Running in a group… for the first time since TT

Running in a group… for the first time since TT

It is a Wednesday.  It is a run day.  I am however having a pain on the back of the knee.  I feel pain every time the fulcrum of the knee bends to make a step.  The pain only manifests when I am moving.  While stationery – standing or seating – there is no pain at all.  It is that attempt to step with my right leg that brings forth all the pain.

The pain started yesterday morning – just out of the blues.  I woke up and the pain started upon making the first step from bed.  Despite my long run of Monday, I did not experience any pains on my legs after the run.  If anything, it is the left foot that has been my bother for the last month.  The right wheel has been in perfect condition for long.  So why would I have a pain from nowhere on a Tuesday?

The last time there was semblance of discomfort on that right wheel was during the Norwegian Stavanger marathon at the city of Stavanger, when that pain kicked in on the 32km mark and persisted for about two kilometres.  I was so scared for failing to finish my maiden marathon in the artic.  The pain would however be gone on the 34k, and I ended up finishing the run.  That was last year August, end of August.  

The same pain had plagued my first Kilimanjaro marathon last year March, just on the same 32k, when I was through with the 10km of hill that runs from 21k to 31k, when one makes a left turn to start the next 10k of downhill.  It is at that turn that the pain started.  I could hardly run when I got to the water station at 32k.  

And… and believe it or not, the medics at that medical station did not have anything to help soothe the pain.  They were handing over tumblers of glucose-laced water as their only medication!  How was that supposed to ease the pain on my leg for crying out loud!?  

I was facing another may-not-finish-the-first-Kili moment in that run, when my slow run for about 1k paid off when the paid once more just disappeared and I was able to run the last 10k to the finish.  (Find out what ‘DNF’ means.  It is the most hated and dreaded word in the world of marathons).  

But in 2020, nothing!  All has been good, including during the Kili-2020 and the FLHM-2020.  That right kick has been perfect for over ten months.  It was therefore a cause of worry, that it would just start to ache, on its own, even without being subjected to the 32k-mark.

My instinct was to skip the Wednesday run to heal-off the right leg.  This pain on the region of the biceps femoris tendon was not giving me any peace whenever I tried walking.  However, application of ointment on Tuesday night soothed the pain almost immediately.  

I even went ahead and confirmed with Edu, by a late-night call, returning his missed-call for that matter, that I would be taking him out to ‘re-learn’ the routes.  He claimed to have ‘rusted’ a lot, since our last such group run must have been last year, during the November international.  I knew that it must have been way before, probably the July-2019 international, but I kept that intelligence to myself.

I should have obeyed my Tuesday instinct and cancelled the Wednesday run altogether, since I woke up Wednesday with that pain now back and…. it was back with a bang!  I was now walking with a slight limp, worse than Tuesday when I was still walking straight.

“I am calling off the run,” I told myself as I struggled to walk steadily towards the workplace, where we were to start the run.

I got to the office and applied some balm on the tendon region and tried stretching and folding that knee joint.  I pained like hell!

“I am calling off the run,” I repeated to myself, even as the time to start the run was nearing.

I would in a moment get a confirmation SMS from Edu, “We meet at the generator at 12.30. I have gone to change and then heading there.”

“I am calling off the run, not!”

I warmed up and was soon at the generator.  I could feel the pain but it was not intense – that balm!  The pain was now hidden deep in the leg, near the bone.  I could bend the knee alright, but not the sprinting-type of bend.  I was on a marathon on this day, and so the sprint kicks were not available for use – good for me.

I got to the generator around 12.35pm, only to meet Edu running towards my approach.  He must have given up on the 12.30pm appointment.  He believes on these gadgets!  When it says 12.30pm is the start time, then it is the start time.  He ran back to join me at the starting point at the generator.  We would momentarily start off the run at about 12.37pm.

“It is your run, how do you want to have it done?,” I confirmed with him, just as we started the run.

“I just want to be back to speed,” he responded, “So, pull me along, but not so fast.”

“Your wish!,” I said then added, “This is my first run in a group since March.  I long for those monthly international marathons.”

“You can forget group runs.  This is the nearest you shall get to a group,” Edu reminded me.

“The corona thing?  There shall be a vaccine soon.”

I started leading the way as we faced the now default route, from Uthiru towards Kabete Poly, crossing Waiyaki way to run the other side all the way to under the Uthiru flyover, then run on the big roundabout to then turn left towards Ndumbo stage.  From there it would just be the Kapenguria road to Lower Kabete road, then we would take the Mary Leakey route, through the University farm to ‘the tank’.  We would then decide on what to do with the rest of the run once we got to the tank.

The weather was good for a run.  Just perfect.  No sunshine.  A bit cold, but the warmer side or cold.  We went through the run as planned.  At the left diversion from Lower Kabete road towards Mary Leakey we faced the road that is now being graded.  I had earlier noticed action on this road when on my last Wednesday’s run.  

