November International boycott… when action is louder

November International boycott… when action is louder

The MoE* had communicated the Friday, November 25, 2022 date for the November international marathon as early as October, just after the Stanchart Nairobi International.  I was therefore confident that this scheduled run would attract many runners who had about a month to prepare.  The card was also full of choice – anything from 2km to the big 21km.  There was therefore something for everyone.

*MoE – Marathoners of expert, the committee that organizes marathons

Three weekly reminders later, and the day for the marathon was at hand.  This was the day.  It was a Friday with a good weather, unlike the evening rains that had ‘spoilt’ a few evenings earlier in the week.  A semblance of cloud cover brought about an overcast day in the afternoon, but the rain clouds remained absent.  The sun would force itself out of the clouds by four, and it remained bright thereafter all the way to sunset.

I expected a big turnout, but things would take a turn at about two.  Beryl was the first to make her way into my office, all smiles…

“I come in peace,” she knocked onto the frame of the open door.

“What a good marathon we shall have!,” I responded.  She surely must have been quite serious about the run to make it for the run this early, with two more hours before the start.

“I come with a peace offering,” she exposed a shopping bag and extended it in my direction.

There in lied the catch.  Nobody gives a peace offering when there is no war.  I however let it slip as I had an immediate encounter with Edu, who was just close behind.

“Coach, imagine I have a meeting at four,” he said in a manner of greeting, as Beryl took a seat.  I was now settled back to my seat.  Rummaging through the shopping bag.

I looked up.  He was still filing the door.  I had known that this type of statement would be coming sooner or later.  This is because Edu is usually the most enthusiastic of the runners in the team.  He would already have reminded me at least thrice that we had a marathon and that we shall be running.  He had done no such thing.  He had not contacted me at all since Stanchart.  

If anything, I had even met him on Thursday, just a day to the run.  I was finishing off my lunch hour run on the 17k, while he was walking leisurely with colleagues.  He would normally have even blocked my way and reminded me of the Friday run, lest I forget.  Not this time.  He just waved me along on this Thursday.  Those right there were signs that he was not running this international, but I still hoped otherwise.

Now it was all clear.  Edu was not doing the November international.  Edu would momentarily be gone, as I was now left with the peace offering to savor.

“Imagine I have to see my sis off,” she broke the silence, getting my attention off the bag of fruits.

“You mean!?”

“Yea, my sis is travelling abroad, and this is the day to say our goodbyes.”

Which coach in his right mind can refuse to grant a runner such a request? 

With no other confirmations for this Friday run, I knew that I was surely on my own.

When I started the run at four, I just left and did not look back.  I did not find or see any other runners, nor did I expect to find or see any other runner.  I was doing this on my own, for the team.  I was doing the run for all.  While the first 5k seemed relaxed and comfortable, as I run from Uthiru across Waiyaki way to Ndumboini then Kapenguria road, my real troubles started after the river on Kapenguria road.  My stomach just started paining.  I had not taken any other solid meal apart from tea and bread for breakfast, so this was a pain that I could not explain.  It was not a stitch, it would not be a stitch.  I wished it would go away.  It did not.

I was barely able to run as I traversed the university farm just past the 10k mark.  I was going to have quite an uncomfortable run, but it was now too late.  I would just have to endure to the end.  And the end was still far!  I was hardly halfway through.

Sheer willpower and pain endurance kept me going all the way to the turning point below Gitaru-Wangige overpass, before making my way back on Kanyariri road, to Ndumboini, then back to Waiyaki way and finally to Kabete Poly just 2k from my finishing point.

It was a relief to just somehow finish the run.  I did not care about the time.  I was just glad that I had done it.  The average run turned out to be 5m09s per km on the 24.5km course that took me 2hr 6min.  I was by now too thirsty having been unable to take any water in the course fearing the reaction of my stomach to water in my state of distress.  The thing that kept me going was the thought of the assortment of fruits waiting for me upon completion.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Nov. 27, 2022

Stanchart 2022 - The only marathon that did not get me

Stanchart 2022 - The only marathon that did not get me

The Stanchart Nairobi International marathon held on Sunday, October 30, 2022 was probably the first marathon over the distance that I have managed to do and recover so fast that I was back on my feet hardly one hour after the run.  I would normally be knocked out of my feet literally for at least 24-hours.  I would also not sleep in comfort due to the aches on the legs.  This time it was different….

I was doing the first marathon in Kenya since 2018.  I was in the diaspora when the 2019 run was held, while the COVID19 pandemic caused the cancellation of the 2020 Stanchart marathon.  The 2021 event was held fully virtual, apart from the few invited elite runners who were allowed to the run venue.  I had participated in the virtual 21 least year, but it did not have the usually anticipated euphoria of the crowds.

