Running half naked – when running is a must

Running half naked – when running is a must

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marking Stanchart ‘2-0’ with a ‘2-Ouch’ run

Marking Stanchart ‘2-0’ with a ‘2-Ouch’ run

I had no doubt that I would finish the grueling 42km run at the Stanchart Nairobi International Marathon of Sunday, October 29, 2023.  I had after all done at least two preparatory runs that were each 30k in the two months prior to the run.  I had also religiously, since last Stanchart, participated in the monthly 21k IKM marathons that take place every last Friday of the month.  Running a better time was another thing altogether.  I now run to finish the run.  I have a pool of young runners whom I have left to run better time and break records.

However, the Stanchart 2023 event was yet to unveil its mysteries that would include many unexpected and unimaginable occurrences, all in a span of four hours…

I had to call and email our Stanchart marathon contact twice to reconfirm that the marathon was really starting at 6am.  This would be a first.  It has over the years started at seven.  The earliest it has ever started has been at 6.45am.  Six o’clock was a different territory, and that is what the 2023 marathon demanded of those on the 42 thousands metres run – any of the 1,091 registered runners who were brave enough to join in.

The bus carrying the marathoners from Uthiru left five minutes late, at 0505 hours.  It was full by any standards even in this early hour.  Last year it was hardly quarter filled.  This year it was over half full.  We picked two other runners along the way and were soon at Mbagathi road, then joined Langata road at 0530hrs.  It took another ten minutes to navigate the one kilometer road to Uhuru gardens due to the traffic snarl-up caused by the vehicles that were mostly headed to the same Uhuru gardens, which was the venue of the marathon.

The bus attempted to find a parking spot on the already filled up Carnivore grounds parking yard, even as I jumped out of the bus at 5.45am and started navigating my way through the big crowd of runners who had already filled the road around Uhuru gardens heading to Southern bypass road.  It took me about five minutes to move through the less than five hundred metre road that had no navigation space due to the sheer volume of humanity.

I was at the starting line with less than ten minutes to spare.
“The big forty-two kilometer run is just about to start,” someone announced on the public address system as the crowd of hardly five hundred jostled on the tarmac space behind the starting line.
“This is big,” he continued, “It is like going round a playing field for 105 times,” he let it sink a bit, before continuing, “Nairobi and the world, are you ready!”
“Yes,” the crowd of runners responded.  It was still dark.
“I did not hear you, Nairobi and the world, are you ready!”
“Yes,” we roared back.

By this time a team of security guards had formed a human shield and interlocked arms just in front of the crowd, about ten metres to the starting line.  They attempted to hold the runners back with some success but not for long.  The shield of about twelve beefy men stretched all across the tarmac would soon start being pushed forward from the back by the crowd.
“We have a countdown in two minutes,” the PA blared.

That announcement intensified the pushing forces.  The security guards were forced to move the shield some metres ahead due to the sheer force of the push that was coming from behind.  We were now just about five metres from the elite runners who had been advantaged to be allowed to gather undisturbed in front of the human shield.

“Nairobi and the world, we now have the countdown,” the PA announced.  My phone was by this time already on airplane mode and the Runkeeper app timer set for run activity and ready for the start.  My runner no. 1394 had already been affixed to my NMMT Tshirt the previous night.  This was it!  The morning had by now started being a bit bright.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven,….,” the countdown started.  
The excitement rose towards a bursting point and it finally did burst when there was a popping sound to mark the start of the run, the sound coming from somewhere ahead.  It was exactly 06.00.00 when the run started.

I started the run amongst the middle crowd runners.  I had already calculated that this would be a long long long run.  I had given myself a running window of 4 hours.  I was bound to be on this road for many hours, all the way to 10am.  It was now just six.  There were still many many many minutes of feet on the tarmac on this Sunday.  It is with this in mind that I took off relatively slowly and followed the crowd.  I settled on a comfortable pace that was slightly slower than a fast run that I would adopt on a half marathon event.

I was still lost in thought when we encountered the first water station.
“This cannot be true,” I did self-talk.
The not true was about the distance.  I expected the water station to be at the 5km mark.  It seemed to be a bit too soon, but maybe I was just running faster.  I have made it a habit of not looking at my timer when I am on a long competitive run.  I just let go and enjoy the run.  Let the timer do its thing.  I do not change strategy based on the timer.  I just run.
I picked a packet of water.  Yes, packet of water!  This was new.  I am used to plastic water bottles, or worse an open plastic tumbler, but this time we were getting them in 250ml packets.  

