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

The costly price of cheap unga

The costly price of cheap unga

I have now proved that the extra germ in my body is doing wonders.  I say this because I have broken run record after run record since that booster shot number 2 of COVID19 vaccine.  I so far have a total of four shots in the arm for this virus, three on the left and one on the right arm.  All this as global infections* of corona virus disease reaches 576,581,896 infections and 6,405,982 deaths.  Kenyan numbers are so far 337,389 and 5,672 respectively.  

*source: worldometers website

Nonetheless, corona is now virtually over and a forgotten disease.  It has been overtaken by other global problems including lack of food (grains), blamed on the Ukraine-Russia war that started mid-February.  Other issues include flooding, drought and wildfires, blamed on global warming.  Corona and COVID19 are no longer the ‘in thing’.  So, I did the 5-in-5 event last week, that is, 5-runs-in-5-days.  However, this time I did it on the longer 15-17km route on the Mary Leakey loop.  The average speeds started at 5.07 (15.4km), 5.03 (17.11km), 5.00 (17.13km), 5.01 (17.14km), 4.59 (17.14km).  Yesterday, was a Monday and I still added another run on the route getting to 4.49 (17.16km).  

All these runs were not for bragging rights, far from it.  These were experimental runs.  I was in the running lab, out there on the road, to confirm that the corona vaccinations, the booster to be specific, worked and had added an extra shot of energy in my runs.  Nonetheless, we still have a fast run, in the name of the July International marathon.  Let this run confirm that my experiment is true, as I take the body for a ‘sprinters delight’ July marathon, where runners are expected to run their fastest over the 21km distance.

However, there is no guarantee that my so far successful experiment with good runs shall continue for long.  This is because of the new global challenges which now exclude COVID19.  The cost of food stuff has been rising continually in the last two months.  While a kilo of our very lifeline staple food, unga, was retailing at 50/= hardly one-month ago, it had risen steadily and even had doubled already by last week.  In fact, it was even virtually impossible to get that maize flour at even the doubled price.  It was heading to triple, all this while, the income levels had remained the same.  This unga thing was going to be a big issue and I had even seen a news clip on Aljazeera about Kenya and the unga crisis.  Of course, that clip showed a demonstration that was taking place in the city streets where the people were protesting these very high prices of unga.

It was therefore a sigh of relief when the president just last week issued an executive order that the price of maize flour ‘be and is hereby reduced to 100/= for a 2kg packet of unga, in the whole territory of the republic of Kenya with immediate effect’.  That was a big announcement.  It was a life changer.  We would at least start eating.  I was getting tired of starving on rice and other starches.

I visited my local supermarket that is just in front of my living quarters last week, a day after the announcement, and was not surprised to find no packet of maize flour that was retailing at the new prices.  The cheapest 2kg packet was still selling at 206/=.  I gave it an ‘ignore’ and believed that there must have been some ‘clearing of old stocks’ thing going on first.  I visited the same supermarket over the weekend and the situation was the same – same old prices, no new prices.  I even visited an outlet of a major, sorry, the major supermarket chain in Kenya, at Adams Arcade same weekend and as sure as there is global warming, there was no cheap unga!  All branded packets were retailing at over 200/= per 2kg pack.

What is going on?  How can the big boss of the whole country give a decree, and no one obeys him?  It was just yesterday that someone whispered to me that he had seen cheap unga somewhere in Kangemi.  I took it upon myself to check this out and went to a supermart branded ‘friendly’.  I was surprised to see an advert for 2kg pack for 100/= placed somewhere outside the store and for sure when I went in, I did get the cheap unga available.  What a relief!

I picked some five packets and was just about to make my way to the cashier when some supermarket attendant called me back and beckoned me to the unga section of the store.  I assumed that he wanted to persuade me to buy some more.

“Ni mbili tu,” he said.

It took me some interpretation to decipher what he was saying.

“Nini mbili?”

