The May international in June – when the pain is delayed

The May international in June – when the pain is delayed

The pain would come in two days later.  I had thought that the worst was gone, but how wrong could I be?  I could hardly wake up this Friday, two days after the run.  My legs were hurting, especially round the knees.  I knew that it was that Wednesday run.

On that Wednesday, two days ago, I had started my run at 12.30pm on the dot.  The weather was great, with just the right intensity of sun.  The air was, however, a bit still.  I would have preferred some windiness.  There was no breeze, but it was a bit cool.  The sun was still suffering from the defeat of the long months of rain that persisted most of April and May.  School reopening date even had to be postponed by a week due to these selfsame rains that had rendered the country mostly flooded.  The rain clouds had now generally retreated and left a dry spell that had lasted for over one week.  The last real rain must have been at the end of May.  The sun has since been progressively trying to shine back to its glory while the rain clouds subside.

This lunch hour was no different.  The clouds were still trying to stop the sun rays at intervals as I started the run.  The run started well and I already had an idea of the run distant.  I was cognizant that I had missed the May marathon that was to be held on May 31.  I was however on a bus for the long 8-hour trip to Western Kenya on that marathon Friday.  I had for a moment thought that I would skip the May marathon after that miss.  However, I was sticking to the marathoners motto of ‘running is a must’, and here I was, finding myself doing a compensatory marathon on this twelfth day of the month.

“If you want me to cancel a run, then ensure that we do not cross the gate,” I have been telling my folks, and that saying remained true on this day.

I started feeling a pain on my right wheel as I started the run, hardly before reaching the exit gate.  This was just after a short warmup run of 4kms.

“Let me just push it to Kabete Poly and see how it goes,” I lied to myself as I exited the gate.  

I knew that an exit through that gate meant that I was going for the full run – come rain, come shine; come pain, come relief!  But do not take my word for it.  It was just last month during a similar compensatory run that I was rained on most of the way, and I still survived.  Sanity could have called for a dropping off, but the spirit of ‘running-is-must’ could however hear none of that.

The leg pain persisted to the 7km mark at Ndumboini market.  From there on I got some relief as I went downhill towards Wangari Maathai institute down onto Kapenguria road all the way to the river.  I would then take the 1km uphill on the same road to join Lower Kabete road five minutes later.  The sun was still overhead.  The air was still still.

I turned right towards UON Lower Kabete campus, and kept going.  The road was generally deserted of walkers, though the vehicular traffic of occasional matatus and mostly private vehicles traversed the road at intervals.  I approached two cops armed with Kalashnikovs just before the campus, also walking on the sidewalk heading the same direction.  

I thud my feet loudly as I approached their backs to alert them of my approach.  I did not want an incident where they pretend to have been run-towards and had to ‘do something’ in self-defense.  They both momentarily turn back as I get within range and soon after, overtake them.  I benefit from their “anakimbia na hii jua” comment.  I am happy that the complement is a bit mild this time round.  I have heard worse description of runners before, let me just leave it at that.

I keep going.  I meet a crowd of people around the campus.  I am running on the opposite edge of the road next to the campus compound, but even on this opposite sidewalk I do encounter people who look and behave like college students.  If it looks and behaves like one, then it is one!  But trust me, I know, have been there.  Same uni, different campus.  

Who else can display the following behaviours, if not the students?  To start with, I approach a group of three guys all of whom are walking all across the narrow one metre wide footpath.  And, do you expect them to give way?  No way!  They force me to leave the sidewalk and get around them through the rough grass patch between the tarmac and the sidewalk.  I feel like being angry, even uttering a curse, but I force myself not to.  It is the age.  

Soon thereafter I encounter another group of about five.  By this time the campus gate is just on the other side of the main tarmac.  These five are chattering and laughing loudly and animatedly.  They have no care in the world.  The world is theirs.  They almost remind me of that, and I guess are ready to tell me to ‘runner bow down’.  They even give me the benefit of a story about what they did over the weekend.  It is more of who did what to who, but I do get to listen to the eventualities, since my footsteps are already retreated.

I soon pass by that hullabaloo of the campus gate area and keep going towards Kenya School of Government, and soon out onto the leafy surburbs of Lower Kabete with hardly any walkers around.  I keep going.  The run is now imbedded into my system and I have reached cruising level.  I am just going through the motions in this quiet environment.  

I pass by the Farasi group of roads, one after another, that is, Farasi road, Farasi close and Farasi lane.  It is a relief when I finally get to Ngecha road junction just next to Zen gardens.  I check on the tower clock at the junction.  It is now 1.40pm.  I know that I have another kilometre or so, before I do the U-turn.  I keep going on the Lower Kabete road and then divert to Spring Valley road for the short run to the U-turn point above the Red Hill road.

It is a welcome relief to do that U.  The run is now at least halfway done.  I now just need to survive the run back.  I am still energetic and rearing to go.  The weather has remained good so far.  My good fortunes however come to an end when I am back to Lower Kabete road and now have to do an uphill run all the way to UON campus.  That is a whole 5km of uphill.  I persevere and persist.  I am, however, getting tired and I can feel it.  I wish for a sip of water, though I have none.  I wish for a shot of coke or a bite of a melon, but those are just wishes on this Wednesday.  I almost start losing my senses as I pass the campus heading back towards Kapenguria road.

One thing you learn as a marathoner is to learn to listen to your body and know when it can easily give up on you.  This giving up is sometimes called ‘hitting the wall’.  I start imagining that I may hit the wall.  My situation is just due to the dehydration.  I had underestimated the effects of the heat of the sun.  It seems to have been sucking the energy and fluids from me for over two hours now.  I am also losing my sense of perception.  

I know that I shall soon be on free fall if I do not do something about the situation.  I deliberately switch the phone that has my timer, from hand to hand in short intervals, just to keep my senses engaged.  That action, after about ten reps, brings me back to reality just as I reach the river in readiness for the 2km uphill run to Ndumbo.  I almost give up when imagining that Wangari Maathai hill, but I also envisage the relief from the cool orange juice in my fridge and keep running as I look forward to how it shall bring me back to life in another 20 or so minutes – if I make it.

And making it I do, when I finish that devastating hill and now has only the short run along Waiyaki way, then past Kabete Poli(ce) then Kabete Poly(tech) and soon to the finish line.

“Leo kweli uliwezwa,” the sentries welcome me back laughingly as they open the gate as I head to the finish line.

I am too tired to even respond in affirmation.  I do not even know how I get the energy to wave back in resignation.  I soon thereafter reach the finish line and collapse on my seat wondering, “Why do we even run!”.

That question is soon answered when I access that cold juice after a shower.  I am rejuvenated and my body feels different.  I cannot describe this exactly, but it is some form of jumpiness.  A mixture of tiredness and satisfaction.  Just the feeling of a run.  No, we do not run for the 27.25km distance of this Wednesday done in 2:31:10.  That would be bad motivation and we would not even want to be on the sun for that long.  There must be another reason why we run.  Maybe we just wait and find out about the real reason when we do the next monthly international marathon on the last Friday of June.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, June 14, 2024

Running in installments during the April International Marathon

Running in installments during the April International Marathon

I left for this run not very sure of my run route.  One thing was for sure – I needed to register at least 10.5km on this Tuesday, so that I can wrap it up with another 10.5km the next day to make the 21km half marathon.  This came to be since the MOE* allowed the April international marathon to be run in two installments, equal or unequal, but installment run was allowed for the first time in the history of the event.  This exemption came about due to the severity of the ongoing rains.  It had been raining daily and at all times, that getting a run time window, let alone a long run time, was virtually impossible.  Breaking the marathon into two offered a real possibility to be out for a shorter time, and still achieve the longer run.

*MOE - marathoners of expert, the committee that plans our runs

I left at 12.35pm on this Tuesday.  I knew that I had at least 10.5km to do in this day 1, with a repeat the next day, if this was to be so.  Those of you who have done daily runs know that it is not an easy thing.  I was already dreading the mere thought of doing two consecutive runs.  And do not take my word for it.  I tried doing the 5-runs-in-5-days just two weeks ago and failed for the first time in the history of these challenges.  I could only make it for three-runs on Monday, Tuesday and Friday.  I skipped two consecutive runs on 17th and 18th – but with good reason.  I was booked for an internal meeting on one of the days, and external on the other day – both at the lunch hour run time.  But even the three were not easy on my legs.

