Stanchart 2022 - The only marathon that did not get me

Stanchart 2022 - The only marathon that did not get me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The June divas marathon that never was…. Almost

The June divas marathon that never was…. Almost

“How was the diva’s?,” Reena asked.

It was exactly seven-days after the fact, on this Friday evening of July 1.  It was even already a different month from that scheduled run of June 24.

This July 1 was a busy Friday.  The day started with a final meeting with the visiting staff from our Ethiopian campus.  The visitor was to then have a free time after lunch to run some errands in readiness for the next day’s departure.  A visit to Maasai market at Prestige Ngong road was therefore scheduled for two so that she could be back by four-thirty for a five o’clock event.

Her company to Prestige called me at three-thirty, “Imagine it is now that I have cleared with school and is free to take Rachel for the shopping.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?,” I asked, not sure if Nanna was serious.  I have known her to be time unconscious, but this was a stretch by all definitions, “How will you make it back by five?”

“Si you just know me,” she LOLed, “Just arrange for Rachel to pick me at Kawangware stage”

I would soon try to trace Rachel on WhatsApp, since she did not have a Kenyan number.  The first call went unanswered and so I left a message that she should urgently get in touch so that she can pick a taxi cab to Ngong road.  Being a true sister to Nanna, with time not of much concern, I got a final knock on my door at about four, “Sorry misa president. Me get delay Finance and not watch Whatsapp… eh… Me not see call.  Maybe now I go taxi?”

“You are sure you wanna do this?  I mean go shopping and be back in an hour?”

“Yes, me shop eh…, maybe jus ten minutes? And then back with Nanna?”

I let her go and meet Nana at the designated location at Kawangware, having provided the driver with Nanna’s phone contact and also providing Rachel with my backup phone that has the Telkom line.

Soon it was five and I made a call to the two gals.  Nanna assured me that they were through and they were starting to travel back.

“When can we expect you gals?  At midnight?”

Nana laughed and let it resonate for a minute or so, “No! We are done”

“I know you Nanna, you have hardly even started your shopping.  I can hear market sounds in the background”

“No, I cannot lie.  We are through and starting our journey back,” she reassured.

I knew better than that.  That duo had not even started their moving around the market and my estimation was that they would be back at seven.

And I was right, Rachel made it back just before seven and it was around seven that the party of six, in two vehicles, made its way on Naivasha road to pick Nanna, then subsequently to Kilimani.  The cab with the guys arrived first, probably five minutes before us.  We thought that they would be settled in, but was surprised to still see the trio just standing outside the establishment.

“Why are you just standing outside on this cold evening?,” I greeted them.

“They say we they do not know us.  There is no reservation!”

I was taken aback.  Here I am with a team of three guys and three ladies and we are being stopped dead on our track.  How do you even formulate a plan B? 

“But I booked!?”

I moved into the building and confronted the lady that I found at the reception desk, just to the left of the single door entrance.

“Did you not get this?,” I pointed to the email message displayed on my phone.

She examined it.

“Ah, I see,” she saw, “Let me contact Fiona who booked.”

We remained blocking the entry with our party of seven.  The restaurant was already full.  There was hardly a table.  In a minute we were allowed in and pointed to a crowded outdoor location with only a small two-seater table available.  The workers soon pulled another one table and did a setup at the dead centre of the walkway of the extension part of the restaurant.  It was a cold part of the room and we soon complained that we could not survive that place, asking to be moved to any other place instead.

Another shuffle of chairs and tables would soon see us being setup at the main restaurant just two table rows after the main entrance.  This was better, though the two tables on our setup were not of the same size and were generally small for the seven of us, but who cares?  We are in a meating!  Sorry, meat inn.

“Welcome to Fogo Gaucho, do you know what to do?,” someone clad in a funny looking trouser and high boots approached the table and asked the team, roving his eyes around the many pairs of eyes.  The three ladies were set on one side of the length of the table, to my right.  Two guys sat opposite them.  The remaining two sat on the shorter edges of the rectangular setup.

“Of course, we do,” I volunteered, as I updated the only visitor in the group.

