Why run on New Year Day?

Why run on New Year Day?

I really do not have an answer as to why anyone should do anything, leave alone do a run, on the New Year Day.  I kept asking myself that question today, especially after the second out of a five-circuit run at the home of champions, that is Eldoret town.  I was on the same circuit that lies on one side of Sosiani river.  It is generally hilly, and I was facing yet another hilly section when this question came to mind.

It was morning.  I had started the run at eight.  There was hardly anyone on the road.  Even the motorbike people who are usually at the road junctions in groups of at least three or four were missing.  I was on the same route where I had had a fall just four days ago.  My knees were still aching.  In fact this was a deliberate run to confirm that my knees were still working well.  I have major runs this year, starting with the Kilimanjaro marathon in TZ scheduled for February 26.  I have to be ready for these.

My knees were not yet fully healed.  The wounds were still visible.  But that was not the test that I was doing today.  The test was on whether they were folding well and could withstand the pressure from the run over the varied terrain, some of it stony.  The pressure of the run was a bit too much as I could really feel that something was wrong on the knee, especially the right one.  I found myself relying on keeping my weight on the left leg, keeping my right leg in contact with the ground for the shortest of time.  Anyway, at least I was able to run.  I was afraid that I could not even run at all.

I was however just too careful with the run to enjoy it.  I was focused on where I was stepping.  I could not afford another tumble and fall.  I wanted to heal and be ready for the many runs in the year.  The test was therefore necessary, carefully done, and it went well.  The roads were deserted.  Even the church services at the three or so churches that I run past on my route did not start on time.  I could hear the loud church activities by eight-thirty when I did the Christmas run last Sunday.  I could hardly hear any church by nine-thirty on this day, when I was two more circuits from my finish.

Eight hours early was midnight that ushered in the New Year.  It was the usual dark night with the sky being lit by the fireworks when the clock struck midnight.  The noises were however not as intense as they were last year.  Even the drunkards den just downstairs was unusually quiet on this night.  It would usually be noisy and evidently drunkard laden.  By now, the partakers of the traditional brew, cham or chang’aa, would have been unruly, noisy and occasionally fighting about over some nonsensical things like someone did not greet someone.  This time was different.  The den was already closed by ten.  Was the economy that bad, that even cheap drinks were now not affordable?

So the night had generally been quiet.  The morning was equally quiet.  Was this the end of New Year as we know it?  Could it be the deaths in sports, religion and media in the last three days that had caused all this?  The legendary footballer, Pele from Brazil, had just died, followed closely by the former Pope Benedict at the Vatican.  Then the darling of the first major TV channel in Kenya (KTN), Catherine, has also passed on just a day to New Year.  Were these the causes of the major dampening of the New Year mood?  Of course, the first time that I heard that Edson Arantes do Nascimento had died it did not click, until they confirmed that it was the person that I have only known as Pele.  So what a way of ending the year, and starting another?

Then come Sunday morning and it was New Year 2023 day 1.  I found myself on the run route, deserted I may add, and finished the 25.7k run after some 2:14:18 run time.  I did not see any much difference between this New Year and any other run.  I did not seem to get the big deal about the New Year.  Maybe I am just being old fashioned?

For those who have a special something for New Year, go for it.  Celebrate it, enjoy it, shout over it, make it count.  For those who need to make some declarations on this day, so that that resolution becomes true, please do that.  It may work.  It should make you feel good.  As for me, I know the better.  There is nothing special on January 1.  It could even be fifteen of April on this day that we believe is January 1, who knows.  This January 1 thing is just in the mind.  What happens to those who did not make their resolutions today?  Does it mean that they are stuck with nothingness until next year?

This is from me to you on this New Year Day – do what you want on a day that you want to do it.  If you make a resolution today, then that is good.  If you decide to make it tomorrow, that is equally OK.  Make your decisions in life when you want… not only on New Year Day.  That way you have 365 days to live and do what you want… without having to wait for one year to do anything.

Happy New Year 2023!

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, January 1, 2023

New Year? Really!

New Year?  Really!

It is just yesterday, in the early hours, that I heard that customary shout…

“Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year!”

It was all over the air.  Out there.  I could hear the sound of fireworks.  I could hear some random noises.  Some shouts here and there.  It was late night, but the darkness of the night could not keep the folks quiet out there.  

