had not planned for this.  I had believed in the equinox.  It now seemed to have failed me.  Or could it have been the dark clouds in the heavens?  I did not know what to make of it, but I was nonetheless still worried about this sudden darkening of the evening.

I was right to be worried, since it was quite dark hardly thirty-minutes into my return run.  I got to Ndumbo river when it was already dark.  I faced that last hill in near total darkness.  I reached Ndumbo market when it was dark, with the traders having already lit their lanterns to supplement the streetlights.  I got to Waiyaki way when it was dark.  I could hardly see the run path as I crossed the highway.  The road next to Kabete Poly was at least lit, giving me some relief from the dark.

I finally finished the run after a time of 2.09.47, when it was quite dark.  I learnt my lessons on that Monday, two days ago – if you want to run, make your decision, stick to your decision and just run.  No two runs will ever be the same and you need to be ready for anything when you are on the road.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, May 5, 2021