“This is now true,” I did a second self-talk about ten-minutes later, when I saw the ‘42k/21k/10k – 5km’ sign.  My body was behaving well so far.  The weather was still calm at this time of the morning, hardly 6.30am.  It was still on the darker side of light and the overhead clouds did not seem to be ready to give in to the sun on this Sunday.  I kept going.  It was the same run route as that of last year and I therefore knew the general profile.  We would run towards Mombasa road towards the Internal Container Depot then do a U-turn to run back along the Nairobi National Park fence towards the Uhuru gardens starting point.  However, we would then continue on the Southern bypass to reach the ultimate U-turn somewhere far, to then bring us back to the finish line at Uhuru gardens.

There were adequate water stations, at least every 5km.  Each had water.  Some had soda!  Yes!, for the first time in living memory Stanchart provided soda for the runners.  However, they served them in some very small plastic tops, akin bottle tops.  Anyway, something is better than nothing.  But the 20th anniversary celebrations of Stanchart still had many surprises in store.  They provided the runners with some fruits, bananas, melons and pieces of orange.  This was surely Stanchart ver. 2.0.  It was not the same old.


On these very long long runs your mind can play tricks on you, so do not believe in what your mind tells you, believe in what you see.  I had almost been cheated at that 5km mark distance marker, and my mind was about to cheat me again at the 20km mark.  I knew that we were already back to Langata road flyover near Uhuru gardens and I should have now done about 20km.  However, I knew that I could not trust my mind when it came to judging the distance, especially when tiredness was now starting to creep in.

By this time we had already seen the 21km leader-board group follow us from the opposite side of the road having starting their run at seven.  I knew that they were still behind me but not far.  Later on I did see the 20km mark sign.  I was once more vindicated that distance does not go that fast when running a long run.  You just keep going and trust the distance markers.  You can easily assume that you have gone and gone, yet you have hardly done a kilometer of distance.  Trust me!

The run from Langata road flyover for the rest of the Southern bypass was lonely.  This stretch had only 42k runners, since 21k runners would turn back to the finish just a few meters after that flyover.  The 42k still had to go and go and go and go for another ten kilometres, before turning back to face the same distance towards the finish line.

I was ready to run and run and run, and so I kept going through the lonely run.  I did not look back.  I could see one or two runners somewhere beyond the horizon.  I could hardly hear footsteps behind.  Occasionally I would overtake a runner.  Occasionally I would be overtaken myself.  I just kept going, picking water where I could, picking fruits when provided, and finally, picking re-hydrating salt solution offered in plastic tumblers, when offered.  This was also a first at Stanchart.  They did not end there.  We even had sponge stations in at least three sections of the course.  Stanchart spoilt us rotten on this twentieth edition!

I finally made the ultimate U-turn at the extreme end of the run course, then made it to the 32km mark.  Now I had only 10km to run back to Uhuru gardens.  My mind went to a usual lunch hour run when I and my team would usually squeeze a 10km run over the lunch hour.  That is what I would now had to survive after having already run for almost two and a half hours.  What has to be done has to be done.  This was to be a long run, and running for long is what I was going to do.

Then….

Then I knew that it was happening!  I was just getting to the 35km mark when it came and it came fast and abrupt!  I was hit by a sharp pain on my right thigh.  It was so painful that I stopped running mid-step and moved out of the road to the periphery.  I almost collapsed due to the pain.  I could not fold the leg at the knee.
“Oh emm geee!,” I shouted loudly as I dropped out.

Runners came by and passed by.  A duo of runners whom I had overtaken not long ago passed by, with one of them being sympathetic, “Relax, alafu tembea, bora umalize” he said while he kept his run.
Some two guys walked by next to me at the road periphery.  They were just passersby.  They seemed to be headed to church by their clad and prominent exposure of the Holy book.  They passed me by while I was still at a standstill, hands on knees, pain still running deep in my right leg.  They said something in Luhya language that I understand, to the effect that ‘that runner is finished’.

They were right, but only momentarily.  I finally managed to fold my leg and the pain started to subside as I attempted to walk with a limp.  I started walking with a limp as runners continued to pass by, and then momentarily restarted my slow jog.  The pain subsided slightly and I resumed my run, with a little limp and with reduced speed.  I would rather limp-run the last 7km than the alternative of either walking the whole 7k or the dreaded DNF!  I even laughed at the prospect of a first DNF and that encouraged me to regain my almost normal pace.  The pain was soon fully gone and I resumed my normal pace.