“Rachel, now you need to turn this card green,” I demoed, “Then we shall go and pick some salads over there,” I pointed towards their backs.

“Thereafter, you shall pick on the assorted roasts that shall be passing by using these forceps”

She had just heard of the routine before, but had never experienced it.  The rubber was now meating the road, sorry, meeting the road.

“Are you ready?”

“Sure, we go salad?  Maybe?,” she confirmed, unsure.

We got the salads and settled.  The cuts soon followed in quick succession.  I even saw a few circular cards turned red on the table, hardly fifteen minutes into the feast.  It was now all good.  

Our initial lateness and reservation woes were now forgotten, but…..

“Happy birthday dear Carolineeeee?”

“Happy birthday dear Carolineeee!,” some people answered.

What is going on!  We looked around to get accustomed to the singing.

“Happy birthday dear Carolineeee?,” one of those staffers with funny trousers and high boots could be observed coming from the salad corner towards the table just next to us, on my right, towards the backs of the ladies.  They turned to look around as to what was going on.

“Happy birthday dear Carolineeee!,” the members in that affected table responded, even as the staffers led by a soloist carrying a cake moved to that table.

“Happy birthday dear Carolineee?,” he belted out loudly, now just about five metres from where we were.

“Happy birthday dear Carolineee!,” we all sang back, unconsciously, morsels of meats in our mouths.

“Kata keki siyo ugaliiiiii!”

“Kata keki siyo ugaliiiiii!,” we shouted back, most people, at least in the main restaurant, clapping or tapping along their cutlery.

Rachel was completely amazed.  She would keep humming this song until she travelled back the next day.

Soon the song was forgotten, and Caroline and her crew could be observed digging into the cake, amidst unending supply of roast meat cuts being passed around by those high-booted men.

It was not long before we sang many more other birthday songs to many other people in that establishment, including to the party on the very next table to my left, directly infront of the ladies.  We just missed that particular cake by a whisker since we really sang our hearts out to ‘dear Kimani’ but there was no cake for us on this meaty day.

Our taxis were waiting to take us back home at nine as per the booking, but that is when we were deep into the eating.  Kimani’s birthday song had not even started by nine when the taxi people started calling me.  We were forced to finally put an end to the eating, when our body could not take it any more and leave at ten.

The first two taxis left with the guys and I was now just about to share one cab with the gals so that all are dropped at their respective places, with my Uthiru place being the last.  I am not sure whether it came as a surprise when the gals said that it was too early to go home and instructed the driver to go to a new joint that would eventually mean getting home at one.  The delay that you have to endure when you have to share a ride!  It was while on the way home, at one, when the marathon story came up amongst the many stories that were blubbered along.  By this time all were seriously slurring, apart from the Uber driver.

“How was the diva’s,” Reena asked.  How she her mind even thought of a run this late in the night remains a wonder.

“What diva’s?  The one that you ladies boycotted?  The very run that turned out to be a men’s event?”

“You mean?”

“Yes, I mean.  You girls still owe us a proper divas.  That one does not count, even though we did a twenty-one.”

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, July 5, 2022

How long does this take? Of five minutes that turned out to be three hours

How long does this take?  Of five minutes that turned out to be three hours

I had now sat on that chair for exactly one-and-a-half hours.  My mouth had remined open for most of that time.  I was tired by all definitions.  The seat was comfortable alright, but the open mount situation was not.  My mouth muscles were tired.

“Shield him up for the x-ray,” I heard the doc say.

When I say ‘heard’ it is true.  I had been having a face cloth covering throughout the duration.  I could not see much, just the darkness of the blue clothing covering the whole of my face, leaving just a circular slot on the clothing for the position of my mouth.  I was already getting used to the darkness of the cloth covering.  The first relief came about when I was being prepped for the x-ray.

I got the chance to look at the wall clock, hanging above the wide window to my left, after the veil was lifted.  I momentarily observed the traffic flowing along Ngong road.  The Green house building was just on the other side of the road.  It was now exactly one.  