My observation this day was that the grader must have re-dug the road, judging from the fresh mounds of earth overlaying the once roughing road.  Additionally, the machine must have done much more digging than last week, since the road was now dug all the way to the University farm.

“I hope they are not preparing to close this road also,” Edu commented, as we reached the Uni farm to run the gentle uphill towards ‘the tank’.

“If we survived the closure of the loop… then we can manage any strange surprises being planned… we just have to wait and see,” was my response.

We finally reached ‘the tank’, at about the 9.5km mark.  We now had two options, either to turn left on Kanyariri road back to Ndumbo and back to the starting line to finish the run, or turn right and continue on Kanyariri road towards Gitaru.

“Running back is 5k, any runs on the right side means whatever-kilometres-plus-five,” I gave a quick decision-point consideration to Edu.  We had by now run for about one hour.

“We are turning right.  We have to do whatever-plus-five,” he affirmed as he led the way to the right turn of the tarmac.

We kept going.  He was to confirm the turning point.  I had earlier on joked about this ‘turning point’ issue with Karl, who was also on today’s run but on a different route and distance.  We had of course eventually met at the ‘river’ just after Wangari Maathai, as he was running back, while we were about to face the uphill towards Lower Kabete road.  While we compared notes on the day’s runs earlier on, he had told me that he was just going for a ‘ka-run ka-dogo’ to the river.  

I had told me at that time that I am tagging along Edu, who would be my ‘mwanafunzi’ for the day.  I had told him that Edu is controlled by gadgets.  While I would run and make a turn at any point and finish my run at a finishing point, Edu would only make a turn or a finish when the gadget says so.  

And…. it just happened, as I was starting to remember that conversation with Karl earlier on…..

“Coach,” Edu drew my attention, as we were now on the uphill after the junction next to ACK Kanyariri church.  I was about five metres ahead.

“Stop!  It is now twelve point three.”

And just like that we stopped!  We were just stopping in the middle of the road, ready to make a turn.  I would usually have turned back at the junction that we had just passed, some two-hundred metres back, or would have proceeded and made a turn at the market ahead.  I rely on some landmark or pre-planned points to mark my turning points.  But… not Edu!

So when the wrist watch that he had instructed us to turn back… we turned back at that exact point that the gadget dictates.  We made the U-turn and started our run back.  The run back was quite enjoyable.  The downhill kept us pulled towards our finish line.  However, it was not all gravity, we still had that infamous uphill from the river towards Ndumbo market.  Conquer that one kilometre, and the run is as good as done.  You are just twenty-minutes from the finish – just twenty minutes of smooth flat run.

We kept running, walking at times, depending on how intense the run was.  It was an easy run all through though, averaging 6min 30sec per kilometre.  It was a welcome relief from the under-fives that have dominated my runs since March.  I felt much better during this run, from the lack of pressure to beat any timings.  The first time that I was under no-pressure in many months.

We finished the run after about 2hr 6min for the 19km, though I added something to the distance and time by my prior run to the generator before the start, and my final run to my hood after the run.  Another half marathon had just been conquered, under the tutelage of my mwanafunzi.  Impressive student I have here!

The painful right biceps femoris tendon was all but forgotten by the time the run was finished.  I was still basking in the feel-good from the day’s run.  The first group run since the First Lady’s Beyond Zero marathon of March 8.

I was soon seated by the computer screen when the inevitable TT numbers were splashed onto my face.  13,612,182 infections worldwide with 584,163 deaths.  Good news is that the mortality rate had remained 4% for the last three months, but half a million dead is not something that you want to even mention.  Kenya's share of the stats was 11,252 confirmed cases, with 209 deaths.  

But for the first time there was also good news.  A new candidate vaccine had shown promise as being ready for mass testing after passing through the first two phases of trials.  The Moderna mRNA-1273 promises to be the vaccine to watch.  However, there are over 60 candidate vaccines* at various stages of trials.  The forerunners are Moderna, Novavax, Sinovac, Inovio, Sinopharm, AstraZeneca, CanSino, Cadila, BioNTech and Bharat.   

Finally!  TT is going to be defeated, and soon.  It is now just a matter of time, before we go back to ‘real’ group runs.  I kept thinking of the upcoming triumph… even as I started experiencing that pain on my right leg… many hours after the group run.

(*https://covidvax.news/progress/)

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, July 15, 2020

Running at night part 2 - running with memories

Running at night part 2 - running with memories

Read part 1 here

Lightning does not strike twice, so goes a famous homeland saying, and that is what I was banking on when I re-attempted the Addis campus run.  I even took extra precaution and started the run earlier – at 5.15pm instead of 5.30pm.  I was good to beat the course in good time.

I flagged myself off and started the monotony of the circuit that runs generally on the perimeter of the compound.  I had already known it as a 2km high altitude route, with about half of it being a gently uphill.  I was starting at 2366m above sea level, to a low of 2360m, then finally to a high of 2376m.  With only a 16m height different, the route was not hilly by any definition.  