“Unga ni mbili tu.  Kastoma wanachukua mbili tu”

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, July 26, 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

It rains when we run – the second international says so

It rains when we run – the second international says so

The second international marathon held on Friday, May 27 was not so much different from the previous one ran on April 28, albeit the first one being held on a Thursday and the fact that I was suffering a cold that had put me down for three days so far as I prepared for this May run.  The second run still started at the Generator at a few minutes past 1615hrs, despite the run being a strictly 1600hrs run.  Edu was there for this second one once more.  He told us to wait for a new comer whom I had not met before.  He introduced him before he joined us, as ‘he has ties to the team, real ties’.  I let that puzzle slip as I saw someone approach the generator.  He said a familiar ‘Hi’ to Edu, and a casual salutation in my direction.  We took the start-or-run picture and we were soon off for the immediate uphill that comes just 200metres from the starting point.

It was still hot with the evening sun hardly at the horizon.  We left and kept going at a relatively slow pace.  I led the pack as we headed to Waiyaki way past Kabete Polytechnic, and crossed the road at the Uthiru flyover to head towards Ndumboini.  We then went downhill past Wangari Maathai Institute to the river, and then faced the second uphill as we headed towards Lower Kabete road junction.

We just ran and ran in a relaxed pace.  We ran some one kilometre on Lower Kabete road, diverted to the left towards Mary Leakey school and finally got to the University farm at some point in the run.  We finally got to ‘the tank’, the point at which the usually muddy Uni road gets to the Kanyariri tarmac.  We had just done 10km and were almost half way through the run.

Going towards Kanyariri ACK and finally the right turn towards Kanyariri Centre on the Gitaru-Wangige road was our next course in the run.  It is just under the overhead busy road that we did the U-turn and were now headed back on same route to ‘the tank’, then straight on from the tank to Ndumbo.  All was well until the tank, when it started to drizzle.  We faced the Ndumboini hill when it was virtually raining.  However, it was short lived despite it having soaked our clothes and running shoes.

We finished the run in less than twenty-minutes after passing by Ndumboini on our way back.  I stopped my timer after a time duration of 2:24:43 for 22.33km in case, having starting before the starting point and finishing after the finish point.

It had hardly rained since the April run, when it had rained for the full day on that run day.  We only got a reprieve in the evening to have the April marathon, which was otherwise heading for a cancellation.  And keeping to the same tradition, it started raining just around eight on this Friday of the second international.  It was not past eight and we had now gathered for the ‘Lakeside evening’, where revelers get to partake of delicacies from the lake region.  That is the day I heard of vocs such as aliya, athola, obambla, cham, buss, osuga, akeyo, mtoo, apoth, ngege, omena and aluru (which was advertised but was not there).  It was still raining heavily at ten when I got a lift home after this May run and the subsequent party.

It has hardly rained since that May run, and I can for sure say that the next rainy day shall be June 24, when we shall be having our third international marathon codename ‘Divas International’.  But do not take my word for it.  Just experience it in the next three weeks.

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, June 6, 2022

The first marathon since Corona – when the unexpected happens

The first marathon since Corona – when the unexpected happens

The last time we held our regular monthly international marathons was in March 2020 – yes, March 2020.  And even at that time the corona thing almost cancelled that run.  The monthly runs over the 21k distance had by then become a permanent event in our marathoners’ calendar.  It was consistent, it was anticipated, it was a crowd puller, and it was the only talk in our marathoners’ groups.

It was therefore a real relief when the MOE* finally agreed to arrange for the first marathon after corona break.  This run was to the next one that follows the last run held in March, being the April run, albeit April 2022 – 24-months later!

*marathoners of expert – the organizers of the event

However, many things had changed in the 24-months hiatus.  While putting on masks, social distancing, handwashing, sanitizing, curfews, working from home and fear of the unknown had been the language since 2020 towards 2021, the tone had changed to vaccination and return to normal, from late 2021.  By January 2022 the country and most of the world had lifted the mask mandate and rescinded most COVID-19 restrictions.  Working from home had ended and life back to the office had become the norm.  

The world had evolved from 537,042 infections and 24,110 deaths as at March 27, 2020 to 513,670,092 infections and 6,262,095 deaths as at May 2, 2022.  Kenyan numbers were now 323,295 and 5,649 respectively*.  This was a global 1,000 fold increase in infections and 260 times increase in deaths in that 2-year period.  However, the end had now come, with vaccinations, medications and therapeutics halting corona on its heels.  We had moved from calling corona ‘the thing’ (TT) in low toned whispers, to calling it by name and fearing nothing!