The monthly April international marathon was scheduled for the last Friday of April, being April 26.  But it was a month of firsts, since for the first time in the history of the monthly international runs, we had to cancel the marathon due to the unrelenting rains, that were especially prevalent in the evenings.  We were all happy with the cancellations, glad that finally the MOE had given us a break.  We even went for the rainy weekend in high spirits.  A first month without a marathon.  We were looking forward to a new week with the schools back in session and a new month beckoning soon after, where May 1, a Wednesday, would be a holiday break.  What a great week ahead!

That was not to be.  Things took a turn on Sunday night.  It was just past midnight, repeat, midnight, when the national government announced that schools were not to reopen due to the effects of the rain.  They granted one week extension to the school holidays.  I came to learn about this later in the day, Monday, after I saw comments online about the chaotic situation on our roads and schools, with some students already travelled to school since they were not aware of the postponement.

There were to be new surprises, when later in the day the MOE sent a notification that the April marathon had after all not been cancelled.  It has just been postponed and would in fact be held in that week of April 29.  They sweetened the deal by indicating that the run would be done in installments over the two-day period that was remaining in the month of April.  Runners were encouraged to pick their run distance, divide it into two, and do the first bit of the run on the Monday, with a commitment to finalize the remaining bit the next day.

I have never faced an installment run before, where the distance is split into two.  That is why I was not very sure of the run route as I left for the Monday run on April 29.  A 10.5km is a direct run from Uthiru to Lower Kabete road through Kapenguria road and back.  However, that is only possible if the river just after Wangari Maathai institute is not flooded.  It has been flooded of later, and was impassible hardly ten days prior, when flood waters overwhelmed the support structures and filled up the whole valley including the road passage on top of the drainage culverts underneath.

My plan A was to get through to Lower Kabete road, and get as much distance as possible on day one, maybe even stretch it to 15k, then wrap up the balance 6k on day 2.  That depended on the river section not being flooded to enable me cross over.  If it was, then anything goes, and this has in fact happened before and not long ago.  

Take that April 12 run as an example.  I had encountered exactly this challenge.  I was set for a long undefined distance run, that was to at least get to Lower Kabete road.  It was not to be.  I reached that river crossing and found it flooded.  I saw some people wadding through the completely submerged tarmac road, dirty brown water reaching almost knee high as they struggled through the five or so metre crossing.

I had screeched to a halt.

“Oh emm gee!,” I shouted subconsciously.  

I found other stranded people contemplating whether to cross or stay put.

I stopped and assessed the situation.  I could see a flooded plain on the left side of the road.  The flood waters had formed a big lake on the once lush green agricultural land that had some banana stems, maize plants, and arrow roots.  They were all mostly submerged.  Only the upper half of the banana stems were visible.  The flood had thereafter formed a river on top of the tarmac road, as it flooded towards the left edge of the road, all across to the right side and onto a valley.

This stoppage interrupted my run rhythm on a day that I was having one of the best run paces in the year.  I was already at an average of 4.40min per km, which was quite something.  I am usually over 5min per km by this point on the run.  I had to go to plan B.  I made a U-turn and decided to tweak my way back.  

Running back the Kapenguria road hill early in the run was not fun, when my last 2km had been a smooth downhill.  I persevered and reached Ndumboini.  I then turned right and went to a run on Kanyariri road all the way to the Northern by-pass near Gitaru and back, registering a 25k in the process.  That was 17-days before this Monday run.  I was not planning for another U-turn at the river, but with the rains being as unrelenting as they have been, this dreaded U-turn and a new plan B was still a reality.

Back to this Monday run.  The weather was quite good, being just a bit sunny but with a cloud cover that was preventing the sun from its aggression.  I was to get to Lower Kabete road first, then decide on what to do next.  The aim was a 10.5km, the ambition as a 15km, the reality was yet to be determined.  All was well until I got to Ndumboini and did a loop towards UON Upper Kabete gate.  I was just turning back from the gate when I heard something like a drumming or a humming noise.  I had already met a big group of students, and thought that maybe there was a congregation of sort making these noises on this apparent opening day.

A careful listening and a reaction from the student crowd would soon give me the answer.  There was a rain approaching from Ndumboini stage coming towards the University gate.  That was the drumming that I had heard.  I would soon see the crowd of students, whom I had earlier run against, scamper in two directions.  One group ran towards the shopping centre where the rain was coming from.  The other group were now running back towards me, intending to shelter back at the Uni.  I was running away from the gate to rejoin Kapenguria road.  However, I was now not sure what to do – either turn back to the Uni gate and take shelter or run ahead to the shopping centre and take shelter.

There was no time to even think, since I would soon be hit by those cold outburst of a heavy rain that seemed to have come from nowhere.

“This is messed,” I said loudly, as I kept running, completely unsure of what to do.

“Why did I even decide to run today?,” I questioned loudly, “When everybody else is enjoying their lunch!?”

The waters were just too cold and I was already soaked wet by the time I got to Kapenguria road still in indecision.  

“What a day!,” I muttered, as I got to Kapenguria road, already soaked.  It is only the running shoes that were still pretending to be dry, but that would not last long with this intensity of rain.

“This is messed,” I found myself repeating.

Anyway, I was already rained on, and taking a shelter was not going to help me at this condition.  I therefore saw myself turn right and run down Kapenguria road toward Wangari Maathai institute.  Visibility was quite low with the heavy rain.  I kept going, muttering curses as I went along.  I soon got to the river crossing, the one that was uncrossable just two weeks prior.  

I found a big group of workers, struggling to take shelter on the trees next to the riverbank.  The rain was subsiding.  The workers seemed to be doing something on that river crossing, since I could observe a big pile of stones beside the road.  I guessed that they wanted to deal with the drainage issue.

The river waters had not yet risen to the level of the road.  The muddy waters were still forcefully permeating through the culverts below the road.  I could hear the rumble of the force of the pressure as the waters emerged on the right side of the road.  It would just be a matter of time before the waters overwhelm the culverts and start spilling onto the top of the road.  However, the road was clear and crossable for now.  

I decided to cross over and keep running towards Lower Kabete road.  I already knew that it would take just another 1 hour of rains and the return journey would surely come to an end on this river crossing since it would surely be a submerged road.  The rains had reduced by this time as I crossed over, and I therefore hoped that I would have the opportunity to cross back when without being stuck when I came back at some point.

I reached Lower Kabete road with my clothes dripping water.  It was still raining, though it seemed to subside.  I decided to turn right, instead of doing a return U-turn.  That now meant that I was going for the big 21, since once you make that right turn, there is usually no turning back until you get to the natural turning point at Red hill road.  I kept running, and by some bad coincidence, it started raining and it kept raining.  I cursed along, wondering why I kept going instead of turning back when I got to Lower Kabete road.  

Anyway, I kept going and decided that I would have to turn back soon.  I could not survive running in the rain.  I promised myself to do a U-turn as early as Farasi lane, but that did not happen.  It rained and I kept running.  I promised to do a U-turn at Ngecha road, but I crossed and kept going.  The rain continued.  I was to do a U at Zen gardens, but I did not, I kept going.  That meant that I surely reached Red Hill road and finally did the U-turn for my way back.

To my credit, it did shine for about 1 minute while going past Zen garden on my way back, and another one-minute of sun at Kenya School of Government, just before UON Lower Kabete campus.  After that, it was back to some drizzles as I tackled the Kapenguria road on my way back.  I was lucky that the river was not yet swollen as I crossed over.  The group of workers was still there, with their building stones piled up on one side of the road.  

There was no rain as I finished the run just before 3pm.  If anything, it seemed like it would even shine if the clouds could delay their advances in covering the sun.  A hot shower finally ended my misery on this Monday, as the timer recorded a 2:21:36 for 26.53km.  Would I do this again?  Of course not!  Running in the rain is a bad idea.  I should have done a U-turn at that first sign of rain at Ndumboini and saved myself from this misery, but then again, runners have a mind of their own – or lack of.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, May 3, 2024 

December international that was mean!

December international that was mean!