It was just one of those fairly flat routes.  But let that small difference not cheat you – running at an altitude over 2000m is not comfortable at all.  You just feel something pulling you back.  You apply lots of forward energy to get you going, and you tend to breath heavily.  Your speed is curtailed from start, unless you compensate by additional forward energy.

I would meet few other walkers on the route.  Greetings was the order of the day with every person that I met.

“Salamno!”

“Salamno!,” I replied, as I kept treading the trail.

Some encounters were even conversations, though I tried to keep going at a reduced speed.

“Salamno, you run good.  Very good!”

“Thanks,” I respond as I keep going.

“You extend also to road near gate, you must go to road there.”

“Oh, Ok, I shall try,” I respond while still on the run.  The person I am responding to must now be ten metres behind, walking.

“Be sure go that road,” he shouts to catch my attention, now almost fifteen metres ahead.

“Will do!,” I shout back.

What is this turning into?  A conversation!  Wasn’t it supposed to be a ‘Hi’.

But I am glad that I am even saying Hello.  It can be worse.  It has been worse, as I thought about what happened four months ago…..

When we got to P-10, our dormitory, the sun was still sweet and bright.  There was no way I would miss a run on this evening.  After all, this was a Wednesday – a run day.  While Paul and Eric decided to enjoy their day with the one-month free gym membership, I was on my journey of discovery – exploration of the open roads far from UiS.  

I had mapped my run on Google map and knew how it should turn out, at least on the map.  Unfortunately, I could not have the map while on the run, since I did not have internet connectivity while on the run.  This would not be possible without a local SIM card and data bundles on the SIM.  

Of course, I would have benefitted from the free wifi if I was configured properly on a local SIM, but that was just wishful for now.  I just had the map on computer screen, memory on how it should be, and reliance on good old luck to pull this off.  The map showed the route as being straight enough.  Just a long loop on the tarmac in front of my windows, and that shall be it.  It should be a simple 6km loop – a thirty minutes thing.  Simple!  Do this four times, and I am done.  Simple, I told you.

The time for the run would come.  I would adorn my running kit.  It was five-thirty.  I left and started slowly, past Kiwi supermarket and kept going.  I had now learnt to keep my runs to the side walkways.  And the walkways were available along all the roads, no exception.  

At times, the walkways would get under the roads as a crossing, then get you to the other side.  Other walkways were over the roads.  I would finally get to the main road that I intended.  I was to turn right on this road, which I did, and then kept going on straight ahead.  I soon passed the Clarion hotel on my right and kept following along Madlaveien, the main road to city centre.  

After some underpass that the footpath led me through, I found myself on the other side of the overhead main road.  This was just a road tributary.  The main road that I was running next to started drifting further to my left.  Soon the main road was so far to the left that I could only make it out by the vehicles swishing in the background.  

I kept running and found myself through a residential housing estate.  I was skeptical as to whether I was still on the right path.  This did not seem like a main road, but it was also not blocked in any way.  Wooden-walled houses stood on both side of this deserted tarmac road.  Most of the houses did not have fences.  The few with fences had some short green live fence.

I reduced speed, wondering whether I was still on the right track, but kept going through the estate for another five minutes.  I was quite relieved to finally get out of the residential estate and joined a sideroad next to a main road.  It was even possible that it was the same main road that had disappeared on me.  I was glad to get it, but that did not last.  After about fifty meters, the side road that I was running on seems to just end!  Just like that!  I just noticed it leading to some red strips marked on the tarmac, straight where I was to run.  What is going on here?

Nonetheless, this now red-marked part of the road was still on the side of the road, but not as well defined as the previous side walkways.  The previous sidewalks tended to have a gap, of greenery or otherwise, between them and the main roads.  This was just the road kerb, painted in red strips.  That is where I kept running.  It did not feel right, but I did not see any alternatives for me.  Then another fifty metres ahead and I got to a big roundabout, with large expansive roads all around the big circle.  I turned to the right, just as the road did turn right.  

Then… Then I heard a car hoot behind me, then pass.  I looked at it and did not see anything of concern.  Then another car hooted from behind and I stopped to look at it.  It soon came to a stop just next to my standing position, on this two-lane road.  The passenger on the front seat opened her window, and the driver, on the other side of the car tried to lean over, “No run here. This is highway,” he said.

“So where do I run?”

“Get run path, but no highway.”

I was forced to retreat the one hundred meters back to where the red marks started.  I still did not see the side walkway that would give me a chance to run towards this direction.  Where was it?  Where did I miss it?  I simply could not see how to run towards this direction on the expected footpath since I saw none.  

Not wishing to run myself into some trouble, I decided to just run back to UiS and remap my run from there.  I would also get an opportunity to maybe restudy the route map once more and then re-strategize.  So, I started running back, using the same path that I had taken.  It was a relief to start getting back home – just a reverse of the road that I had already taken.  A simple run back.  I kept running.  