*source: worldometers

It therefore did not come as a surprise when the MOE decided to hold the first international marathon of 2022 in the month of April and set the date of the run for the last Friday, as has been the tradition.  The date of Friday April 29 was therefore communicated as the day of the marathon and the runners were asked to start preparing for this inaugural run.  I made this big announcement on April 11.  The organizers were however cognizant that the runners may not be ready for this, having had no serious run in two years, but we had to start somewhere.

I talked to three veteran runners and got their buy in, just to ensure that we could deal with a worst-case scenario where no one turns up.  They all committed to participating in the run.  The month however had many unknowns that would unfold from that date.  To start with, the unexpected would happen, when the former president of the republic of Kenya, Mwai Kibaki passed on on Friday, April 21, hardly one week to our marathon.  It was not long before the Friday when we were to have the marathon was declared a public holiday.

We usually leverage on the fact that we have staff on duty to raise the numbers for the marathon.  That is why we hold the runs on a working day.  A run during a public holiday, when the staff are not on duty, would not be tenable.  We therefore made a last-minute decision, hardly three days to the marathon, that we were rescheduling the run.  The options that we considered were to keep the Friday date, to move the run to the next week or to cancel the run altogether and wait for the next one in May.  

We decided to reschedule it to Thursday, April 28, one day earlier than planned.  It was on the same date of rescheduling that I was got confirmation that two of the three veteran runners were also cancelling their participation due to other engagements.  That meant that the B-and-B team, a persistent pair of runners from pre-corona days, was not getting back in this run.  However, one B was doing this run whatever happens.

The new Thursday date still had its challenges.  We were coming up for a long weekend, with Friday being the day of national mourning, while the Monday of May 2 would also be a holiday that extends Labour day.  It became even more complicated when Tuesday was declared a holiday as Eid-Al-Fitir, to mark the Islamic end of Ramadhan period.  We were facing a 5-day long weekend.  Our runners were likely to be on a holiday mood, than on a running mood come the run-day Thursday.

I however kept hope alive and was still confident of a successful first group run of the year.  I still had one firmed up confirmation for the 21k.  Thursday was it.

The rain started around ten o’clock on the night of Wednesday.  It was still raining when I woke up the next morning at seven, ready for the 1.4km walk to the work place.  The rain continued the whole morning on the run-day Thursday.  It was still drizzling by two in the afternoon.  For all intents and purposes, this run was technically headed for a cancellation.  We could not risk allowing our runners to be out there through the rains.  It was now two hours to the 4pm start time of the 21km run and the rains were not relenting.

We had one other last minute decision to make.  The 21km route, as originally formulated, has a section of about 1.5km through the university farm that is usually impassibly muddy during the rains.  We had not anticipated any rains when formulating the route and had included this section on our map.  We now had to revise the route, hardly 2-hours before the run, to exclude this section.  I was back on Google map to reformulate the route and share with the runners while they still had time to consider the change.

And just like that, the rain stopped, and the sun came up.  This happened at 3.00pm, just one hour to the start of the run.  The run that was surely under cancellation was now back on, on a revised route.

When Edward and I started the run at 4.15pm, I was already about 2km deep into my own run.  This is because I had left the locker room at 3.56pm to the Generator starting point but did not find Edu.  I assumed that he must be waiting at the gate, since the revised route was to start at the gate.  I therefore ran to the gate but still did not find him there.  I tried his phone, but this was futile, since I knew that he does not go running with his phone.  I informed the guards to ask Edu to wait for me, should he come by in my absence, since I had already decided to go back to the Generator once again to see if he was there.  I got to the generator at 4.13pm and found him there waiting.

“Did you see the new route?,” I asked, wondering why we should be starting at the Generator.

“Yes, I did, but it is so tough, that we should just do the original route.”

“But the Uni farm shall be muddy and impassible?”

“Better that, than coming back Wangari Maathai hill”

We therefore reverted to the original route that started at the Generator and off we went.  It was an easy run.  It is a route that I have been to many times, over that distance, including earlier in the month.  This is the usual Uthiru to Kabete Polytechnic, then cross the Waiyaki way to Ndumboini.  From there we were to run down Kapenguria road past Wangari Maathai Institute, all the way to Lower Kabete road.  We would then turn left and run about one kilometre to then turn left towards Mary Leakey school, then the University farm, then emerge at the tank to get to Kanyariri tarmac.  We would then turn right on the tarmac and run to Kanyariri centre for another right all the way to the Gitaru-Wangire road junction, then do a U-turn to run back to Uthiru.  I did not expect any surprises, but… spoke too soon!