While the November international marathon went largely without a hitch, the December one was different.  It was done on the same route, but it got to me bad!  Blame it on the new route that came into the works during the October international marathon.  This new route takes you from Uthiru towards Ndumboini, and then down Kapenguria road, past Wangari Maathai institute all the way to Lower Kabete road.  

The usual runs, before October, would then direct me to the left to head towards Mary Leakey school to eventually join Kanyariri road, to then run along that tarmac to some turning point on the Northern bypass for a U-turn back to Ndumboini and eventually back to the starting line.  This December run, for the third time in as many months, would instead require a right turn as you join Lower Kabete road.  Then the run goes along Lower Kabete road all the way just past Zen gardens, then a U-turn back to the starting line.

This new route may sound simple, but it is not.  It has turned out to be one of the meanest routes that I have ever ran on.  I was initiated in October, did a second run in November, and hoped to nail it in December, but it was not to be.  The October debut was a struggle, as I got to learn the route.  The November run was more of a confirmation that this run could be modelled into the ‘new normal’.  December was to confirm that this route could be conquered and officially unveiled to the rest of the runners as the new route.

The November run, held on the twenty-fourth, was more of a memorial, and I would like to forget it in a hurry.  I even did not blog about it!  I left for that run on that Friday at lunch hour, instead of the usual evening run time.  It had been raining like crazy in that month, as blamed on the El Nino weather phenomenon (for those who do not know better), but the real culprit was climate change (who those who know better).  

In that month of November, it was raining daily, every time, every hour.  We occasionally had a few hours of no rains, and it is during such hours that we had to squeeze in the runs.  Friday lunch time was one such time slots.  The weather was good, and I just left and went for the run, not thinking much about it.  I went through the motions and finished the run at about 2.45pm after 2:16:02 on the road on that 25.25km distance.  My average of 5:23min per km was good enough.

I had largely switched off during that run.  I was still in deep thought over the events that had taken place that Friday.  Just a few hours ago, we had all assembled at the main hall.  The mood was somber, if anything, tearful.  I have never been in such a quiet meeting.  You could hear a pin drop.  There was no cheering, no clapping, no applause, no whispering, in fact, you even felt out of place to just think of clearing your throat.  The memorial service had started at ten.  The departed colleague had succumbed to breast cancer.  She was just a mother of one young child.  The service ended at 12.30pm.  I was downcast.  I could not have gone for the scheduled run that evening, I was feeling drained.  I decided to just go for the run after that service.  I was mostly robotic in my motions that day.  I was in Karatina one week later for Evalyne’s sendoff.

It is therefore the December marathon that was the run to confirm that the new route was a candidate for the new marathon route.  The MOE*, cognizant that December was a short month, had scheduled the Dec run on the second Friday of December, instead of the usual last Friday of the month.  Bad coincidentally, this last Friday would see me attending the last day of a three-day first aid training course.  This Friday was the last day that had the practical and theory exams that determined those who finally got through to be certified as first aiders for the next one year.  I could not make it for the run that should have started at four, when the exams were ending at four-thirty.
*MOE – marathoners of expert, the committee that organizes our runs

The December international marathon would finally come knocking on my door on Monday, December 11, 2023.  I did not feel ready.  I just did the run because it was a run day, and was also probably my last work day in the year.  I was scheduled to leave the city on or after the holiday of the next day.  In fact, this initial plan of starting the holiday the next day was put to the test just a week prior, when it became clear that I would have to miss the staff party on that Friday if I was to leave early.  I therefore had to extend my workdays by another three days after the run due to this last minute change.  Nonetheless, this was not going to change the date of the run.  The run was on.

December had also started with those daily rains, day and night, anytime, every time.  They kept being unpredictable.  Running continued to be timed whenever the weather permitted, instead of by schedule.  Finally, it was run day.  The sun was bright on that Monday at noon.  I was not taking any chances.  I found myself in the changing room and was out for the run at 12.35pm.  I had been on this route two previous times.  I should have been a walk in the park, but this was no walk.  It was a real run.  A real international marathon, where athletes are made… and crashed!  A run that you fail to take seriously at your own peril.  A run can dent your records… forever.  It is a run not to take lightly.

It was a good run, all the way to the U-turn on Lower Kabete road just past Zen gardens.  I even extended my run slightly to the Red Hill road underpass, where I did the new U-turn.  I was momentarily back to Lower Kabete road to run its length past Kenya School of Government, and the UON Lower Kabete campus.  And it is that section on Lower Kabete road that did the most damage to my run on that day.  The section was just hilly without a break.  It went on and on and on, every leg step being more tired than the previous.  It was a stretch of road section to forget.  I laboured on and managed to finally get to Kapenguria road.

However, the turning left from Lower Kabete road into Kapenguria road only offered a short seven minutes relief, as I went slightly downhill.  It was soon time to face the infamous 2km Kapenguria road hill.  The usual marathon routes have been crafted to avoid this particular encounter.  The new route unleashes this selfsame uphill in an equal measure, just when you are already tired after the long hilly section of the Lower Kabete road.

I was already deep in the run, with 19km already conquered, in just under 100 minutes.  Whatever was remaining had to be done.  What else was I to do?  Give up on the run?  Drop out!  Cry out loud!  That last one I actually did do.
“For crying out loud,” I cried out loud, when I reached Wangari Maathai institute where the next hill towards Ndumboini looks at you with a dare.  
With no choice, other than that crying out loud, I ran on and kept going.  I ignored the road repair crew who had reduced the road to a single lane for all traffic, and just kept pushing the legs uphill.

It was a relief getting to Ndumboini.  From there I knew that nothing, repeat, nothing, was standing on my way to the finish line.  And twenty minutes later, I finished my run at 2.50pm, after 2hr 22min and 54sec on the road.  My average speed had gone down to 5:27min per km.  I was happy that I was still standing after this run – another monthly run in the bag, oh, the last monthly run of 2023.  Lessons learnt from these twelve monthly marathons in 2023 – running is not easily, find a recurrent run event that keeps you on the road to force you into a routine, and finally, celebrate your run achievement every time, whatever it is.  You are doing better than you imagine.  Merry Christmas!

WWB, the coach, Eldoret, Kenya, Dec. 22, 2023

Running half naked – when running is a must

Running half naked – when running is a must

If there ever was a decision that I made just in the nick of time that turned out to be ‘healthy’, then today’s decision would be that.  Before this decision, the morning had generally been calm.  It promised to be a good day, even sunny if anything.  However, I knew that my troubles had started the day with me the moment I finished that cup of coffee with accompaniments at about eight-thirty in the morning.  It did not even take me thirty minutes to start being nauseated.  I could hardly settle down by ten, when I almost started drooling and made several trips to the washroom to clear my mouth.  It is then that I made the decision to take the day off and walked home.

That twelve minute walk seems like forever.  I finally reached home and virtually crashed the door down since my mouth was already filling up.  I went straight to the washroom where I threw up violently, almost suffocating from the continued outrush through my mouth.
“The hech,” I said loudly to the quiet house, trying to regain my breath.  Things had escalated quickly.
If I had delayed my walk home by even a second then many bad things could have happened either at the office or along the way.

I did many more spits and regurgitation in a span of thirty minutes while making the endless trips from the living room to the toilet.
“This is worse than I thought,” I thought loudly.
I was ready to get a vehicle to a medical centre.  I could not continue this way.  Any more outpouring and I was surely outa here.

My first aid training pointed to only one thing that could manifest and progress this fast – food poisoning.  There is something that I had got straight from fridge-to-mouth, and that accompaniment is what was the likely culprit.  This f-t-m was a shortcut that I now regretted.  I would normally have passed my fridged stuff to the microwave first, but not today.  I wanted to have a hot-and-cold, and now I was in for a bitter mouth and bile in the mouth.  I finally took some hot water, with the first round f the water triggering another outpouring from my belly, before my situation stabilized when I decided to take a nap in a seating position, empty pail next to the bed, just in case.


I was however lucky that this attack episode was today, and not yesterday.  Yesterday was a Tuesday.  It was the day that I decided to resume my runs after the Sunday, October 29 Stanchart marathon.  I had intended to have a week of rest after the marathon, but things happened and the break turned out to be two weeks.  I was therefore fairly well rested from that grueling 42k at Stanchart.  The intention for this lunch hour run was to do at least a 10k ‘welcome back’ marathon.