It was now just past six.  The sun was still high and bright.  I kept going.  I met quite a few people on the side path, mostly those on bicycles.  I kept going.  Very few vehicles were on the main road.  I kept going.

“This must be my turn,” I finally told myself, relieved, as I got to the turn.

I turned to my left and kept going.  

I got a “wait a minute” moment, when the road somehow made a turn to the right, hardly two hundred meters after the turn.  My expectation was that once I turned left, I would run generally straight, all the way to Kiwi.  There surely was no right turn anywhere on the road, if I was to retrace my steps rightly.

“Maybe I was too busy running to notice the road profile,” I told myself, “For sure, I had made a turning when I was running to this direction, and that turning must surely be this one.  There was no other turning but this.”

I still kept going, but with lots of doubt in my mind.  The surrounding infrastructure did not seem familiar at all.  Maybe I had not been keen when running through the first time!?  I was running without my specs, but I still wondered why the route seemed different this time round when running back.  

Ten minutes down the road and I would for sure know that I was lost!  This is because this road came to an end and joined another crossroad.  For sure the road to Kiwi had no other junction at all.  It had a roundabout but not a junction.  That was a certainty.  I was lost!

I ran back to the first junction that I took from the main road, and thought that maybe I had turned left too early.  So, I decided to rejoin the highway and continue further down, then take the next left turn, just in case I had taken my first turn too soon.  

I started running down the main road, and soon enough found another left turn.  I took this turn and started another run on this road.  This road would again soon turn slightly to the right, unlike my expectation that it should be continuing straight on.  I kept going, grudgingly, but ten more minutes of run would lead to the same realization that I was lost, again.

So, there I was, lost twice…. but nothing to worry, it was still too bright.  It was hardly six-thirty.  My strategy was to still go back to the highway, rejoin it, and continue with the highway further down and get to the next left turn, just in case I had again turned to my left too soon in the last two attempts.  This third attempt was even more disastrous.  My road just came to an end then turned left into a residential estate!  That was for sure not the turn that I expected to take me back to UiS – no way!  

I therefore ran back to the highway and chanced once more on that first turn that I had taken initially.  Maybe I was just not being observant.  Maybe the road to UiS was just there in plain view, but I was not seeing it.  I once more faced that first turn that I was already lost on anyway, but my mind told me to give it another try.  

I kept running, came to that same turn and ran its full length.  There was no change.  It brought me back exactly where it had brought me the first time – to a cross road which was surely not the road to UiS.  I ran back, now worried.  It was over an hour now.

I had done more than twelve kilometers, yet I was not yet back to my UiS starting point – a starting point that should have just been a 6km circuit.  And now I was surely lost!  Lost in the Arctic circle.  Will I ever be found?  What would my family say?  Will my friends ever know?  These thoughts were now filling my mind.  I was heading towards a panic.

My phone could not load a map to show my position.  I had no idea at all where I was.  I came to a standstill and started looking around, just to see if I could decipher anything familiar.  Nothing came to mind.  I saw a place called Stokka Forum building, and opposite it a church, I guess Lutheran, written Karismakirken.  I was standing next to them now, but I could not recall ever seeing these two when I was coming this direction for the first time.

I now had no choice but to ask someone.  I felt bad about this prospect of asking someone.  I would have preferred to continue looking for the route myself, however long it took.  Nonetheless, there was no use going round and round without any possibility of getting out of this maze.  If anything, I would get more lost.  

I passed besides Stokka and headed towards a compound that looked like a school or sports club of sorts.  There was a big field with children playing.  There was a fence around it.  A footpath ran next to the field.  I saw some gentleman on the footpath heading away from the field, going same direction.  I quickened my walk and soon caught up with him.  I was just about to break the cardinal Norwegian rule of MYOB.  I felt bad about it. 

“Excuse me,” I said when we were walking parallel.

He was taken aback.

“Hello, I was running but I seem lost.  I want to go back to UiS,” I updated him in quick succession.

“Hi,” he hesitated and stopped.

I also stopped.  We did not exchange any handshakes.  We just gauged each other.

“I was running from UiS, and want to go back there.  I seem lost,” I reassured.

“I see,” he continued to gauge me out.  

I looked harmless enough.  Just a Tee-top, a pair of green shorts and the running shoes.  No danger from me here, on this bright daylight.

“Which UiS?”

“University of Stavanger!”

“They are many, which one?”

“The one near Kiwi.  Kiwi supermarket”

“Kiwi are many.  Which Kiwi?”

I was completely lost.  I did not have sense of direction or road names or building names or even localities.

“Main campus… The main University, the big one... Near a tall tower”

He absorbed the new intel.  I could see from his expression that it seemed like bad news awaited.

“You are far,” he finally said, in reflection.  Sympathy forming on his otherwise expressionless face. 