Lightning would however hit twice when the same symptoms repeated in the same sequence hardly one kilometer later.  I once again started feeling the onset of that muscle pull while it was still a mile away in my central nervous system and when it finally hit without warning, I had to do another abrupt stop!
“This is not my day,” I lamented quietly.

There was no way I was going to do any run from this point on with all that pain.  But how would I even run when I could not even bend my knee?  I once again dropped off to the roadside and let runners pass by.  I again persuaded the leg and it finally accepted to bend on the knee, before I resumed a walk, then a slow jog, then finally back to the run.  This second episode did not however go away completely.  I kept feeling it deep in the bone and had to jog along with a slight limp.  I intended to get medical help but did not see any medical station on this side of the road.  Coincidentally, we had at least two medical stations on the other side of the road.  I wondered whether they thought that runners can only get injured upto 32km turn back point, after which they should survive on their own to the finish?

I kept picking water, fruits and that re-hydrating salt whenever offered.  It reached a point just with 5km to go when I saw some soda at a water point and slowed to a standstill intending to get some.  I could see the sodas in the big 2L bottles bundled in hundreds at a corner of the tent, but there was nothing at the tables next to the running track, where only packets of water were neatly arranged.
“I need some soda,” I asked one of the scouts servicing water.

She looked a bit perplexed, so I pointed to the tons of soda bottles just behind her, “I need some coke”
She also looked back, a bit surprised.  She kind of gestured in desperation, “We have no cups”.
I know that I had already encountered such no-cup situation in some station when I still have the strength to suggest to them to empty a water packet and pour the soda into that pack.  This time round I was just too exhausted to make suggestions and so I just left, a water pack on one hand, two sweet bananas on the other, phone in pocket.

With the finish line hardly five kilometers away, I was not letting the lack of coke in the blood stop me from finishing the run.  I had already survived two muscle pulls and was still nursing a pain from the second pull.  I was surely going to survive soda deficiency.  I kept going.  My mind was now focused on nothing but the finish line…
“Focus on the finish line, there is nothing but the finish line,” I re-crafted a tag line I had heard in some cartoon episode that features some sea creatures, one of whom wears pants.

My intention to finally get a good finish from the setbacks would however be messed up with the same mess that Stanchart-20 repeated from last year, mixing the finish line for 42k, 21k and 10k runners.  It was now only a mere 2km to the finish when the three run categories mixed, with the 21k and 10k runners being in the tens of thousands and having completely blocked and filled up the road.  Most were just walking and even having photo ops along the route and the signage.  There was hardly any run in this section of the route despite my best effort to get by.  I tried my best but the energy of colliding and avoiding to stumble on runners was just too much.  I slowed down to the best pace that could ensure coexistence with the crowd, even as I weaved my way through.

I finally finished the run at Uhuru Gardens, with my timer recording a 3.33.09 though I knew that I had stopped my timer a bit too late since I was still recovering from the effects of the long run.  This was confirmed when the final official time turned out to be 3.32.27, taking position 231 out of 730 total starters in this run.  The men and women winners had already done their bit in 2.10.18 and 2.24.31, with the half marathon having been conquered in 1.02.39 and 1.11.18 respectively. It took me over 5 minutes to figure out where the medals were being issues.  It was not the usual finish as you get a medal as before.  This time the medal issuance had been relocated but there were no directional signs and the sheer size of crowds at the finish line area did not help matters.

However, for the first time in many years at Stanchart I finished the run and remained standing.  I would previously collapse with hardly functional limbs.  I had to seek medical attention last year due to the muscle pull that had hit me in the last few kilometres to the finish and had persisted after the finish.  This time round the legs were still strong and that unfortunately double episode of muscle pull was a non-issue.  I was not feeling it at all.  The run stats showed that the run was good.  4.08min/km by 3km, 4.22 by 8.5km, 4.25 by 18.9, 4.48 by 29.4, and as expected 5.03min/km by the finish.