The spirit of running took me on a turn for the worse at Lower Kabete road after Kapenguria road.  I should have done a U-turn at this point and earned myself a comfortable 10k run on this dry lunch hour, the first in a long time.  It has been raining like 24-hours for the last week.  If anything, I should have as an alternative, turned left and done the Mary Leakey route and earned a 13k with no sweat.  Unfortunately, the run spirit directed me to turn right onto Lower Kabete road and head towards UON Lower Kabete campus.
“What are you doing?,” I asked the thing that was now controlling my every step.
“Turn back, you runner!”

There was no turning back.  I kept going.  My steps were strong.  I was energetic.
“Where are you going!  Turn back!,” the thing spoke.
I ignored.  I continued.  I soon passed by UON campus.  I then passed Kenya School of Government and the Post Office.  I kept going.  I at some point passed by Farasi lane school signboard.  I stuck to the sidewalk which was not there the last time I ran on this road, over five years ago.

I did not even know the end game on this lunch hour run.  I was supposed to squeeze all the run of the day to fit within the one lunch-hour hour, but here I was going and going.  The terrain was generally downhill.  I finally reached Ngecha road.  This should surely be a turning point, but no.  The spirit of run persisted.  I soon passed by Zen Gardens.  It brought back some good memories when training events used to be held in that compound… before COVID brought all that to an end.

“Turn back damn it!,” something in me begged.
I ignored it.  I kept going.  Even the walkway crossing the tarmac to the other side of the main road did not force me to turn.  I ignored the walkway and kept to the uneven path besides the road that did not have a walkway and trod on.  At this rate, I would soon be heading to the Redhill road and then Spring Valley Police station.  And of course the Lower Kabete roads terminates at Sarit Centre, and these landmarks were now becoming more real possibilities than before.  However, that would mean that the run would no longer be a lunch hour run, but a full marathon.

Finally, just before the Redhill road, I decided that enough exploration was enough and did a U-turn.  I am not sure what my ambition for this run was, but I told myself that I was exploring this side of Lower Kabete road, where I had hardly run for many year.  The roll down was equally easy on the legs which encouraged me on… but spoke too soon!  I almost came to a standstill when I did the U-turn.  The terrain of the return leg immediately turned out to be an uphill.  The struggle that I faced on those 5km back to the ‘tarmac’ junction to Kapenguria cannot be described on this generally hot lunch hour.

There would only be a short reprieve as I rolled down past Kabete Children home and KAGRI towards the river.  And I mean a really short reprieve, since I would then be facing the infamous Wangari Maathai hill section all the way to Ndumboini upto the Waiyaki way.  I almost collapsed in those 2km of real hill.  By then my once average time of under-5min per km was now thrown out of the run track.  I was likely to end up with an over-6, if this hill was to stretch even by a millimeter.

I soldiered on and managed to reach the finish line through lots of willpower despite my tired legs, stopping my timer at 24.12km in 2.03.44.  I was tired, but not as tired as the Stanchart.  I was not the only one tired at this late time of the lunch hour.  I found another run also taking a breather at the finish line at the Generator.


Josh has been in the marathon team for long.  We are in fact family friends.  I used to visit him sometime before COVID, when he stayed in Kikuyu town.  However, COVID spoilt many things including visiting each other, but I had kept in touch.  I know his family.  His spouse and child both run, and I have met them at some Stanchart events.

“You are still at Kikuyu?,” I asked, as we both sat at an umbrella just outside the Generator house, taking a short rest before we got back to work.
“Nope, niko kwangu huko Ngong’”
“Oh, you setup your own?”
“Sure, for the last two years,” he said, then continued, “You should plan to visit soon.”
“The year is still young.  I will purpose,” I answered, “How is Norah and that young runner of yours”
“Both are OK, lakini Norah hates Ngong’ with a passion!”
“Why so?”
“Wizi ni mob, houses get broken into all the time.”
“I thought you are in an estate with centralized security and all?”
“No, we bought plots and built.  Everyone just stays on their own, though we have neighbours.”

As we continued the chatter, now almost fully rested, he narrated a recent incident.  He was out of the country for duty, with the junior having gone to visit a relative, leaving Norah all alone.  On that fateful night, the bad guys jumped into his compound, which has a perimeter wall, but the wall is not very high.  The wife heard something like a commotion at the chicken coop, with the chicks making noises.  She shouted and raised an alarm.

It was not long before the neighbours woke up in their various compounds and started coming towards the direction of Josh house.  His immediate neighbor who has a domestic worker also heard the noises and sprang to action.  He jumped the separating wall and stumbled onto the thugs.  He noted three characters.  The unexpected confrontation startled the thugs who ran away and jumped hastily through the opposite wall of Josh’s compound, into another compound that is not yet inhabited, and soon disappeared into the dark night.  Quiet was restored for sometime, with the neighbours each talking loudly in their compounds, assuring all that all was well.

Finally, the domestic worker who had done the chase knocked onto Josh’s house.
“Norah, Norah!,” he called out, knocking the door, “Ni mimi, Simon.  Mikora imeenda.  Unaweza fungua mlango sasa.”
Norah finally gathered the courage to open the door, with the reassurance from the chatter in the neighbourhood and with Simon’s knock.
“Nimefukuza hiyo watu, wameenda,” he continued next to the still closed door.

Norah opened the door, relieved, but still shaken.
“Eh, nilikuwa nimeshtuka!  Haki ahsante sana, Simon,” Norah greeted him, door now open.  The dim light of the moonlight aiding in visibility and the light in the house now lit.
“Hiyo mikora ilikuwa tatu, iliruka kwa ukuta kama mashetani,” he described laughingly.
“Phew!  Ahsante!”

What a good ending, I thought.  No one was harmed.  And for sure no one was harmed and nothing was stolen this time round.  Previously, some of their chicken had been stolen in the dead of night by similar or same thugs.

But wait a minute, there is a part that I nearly forgot….

When Norah was now about to say her goodnight, she looked down the frame of Simon to note that he was armed with a slasher, but was also stark naked!
“Simon, eh, kuna endaje?,” she gestured downwards.

Simon seemed perplexed at the question, not sure he understood, before he followed the gesture of Norah's hand.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Simon responded and looked down on himself too, realizing for the first time that he was naked.

He abruptly and unexpectedly dashed off in full flight, without a word, and jumped over the fence to his compound, leaving Norah bewildered and at a loss of words.  She heard a loud thud on the other side of the compound as Simon fell over.  She did not know whether to get back to the house and lock or what was going on exactly.

It did not take long before she heard yet another thud as Simon jumped back to Josh’s compound now dressed up, still recovering her breath.
“Unajua nilikuwa nalala tu hivyo.  Lakini niliposikia nduru, nika amka tu hivyo na mzee nje,” he explained himself, and soon even forgot about the double-jump over his fence, and continued, “Lakini hiyo mikora iliruka ukuta kama mashetani!”

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, November 15, 2023

When the marathon is washed off… with you in it

When the marathon is washed off… with you in it

“What did I get myself into?,” I muttered to myself on this Friday of April 28, 2023 at about six in the evening.

It was now about 1hr 45min into the run.  It was probably the second time that I was saying this statement.  The last time I said this very statement was hardly forty-minutes ago, almost at the very same place.  I had by then just waded through the worst mud ever!  It was bloody muddy!  The whole section through the University farm was just impossible and impassable.

I had even been forced to grind to a standstill and had to walk a very impassible section of about four hundred metres with that Uni farm.  My shoes were heavy with mud.  Every lifting up a foot usurped double the otherwise amount of energy needed to lift and run.  It was also slippery and careful baby steps were needed in the whole of that section.  I was hardly halfway through that section when I had said loudly, subconsciously, “What did I get myself into?”

My colleague Mathew had already passed by that section.  I believed that he must have also talked to himself when passing through that section.  He had overtaken me earlier on the run, just after we left Lower Kabete road towards Mary Leakey school.  Though I had been leading the run till that time, I had then decided to divert to a different route to tweak my run and add some mileage, sorry kilometer-age.  

But he need not have said anything anyway.  After all, he was to blame for this exact predicament by daring nature when I had proposed otherwise.  I did not mind running through any terrain or difficulty.  If anything, it is him that I had worried about albeit now too late to do anything about the situation….