He extracted his phone, “You are here,” he pointed at some place on Google map, “And you are going here,” he pointed at another place.

“Wuuwi!,” I almost shouted.  

I was completely lost!

There was no way I would have got myself out of this quagmire without help.  I immediately realized that I was getting lost further with every attempt that I made in keeping going down the main road.  I immediately knew that my mistake was having missed the correct left turn in the first place.  I had from the onset taken the second left turn, instead of the correct first left turn.  That is why I was now lost… by far.

“You have two ways.  Go back and round, or cross through here, turn left to the main road then turn right on that road.  Keep going until you get to the turn that goes to UiS” he talked, while pointing at the map on the cell.

“Mhh,” I responded, noddingly.

“You sure you will get it?,” he sympathized, visibly.

“Sure.  Provided I get to the roundabout.  Just to that turn and I shall be done.  Thanks a million.”

And as surely as explained, I just crossed through the edge of the playing field, the children and apparent guardians looking at me suspiciously, and got out of that enclosure.  On the other side of the field was the tarmac road where I turned left.  Before long I had seen the main road where I crossed and turned right.  This was the very elusive road that I had already stepped on during my first phase of the run.  

I resumed my running on the sidewalk and it did not take me long to start seeing all the familiar landmarks.  Everything that I expected to see was back – visible in plain daylight!  There it was, the DNB arena.  I remember marveling at its size on my first leg of the run.  ‘Stavanger Ishall’ was next to it, then the building marked DLL.  Even the elusive Clarion was there!  In plain view!!

What a welcome relief to be back to familiar territory!  That final underpass at the roundabout marked my final left-turn that would then take me straight back to UiS on a 2km stretch of road.  I was so charged up, full of adrenalin, when I reached UiS that I had to take an additional dose of another quick 2km circuit around the uni, to finally stop my run with a time of 02.04.48.  The analogue showed 20.87km, while the mobile phone app showed 21.99km.  The app provided a route map of the run.  A map that I would treasure forever as the half marathon that was not meant to be… the lost half… the accidental half...

“Very funny,” I said to myself as I shook my head back to the reality of the moment.  I realized that I was still running the trail round the Addis Ababa campus.  The route was fairly deserted, just these two regular walkers that I overtook severally during the run.  Just the ache of the run at high altitude.  I was now doing the seventh and last loop.  It was dark, just as dark as my Tuesday run.  For a second time, nature had beaten me and forced the dark onto my running path, despite my early start.

I was glad to finally fight the dark path to the finishing line, with my gadgets recording differently:

Endomondo gave me 15.40km in 1.15.09

Runkeeper recorded the run as 16.01km in 1.15.08

The marathoners guide 101 dictates that I pick the maximum time in the shortest distance, so, Endomondo it is.

WWB, the Coach, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Dec. 5, 2019

The Accidental 42 on top of the earth

The Accidental 42 on top of the earth

When the opportunity to participate in a marathon in the Arctic circle presented itself, I grabbed it.  Then the opportunity to do a 42k accompanied it, I jumped on it.  I had only 20-days* to actualize both.  And actualize I did. 

(*The full details of this is being crafted in ‘The Accidental Trip’ to be released Dec. 31, 2019.  If you want the raw unedited, please get in touch)

So let me jump straight to chapter twenty-eight, which details this marathon.  I had ‘somehow’ tried my best to prepare for this run, despite the short notice.  I only had three weeks and I pumped eight preparatory runs into that duration, including my second run where I got lost in the strange land and ended up doing an ‘accidental’ 21km after running round and round without getting out of the maze, until I had to gather courage, break tradition, and ask for help.  

We had already been updated that the normal tradition here is not to say nothing.  Keep quiet and keep to yourself.  I forgot to say ‘Hi’ by day 5, since no one expected it and no one responded anyway.  It was a bother they did not anticipate.  Remember that meme that one of the things that runners do is to say ‘Hi’?  They lied!  Even marathoners do not say Hello to each other when they meet out there doing their runs.  Strange, I tell you but, the Viking tradition is tradition.

During four of my preparatory runs, I did realize that it was much easier to run over here without getting as tired.  I could easily clock a 15k, just like that, when intending to do a ‘lunch-hour’ run of 13k in the evening.  Maybe it was the sea level altitude?  Maybe it was the many forested trails that were quiet, shaded and peaceful for the runs?  Maybe it was that nobody dared ‘disturb’ you with a ‘Hello’?  Maybe it was the geography, just located immediately next to the north pole?  I do not know, but the run felt easier on the legs.  

The only contention that I had was being rained on while running.  It rains like daily, apart from that one-week of heat wave that was affecting Europe that did not spare this place.  Other than that, cold and rain is the order of the day, and night.  In fact, I was even glad that I was rained on during my last run before the marathon.  It would give me a feel of a rainy marathon.  The feeling was not good.  The rain was cold and the environment was cold, ending up with a chilly run, while the cold run gear was tightly caressing your body – forcing the cold onto the skin.  However, I was ready for it if it came to that.

