Streak 23 – Time for divine intervention

Streak 23 – Time for divine intervention

I stopped looking at COVID19 stats two weeks ago.  I said, “That is it,” at that time, since this TT thing is here to stay and there is no need to let it get into our way of business.  Just put on your mask while in the crowds a.k.a public places, wash your hands regularly or sanitize, to keep any potential germs from the possibility of getting to the respiratory track, and…. and hope for the best.  

Should you get it, just self-quarantine for two weeks, take lots of fluids, keep your temperature controlled and you should be OK, even without medication.  Of course, seek medication if the symptoms become too much to bear.  

But do not take my work for it, the ‘stay at home if you have it’, even after confirming that you have it is the official position from the employer, so let us do our best to avoid getting TT, but there is still life with TT, and life after TT.  

I am also encouraged that life is getting back to normal where the TT started.  China is back.  Germany is back.  France is back.  Spain is back!  England is back!!  Life shall be back to normal – TT or TT.

So, there it is, TT is done with.  

Now back to the runs.  I have been on the road three times a week since early March.  Initially it was a duel with TT.  Now that compe with TT is gone.  I run for myself.  I run because I want to run.  I just finished streak number 23 today.  

I am forced to retain these streak numbers for purposes of maintain a coherent story over time, otherwise, TT can easily take credit for having started this streak numbering system, but I am not letting it take that credit.  I count these numbers because I want to count from some starting date, being March 20, which because streak no. 1.  From that time it is three runs in a week, with each run being numbered.  TT, sorry, I am not giving you the honors of being responsible for this numbering.

The route that I was taking for this Monday’s run was the same old Mary Leakey route.  I have taken to having this route as my default run route, since it is ‘just at the backyard’ but it can give you as many kilometres as you want it to give.  Just add those Vet loops and you can even get 42k if you want to.

Let me not keep repeating the route profile that crosses the Waiyaki way at Kabete Poly, for the Vet loop across the road, on the other side.  These are the loops that can extend run to infinity.  After the loop or loops, you get to Ndumboini and down Wangari Maathai institute to Lower Kabete road.  From there a short uphill before you ‘disappear’ to the left to face the Mary Leakey route to be ‘abandoned’ at the university farm, before finally emerging at ‘the tank’ on Kanyariri tarmac to get you back to Ndumbo.  That is it, no need to repeat describing that route.

The route and what I encounter on it has remained usual, and I shall not bother repeat the usual.  I shall henceforth just be pointing out anything that gets out of the ordinary.  To start with, a lot more people are now putting on their masks, which is quite unlike hardly four weeks ago, when very few had them.  Even yours truly now runs with a mask – repeat – with a mask, not necessarily putting on a mask.  

The consequences of not having a mask ‘with you’ are dire.  A friend was arrested while walking around Westlands three weeks ago, since she was not having a mask on.  She however, got away with a forced 14-day quarantine confinement in a Government facility, read, some secondary school.  

She did this ‘getting away’ by telling the men-in-blue that she was two-months pregnant, hence was continually nauseated.  She was lucky that she had the mask in her bag, and showed it as evidence.  That incident reinforces the lesson – just have the mask with you, wearing it should be ideal, but having it is the bare minimum when using a public road – running, walking or crawling.

So, I was ‘on the run’, on the same old ML route.  Observing the many people now having their masks mainly fully covering their noses and mouths, few just having it hang on the neck.  I would soon be on the downhill run from Ndumboini heading towards Wangari Maathai institute.  

The downhill is easy to run, but you need good brakes, since you may over-accelerate to your fall.  I was on a steady pace – which would usually give me a 4min per k, when I heard some loud running footsteps, more of foot-thumping, from behind.  

There was definitely a runner behind me – but this runner liked the runner’s footsteps loud!  Usually we step on the road in such a way that the footsteps are not that loud.  These were loud, believe me.  I kept my steady pace.

“That must surely hurt,” I imaged the pressure hitting the soles of the feet, as I awaited the approach.

I would soon see this guy pass by and continue running downhill Infront of my path.  We were both on the left edge of the road.  

“Wow!,” I thought loudly, “That is fast!”

But there was something with that run that did not seem right.  The loud steps.  The ‘on-your-face’ type of overtaking.  The evident ‘dare-you’ attitude that he displayed as he passed me.  There were all things wrong with this fast run.  I was not however falling for this ‘children’ behaviour.  I have run many ks to be tricked into a dare.  I run my own run.  

And his tricks would soon be evident, as the apparent runner would slow down hardly twenty metres ahead and come towards a walk, then a stop.  He started walking as my approach become very evident.  I would soon be almost overtaking his walking frame, when he again started running besides me.  