We had started our run at the Generator ten minutes later than planned.  It had rained the whole day that Friday.  The run had technically been cancelled, only for the weather to change for the better, just at four when the run was to start.  I hurriedly swapped work for sports attire and ran towards the generator.  I was surprised to even see Mat there, since I was not expecting anyone to turnup for the run.  Not in this weather.

Though there was no rain as we started our run at 1610 hours, the dark clouds remained perched on top of the big overhead umbrella.  It was dark.  We left and ran away.  We would just deal with the weather and its children when its brings forth future surprises.

The weather remained calm, despite the dark clouds.  I had initially suggested to Mat that we do ‘marathon route 2’ instead of the usual.  This route-2 is tweaked from the usual route but formulated to keep us confined to the tarmac.  This would however mean doing a U-turn as we hit Lower Kabete road, then coming back to Ndumboini.  There we would take Kanyariri road on the right and run as usual all the way past Uni farm turnoff, to Wangige-Gitaru underpass to do the extreme U-turn back.

“Halafu tupande hiyo mlima yote ya Wangari turudi nayo?,” Mat had asked, as we just started the run and were discussing the route.

“Yes, that is the only way to avoid the Uni farm mud, but if you are upto it, then we do it.  I do not mind.”

He thought about it for a minute.  By the time we got to the gate to start the run proper, he had made up his mind, “Hiyo mlima, hapana, let us just go through the Uni farm.”

I knew the better but kept this knowledge to myself.  We kept running and finally left the comfort of the tarmac at the 7km mark, 8km in my case, and diverted off to the left.  It did not take long to reach the dreaded Uni farm.  The Uni farm was muddy due to the earlier rains that seem to have fallen all the way from Uthiru to that section, some ten kilometres away.  I was ready for this and so waded through successfully.  I am not sure how Mat managed to get by, but I could see his prominent run shoe footprints well defined on the muddy path, mostly on the edges of the road.

We finally got off the mud and joined Kapenguria road tarmac.  We kept running and the weather remained stable.  We even made it to the Gitaru-Wangige underpass and made our ultimate U-turn, with Mat always on the lead as I tweaked around.  Trouble started on the way back, as I got to Kapenguria road after the U-turn at the underpass.  By this time Mat should have been about six-minutes ahead from my calculations.  That means that he was now turning towards the short Uni farm diversion that is part of this route to emerge back on Kapenguria road.  It was at this time that I realized that the sky was darker than usual, and some drizzles had started.

I kept running.  The drizzle remained sparse.  I would probably survive this.  After all, the cool shower spray from above was cooling the body in small measures, just at the right level.  I even increased pace on this section as I reached the Uni farm diversion for a three-minute run, before getting back to Kapenguria road.  However, getting back to the road marked the beginning of trouble…..

I started hearing the sound that accompanies a heavy rain coming from somewhere and getting louder with every step that I took.  I wished that it was not true, but the sound of the rain got louder and louder and louder until it finally busted out loudly on my path as the heaviest, coldest, shock-inducing, unexpected and painful water droplets hit me.  I was just approaching ‘the tank’, which marks the Uni farm turnoff, the very turnoff where earlier on I had almost got stuck due to the mud.  However, this time round I would be sticking to the Kapenguria road tarmac as I head towards the finish.

“What did I get myself into?,” I muttered to myself for a second time.

It was now about one-hour forty-five minutes into the run.  I had another at least thirty minutes of run ahead to cover the remaining six kilometres or so.

The rain increased in intensity.  There was no place to shelter on this fairly deserted road.  I was stuck.  I could not go back and going forward was proving difficult with the pain and cold of the rain.

“This is messed up!,” I shouted to no one in particular.  

I kept running.  The road was hardly visible due to the white sheet of raindrops that had enveloped the air.  I shoved the phone that was doing the timing into the pocket of my shorts.  I kept running.  Soon I was facing the 1km uphill towards Ndumbo market.  The rain did not relent.  It just increased the pain of running uphill.  I was dripping wet by this time.  My run shoes were heavy with the waters.  My clothes were freezing cold and dropping off water in my wake.  I was shivering along as I ran.  I did not stop.  I kept going.

I finally reached Waiyaki way.  It still raining heavily.  I could hardly see the oncoming vehicles.  Some were courteous enough to put on their headlights.  Others decided to remain invisible.  It is only the sound of their engines on approach that signaled their presence.  I somehow crossed one side of the road to the middle island, despite the invisibility caused by the rain.  I had to wipe off the rains from my face many times in the process of waiting and crossing.  I once again finally crossed the other carriage of the road and got to the edge of the Waiyaki way.

It was now time for the final run past Kabete Police station, then do the sharp U-turn towards Kabete Poly.  My run would be over in a moment.  I caught up with Mat at the Uthiru roundabout with less than two hundred metres to go.  It was the best feeling to finally finish the run, just as the rain as subsiding into drizzles.

I stopped my timer at 25.16km, 2.14.15, 5.20 average.

This is a run that I would have liked to forget in a hurry.  I did not want to reveal anything that happened on that Friday.  However, the best way to forget about something is to get it out of your system, which I have now done.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, May 10, 2023

Valenthon that was tougher than Kili

Valenthon that was tougher than Kili

If all had worked out, I would now be recuperating from a run at Kilimanjaro mountain.  But things did not work out.  I did not manage to travel to Tanzania, despite the best of efforts.  I still missed the bus.  It is for that reason that it is a run day Sunday in Kili but I am still in Nairobi and surviving another hot afternoon, a second hot afternoon.  Though I missed the Kili, I still had my own International marathon on Friday, February 24.  This was yet another monthly marathon arranged by the MOE*.

I know that folks are wondering what happened to the January international, since there was mention nor a blog story about it.  I will tell you why there was no story about it.  It turned out to be exactly as what I had written about in November and December, that is, I was alone on that long 21km route and I lived to tell.  I did not want to duplicate a story already written in November, so I left it untold.

I have just seen postings of the performance by the Kenyan team members who went to Kili and who did their run today, Sunday.  I congratulate them.  I do not envy them.  I know how hot the run must have been, though they had the privilege and opportunity of being supplied with water, soda and fruits.  I did experience a similarly tough run on Friday, albeit without any water or nourishment in that hot Friday evening.

Let me thank Mathew for ensuring that this story is written, otherwise I would be skipping the writing and referring runners to the December event if I would have run solo on this hot February.  In fact, I was prepared for yet another solo run, with Edu having conveniently cancelled his participation hardly 3-days to the event.  He was the only team member that was capable to taking up the challenge.  His excuse this time round was an evening meeting on the Friday, but I knew better.  While the meeting was convenient, the real reason was the fear of being roasted in the scorching sun.  He even let that sentiment slip, but it was too late to state that this was not his reason for cancellation.

I started the run at four from the locker room, and headed to the ‘real’ starting point at the generator.  I did not expect anyone to be joining me on this run.  I just ran there as a routine to get this run officially started.  It was a pleasant surprise to see Mathew, a second time runner at that starting point.  The last time I did a run with him was sometime in November, when Edu was also in that trio.  We had run the Mary Leakey route on a 13km distance in an evening.  It was a general slow run.

We were meeting for a second run, four months later.

“Where is your water?,” I asked, as we prepared to reflag the run.  I had my own 500ml water bottle, whose content was already warm, despite having filled in some cold water hardly ten minutes prior.  The weather was just blazing hot.

“Will I need it?”

“Did you not read the notice?  We said that every runner must carry some water.  This heat is nothing to joke with!”

“I will buy some along the way,” he shrugged.

We started the run, as he confirmed that this was his first run on the 21km route.  It was a slow run ab-initio.  We ran together through the designated route to Waiyaki way and crossed over to Ndumboini.  We went down Kapenguria road, past Wangari Maathai institute and ended up on Lower Kabete road.  From there we turned left and ran about a kilometre, to once again turn left through the rough road past Mary Leakey and eventually traversed the university farm.  We finally emerged at the tank, and joined Kanyariri road.  We turned right and kept going, slowly, though I could at times increase pace go gain over five minutes, only to stop and wait for Mathew to join in.