We left the venue and first passed by Langata Police station, where one of our runners was going to record the loss of her phone that was stolen from her marathon bag by some ‘runner’ who had slit through the bag in the course of the run.  It was on Monday, a day after the run, that the runner updated me that she had found a big crowd at the Police station, most of them in Stanchart Tshirts reporting lost items mostly phones.  However, there was a reported loss of laptop and just when it could not get worse, two runners were reporting lost vehicles – stolen from the public parking of the marathon grounds.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Oct. 30, 2023

November International boycott… when action is louder

November International boycott… when action is louder

The MoE* had communicated the Friday, November 25, 2022 date for the November international marathon as early as October, just after the Stanchart Nairobi International.  I was therefore confident that this scheduled run would attract many runners who had about a month to prepare.  The card was also full of choice – anything from 2km to the big 21km.  There was therefore something for everyone.

*MoE – Marathoners of expert, the committee that organizes marathons

Three weekly reminders later, and the day for the marathon was at hand.  This was the day.  It was a Friday with a good weather, unlike the evening rains that had ‘spoilt’ a few evenings earlier in the week.  A semblance of cloud cover brought about an overcast day in the afternoon, but the rain clouds remained absent.  The sun would force itself out of the clouds by four, and it remained bright thereafter all the way to sunset.

I expected a big turnout, but things would take a turn at about two.  Beryl was the first to make her way into my office, all smiles…

“I come in peace,” she knocked onto the frame of the open door.

“What a good marathon we shall have!,” I responded.  She surely must have been quite serious about the run to make it for the run this early, with two more hours before the start.

“I come with a peace offering,” she exposed a shopping bag and extended it in my direction.

There in lied the catch.  Nobody gives a peace offering when there is no war.  I however let it slip as I had an immediate encounter with Edu, who was just close behind.

“Coach, imagine I have a meeting at four,” he said in a manner of greeting, as Beryl took a seat.  I was now settled back to my seat.  Rummaging through the shopping bag.

I looked up.  He was still filing the door.  I had known that this type of statement would be coming sooner or later.  This is because Edu is usually the most enthusiastic of the runners in the team.  He would already have reminded me at least thrice that we had a marathon and that we shall be running.  He had done no such thing.  He had not contacted me at all since Stanchart.  

If anything, I had even met him on Thursday, just a day to the run.  I was finishing off my lunch hour run on the 17k, while he was walking leisurely with colleagues.  He would normally have even blocked my way and reminded me of the Friday run, lest I forget.  Not this time.  He just waved me along on this Thursday.  Those right there were signs that he was not running this international, but I still hoped otherwise.

Now it was all clear.  Edu was not doing the November international.  Edu would momentarily be gone, as I was now left with the peace offering to savor.

“Imagine I have to see my sis off,” she broke the silence, getting my attention off the bag of fruits.

“You mean!?”

“Yea, my sis is travelling abroad, and this is the day to say our goodbyes.”

Which coach in his right mind can refuse to grant a runner such a request? 

With no other confirmations for this Friday run, I knew that I was surely on my own.

When I started the run at four, I just left and did not look back.  I did not find or see any other runners, nor did I expect to find or see any other runner.  I was doing this on my own, for the team.  I was doing the run for all.  While the first 5k seemed relaxed and comfortable, as I run from Uthiru across Waiyaki way to Ndumboini then Kapenguria road, my real troubles started after the river on Kapenguria road.  My stomach just started paining.  I had not taken any other solid meal apart from tea and bread for breakfast, so this was a pain that I could not explain.  It was not a stitch, it would not be a stitch.  I wished it would go away.  It did not.

I was barely able to run as I traversed the university farm just past the 10k mark.  I was going to have quite an uncomfortable run, but it was now too late.  I would just have to endure to the end.  And the end was still far!  I was hardly halfway through.

Sheer willpower and pain endurance kept me going all the way to the turning point below Gitaru-Wangige overpass, before making my way back on Kanyariri road, to Ndumboini, then back to Waiyaki way and finally to Kabete Poly just 2k from my finishing point.

It was a relief to just somehow finish the run.  I did not care about the time.  I was just glad that I had done it.  The average run turned out to be 5m09s per km on the 24.5km course that took me 2hr 6min.  I was by now too thirsty having been unable to take any water in the course fearing the reaction of my stomach to water in my state of distress.  The thing that kept me going was the thought of the assortment of fruits waiting for me upon completion.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Nov. 27, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I send to your usual number?”

“Yes”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hech!”