That was not all.  I could hear the singing.  The music.  The preaching!  It was all there.  In the dead of the night.  So, what was going on yesterday in the dead of the night.  In the wee of the hours?  I was just on the late-night watch…. Doing nothing but watching.  I have made it my custom to take a ‘real’ holiday when times like this come.  Times like a holiday break that I was having at the moment.  A time when I do nothing… but look at the screen.  I inter-switch between the live and the recorded.  I sit on a designated seat.  In the middle of the living room and stay put for over sixteen hours.  The only break I do take is to the restroom, and then back to my seat.  

I enjoy my holidays to the max.  I get my maximum rest during such times.  I usually do not even know which day or date it is once I start the rest.  Everyday is just any day.  I just know there is day and night.  It could as well be a Sunday or a Monday.  Well, it could even be February or October for crying out loud!  When I take my holiday rest, I do take the holiday rest… doing nothing – technically, taking a rest.

So, when those noises of the wee hours erupted, I was kind-a-taken aback.  What was happening?  How can the environment, the darkness of the night, just erupt into noises and sounds of fireworks and singing and music and preaching and praying and chatter?  In the middle of the night?  I had to halt the watching.  This halt must have been on the tenth-hour of events occurring in real time, out of the expected 24-hours of watching 24.

Well, this must have been quite something.  To interrupt ‘real time’ screen time was quite something.  So, I took the break, opened the door of the second-floor apartment and stood out at the front verandah.  I could see the dim light of the streetlights just beyond the apartment block compound.  I could just make out something like a firework in the horizon of the Eldoret town.  There was nothing else visible in the dark, just some flashes in the sky, and the sounds and noises that whiffed through the darkness and stillness of the midnight.

I got back to my seat and unpaused.  I was re-immersed into the real time on screen and life continued.

That was just yesterday.  It is now a new day.  It is today.  It is a Sunday, so they say, since from my seat it could as well be any day of the week.  It is January – another thing said, which may be true or not.  Tomorrow, I am told, schools reopen, same as offices and the rest of businesses for something called the start of the year in the month of January.  Then we shall count another twelve months of anticipation and waiting, to finally get to another such noisy night like yesterday.  Another day like yesterday, when we make resolutions on what we want to happen, simply because it is a new year.  What would happen if we made that resolution say in June?  Will it change the happening of the resolution?  What is this new year obsession thing?

I am now seated over the eighteenth episode, determined to get to 24 by the end of the day as I wonder what is the obsession that we as humanity have with this New Year Day thing?  Let me disclaim that I have nothing against celebrating the New Year.  Go ahead do it.  Enjoy to the max!  I would celebrate myself if I got to know when it was and was convinced that that was the real start of a new year.  Therefore, please, celebrate New Year as you deem fit.  Who doesn’t like a good celebration, even if it is just once in year?  I am not against anyone celebrating.  Just do it.  I am just wondering aloud why this is such a big deal and a big day, than say today?  Don’t the different days all have 24… I mean 24 hours?

Let me even disclose that I was an annual new year celebrant.  During my primary and secondary school days I did participate in New Year celebrations on the date, on the day!  Life at the rural areas did not allow us to celebrate in the midnight as it is done in the urban areas.  At shags we could not afford to light the midnight oil.  We should have gone to bed by eight to conserve the kerosene in the lamps.  Nights were (and still are) quiet and still.  No noises are made in the night.  The night is for quietness and darkness.  Nothing should interfere with those two whatsoever.  That meant that we would celebrate the new year on the new year day morning.  We would start with an early morning congregation at the local church, followed by loud resolutions of what the new year should bring forth.  Then we would move from homestead to homestead just feasting and reminding all that we had made resolutions.  Good old days, but unfortunately, New Year is no more!

Anyway, let me not keep you guessing for long.  I will go ahead and tell you when New Year ended.  New Year ended in 2020 when a virus called corona virus hit the world and people started suffering from the disease caused by that virus.  This disease, called COVID19, has since become the defining moment for the human race.  It has caused closures, shutdowns, curfews, lockdowns and everything bad.  It was led to cancellation of events, days and dates.  The 2020 Olympic games were even held in 2021 for crying out loud!  With all that disruption of events as we know them, do you really believe that we still have New Year?  With 290,054,489 infected* with the virus in the world and 5,459,176 dead?  5,384 of which are dead in Kenya? 