Running on Kanyariri road from the tank to Gitatu underpass and back was the hardest part of the run, with all the sun and the tiredness continuously setting in.  Eventually, Mathew took a break to buy his water at ‘the tank’, which is the junction to the rough road towards University farm.  On the return leg we would however not go back to the farm, but instead keep to the Kanyariri road tarmac all the way back to Ndumboini and do the same route back to the starting line.  I had hardly touched my water.  It was already boiling inside that plastic bottle.

I did a few tweaks and variations of the run to give myself some extra mileage as I also allowed Mat to catch up.  Finally, after almost 2hr 30min in the hot sun, that was now slowly fading off as the sun sets, we did finish the run.  I stopped my timer at 02.27.01 after 24.30km, with an average of 6.03.  I did not know that running slowly can be that tiring.  But that was not my Kili tiredness moment.

The tiredness moment came when I was walking home at about eight in the evening.  My body was just too lethargic.  I struggled to get to the home and literally collapsed into the house.  I took a litre of coke soda, but that did not seem to quench my thirst.  I tried to eat something, I do not even know what, but I was just not myself.  At some point in the night I did fall asleep.

I woke up yesterday and found an open bottle of soda by the bedside, and some half eaten food.  I cannot even remember how I left these leftovers, yet my mind had convinced me that I had partaken them all.  At that moment of waking up I surely confirmed that dehydration was real.  Worse can really happen if an athlete lets dehydration have its way.  This was the worst feeling that I have had in many years.  I survived the last Kili over the 42km in 2020, but it did not feel this bad.  The aftereffects of the Valenthon were just from another world!

*MOE = marathoners of expert, the committee that organizes for marathons 

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Sunday, Feb. 26, 2023

25 on 25

25 on 25

It was not my intention to run on the day when the Christian faith was in a birthday party, but it just turned out to be.  After all, it is very long since I did a run, as ‘very long’ as nine days.  The last run was the December international marathon aka ‘the boycott version 2’.  On this date of December 16, my running team, once again, boycotted the run, after doing the same in November.  I knew that this would happen since the three regular runners had said or had done everything that they could to ensure that they missed this run…. and they did give it to me the best way that they thought fit.

Let me start with Karl.  He had peeped through my door on Thursday, a day to the run, at about 12.30pm.

“I feel like I can go a ka-tooo kooo run, maybe to tarmac.  Can we go?”

I would usually have said yes, since the tarmac run route just goes from Uthiru, through Kapenguria road all the way to the Lower Kabete road, where you do a U-turn and back.  The run is anything from ten to thirteen kilometres, depending on the tweaks that you add to it.

“But why would you be running when we have the big run tomorrow?,” I asked him even as he kept holding the door ajar.

“Kesho siko, naenda shags, Mwingi, I have something to do.”

So that is how I got the first regret over the attendance of the Friday run.  Of course I did not join him for the Thursday run.  I was not messing the international.

The second semblance of an apology came from Edu.  He had been on a daily run on this month of December for whatever reason.  Marathoners do things that are sometimes not understandable to the rest of us, marathoners and even non-marathoners.  I had met him one week prior, as we were preparing for this run.  This was during the staff party that was meant to mark the end of the year, the first such party since 2019.  Corona had put a break to gatherings and mass events since that time.  The very corona that is now technically eradicated or a live-with disease, or did I hear that it has had a resurgent from where it first started in China?  

The corona that causes COVID-19 disease, which has now infected 661.7M people globally with 6.68M deaths, hence 1% deaths of the confirmed infections.  Kenyan numbers now stand at 342,470 and 5,688 respectively.  Of course, deaths from road accidents in Kenya this year has surpassed this number.  That is why I believe that corona ended and other things took over, but let me get back to the story.

That on December ninth.  It was the end year party, when the dress code was ‘the 70s’, and Edu was adorned with an Afro wig, a waist high pair of trousers with suspenders, with others in similar for guys and girls with short short-skirts.  On this day of the end year party, when I was in a grey suit and tie – which was surely a theme dress.  If anything, I had overdone it since I was even in a pre-70s attire anyway.  I did meet Edu and we talked briefly as we picked the food and drink stamps.  He had mentioned that he would be travelling out of the city from the next week.  He did not mention anything about the marathon.  I was left to add the one-plus-one on this.  For information, that suit was in readiness of a major award, more on this upon enquiry.

Lastly, it was Beryl who did a number on me.  We had had a Wednesday evening run, just two day prior, with compulsion coming from my side, since it was my run day and she had to follow suit.  She had confirmed that she would participate in the Friday run, but not the full distance.  I had my doubts.  She has not participated in any international since the corona pandemic.  I was doubtful that she would be doing a second run, albeit even shorter, two days after this run.  I did not say as much.  It was therefore no surprise when I got a WhatsApp message on the Friday of the run that was brief and to the point, “Have a good run, we shall speak after the run.”

It was therefore a second time in less than three weeks that I was facing an international run alone and lonely.  The things that I do for the team!  The run was the usual.  From Uthiru through Kapenguria road to Lower Kabete road for a brief run, then turn to the Uni farm past Mary Leakey school, then join Kanyariri road to Kanyariri centre for the right turn all the way to the underpass on Wangige road and back straight to Uthiru.  The weather remained warm and a bit sunny.  I cleared the 24.45k in an average of 5min 00sec per km in a 1796-1935m elevation range.

I subsequently vowed not to do nothing for the team.  And took the end of year leave to prove the point.  I was relaxing and enjoying the good holiday, doing nothing, when the run bug bit me on Saturday night.  I therefore woke up early, at eight-thirty, on this Sunday and just left for the run.  I was doing this run at the home of champions, though I did not expect meet any champion on this morning.  After all, it was Christmas day, and most people were preoccupied with the day’s festivities, be it in church or in the hood.  I met lots of singing from the churches along the route.  I hardly met people on the road, even the motorbikes were relatively few on this day.

I was doing my usual circuits on one side of the Sosiani river, with Eldy town rising to its fullness on the other side of the river.  The circuit is just over 5km.  It is mostly hilly, but it is so far the only route that I could formulate, that avoids the vehicular traffic as much as possible.  Avoiding a competition with motor vehicles is one of the things that you want to do with your runs when you have an option.  I did four full loops and a conclusion run on the fifth one that did not go all the way.  I finished the run just before eleven, having covered 25.69k at an average of 5min 11sec per km.  The elevation of the run ranging from 2054m to 2104m.  I just hope that the run bug spares me and allows me to take a rest until I resume the runs officially in January week 2.

Merry Christmas!

WWB, Eldoret, Kenya, Sunday, December 25, 2022

When ‘return’ does not mean ‘return’

When ‘return’ does not mean ‘return’

Read previous story about Addis here

I was having my last run before the Stanchart Nairobi International marathon scheduled for next Sunday, October 30, 2022.  This last rehearsal of today would see me go the Mary Leakey route and attempt to conquer 17k in 5min per km speed.  I failed in the speed test, just managing a 5min 04sec, but what is, is.  The run of this distance usually takes me from Uthiru to Kabete Poly, then I cross the highway towards Ndumbo shopping centre to then run down Kapenguria road.  At the end of Kapenguria is Lower Kabete road, where I turn left and run about a k, then turn left again to run through the dirt trails past Mary Leakey school and then across the University farm.  I finally emerge at Kanyariri road for yet another left.  This point at ‘the tank’ marks the return, a return that surely takes me back to where I started.

But hardly two days ago I had a different ‘return’ episode.  One that has refused to leave my system.  I booked my travel to a funeral of a sister-in-law, which I later learned was called ‘korera’.  Of course, the twist-of-tongue would make this to be ‘cholera’ for quite some time before getting the correct pronunciation.  That is a story for another day.  The first thing I had to do was to book a night bus on Wednesday night, being October 19, then book another night bus on Thursday night.  I was taking advantage of the Thursday holiday to attend this event.  I was set to be back on duty on Friday morning.

I accessed the online booking platform on Buupass and searched for a bus to Rongo for Wednesday.  I found four, two leaving in the morning and two leaving in the evening.  I chose the night bus that left the latest, being 2145hrs.  I had to make a selection between ‘one-way’ or ‘return’ on the same booking system.  I knew that I had to get back to the city, and so I did select the return option.  The next page on the system allowed me to select the seat for the travel on Wednesday, and another seat for the return trip on Thursday.  I paid the two fares combined using MPESA and momentarily got an SMS message confirming the two tickets, with their unique numbers and dates of travel.