Do not register

When I ‘accidentally’ registered for this marathon a week to the event, I was quite surprised as to how steep it could cost.  I had to pay for the marathon entry itself as $69, yes, you are not reading double, you are reading it correctly – 7k for the registration.  Then I had to pay an additional 500bob for license fee (no running without this).  When I thought that the deal would not get any better, it did get better in the worse way.  I was charged 175/= for service fee and 150/= for processing fee.  I paid a total of 7,800 bob for that run.  Paying in local Kenya shillings also meant that I had to suffer double currency conversion losses from Shillings to Dollars, then Dollars to Kroner, ending up with a total Kenyan bill of 9k!  Just for one run!! Robbers!!

There would be one final surprise – I got an email to collect my runner number from the organizer’s town center office, Radisson Blue hotel, just next to where the run would also start.  From my residence to town was about 5km, with buses plying the route every ten or so minutes.  The footnote of that email was that I should carry some $24.9 for a ‘beautiful runner Tshirt’.

“Kwani how expensive is this run,” I asked the email, loudly!!

I did collect my runner no. 621, branded with my name and the Kenya flag was printed on the lower left corner of the paper, just below the word ‘maraton’.  I did not get a Tshirt.  I would run on plan B.  Who needs another Tshirt when I belong to team NMM2*?  I already had a personalized branded luminous yellow T.  While at it, I just remembered that my expenditure list would now include the cost of this trip, which was setting me back 370/= for fare, with a ticket that was valid for one hour.  After that hour, one would have to get another one of a similar amount.  This marathon was not happening.  But, it just had to happen because my bank card had been depleted dry – and I would better have something to show for it.

*Ni Mungu na Miguu Tu

Which weather?

On Friday before the marathon it had drizzled most day.  It was a cold day.  A rainy marathon was surely in the offing.  My plan to be in bed by nine so as to be fully rested for the next day’s marathon backfired when the sun ‘refused’ to set down.  How was I supposed to sleep when the sun was still shining?  It was already 10pm and the night was still daytime with sun!.  I could see everything in this daylight at ten-P.  How could I sleep in this light?  I had even formed a habit of taking dinner at mid-night, since it is around then that there would be some semblance of darkness.  My sleeps were therefore mostly in the AM.  The one before the marathon was no different.

I had hardly slept, hardly dreamt, hardly turned, when the alarm on the phone woke me up at seven.  I got out of bed, in my small two by four room that I was paying two arms and two legs for.  I gazed out of the window and it was drizzling.

“This is just great!,” I said in frustration.  

I did not want to carry a change of clothes.  I just wanted to go to town ready for the run – no changing, no changing room, no left luggage and no luggage to claim after the run.  If it did rain then I would have to be clad in a jacket and trousers for the trip to town, and inevitable left luggage to deposit, and later claim – what a bother!

A cup of ‘tea’ made from ‘Sjokoladepulver’ kicked my day.  I had started picking a few words in Norsk.  It was the only way to survive.  That ‘chocolate powder’ was one of the words in the list so far.  It was still chilly when I left the hostel block to the bus stage just four hundred meters away.  I bought a ticket from a dispensing machine for 370/= that lasts an hour and waited for a bus to town.  The distance is short, in ten minutes you are in town.  I still believe it is just 5k, a distance that I shall shame by walking through one day soon.  That would mean that the ticket is overpriced for the hour, that is my take.

By 8.35am I was at the prehistoric ‘Stavanger dormkirke’, OK, old cathedral, where the 9.00am full marathon run was to start within 30 minutes.  The half marathon would begin 40 minutes later, while the 5k was a 1330hrs event.  There was an under-10 kids run on the card, scheduled for quarter to three.  When I encountered the slowly trickling crowd of runners, I started realizing the magnitude of my current predicament.  The details of the runners had already been published online as at the previous night.

“Africa?,” I said to myself, “How can you put all this on me?”

I was the only runner from south of the Mediterranean!  That was a burden too heavy to carry.  I even thought of dropping out!  The online list of 262 full marathon runners had only me and another one from ET.  I scanned around and for sure there was no one from ET.  I was all alone to battle it out with the Norwegians for the pride of the ‘south of Med’.  Bring it on!

*The marathon route (source: http://stavangermarathon.no/en/information/ )

Off we go!

The run started promptly at nine.  There were many preamble announcements in Norsk, which I did not get.  The countdown in any language is however unmistakable.  The once cold morning had metamorphosed into a warm morning.  The only disadvantage that I faced was lack of intelligence on the route profile, route map and route condition.  I started by just following the front runners.  We started by running through city streets, but mostly on the dedicated sidewalks, usually used by pedestrians on the normal course of life.  