Four vaccinations later and I was one of the about five hundred runners who assembled at the starting line of the 42k run on the Southern by-pass road, just besides Carnivore restaurant next to Uhuru gardens.  I had woken up at five, taken two slices of bread and a lukewarm cup of black coffee before walking the one kilometre to the main gate of the compound where I was to pick the minibus to town.

We were less than eight in the bus as it left for the drive to Uhuru gardens at 0550hrs.  The road was fairly deserted on this Sunday morning as we drove on Naivasha road to Ngong road, then to Mbagathi way.  However, the jam started just as we joined Langata road from Mbagathi way.  It was just about 0620hrs.

The bus moved on at snail pace as we joined the queue of vehicles that were definitely going to the venue of the marathon some one kilometre away.  I could see the runners already walking or jogging along the road towards the direction of Wilson airport, then eventually to Uhuru gardens.  These walkers and runners overtook us as we struggled with the jam.

We finally managed to get to the Uhuru gardens designated parking yard.  It was getting full.  The runners were however already at beehive activity.  It was now just about 6.35am.  I had about 10-minutes to make it to the starting line past the Carnivore restaurant.

I started jogging towards the direction of the road, where I could hear the loudspeakers beckoning the runners.  They announced that the run would be starting in five minutes.  I was still struggling with figuring out a route that would get me out of the Carnivore grounds onto the Southern bypass.  I managed to find a gate that would exit the grounds and onto the road.

It was just three minutes before the run when I joined the crowd of about five hundred.  The weather was cool at this early morning.  It was almost chilly, but it was not.  And as per the tradition of the run, it did not wait for anyone since at exactly 6.45am the 42km marathon started by a simple pop of something.  I am not sure whether it was a balloon that popped or something else.  The group left and we started running towards Mombasa road on the Southern bypass.  The Nairobi National Park was fenced off to our right on the other side of the dual carriage.

My left foot was a bit painful.  I hoped that the pain would subside since I did not know how I would survive a four-hour run with a painful leg.  It could have been due to lack of warmup or something, since the pain subsided after about five minutes of run as I pounded the tarmac that had been completely blocked of any other traffic, apart from runners.

The first water point appeared besides the road, hardly ten minutes after the start of run.  I ignored it.  I kept running.  The crowd was sparse.  I overtook a few runners as we kept going.  We made a first U-turn somewhere near the internal container deport (ICD) nearly eight kilometres since the start of run.  I had studied the route map and I knew that we had another ten or so kilometres of run to get back to Uhuru gardens on Langata road.  The return run was uneventful before the 21km front runners appeared and stole the show.  This 21k run category had started at seven.  They sprinted past, the timing vehicle just ahead of the pack of ten or so, bicycles and motorbikes on tow.

I got to Langata road and passed underneath.  By then I had encountered water stations at least every four kilometres.  I hoped that the waters would remain abundant for the rest of the journey.  I could not survive a 42 without water.  Finally, I saw the 20km mark.  I now knew that the real run shall start in the next one kilometer as I repeat a distance akin the long run already done.

I also noted that since crossing under the Langata road the run had looked and felt hilly, and it was.  I had not planned for a hilly run, but there it was.  The water points remained available every 15 or so minutes.  The runners on the 42 were now few and far between.  I could hardly see more than a runner or two in front.
“Banana?  You need any?,” I thought that I heard.
I was completely immersed in absentmindedness that I did not even recognize a biker riding along.  He was the person asking, stretching out a hand that had a collection of ripe banana pieces.

I increased pace slightly to catch up as he handed me a piece, two pieces.  I bit a small piece and kept going.  I kept biting along over the distance.  I would encounter another banana point at a water station just as we neared the 30k turning point.  By this time the sun was blazing hot, though it was hardly nine.

That turning point was the best relief ever!  I now knew that I just had to survive the 12k journey back to the finish line at Uhuru gardens.  My body was still in good form.  I kept picking the water bottles from the water points whenever I got to them.  At about the34km mark I got to a fruit point and stopped.  I picked a banana and a melon.  I also got a water bottle.  That thirty-second rest was deliberate.  Those fruits were deliberate.  That water was deliberate too.  I was strategizing for facing ‘the wall’ – the point in time on the 42km where many runners collapse and pass out if they are not well seasoned runners.  I have almost passed out myself, so I know and recognize this point.