I was set and ready for the sojourn and I did not have any worries in the world.  I picked my hardcopy ticket at Easy Coach station at Railways on Wednesday evening, but they could not give me a return ticket, stating that such can only be got at the departure station in Rongo the next day.  Anyway, I had my SMS tickets and did not mind getting the return ticket as I came back.  Of course, in the era of saving the environment, I still wonder why we have to get a printed ticket when we already have an e-ticket, but rules are rules.

The night travel to Rongo was uneventful.  The bus left Nairobi at 2200hrs and was at Narok at 1am for a 30-minute stopover break.  We passed by Bomet at three, passed through Kisii town at five and landed at Rongo at 5.40am.  I attended the event and later at six got back to Rongo town ready for the night travel back to the city.

I presented myself to pick a ticket at 7.30pm, ready for the bus scheduled for 8.45pm.  I showed the attendant the SMS message and he proceeded to do something on the computer behind the counter.

“Hi ticket hakuna,” he responded after 5-minutes of doing-whatever-he-was-doing, “Uli book kweli?”

“Si ndio hiyo SMS, ina onyesha nili lipa twenty-five hundred, ya kuja na kurudi Nairobi”

He reconfirmed the amount, then consulted his system once more.  He returned the same verdict, “Ulibook kweli, hakuna kitu kwa system”

We were about to start a singing game of ‘I booked’, ‘You did not’, when another person emerged from behind the counter.  He seemed to be the supervisor.

“Nini mbaya?,” he asked.

“Nili book lakini na ambiwa siku book,” I beat the operator to the response.

“Lete message,” he said, even as I gave out my phone to him to read the SMS.

“Lakini mbona inasema Narobi-Rongo route at 9.45pm?”

“Mimi nilibook return, na unaweza ona both tickets hapo kwa message, moja ya kuja, na nyingine ya kurudi,” I reminded him, though he was still holding the phone and the SMS message was gazing straight at him.

He instructed the operator to do some things as I listened.  He asked him to search for some numbers, then to check some other numbers, then finally, to check the bus from Nairobi to Rongo for this Thursday night.

That is when the eureka moment came.

“Ndio hiyo,” he said loudly, looking at the computer screen behind the counter.  I was opposite them and barricaded from seeing what they were seeing by some imposing metallic grills.

“Wewe uli book basi ya Nairobi hadi Rongo ya leo usiku”

Are you the hech serious!  How can I book a bus from Nairobi when I am in Rongo!

“Yani, ‘return’ ina maana gani?,” I asked, almost agitated but keeping my cool, since I really wanted some resolution to get me back to the city.

“Eh, hiyo, eh… wacha niangalie,” he responded and started to instruct the operator again.

“System inasema uli book Nairobi hadi Rongo tena,” he said, evidently also stuck.

“Lakini app ya Buu pass ilisema ni return, kwani ‘return’ si ‘return’?”

I then witnessed as they first issued and printed a ticket for me reading Nairobi to Rongo, then cancelled the same ticket with two lines drawn across its front face, then rebooked me on a Rongo-Nairobi bus.  I was soon holding a ticket reading Rongo to Nairobi for a bus scheduled for 8.45pm.  That time came and for sure the bus was there.  I was on another night travel hardly 24-hours later, reaching Nairobi Railway bus station at 4am on Friday.  I managed to be on duty on Friday at 7.45am, tired to the core, but glad that the weekend would soon be coming for me to get a proper rest.

So, when you do a return-booking, just be aware that return could mean ‘do the same trip twice’.

WWB, Nairobi, Kenya, Sunday, Oct. 23, 2022

Booster vaccines boosts the run – the truth is out

Booster vaccines boosts the run – the truth is out

Yesterday was another runday Monday.  My first run in over one week.  The first run since that corona booster vaccine of last week.  The weather has been cold and unforgiving most of this month.  I have used the weather as the excuse of not going out there.  However, the run finally called me to action yesterday.  I first of all realized that we shall be having the July International marathon just next week, on July 29.  That meant that I needed to start my preps.  

Secondly, being out of the road for over a week is not recommended.  It is just a very long ‘time out’ by any definition.  The only time I have taken a week or more out of the run has been during the long holidays in December, when I go back to my roots and spend the endless days doing nothing, just savouring the good weather under the mango tree.  It is not yet December for those who may not have checked, hence I am not yet entitled to an ‘under the mango tree’ moment.

So, I get out of the warm office on this Monday and immediately gets hit by the cold mid-day weather.  I get almost frozen out before I even make the first few steps of the run.  I encourage myself on, saying that what must be done must be done.  I convince myself that the weather shall improve with time, or the body shall adapt to the cold with time.  I keep running and none of these two wishes come true.  It remains cold and the body fails to adapt.  I can feel the cold.  No wind, just cold.

I would usually have done a 10km run on Kapenguria road to Lower Kabete tarmac junction as the turnback point then back, but that did not happen yesterday.  I instead found myself going to Mary Leakey route, which is not a route that you would usually do over the lunch hour, since it is at least 13k.  It is difficult to fit 13k of hills into the one-hour lunch hour break, but sometimes you have to push the body to limits that you would otherwise not.  This was one of those lunch hours to keep pushing.

I have been to this Mary Leakey route for many years, and I was not expecting any surprises.  I was just worrying about the uphill towards Ndumboini on my way back after exiting from the University farm at the tank and turning to my left back to Ndumboini.  If only someone, I do not know who, could remove that hill!

Anyway, I was on the 10k mark when I started on that uphill that would end on the 11k mark.  From there it was just a turnback across Waiyaki Way and back to Kabete Poly to head towards the finish of the run in less than 10-minutes.  The run ended with an average of 5.07min per k on a 15.4km distance.  That was probably the fastest I have managed on that route maybe forever since this is not a usual run route.  The tweaks, including the 21k version curved out of this, is like the norm.

Today was not a runday Tuesday.  If anything, I had already taken a heavy lunch and was not set for any run.  I would usually do an evening run-walk upon being booked by a student of run.  I had not been booked and I therefore was not intending to do any runs on this Tuesday.  However, as it would turn out to be, I just decided to get out of the warm office at four, changed into the run gear, then was off for yet another run on the Mary Leakey route.  The evening run experience was just similar to yesterday’s in terms of the weather – cold and chilly.  

I was now even having a last minute decision to have a 5-runs-in-5-days challenge, though it had not been sanctioned by the MOE yet.  After all, last month this 5-in-5 happened just a week to the international run.  This is also the week before the July international.  I am nonetheless not sure if I shall have the willpower to do another 3 runs in the week, especially now that I am doing the longer versions of run.  But the speed on this Tuesday run was now even improved to 5.03mpk on a 17.11km distance.

Now, the only variable that I can attribute to these improved speeds is…. yes, you guessed it…. the COVID19 booster vaccine of last week.  That shot has boosted me in more ways than one.  I am now faster, based on a sample size of two runs out of two.  The booster that is meant to prevent severe illness and hospitalization from corona virus disease (COVID) is just the thing that probably all marathoners need!  The very corona virus that has infected* 569,036,399 people in the planet resulting into 6,390,296 deaths, with Kenyan numbers being 336,904 and 5,668 respectively.  Wait till I do the July international marathon codenamed ‘Sprinters delight’ when runners should do their fastest runs, and you shall prove my ‘boosted’ theory.  Free advice – Take a booster shot, it helps!

*worldometers website

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, July 19, 2022

When trouble follows you through and through – my Lake Victoria run experience

When trouble follows you through and through – my Lake Victoria run experience

“Hi, Is that Alvin?,” I talked out loud when the phone that had rang for almost a minute was finally picked.  I even though that I would not get an answer and was just about to tap on the cancel button on the cell.  It was just about seven in the evening on this Tuesday, November 9.

I was just from a 25k evening run, the first long run since the Stanchart virtual.  The heat and the hilly route has now won the duel, and I was once again just glad that I had managed to average a 5min 19sec.  I was still good with this.  It could have been worse.  The hilly terrain from Uthiru to Lower Kabete road via Kapenguria road, and eventually through the Uni farm past Mary Leakey is no easy feat.  I had almost collapsed with exhaustion after that 2hr 13min run.  It however just took a one-litre gulp of water laced with some 300ml of Fanta soda to get me back to normal.  It was now just about seven in the evening.