When we go to the Uni farm section we were met with our worst fears.  The route did not disappoint!  It was impassably muddy!  I had to reduce my run to a walking pace to enable me traverse most of the sections.  I almost slipped and fell at some of the sections.  Edu was somewhere behind as I could decipher his footsteps in the quietness of the farm section.

We finally emerged at the tank and joined Kanyariri road tarmac.  It was then a smooth run all the way to Gitaru-Wangige underpass where we did our U-turn on the 13k mark, and then ran back all the way to our starting point at the Generator.  I stopped my timer with a reading of 24.03km in 2:36:43.  The first IKM International marathon, the very first group run of 2022, was now done.  We had proved that it was possible to resume our marathons, despite the various hiccups that came our way. 

WWB, the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, May 2, 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

The virtual half – a Nairobi International marathon with a twist

The virtual half – a Nairobi International marathon with a twist

I was on the road again on this Thursday.  I was taking a trainee runner to the routes to figure out a 10km distance and give her the impetus to keep going.  We started the run at exactly four in the evening.  It was hot, but not as hot.  We left Uthiru towards Kabete Poly, then crossed the Waiyaki way and ran the length of the road towards Ndumbo.  We alternated our runs and walks.  

We talked during the walks.  We even discussed how we were lucky to have decided to run on this Thursday instead of the previous day, when it had rained from about four all the way to late night.  As a consequence, the traffic jam around Kangemi had been impossible, leading to one of our runner, Berly, getting stuck in the traffic jam for over two-hours after her visit to collect a running kit.  We were glad that our ‘foresight’ in choosing the right day for the run was working to our advantage now that it was hot, but not very.

At Ndumbo we generally ran the downhill on Kapenguria road all the way to the river, then walked the uphill for about one kilometre to the Lower Kabete Road junction.

“This is harder that I thought,” Sharon commented as she finally reached the T-junction of Lower Kabete Road where we were to do the U-turn and run back on the same course.

“You must touch the tarmac,” I urged her on.

“I am too tired, I may fall over into the road,” she lamented.

“This is the ritual, you just have to do it”

She reluctantly touched the tarmac of the Lower Kabete Road, even as the vehicles from Westlands sides approached and hooted.

We turned back and walked for about five minutes on the slight uphill towards Kenya Animal Genetic Resources Institute, KAGRI.  We passed by it on our right then took a few photos.  I had already reminded the runners in the group that photos were necessary for the report to the sponsors, to make them feel good and… to also get that next sponsorship in 2022.

We then did a short run to the river and afterwards faced that one-point-five kilometre of uphill that ends at Ndumbo.  We would run-walk that hill to the very end.  By that time Sharon was taking rests every five or so minutes to get some life back to them.  Her legs were aching.  I knew the feeling.  I could feel for her.  We were now however not far from our destination.  Just another two kilometres and we would be done with the run.  The sun was still overhead and hot, but not as hot.  We kept going knowing that the end was near….

It was however quite a different situation two days ago, when I did my own virtual marathon on that Tuesday.  I started the run at about 3.15pm and it was a hot afternoon!  I have never run in such a heat.  I was nonetheless lucky that my body was feeling quite well on this day.  I did not have any aches and I was quite ready to give the international run my best.

I was suffering the disadvantage of having little choice on the route to take to get the 21km done.  All the routes that I formulated would have at least half of the run being done uphill.  There was no way out.  I therefore decided to do my run on the best of the worst options that I had at hand.  I still had to do over 10km of hills on this route even though I would get my 21km alright.

I had taken the same route as the one that I was taking Sharon to.  I however did not ritualize the tarmac with that touching action.  I instead turned left and ran the one kilometre stretch along the tarmac and then diverted once more to my left to the Mary Leakey route.  It was then generally uphill through the University farm all the way to rejoin Kanyariri road.  I would then turn right and run straight on for about two kilometres to Kanyariri ACK church junction for another right turn to run all the way to the Wangige road underpass for my U-turn.