I observed that the run did not seem to interrupt motor vehicle traffic much, if not at all.  Life continued, and the run continued.  Hardly five minutes into the run and I would momentarily be stuck with this group that had one of them with an overhanging flag affixed to his back reading, “3:30 – 5.00 min per km”.  The information on the website had promised pacesetters for 3hr 30min, 4.00hr and 4hr 30min.  I was glad to have seen this promise fulfilled, at least for the 3.30hr.  I soon overtook that group and just kept going – gazing in front for the direction that the front runners were taking and following suite.

The run was easy going.  While we were mostly on the pedestrian walkways, the run was also mostly done on trails in forested areas and majorly around two lakes and the beachfront.  The view was marvelous.  The run was smooth.  The fear of getting lost kept speeding me up to at least have someone ahead whom I could follow along.  They promised water, they delivered water.  That was on the 5k mark.  In small paper tumblers, they handed the water or allowed runners to pick.  However, that meant having to stop, sip, take, hand back the tumbler, then resume the run.  It was a strange one.  I am used to water in bottles (of cause Kili marathon had this tumbler business, the only one in my many years).

They promised energy drink, they delivered energy drinks from the 10k interval and for every other subsequent station, generally on 5k intervals.  All the way to the finish we had now both water and energy drinks.  The liquid was quite little – just a sip, but you could get a second helping.  

The run continued.  

I was glad that my worries about being hydrated were now put to rest.  I had not carried any water and if there was none on the course then I would have been roasted.  I had my three timing gadgets, and I remember that announcement of “Thirteen kilometers in one-hour, average pace four minutes thirty-six seconds per kilometer,” as clearly as the nighttime sunshine.  I was aiming for a 3hr 30min, but with that pace… I would end up with a 3-15!  That was not meant to be.  I was just gauging the new lands!

The run starts, again

And then the marathon started.  Let me let you in on the marathon secret, the marathon starts after 21km.  That is when it starts.  Repeat, again, the marathon starts on the 21km mark.  That is the point you aim for when doing the marathon.  I saw the 21km red marker on a small paper like structure, hardly the size of a foolscap, affixed to the ground on the left of my running path.  We were just about through running around the two lakes when this marker appeared.  I had to forget that I had been running and now start running to the finish line.  If I could, I should have reset my timers, but keep this part of resetting timers for later.

They promised squeezy gel on the 23k mark, they delivered ‘squeezy energy gel’ on that mark, alongside water and energy drinks.  

“These people have memory,” I told myself since I really doubted this gel thing.

I was still struggling to break the 33g gel tube when I was drawn by these chants of, “Heia!  Heia!  Heia!”

I looked to my left to see the group of kids, hardly teens, brandishing Norwegian flags and clapping along, excited.  There are runners before and after me.  I note that their “Heia!” intensifies with the approach of each runner.  I would observe many more “Heia”s on the route.  I liked it.

Talking of memory, I had one myself.  I remembered this 23k mark as exactly as I was now seeing it, a fourth time!  When I ‘got lost’ during one of those preparatory runs, I had ended up on this junction and turned back, then ran back to it twice more and turned back.  Every turn back convinced me that I was lost – and it was true.  It was so far from where I was supposed to have been running.  What a pleasant surprise to see it again!

Really?

This would not happen, I had told myself.  It is a “no way”.  But believe it or not, they promised chocolate, they delivered dark chocolate at the 27km mark, alongside energy drinks and water – energy drinks on the first table as usual.  I picked two small cubes of chocolate.  Tiredness was already creeping in, since it took me about 5km to partake my chocos – with lots of effort, both to push a piece to the mouth and then to get a munch going.

Soon I hit that beach that I knew so well – the Atlantic Ocean, which I had just touched the last weekend.  Those waters were as cold as ice.  Then!  And then there they were, on my right, the “Sverd i fjell”.  The three ten-meter metallic swords that have been fixed to the ground.  

This ‘sword in rock’ scene was a pictorial background in many selfies just last Sunday.  Now it was a run-through section as we faced the one kilometer run along the ocean front.  I would easily just cross the highway on my left and head back to my hostel some three kilometers from that point.  However, that was not happening since I had now already hit 30km and nothing, repeat, nothing was stopping me in the last 12km.

I did not have much time to strategize since… they promised bananas, and they delivered ripe bananas.  The 31km marker had about three small tables, the first one with energy drinks in small tumblers, the second with water in equally small paper tumblers, and a third with bananas, cut to pieces.  I had to stop for a mouthful of energy, then started off, banana piece in hand.  

Before long we hit the 32k mark.  I had a second flashback, attributed to the different times that I had got lost during my preparatory runs.  On that occasion, about a week ago, I had seen a red arrow marked on the tarmac pointed towards me.  I had to make a judgment call, and I thought it had something to do with prohibition, with only one-way traffic allowed.  I therefore had to do a plan B run on that day, instead of going against the arrow drawn on the tarmac.  Little did I know that it was the marathon organizers playing a trick on me.  That marking was for the full marathon route!  Cheats!!