I kept my pace, even slowed a bit, to give him time to just overtake and be gone on his own, but he seemed glad to also reduce his pace, so that he could continue to somehow now just run alongside.  I tried to get back to pace, and he also started accelerating.  He kept alongside for about twenty metres.

“Just run your pace and leave me alone!,” I thought of yelling at him!

A runner does not like company, unless the company is solicited, welcomed and encouraged.  You do not force yourself onto some other runner’s run path and routine!  That is a cardinal rule for crying out loud!  No wonder I really doubted the authenticity of this colleague of mine, or maybe that is just how he was brought up – to outrun runners and dare them to an unsolicited duel.

I would force myself to slow down again to let him go his way.  I believe that he got the message even as he now tried his best to increase the pace of his tired body to a left turn towards Wangari Maathai institute.  I would soon observe him come to a stop at the gate, with his both hands on his knees.  I knew that he was suffering a burnout.  I could only imagine the fire burning on his chest as he maintained that stoop.  I continued my downhill to the river and then faced the uphill to Lower Kabete road.  

The weather was great for this lunch hour run and the usually muddy paths along the university farm were not that slippery, if anything they were drying up and starting to be easily passable.  I am so used to the paths being slippery and muddy that the ease by which I passed by still amazed me.  That road condition would also mean that it has not rained heavily, or at all, in the last two days – and it is true.  

I was now enjoying the run on this very isolated section of the road, where you run about two kilometres completely on your own, without meeting a soul, in the middle of the jungle – probably one of the very few isolated green spaces in Nairobi at the moment.  The quiet and tranquility was equal to none, it even felt a bit frightening.  But a runner is never frightened by any situation.  You adopt then adapt.  

That stillness would soon be broken when I saw something like a silhouette of a person in the thickets about two hundred metres to my right.  Soon I would surely perceive a real person somewhere in the thickets, somewhere under the shades of the giant trees that provided a shelter from the two o’clock sunshine that was now brightening my footpath.

That person took me aback.  I had to slow down to feed my eyes onto his every move.  I saw him make short walks, of about five steps to one end, then turnback and make about the same five steps to his starting point.  He was just oscillating on a small area in the thicket.  I was still wondering what could be gwan.  

I nonetheless kept running, one look forward, two looks to my right to peer into the knee-high thicket to observe the man.  The mystery would soon be over when I caught the very faint, but distinct chant of a prayer.

Now…. what else could need divine intervention, at the most tranquil of places, if not the TT, whose stats, as per JHU site now stood at 4,159,377 total cases on planet earth, 284,883 fatalities, out of which Kenya had a round figure of 700 cases and 33 fatalities?  The very TT that I have now given up on?  It can run its stats, while I run my run, just as I did today, at my backyard, over a 21.6km distance in a time of 1hr 45m 51s.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Monday, May 11, 2020

Sotokoto 6 with ones and firsts

Sotokoto 6 with ones and firsts

One am
I slept at one AM on July 3, 2016 – same day of the big run.  Thank Germany for this.  I had bet on them winning the quarter final match against Italy at the ongoing UEFA European Champions Football tournament in France.  I was confident of sleeping by 11.30pm when they scored their first goal in the second half for the match that started at 10.00pm.  However, it was not to be.  The game ended 1-1 by 90 minutes.  Extra time was a must, and no more goals were scored in the additional 30 minutes.  

I was therefore awake past mid-night to witness the penalty shootouts.  I have been ‘listening’ to the penalties in the last month, but I discovered that a local free to air channel was showing the matches and had my opportunity to watch the shoot-outs.  And who would have expected that both teams can squander three penalties a piece at the initial five kicks each?  The match was therefore won on the 9th kick of the extra five kicks.  I hope ‘the machine’ does not keep me waiting this long as they advance to the semis.  (Read a previous blog story where I lost a bet on some matches leading to this quarter finals stage.  I was therefore a bit passionate about my bets at this point.  So far all but one had come true.  The single miss being the Portugal-Poland tie, where the penalty shoot out let down my Poland bet)

Kumi na moja
That is the time was that I was taking breakfast, ready to leave the house for the bus stage.  I was at the Nakuru highway at 5.20am and got into a matatu ten minutes later.  I landed at the city centre at six and walked to Haile Sellasie – Uhuru Highway junction to await a vehicle.  This next vehicle took me past Nyayo stadium to the diversion at T-Mall, where the left side of the road was already closed and had to share the wrong side of the road with oncoming traffic.  I walked from Wilson Airport to Uhuru gardens – a ten minute walk – to warm me up ready for the run.