*source worldometers website

Have yourselves a Happy New Year 2022.

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, Jan. 2, 2022

What became of Christmas?

What became of Christmas?

It was either real, or I was dreaming.  I had tired my body to the max, to enable me have a completely restful sleep.  I had just done the 2hr 15min run on Thursday on the hot heat of Eldy to induce this tiredness.  Though I did not end up with a ‘long’ headache like what I encountered after the Monday run, I still had a headache nonetheless.  That was dehydration reminding me that water was essential.  The Thursday run did however have some short spells of cloud cover, hence the total run in the sun was reduced and so did the total headache after the run.

Anyway, the next day, a Friday, would be Christmas.  My plan was to take a good long night sleep and wake up late on Christmas day.  After all, wasn’t there a curfew on Christmas this time round?  Wasn’t Christmas even cancelled this year?  I thought I heard that bit of info on the news, where the powers-that-be dared anybody to dare get out at night in the name of Christmas?

It would be a matter of wait and see if Christmas-2020 would turn out to be a real thing.  For sure, there was no midnight shout to welcome Christmas, meaning that it was starting to appear like it would not.  I already know that there shall be no much shouting one week from today, when the New Year dawns.  We live in changed times, thanks to corona.  I will not even be surprised if the PTB shall cancel New Year altogether – just watch this space.

*PTB = powers-that-be

I was for sure in bed.  It was probably Friday… it was surely Friday!  I was getting back to reality after the good night sleep and was still unsure of what was reality or unreal.  I started regaining perception of reality and it seemed to be morning as the light seemed to fill the room from the large window just besides the bed.  I was however still kind-of-asleep and I had not yet had enough of my full intended eight-hours of sleep.  I still had probably another two hours to get to the expected dose.

So, who was daring me in this morning?  Why was I stirring in my sleep?  Why was Christmas waking me up by force?  By ‘2-10’ as my old folks would say!

“Una ni ita mlevi?,” I thought I heard or maybe I dreamt that up.

But it did not take long to confirm!

“We, Jose, unasema mimi mlevi.  Ulinipatia pombe mimi?”

This was reality.  The sound was surely coming from the next compound.  The sound was coming in loud and clear, into my second-floor apartment that overlooks ‘the den’.

I have known of this den since I started my stay here.  It is where local brew is made and consumed.  It is the only place where I hear of, “Nipe ya mbao” (serve me something worth twenty shillings).  I have heard noises and commotion from that joint before.  I can assume that noise and arguments is the expected daily routine.  Most of these arguments end up in some form of fight, based on my observations.  Was it not just last Tuesday that someone guy confessed to all and sundry that he had been hit by a glass bottle by Jebet?

Back to the present, reality was slowly sinking in that something was going on at the den.  The sound was loud and clear.  Soon the sounds would become many, mostly from the male side of sounds.  I would gather that someone had called another one a drunk.  That was the main contention at seven on this Friday morning.  Most voices were so slurred, loud and incoherent that I was convinced that they were under the influence, no doubt.  After all, normally speaking, how big a deal is it to be called ‘mlevi’?  To the extent of….

“Haki ya nani… Mungu moja… lazima… lazima tumalizane na… na Jose leo!”

I could hear sound like furniture moving around and a door being forced open.

“Ile changaa nilikunywa tangu asubuhi lazima itaishia hapa.  Jose atanijua!”

There would be sounds of items moving here and there, while in the whole mix I would also hear some voices like trying to separate some fighting motions.

The melee did not last for more than five minutes, since there after I could sense the end of the situation as the aggressor seemed to make amends….

“Mimi Mogaka siwezi itwa mlevi, hata nikunywe siku nzima!  Kwanza Madhe,” he paused, “We, Madhe… Madhe!...,” he seemed to be calling someone’s attention, “Hebu nipe ya mbao… Jose atalipa!”

The very Jose he had been fighting… they were still friends!

So, this is what was disturbing my sleep?  For crying out loud!  Can’t a drinker drink in peace and sleeper sleep in peace?  What has come to the world on Christmas day!  

I would soon drift back to sleep, that sweet morning sleep that is usually short but enjoyable.  However, as fate would have it, this sleep would not last for long….

“Haiya yaya yai – huyu nugu ana niita masikini!  Ati sina pesa!”

Oh, come on.  Are these people real?

“Mimi Oti!  Mimi!  Ati sina pesa – mimi!  Walayi huyu Njoro atanijua leo!”