“Yes,… eh… whom did you want to talk to?,” a hesitant voice responded onto my ear.

“Is that Alvin?,” I had to reconfirm.  This is not what I expected.

“Ye…es…. But whom did you want to talk to?”

“Hi, I booked with you online two-days ago, and wanted to know how to get the keys tomorrow”

“What booking was that, are you sure it is me in Kisumu?”

“Yes, that is how I even got your number, from eh-ah-bee-en-bee,” I pronounced.

“But are you sure?”

Now, something strange was cooking over here.  I was already getting panic stricken.  Could there have been a mistake on the online booking system?  My worry was that my money had already been taken from credit card in advance.

“Yes, sure, I even paid already.  I booked your place.  The one you confirmed.  That is how I got your number.  Tomorrow is the day,” I said in quick succession.  Not know what was now relevant information or not.

“I am not sure, but I did not confirm any bookings.  I have nothing available.”

So, we went on to discuss how this issue came about.  His guess was that the system had auto-booked me within his information or consent.  He could have helped had he had places available, but it was not possible.  Now we had to discuss the inevitable topic of the refund process.  I was back to the situation that you would usually face with Uber taxi cancellation.  The ‘you cancel, no, you cancel’ exchange.  I asked him to cancel, and he said that he did not even know that he had a booking, so he advised that I cancel on my end.

I logged onto the booking site and tried cancelling.  I got a message that I would be charged for one-night for cancelling 24-hours to the accommodation date.  There was however another option of ‘let the host cancel’ in case it was them that had initiated the cancellation.  So, I once again called Alvin and informed him of what the online system was advising.  He agreed to try on his end and soon he was the one calling me to report that it was still not possible to cancel from his end.  He even sent me a WhatsApp screenshot of his system where the ‘cancel’ button was surely disabled.  

We were not stuck between cancelling from my end and losing 1 night charge of about $20, or him cancelling when he could not cancel anyway.  Meanwhile, my money was stuck somewhere ‘on the cloud’, but not with me.  This situation needed intervention.  I initiated a complain to the booking site and stated the issues that were facing the two of us.  There was an option of sending the complain by messaging and getting a response in 24-hours, or calling them and getting attention in 2-minutes.  I was not calling the US, so I sent a message and was ready to live with my 24-hours waiting period, as I waited for the refund.  Meanwhile, I still had to search for and get another place to book, with or without the refund.

But this was not the first time that I was facing a refund issue in less than 3-days.  Just three days ago, I had booked on the same site and got a confirmation, only for the host to send me a message the next day that the accommodation was not available.  I was about to ask him why he lists a property that is not available, which I actually did by messaging anyway, but for this occasion, I had been able to cancel successfully from my end.  He had once again taken me through ‘you cancel, no, you-cancel’ exchange.  I cancelled from my end and got the money almost immediately.  Maybe I was not yet on the 1-day to accommodation window.

I was just about to go to the online booking site once more to now try my luck at securing accommodation hardly 24-hours to my travel, when my cell rang.  There was a long number on the phone display, starting with a +1.  I knew that it was a USA number and I guessed that it must be the booking company calling.  And for sure it was, starting with the issue of the phone shall be recorded, a hearted apology, a promise of immediate refund, but not later than 24-hours and even a ‘small’ coupon to my account to console me.  They said that they had also called the host and agreed on the full refund to my account.  This was just too good to be true, but maybe my day was getting better.  I sighed and went back to the booking site ready to be frantic on what could be available at this last minute.

I however remembered the last place I had booked for my last stay in Kisumu hardly four months ago and recalled that I had even seen it still listed online.  I have ignored it this time around since it was a bit pricy than the two options now cancelled.  In desperation, I was now ready to pay more – pay any price.  I decided to call the host first just to confirm that it would be OK to book their place online, and if they would be kind enough to accept the booking upon presentation on their end.  The phone rang and timed out before being answered.

“I am roast!,” I kicked the underside of the desk where I was seated and shouted.  It was now dark.  I was still sweaty from the evening run.  I was yet to bath.  I was yet to get accommodation, less than 24-hours to my travel.

I momentarily saw the WhatsApp installation on my computer pop up.  I immediately recognized the icon on the message.  It was the host that I had only known as Diana sending a message.  Her marketing name was ‘Simply Diana apartments’.  Last time I had paid through the booking site, and hence did not have any other name of the host apart from the marketing name provided.  We exchanged a few messages, generally telling her that I was about to book her place if it was available at this last minute, and that she should accept the online application when she sees it.

“I can book you immediately, just send 1800 per night”

“But I was about to get online to book?,” I was about to say, but thought the better of it.

“Do I send to your usual number?”

“Yes”

Before I could even start the MPESA payment process, I saw other messages in quick succession.

“James Wasike of 07… shall receive you and show you the house”

I did not even think twice.  I was soon sending the big money to James, and I responded to the chat as such, “I have sent to James as instructed”

“No!,” she shouted on WhatsApp.  I did not know that you can send shouts in that messaging app.  Now I knew!

“That is the caretaker!!  You should have sent to me!!!  Ask him to send back!!!!,” another shout.

“For crying out loud!,” I typed in shout letters and was just about to send the text over, when I thought the better of it and deleted the message.  I instead retyped, “Let me try, but I can count the money lost, but let me try.”

Wasike answered the call almost on the first ring.  I explained to him that I intend to stay at Diana’s block, only that I had send the money to him instead of to her.  I think that the spirit of the good evening was with Wasike on this Tuesday, since he seemed to understand the situation faster that I thought he would.  I had imagined a protracted argument at best, and a switched-off phone at worst.  Instead, we were just talking about who would meet the MPESA sending charges.  I told him to deduct the charges from the amount he had received and send over whatever remained.

I did not wait long, since the spirit of the great Lake Victoria was surely still alive on Wasike as I got the full amount back.  He had not even deducted the charges that we had hassled over earlier.  I called him back to thank him for his quick action, before I sent back to him triple the sending charges that he had paid.  I soon resent the booking money to the right number and this also gave me the opportunity to get to know the name behind Simply Diana.  Thank you MPESA for being such a full disclosure payment system.

Now that I was not going to the booking site after all, I decided to catch up on emails, having been out of office for the whole day attending a fire marshals training.  I usually keep my inbox fairly well managed.  It therefore did not take me long to spot a mail that needed attention in the collection of the twenty or so unread messages.  This one was from Jambojet with the subject ‘Action needed or you risk cancellation’.  This sounded alarming enough to get me straight to it.  It was direct to the point.

“Your flight has been rescheduled from 5.45pm to 6.45pm. Click Accept or Cancel booking.  Respond immediately or you risk not traveling in case we do not hear from you soon.”

I was now facing a late arrival at the lakeside city, but there was no other option at the last minute, so I did accept the changed time and left that issue closed.

I walked home exhausted, planning to get to the house, watch the nine o’clock news, listen to loud rumba for an hour as I put together a travelling bag, think do dinner at some point before going to bed by ten-thirty.  This would enable me to sleep early enough and be well rested in readiness the upcoming travel, with the anticipated two days of full-day seminars that are known to drain the energy from the strongest of the strong.  I got to the house and switched on the main power just behind the door.  I have formed this habit of switching off the main power as I leave for duty in the morning.  It has the potential to conserves power from any leakages within the house and is also a safety consideration, but that is just me.

I was therefore in surprise when I switched on the living room light and no light came up.  The room remained dark.  That could only mean that there was no power for whatever reason.  I had paid my postpaid bill already and had just confirmed earlier on the day that I had a zero balance.  Disconnection was therefore out of the question unless…. 

“Oh, hech!”

I immediately knew that the place where I was staying was having one of those phase failure situations, where some houses have power while others have none.  It does rotate over collection of houses, though I tend to believe that my residence suffers more failures on the rotation than my neighbours.  And the way the failure works is so interesting.  The neighbours on both side of my residence would have power while I do not.  On those other rare occasions, I would have power while they do not.

With all plans now through into the darkness of no power, I found myself still writing the blog story on the laptop that was now about to run out of power being just past midnight.  Have I even taken dinner?  Have I even packed?  Can I even see in the dark?

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Nov. 10, 2021