One toilet
The athletes had already started gathering at Uhuru gardens by the time I arrived at the gardens compound about seven.  It is usual to empty the body ready for such a run, and that is what forced me to the usual directions of the washrooms.  I was glad to see the single toilet block, though I wondered why they did not think of portable ones or any other way of coping with the expected numbers.  Woe to me, when I reached the block to find it locked.

“Wapi choo?,” a colleague in front of me asked the stranger standing around.  He could have been an official of Sotokoto or a cop or just someone in some uniform.

“Eh!... Imefungwa?,” he asked and answered himself, “Sijui”
A lady who was just ahead kind of pressed her mid-part with his hands, tried to walk aimlessly, but could not hold it any longer.  She just crouched and let go.  The two gents, and those behind us, now at an abrupt stop, just out of a locked block, decided to look elsewhere.  Luckily, there was a ticket on the fringes of the gardens.  The guys just watered the thicket.  Those with ‘heavier’ ideas fertilized the thickets, just almost in plain sight.

Saa moja
“Ni saa moja,” someone announced on the public address system, “Twakata kuanza mbio.  Wote waende kwa barabara nje ya compound hii.”

For the benefit of the foreigners, evidently Japanese, who were the main sponsored, she translated, “We are about to start the run.  All are asked to get out of this compound to the main road.”

Soon a crowd gathered outside Uhuru gardens, on the tarmac road now closed to traffic, next to some two signs of both of the road, written “START”

First Lady
We got to learn that the run shall be flagged off by the first lady of the republic, Mrs. UK.  Time started running and no sight of our host. Runners just milled around, some in chatter, others in thought.  Some took selfies, others watched them take them.  Some warmed up, others stayed put.  Some complained loudly of the delay, others were indifferent.

Three outrider motorbikes followed by three dark Mercedes Benz saloons signaled the arrival of the guest.  A fourth big van, same dark colour, followed at the rear.  As usual, these machinery forcefully ejected the once settled runners out of the comfort of the tarmac and had to seek refuge on the road side for the 30-second duration of the drama.

One hundred
One hundred is the number of runners that I counted at the starting line.  Is this not the worst publicized run in Nairobi?  Raising only 100 runners out of a city of over 1 million!?  Is this a joke or what?  I wonder why the organizers cannot raise the numbers, when other runs are twice expensive in terms of registration fees and these usually marshal over five thousand runners.  

This was the worst attended run ever.  I was been to other three Sotokotos in the past, 2009, 2010 and 2013, but none was this bad.  I tend to think that the organizers just woke up some day in mid-June and decided that they are holding the run.  Contrast that to the Nairobi International marathon, for example, which is already registered runners for the October event, over 3 months in advance.  And, this is just because it is local.  Other international runs at the big arenas in the US and UK register runners almost one year to the event, and close half year before the run.

July 1
Looking back, I was at Uhuru gardens secretariat office of Sotokoto on Friday, July 1 to collect my run number and kit.  This was after receiving official communication that the kits would be ready for all to collect from 9.00am on that Friday and the following day only.  I was taken aback as to how they can issue the runner kits just 48-hours to the event, for all the runners that they were expecting?  Had they deliberately orchestrated this run to fail or what?  How many people can collect kits within 48-hours at such a remote location?  It took me two hours on two public transport vehicles to get to these offices (plus a third broken down matatu and double the fare as a consequence).

“We do not have T-shirts yet,” the lady at the unmarked reception and the equally concealed secretariat office started when she saw my approach.  The reason why I was able to trace this office location was due to precedence.  I just recalled where I got it three years ago.  Without that experience I could have been lost.

“What do you mean?,” was my answer.  They had communicated to me that I should pick the gear, and here they were telling me that there was nothing.  Could they not get their act together first before inconveniencing such philanthropic runners?

1pm
She tried to explain that the kits were late, though they had the run numbers only at the moment.  She said something about suppliers, delays, expected after 1pm, come back later, or come back tomorrow.

“I come from Uthiru, which is in a different province” I told her, “I am not coming back here!  Get me someone who shall give me a solution.”

She hesitated.

“Make no mistake,” I reiterated, “Am not coming back to Langata road until Sunday.”

There is nothing that breaks the toughest of situations that some simple words, which I encountered when finally some guy came into the office, “Apologies, we are very sorry that the T-Shirts are not available yet.  Truly sorry.  Accept our apologies.”

What say you, when someone apologizes over a situation?  You are completely broken down and your defenses are no longer in place.

“Get me the run number.  I shall use a previous T-Shirt,” I assisted them.