It remained hot.  I was tiring much faster due to lack of hydration or supplementation with drinks and fruits.  I was just glad that I had got to this U-turn, since I now just needed to survive a return journey mostly on Kanyariri road to Ndumbo market, then the last two-kilometres to Uthiru.  I was tired, it was hot, and I still had an international marathon to tackle.

The end was finally near when I crossed Waiyaki way and was passing by Kabete Polytechnic.  That was Tuesday.  And I stopped my timer at 1hr 54min 26sec with the Runkeeper app reading 21.22km.  That was a good run time bearing in mind that hilly terrain and no water or glucose being dished out as would have happened if it was a ‘real’ run at the city centre.  The real run that had now been allocated to only few elites who would be at the stadium on Sunday, October 31.

Well, Sharon and I finally also finished our Thursday run which was still to be posted to the Stanchart international marathon website as a 10km virtual run.  We finished our 11.32km in 2hrs 03min and 24sec.  The run was posted to the website thereafter.  The stats would show that Sharon was so far at position 57 in a time of 1.47.18.  The organizers had prorated the timing to fit the 10km expected of the competition.  I even saw that other young runner, Atieno, under by tutelage with runner number 2020 being positioned as number 66 on that list of 10k women.  

My runner number 2031 had debuted at number 8 on the men’s 21km listing when I posted my own results registered as a time of 1.53.39.  I however knew that neither my nor Sharon’s time would be in the top 1000 list when we finally get the elites doing the real run tomorrow, Sunday.

That does not matter.  It is on record that we hit the leaderboards, and no one can dispute that.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Saturday, Oct. 30, 2021

Running with my uncle… the final run

The day started as normal as any other Sunday.  Corona was still doing its rounds, with global infections standing at 194,576,971 and 4,171,656 deaths, while Kenyan numbers were 196,745 and 3,849 respectively.  The cold July weather remained cold.  I have believed that I have developed a ‘thick skin’ and can walk around with a Tshirt, but today’s chill was just too much forcing me to put on a jacket.

The day would take a turn around ten, when I switched on my gadgets and soon the messages started popping up.  I got the usual alert about some machines at the workplace switching on after a nightlong sleep.  I would be getting another such message when they go off in the evening.  There were two I-tried-to-call-you type of messages from one unknown number.  There was a thank you note from someone who had just received an item that I had sent.  And just when I thought that it would be all good, there was a final message that was short and to the point… Uncle Gilbert died

Those three words would set the day into a different trajectory.  The supposedly good day had just been dampened.  The day become colder that I had imagined.  That jacket that has travelled over 10,000km could not contain the cold of the day, thought it tried.  I walked to the workplace unsure of whether to do the now customary Sunday run or to just sit within a warm heated office and forget about the torture of running through the sub-10 degrees temperatures.

Custom won and I found myself changed and ready to do the Sunday run.  I had a meeting scheduled for three, hence I decided to start my run early to enable me to be back and ready for that meeting.  I had intended to start the run at noon, but I found myself taking the first step at 12.15pm.  The once feel-good mood had now been damped with reflections and memories.

I was running on the same old route from Uthiru to Ndumbo, then to Lower Kabete road, before diverting to Mary Leakey school, then crossing through the University farm to emerge at Kanyariri road for the 8km loop then back straight to Ndumbo and back to Uthiru.

I was lost in thoughts even as I went round the circle-of-churches just off Waiyaki way as I headed to Ndumbo after about fifteen minutes of run.  I could hear the mixture of drumbeats from the different iron sheet church structures, each doing their thing oblivious of the neighbour.  I could hear chants and prayers.  I could hear songs and apparent dancing.  I could hear preaching and speaking-in-tongues.  I was marveling at how the various churches operating in different languages, doing different church activities, and being as loud as they are, were really surviving each other.

The collection of church noises would soon be gone as I now joined Kapenguria road and soon passed Ndumbo with its matatu madness, even witnessing the matatu that was reversing onto the road and almost knocked a saloon car coming from behind.  The matatu did not have any care or concern, despite passersby shouting in fear.  I was past that in a moment.

It would then hit me this Uncle Gilbert had died.

‘Uncle’ as I had known him was a smart gentleman.  I knew him as a sharp dresser despite his advanced age.  I would get him in a tie in the few occasions that we met.  He kept reminding me that I was his favourite nephew.