There would follow another commotion with chairs being dragged on the floor followed by more shouting and more noises as the boys seem to come into the scene to separate the apparent duo.

It was hardly eight and I was now getting used to the den being active.  That must have been the last of the morning commotion, so I thought.  It was becoming quiet and I was about to make a third shot at sleep, when without notice…

“Merry Christmas kila mtu.  Leo ni Krisi!  Hebu tukunywe!  Madhela, hebu nipe ingine ya mbao…”

But that shout did not even end before a new development occurred.  I could hear a shrill voice of some seemingly agitated lady interrupt…

“We Mike uko tu hapa…. Umetuacha bila chakula… Una itisha tu za mbao!  Wuwi!!  Mike uneniua na watoyi!  Lazima turudi nyumbani utupatie Krismas!  Sitoki hapa bila Mike!”

More commotion and name-calling would follow as all and sundry got into the argument, some supporting the man, others supporting the lady.  It would get ugly!  U-g-l-y I tell you!  All gloves were off when they started abusing each other, as loudly as their voices could allow, on how the man was useless and could not provide for his family.  She even said his manhood has become useless.  U-g-l-y it turned, as Mike threated to show all and sundry the so called ‘useless’ manhood for all to see and judge…. Of course, with some supporting the move and others opposing it!

I was forced to jump out of bed after this episode.  My sleep had now been spoilt without any opportunity for getting it back on track.  Come off it already!  What has become of Christmas?  It is now a day for name-calling, abuses, fighting and a lesson in anatomy!  I am ashamed to say a Merry Christmas following everything that I have encountered so far… and the day is still young!

WWB, the Coach, Eldy, Kenya, Dec. 25, 2020

Running a new 365

Running a new 365

Look back

I start today’s blog by revisiting 2018, my most active marathon year yet.  Though I only have one medal to show for the 365 days of activity, there was much more that I achieved that year than any other single year.  That is the year that I did six, yes, six ‘international halfs’.  Add to that the Ndakaini marathon and the Nairobi International full, then you can see why it was the most active of years.  Those are 189km of competitive run distance – real feet on real roads.  The annual average is usually 63, in 2 or 3 competitive runs.

It was therefore a very deserved break when I did hang my running shoes after the last international on Dec. 21 and took my 2-week annual break, where I remained sedentary for all of these days.  It was a great relief.  I could now manage to wake up without being on the edge or feeling tired.  I am usually on hyperactivity mode most of the year.  I find myself oscillating from run-tired-rest then the next run awaits.  It is usually an exciting long-period-of-time to be on edge.  I like it!  However, the break is equally exciting and I find myself having a December that has mixed fortunes.  In 2017 I was at my rural home accepting a sister’s bride price…. In 2018 I was at my rural home attending a funeral of my cousin’s wife.  

Greenery

Staying at my shags is the most exciting part of my end year break.  The place is quiet, with an amazing greenery.  You can see the full horizon coloured in nature, with hardly any disturbance of the natural environment.  The air has natural aura.  It still rains even in December, upon which you can smell the sweet earth, permeating the evening air.  It tends to rain in the evening.  The sun will usually not go down on such a day… the rain would have taken care of the sundowner.  Then the dusk would creep in slowly, whereupon you notice the darkness just sneak in, and soon it is pitch dark.  

The night power source is likely to be a kerosene lamp, however, we have now seen the advent of solar systems and we have installed one in our boma.  The rural electrification scheme is still a dream of a few since each beneficiary has to part with $150, which is no small fee still.  On this day that we have had the evening rain, you can forget the solar power.  It shall support the lights, which is the main concern anyway, but it shall be on ‘beep beep’ by eight, and then momentarily go off.  That is the evening to switch back to kerosene.  

On days when there is no rain and no cloud cover, you can rely on the solar to power all systems, light and sockets until the next day.  On such days, when there is no rain, the crickets cricket through the night.  They tweet their melody from early morning through the night.  The fireflies take over the evening and soon control the night.  They twinkle around undisturbed.  The night is otherwise pitch dark and you cannot see further than the fireflies.  It is claimed that the night people aka night marathoners, use them to light up the way, I don’t believe this.  On such nights, you make your way from house to house in your typical homestead by pure intuition and imagination on how the route should be.  Occasionally, you do stumble on something or even someone.  