I infused some glucose that I had in my pocket into the 300ml water in the bottle and took a sip.  I then resumed my run, and it was now all run towards the wall, which came and passed without much notice.  I was now on the downhill and I was completely fine.  I was offered a choice of Coke or Fanta at some point on the run.  I took the small tumbler, with hardly 100ml of Coke, gulped it all down in a go, threw the plastic tumbler away, and resumed my run.

This run was now in the bag.  Nothing, repeat, nothing, was now standing on my way.  I was not aiming to break any records.  I just wanted to run for the first time on this new route and survive it.

Did I say nothing would stop me now?  I was wrong!

I got to the 40k mark, just before Langata road, where the 10k and 21k runner were also now making their turnback to Uhuru gardens, and the muscle pull on the right thigh hit me.  It was such a sudden and painful hit and I had to limp to a stop just at the water point.  I saw one of the officials and stopped at her standing position as she was directing the routes for the 10/21 versus 42 at this meeting point.
“Is there a first aid station?,” I asked.
She was taken aback as if she did not expect this question.  I could see her searching herself. She eventually responded, “Hapo mbele”

Fortunately, the short stop had given me a short relief.  Of course, there was nothing ‘hapo mbele’.  I just kept going at a reduced speed as the muscle pain reduced but did not subside altogether.  By this time the road was now full of the 10k and 21k runners who had all joined in as they headed to the finish.  They were mostly walking.  It was difficult for those still running like me to find their way through this packed mass.  I still managed to weave through and kept running.  The finish line was now just a kilometre away.  I could hear the loudspeakers at the finish.

I left the Southern bypass and started to make my way to the Uhuru gardens using the back road.  The road remained full of runners.  I kept going.  The end was near.  I reached the enclosure that was to mark the finish line with all manner of crowds already full at all the available spaces.  I guessed where the finish line should be due to lack of clear marking or visibility.  And I guessed right by turning left.  I was soon crossing the finishing line with its timing chip mats on the track.  I momentarily got a runners medal.

But while the run was good, the stop confirmed that my body was overstressed!  I was tired and could hardly make any steady steps.  I thought of collapsing into a rest but a heard the B-and-B team member, Beryl, who had been waiting come to the rescue.
“Congrats!  There is no stopping.  Keep walking”
I obeyed and kept walking.  My legs were paining!  That muscle pull was still lingering in the back of the right leg and was not going away.  I could hardly fold the right leg on the knee.

Between picking free tree seedlings availed to all runners to pick and take home to plant, and taking some photos and water, I still recognized that my right tight was out of action.  It was painful.
“Someone give me an extinguisher for my leg,” I lamented as I walked along, “My leg is on fire!,” I cried out loud!
“We can seek a medical,” Beryl suggested.
I am not sure whether I agreed or not, but I kept walking as we headed to an ambulance branded ‘Nairobi Metropolitan Services’.

“What is the issue?”
“My leg is painful!  I can hardly fold my knee.”
“Sorry, but we have run out of supplies, but you can wait”
Wait?  When my leg is hardly functional!

We waited, before I was finally called back to the next similar ambulance.  The attendant applied some cream on the thigh, then massaged the area with ‘Deep heat’ before applying a bandage dressing.  That application burnt like hell!  But it was short lived, since I was soon walking about normally as if nothing had happened to that leg.

My day was normal from that point on.  I even managed to attend a full afternoon meeting when back to Uthiru, albeit virtually, and walk another 3k home in the evening.

While previously I would be bedridden immediately after the run, and would toss and turn the whole night after such an event, this time round it was different.  I became normal immediately after the run and did not have those aftereffects of the marathon.  Maybe it is the monthly international marathons that have reconditioned my body to take the event much better than before?  Or maybe it was the route?  

Or was it just my good day?  The good day that Runkeeper recorded as 42.27km in 3.29.09 at 4.57 average, while the official record recorded the run as 3.28.39 at position 240 out of the 538 in the men’s event and 296 overall.  The winner in the men’s managed the course in 2.10.22, while the ladies champ took the crown in 2.27.04 in a field of 154 ladies.  The total number of posted results were 692, both physical and virtual.

The confusion at the finish line was a subject of discussion and appeals, after some leading runners in the 21k were directed to the wrong finish point only to be forced to turn back.  One national newspaper even described it as ‘chaotic’.  So, while Stanchart got it right in areas such as adequacy of water supplies and even some fruits and drinks on the 42, plus those free seedlings at the finish line, they could have done better in crowd management and a well-organized finish line.  But this was my retirement run from the 42, so, I may not get to know if my suggestions are taken on board over the distance next time.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Nov. 1, 2022