“When I see you, I see my late sister,” he always reminded me in the manner of greetings whenever we met.

“You even look like my sister Leocadia,” he would continue, “Ayi, yawa!  However killed that my sister shall also be killed by the worst death ever,” he would continue to lament, his once smiling face now serious.  His grip on my hand still tight.  He would continue with the nostalgia and keep that curse going for a moment, before he would come back to the normal world.

“Okewa!  My nephew!  My favourite nephew,” he would continue.  He would normally get into this trance for about ten minutes, then he would be back to normal and he would release his grip and let me be.

I did not know my mother much.  I probably did not know my mother at all.  She died when I was about nine, while in class three.  I do not remember much about her.  I cannot describe her much.  I cannot draw her from personal experiences.  I wish I could have been old enough to know her well and to have memories that I can hold on to.  I only remember her through some two black one white photos that I saw about thirty year later, when my father passed on.  These photos were unveiled as part of the eulogy preparation.  

In one photo there is a lady who is quite young, in military uniform, but without a cap.  This is a passport size photo.  The other photo is a group photo, with my father on one extreme end while my mother is on the other extreme end.  Seated between them are four boys.  One small one, probably seven or eight is me, so I am told.  I can hardly recognize him.  That photo has both my parents in military uniforms, including caps.  My father has the impression of a tough commander, just by his facials.  My mother on the other hand looks so polite, so down to earth.  It was therefore ‘uncle’ who kept the memory of my mother alive in me, by his constant reminders.  Including that my mother was a prisons warden of high repute.

The last time I had a full day with uncle was during the funeral of my aunt, his sister, at Kendu bay.  Uncle was smart as usual, despite his advanced age.  His wide tie was hanging on his neck.  I had also known uncle as quite strict and a disciplinarian to his children.  I had visited his home near Sagam in Yala several times, and I saw how he handled his children.  They would never dare do anything nonsensical near him.  But if my uncle was strict, then his wife was double that.  

My auntie, his wife, would actually beat up the children, even the over eighteens, right in front of all and sundry, and she would feel nothing.  The children knew her so well that when she called any of them to ‘sort an issue’, they would never come over, since they knew that a compulsory slap would be awaiting.  Though uncle and auntie never tried anything on me, I had already learnt and known their temperaments and I had learnt the limits of dare.  I had got enough lessons in discipline by observation rather than participation.

On this last meeting with uncle, he had pulled me aside and proceeded with his firm hand grip and went through the usual trance once more time, ending finally with, “Okewa!  My nephew!  My favourite nephew”

He reminded me of my roots in Yala, in Ahono, from the Dholuo people of Gem clan.  He reminded me of how my mother was his favourite sister.  He reminded me that I had come from a clan of the learned, people who chewed books like grass and studied upto the best universities in the world.

“Your mother was an educated girl,” he reminded me.

“She went to school, unlike other girls of those days,” he continued, “It is just by good luck that your father got her from school to Luhyia land before she got to university”

“That is the clan that I am talking about.  You must remain true to the clan.  You must continue learning since being brainy runs in the clan,” he told me, taking some time to reflect on that statement.

“Okewa!,” he laughed, visibly happy, “You know Ngolo Rangorango?”

“Who?”

“Yes, Ngolo, the great scholar who read all the books in the world,” he updated me. 

That name was distantly familiar.  It was a name I had heard when I was young.  I even remember someone pointing at some fenced homestead compound when I visited my uncle during my formative years.

“You are of the same clan.  I want you to read books like him.  You already have the brains of the clan.”

That would turn out to be the last meeting.  How I wish that there would have been another meeting before this news of his demise.  How I wish that he would have updated me on the full history of the clan all the way Gem and his brother Ugenya.

So, as I did the run today, not noticing even where I was most of the run, absentminded with the memories of uncle, I knew that I was doing the last run with him.  He would not finish the run of today as he had retired midway, when the mental imaginations of him faded away.  He urged me on, asking me to keep going and never look back.  On I went to run in almost under 5-minutes per kilometre average.  The first time that I have managed such an 'almost' speed over that 24k route this month, missing it by only 4-seconds average.  Maybe the secret of some great runner from the clan is yet to be told.  The one whom I have taken after.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, July 25, 2021