0011
Was I really runner no. 11?  I registered for the event on June 15, having received an invitation through email the previous day.  The registration fee was KShs.1,050 – a strange figure, but when I finally saw the receipt showing only 1,000/=, I understood that the organizers did not want to incur any processing charges through the PesaPal platform that was handling the online payments.

If it was true that I was the eleventh runner, based on the run number, then the registration for this event was worse than I thought.  Add to the delay in providing runner kits in time and you have a situation at your hands.

One stanza
We sung one stanza of the national anthem just after her excellence arrived.  Thereafter, it was a matter of the flag off though a countdown from 10.  At count 1, the blast of a starter gun was heard and all started the run.  I started my timer.

The run route had changed.  I have run from the Nairobi National park to Nyayo stadium and back as was the inaugural run circuit or from Uhuru gardens to Nyayo stadium with two loops and back, as was my second run in Sotokoto two.  

This third run on Sotokoto 6 was taking advantage of the newly build Southern by-pass that connects Langata road to Nakuru highway.  It was a simple enough route – a run from Uhuru gardens, straight to the by-pass to head towards Ngong forest side upto the 10.5km mark for a U-turn back to the stadium.  Just 21km of nothing but pure, dark, hard, unforgiving tarmac.

One water point
I had expected some water points along the route, especially at the 5km marker, but this did not turn true.  The ‘5km’ board was lonely at the centre of the road with no water point on site.  It took sheer will power to just keep running without knowing when this vital hydrate shall be available.

The run was uneventful.  They elite runners just sprinted off, while the rest of us veterans tagged along.  The runners were quite few, and that meant that the crowd was think, in fact just a file of runners, usually 20-50m apart.

I met the first runners, the fast ones, at a time of 0.38.00.  They were already on their way back while I was yet to hit the 10.5km turning point.

Water relief!  I meant what a relief!  I finally reach the U-turn, to get the first water point, even as I dip my fingers into the basins that contain some ink.  Just like the First Lady marathon in March, we have a similar dip-fingers-in-ink situation.  Please, invest in some simple timing chip.  Those transmitters cost less than a cent for crying out loud!!  I briefly glance at my stop watch which reads 0.50.00

One (more) water point
I encounter a second water point on my way back, at the 5km mark.  I know it was now there for long, since that is the route I have just been through some 30-minutes ago.  One other rule in running is to ensure that you have some water at all time.  I apply this rule by throwing away the almost empty bottle that I took at the turn-back point and pick a full one.  I run with this to the finishing point.

The way back is easier.  I just realize that the first leg was hilly and the way back is generally on a downhill.

111
I hit the finish line inside the Uhuru gardens and the organizers hand me a small piece of paper.  The number 111 is written on it.  This is my finishing position.  I guessed the runners were one hundred only, but maybe I was wrong.  However, I doubt if they shall be more than 200, based on the numbers that I encountered on the route.

Another round of recording names on the finishers’ sheet, and then a walk to the tent where the blank finishers’ certificates are issued after they put a big cross with a marker pen on the runner bib having the run number.  

The predominantly red lettered cert reads, 
“Certificate of Completion – 2016 Sotokoto Safari Half Marathon.  This Certificate is hereby awarded to dash dash for succeful completion of the Sotokoto Safari Half Marathon dash dash category (21km/5km) race in a time of dash dash.  Awarded on this day of 03rd July 2016.  Signed (signed for sure) Douglas Wakiihuri, SS, Race Organiser, Sotokoto Safari Marathon”

The typo on ‘succesful’ is real.  I had to re-verify to confirm that this typo shall last with us for eternity.

Good thing is that I shall be having the first certificate to show for this event – which I had previously described as the run with nothing to show – no cert no medal.  At least they have now worked the cert part, albeit a dash dash version.  Maybe, just maybe, we shall be looking at some medals soon.

This is what I shall fill on one of the dashes… a time of 1.34.18.  The other parameters such as distance, calories, average speed, max speed, slow speed were not available since I just replaced the bat of the gadget and forgot to calibrate.

11.11am
I alight from the matatu back home at 11.11am.  I finally have my T-shirt as a carryon luggage.  I collected this T after the run.  The organizers had asked me to check before/after the run.  I managed to check after the run, and after sms reminder that, “Pick your size small T-shirt as the only ones remaining”.

I was categorical on the application form that I needed a size L.  I was even the eleventh athlete to register.  How is it possible that I can get a leftover T-shirt of size small?

“You are lucky,” the gentleman at the secretariat office informed me, “I stumbled upon this size M”

Lucky?  Really?

Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya, July 3, 2016