With my village life concluded, I finally have to walk back the 6km distance to the main highway to enable me get a vehicle back to the city.  I am forced to cut short the good ambience of the village.  As I walk back, I see all manner of crops growing on both sides of the small path.  The path is covered by thicket fences on both side.  It is the conclusion of the short rains, hence the maize has ripened and some land is being prepared for the next season.  Cassava and sweet potatoes dominate the rest of the otherwise maize fields.  Everything else is greened with grass, shrubs and trees.  Every fifty or so meters you see a homestead appear by the roadside.  There is bound to be someone in the homestead.  You are bound to say Hi.  It is the tradition to say Hi, regardless of whether you know the occupants or not.  Tradition has already taught us that we are all sons and daughters of the soil.  Were’s creation, they call us.  All the sixteen sub-tribes of the Luhya have a linkage to Were Khakaba.  No one came from any other creator but Were.  You are therefore obligated to acknowledge and greet any villager – all villagers.  I leave the village with nostalgia that shall last until it is quenched during a next visit.

Switch One

Back to the city, the end of the once peaceful village life comes to an end.  My full days spent under the mango tree have ended.  The dinner under the moonlight with my folks become a thing of the past.  The salutation, where elders call you, “My father”, simply because you were named after your grandfather is gone.  This salutation is gone for sure.  The city folks just shout at you with a “Hey there,” if you a lucky.  You are soon back to civilization as defined by the city dwellers.  You are soon back to the period of tiredness.  You are soon back to routine.  

In the village there is no routine.  One day you are waking up early, around six, since you have to set off while the sun is still hidden, to visit some distant relations.  Another day you are sleeping until late, not caring about breaking the fast in any hurry.  On those days they usually send one of the children in the compound, usually a grandchild, to wake you up from your house, if you are lucky.  If you are unlucky, the elders shall just shout you out of sleep in their coarse bass and chatter.

“Hey, our father, are you still alive?,” you shall imagine you heard while still in the depth of sleep.  You actually heard right.  That is likely to be about eleven.  On such a day you shall take breakfast at noon, lunch at three, dinner at seven and top it up with before-bed tea.  Tea is not a meal.  It is not counted.  It does not count.  It is taken through the day – from starter to stopper.  There is no routine, anything goes, apart from the three ‘routine’ meals every day, which remain compulsory.

Switch Two

Back to the city, we have our routine marathon runs – three times a week – as strict as a doctor’s prescription.  You miss out and you have to start the dose afresh.  It is in our system and we have to live with it.  On many of these Monday, Wednesday and Friday runs, I get to go for the lunch hour run with a colleague from the marathoners group.  That is how the B-and-B team came about, of course, leading to that very team breaking a record for the worst time ever posted in the international halfs, but that is a story already told.  Nonetheless, the record remains.  Had it been at the village, we would not be contemplating any runs.  The mention of a run evokes negative emotions.  It is by default associated with the night ones.

Back to the city, I can remember one of these lunch hour run, with the B-team.  We were going on the 8km ‘the river’ route.  We usually do run and walk, depending on how the runners feel on the particular day (and also the solar level).  On this particular day, it was quite sunny and hot.  We had as a result only run to the 4km turn-back point, then decided to walk back the hill, and continue walking back to our starting point.

“I am too tired today,” Beryl said, “It is you who forced me to come for this run.”

“That is not true,” I said.

“Why now?”

“This run was already planned in the big scheme of things,” I stated, “It would have happened whether you like it or not.  There is nothing you could have done to prevent this run from happening.”

This is big

We discussed this big-scheme-of-things, which some call fate or destiny, with different points of view and did not have an agreement by the time we finished the 1hr 10min run-with-walk.  We have discussed this topic many other times, usually with no agreement, and it thus brings me to the New Year message…

Let your destiny in 2019 be guided by your decision to do your runs.  Commit to these runs since it is part of a healthy lifestyle.  If you decide to do your weekly runs, then go ahead and do them.  If you decide to join our monthly international halfs, then by all means do that.  If you want to join us for the Kilimanjaro marathon in March, just be there.  In the ‘big scheme of things’, there is nothing you can do to prevent what you want to do from happening – it is unstoppable and beyond your control.  Plan for it.  Show up for it.  Surrender to it.  Give in.  Flow with it.

Happy New Year 2019.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Jan. 6, 2019