The last 10km were already etched on my memory as per the map.  We would generally run along the oceanfront all the way back to ‘dormkirche’.

And… finally, they promised coke, and they delivered coke.  This was on the 39km mark, where we now had water, energy drink, coke and bananas.  At 39k the run is technically done.  You only have 3km and the run if finished.  But, but wait a minute, we would soon hit 40k, just like that and we now had the end in sight.  Just make a right turn somewhere in town, hit that tarmac and get to where the music was coming from.  

And here now comes the second trick of running the full marathon – the run is easily lost on the 40k.  The secret is out!  By this time you are tired and your mind is hardly working.  Your legs are just going on free.  The mind can give them a wrong signal at any time, including ‘stop’, so these last 2km are the most crucial for a recreation runner.  Master them, control them, have dominion over those two, and you shall finish the run.  

Life begins at…

When you hit 40, not age, when you hit the 40k mark, the end is surely in sight.  Every step you take makes you more tired.  The mind miscalculates everything, and gives it an exaggeration of x10.  After you have run only 100m, you feel like you have cleared a kilometer.  Run 200m and you believe that you should be finishing the run – the truth is that you have not even hit 41, not age, the 41k mark.  

Master your mind on these last two if you want to finish the run.  This is how you do it – know that you still have quite a distance to the finish line.  Do not think about the finish line, just know that it shall come ‘when the time is right’.  And that time is likely to be ten to fifteen minutes away.  It is usually that far. 

I just found myself at the finish line, since I knew that I would be there ‘when the time is right’ and the time was right at 3hr 14min 56sec as per the wrist gadget that never lets me down, though it let me down ‘kidogo’ on the distance, indicating that it was a 43.24km – still a very good account for an analogue.  

My other two gadgets ‘refused’ to be stopped after the finish line.  I took almost a minute trying to unlock the screens to get to the apps, so that I could stop them.  When I did, the Runkeeper read 3.15.35 for 42.21km.  How accurate can these digital things get!!  This was super precise, especially on the distance.  

Believe it or not, upon unlocking the screen of the second phone, the Endomondo was having that dreaded error message, “Unfortunately this app has stopped working, do you want to reset”!  Just imagine if that was my only gadget!!

The run was done.  Just like it had started, it came to an end.  There was no much pomp or funfare.  Runners were just finishing at their own pace and proceeding to leave.  I also left, just after stumbling upon James, a TZ student whom I had gotten acquainted with.  His story of this run was quite interesting, that he came in late then got lost!  He found himself towards the finishing line of a 42k run hardly 30-minutes after starting, “It was crazy, nakuambia,” he narrated, “So my marathon just ended like that.”

Extra run

The worst minutes for the runner are those 30-minutes after you hit the finish line.  While on the run you were surviving on adrenalin, and forced motion, especially the last two kilometers.  Now you are not running and there is no adrenalin, just pain on your joints and your mind coming back to full alertness.  Now it reminds you that you are not OK, that your legs are aching, that your shoe pinches somewhere, that you are tired.  

Many things are now happening to your body in real time.  However, they promised a pasta at the finish line…. and I was surprised to be handed a small plastic container with something white inside.  

I did not know how I survived the 30-minutes post run – that time when you are just moving around aimlessly.  Every muscle aches.  You are limping, you usually limp, you must limp, due to some leg ache, muscle pain or shoe strain.  However, I was back to normal by the time a got another hour ticket and got a bus back home.  

The red lanyard with white-blue-white strips holding the finishers medal was hanging around my neck.  The medal had the inscription, “Stavanger Marathon – NM 2019 – 42195 meter.”  That is soooo precise!  They need to change their slogan to ‘every meter counts’!  The reverse side of the circular metal had the wordings – “Alexander Kielland”, which had to send me back to the history books to read of the marvels of this Norsk writer.

Even as I write this story in the plain daylight of eight in the night, sorry in the daylight, I realize that ‘somehow’ I am not as tired as the runs that I have had back home, despite running the second-best time ever on that distance.  My PB stands at 03.07.51 in Nairobi, 2009.  At this rate, that record may not last long.

Updates (3-Sep-2019): Final results have been published on the organizer's website.

Helmaraton aka 42k full marathon:
Menn: 2.34.53 (ETH), 2.36.10 (NOR) and 2.38.39 (NOR)
Kvinner: 2.51.06 (NOR), 2.53.02 (NOR) and 3.05.56 (NOR)
I was position 20 overall with a time of 3.14.46 (+0.39.54 after the winner. My speed was 4m37s per km) and position 15 on the men's event.
223 runners finished the full marathon.

Helvmaraton aka 21k half marathon:
Menn: 1.09.36 (NOR), 1.10.49 (NOR) and 1.13.19 (NOR)
Kvinner:1.24.14 (NOR), 1.24.56 (DEN) and 1.31.10 (NOR)

732 participants finished this run

WWB, Stavanger, Aug. 31, 2019