The portable x-ray equipment was brought to my once lying position, as the seat was adjusted back to a seating position.  I had to hold the x-ray reader in my mouth for the process to be done.  I would soon be adorned with the leaded shield sheet for the process to commence.  My mouth stayed open.  My mouth continued being tired of being open for hours.

“Take him back and cover him,” the doc instructed his assistant.

The lady adjusted the seat, and I was once again flat on the seat.  My face was once again covered, leaving only an opening for my mouth.  Some little panic was already setting in as to whether everything was OK.  That x-ray break however gave me some semblance of comfort that I would be done soon.

Truth be told, I had surely convinced myself that this would be a five-minute process.  After all, how long does it take to fix a piece of titanium, hardly two-centimetre high, into one’s gum?  Shouldn’t it just be push in and it is done?  I was wrong….

“We are now halfway done,” the doc updated me when I was back flat.  I was still in the dark due to the face covering.

“That cannot be true!,” I thought of saying.  However, in my darkness and a tired open mouth full of all manner of paraphernalia, I could hardly talk.

I would be lying if I said that there was any pain in this whole process.  None.  The local anesthesia had taken effect about five minutes after administration.  The whole half of my right lower jaw and tongue were numb.  I could only feel the motions of things but not the sensation of pain.  I was just tired and now worried that maybe something was wrong with the whole process.  I was expecting a five minute thing.  I was now in ninety-minutes and just halfway through.

I persevered and survived another three x-ray breaks.  I managed to see the number of blood-stained cotton balls lying on the adjacent table during one of those breaks.  They were bloody!  They were scary!  Could all that have come from my mouth?

That Wednesday had started well.  I already knew that this procedure was happening.  My expectations were however far from reality from the get-go.  I had an eleven o’clock appointment, but I was not called into the medical room until eleven-thirty.  That should have rung the first bell that it was not business as usual.  I have always first taken a seat next to the small desk used by the doc for some preliminary discussions.  This time it was different.  Neither the seats nor the table were there.  The room had all been cleared and instead there were all manner of paraphernalia lying around to occupy such spaces.

“Things are thick!,” I said to myself, as I wondered how to even proceed.

I was immediately ushered onto the dental seat and reclined flat.  The first explanations were that there shall be a full face covering on this day.  This was for purposes of complete sterilization of the mouth area.  This was a first one.  I have always dealt with the dentist ‘face to face’.  This time it would be different.  Other than that, I was told that the process would be as previously explained.  That explanation had been about one month prior.  It was simple enough.  As simple as five minutes in my view.

It was at 2.30pm that I was finally brought back to a sitting position and the face covering removed.  I have never imaged that a small gap of a missing molar on a lower jaw, hardly a centimetre space, could take that much time to deal with.  This same gap was costing me about 0.2M.  And it is a big deal when your bill in charged in millions.  All this was to paid out of pocket as the insurance company had indicated that such a necessary treatment as an exclusion.  

I had even debated on the wisdom of this decision, since the alternative option was to extract the upper molar to equalize this lower gap and be done with.  Such an extraction would be covered by insurance, hence a free issue.  However, it was not too late.  The bill was now payable, the titanium crown holder was now buried in the gum, and the next stage of fitting a top crown on the holding root was to follow after two months.

I almost collapsed with the anticipated pain when I got a prescription of the four painkillers, each to be taken over a period of five days.  I knew that my next five days would be hell on earth!  I had already been warned that cold drinks were out of question for a week, nor were hard foods and any much use of the right jaw in that period.  

The first night on that Wednesday was the most apprehensive.  I took the tablets by nine and went to bed immediately after.  That was four hours earlier that I would normally hit the sack.  I wanted to be immersed in deep sleep by the time the pain hit.  The pain would probably be swallowed by the dreams.  The numbness had already died down by this time, though the pain had not yet started.  I did not take any food on this day, just a glass of warm water.

I was surprised to wake up on Thursday without even a painful disturbance in the night.  Today is a Friday, the second day after my dental issue and I am yet to feel the pain.  I am even wondering whether that dentist did implant anything on my jaw.  I however cannot explain those stitches whose strings I can feel with my tongue on that gap.  Maybe I shall ask the implantologist.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, October 15, 2021