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

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

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

One week and three marathons – why virtual is good and bad

One week and three marathons – why virtual is good and bad

Today is a Sunday.  It is the last day of the 2021 edition of the Standard Chartered Nairobi International marathon.  If anything, it is actually the real day of the run.  It is usually the day of the real run, until ‘virtual’ spoiled the party.  Virtual running has meant that there is a one-week window to do the run, from wherever you are.  We would usually have this run at the city centre stadium, at the same time, on the same starting line, with the full list of marathon greats.  

That was the norm in the good old days before corona.  However, corona had hit us hard from December 2019 and led to cancellation of most runs in 2020, include the Stanchart of 2020 which was cancelled outright due to corona.  We had escaped a second-year cancellation, but corona had forced us into this run-from-home event now called virtual.  The very corona that had now infected 247,283,954 people globally, leading to 5,013,391 deaths.  Kenyan numbers were 253,310 and 5,281 respectively.  

To put these numbers into perspective, the population of New Zealand, Liberia or Ireland is just about that 5M figure.  This virus was now forcing us to avoid large crowds and run individually or in small groups and run far from the event venue.  The virtual event had its good and its bad.  The adrenaline of the crowds is something you cannot get while running virtually at home.  Formulating a route to fit the run is quite difficult.  

The dangers of the road are many, unlike the real event where roads are closed to traffic and runner rule the roads.  A real event has the routes marked and there is nourishment in terms of water, glucose, and occasionally soda and fruits, every five-kilometres.  You benefit from roadside restrooms at the same intervals.  However, you are on your own when running virtually.  It is the lack of nourishment that breaks a virtual run and renders the longer distances very difficult to do.

Nonetheless, it is not all gloom on the virtual front.  Running virtually gives you a window of one-week to decide on when you want to run.  There is no restriction on date or time.  There is no restriction on the geographical location or the route that you can take.  You can even run many runs and choose the best of them as the final one to post to the event website.  Did I mention that you can even run different distances if you so wished?

Yes, it is with this issue of running-many-different-distances in mind that I found myself rushing to the starting point for a 10km run on this hot Sunday.  It was the last day of the run, the run that had been done since last Monday had already culminated into the final ‘real’ event at the Nairobi’s Nyayo stadium.  The final event of which only the invited elite runners participated in.  The rest of us were to experience the good and the bad of the virtual run from the comfort of home, in my case some twelve kilometres from the Nyayo stadium venue.

I had already done my 21km marathon on Tuesday.  I had even escorted Sharon for her 10km debut marathon on Thursday.  I was today running for someone registered on my team as WW, not WWB.  This WW was registered for the 10km run and I had just noted on the posted results on the organizers website that WW had not yet posted any results on the 10km.  

There were about eight more hours before the marathon event closed.  That was plenty of time to do something about this missing run.  Not only that, I was also aware that one of the team runners, Beryl, was going to miss this run after suffering a last minute medical issue.  A run on her behalf could ease her pain and add mileage to the total collection of distance that we were mining in this virtual running week.  It was not last minutes.  Any distance that was getting to the team was welcome.  I had even sent email to the team to remind them to get out and do their runs for the team.  This was it!

The sun was overhead and hot as I started off the run at Uthiru.  I was on the same 10km route that I had accompanied Sharon on, during that Thursday run.  However, this would be a run of similarities and contrasts.  While we started that Thursday run on almost similar solar radiation, I started this run with a real run, unlike last time when we started the run with a walk.  I was adorned with the same luminous yellow T-shirt of NMMT branding, just like on Thursday.

While on that Thursday we had met the ruffian just across the Waiyaki way after Kabete Poly, the very ruffian who greeted me in zeal and encouraged me to, “mseya, endelea kuletanga tu warembo manze.  Mimi pia uniletee mmoja next time,” much to the chagrin of Sharon.  This day was different.  I crossed the Waiyaki way without seeing anybody who wanted to interrupt my run and then kept running with no much ado.

I reached Ndumbo stage and soon started on the downhill towards Wangari Maathai institute on Kapenguria road.  I increased pace and the gravity kicked in to pull me towards the river.  I was almost out of breath as I reached the river.  On Thursday I was still at conversational pace by the time we hit the river.  I did not give much thought to the upcoming hill after the river on that Thursday.  Today was different.  I knew that there was the one kilometre uphill coming up.  I reduced speed towards the river crossing then settled on a pace that could propel me to the end of that hill, past KAGRI and soon to the Lower Kabete Road to do the U-turn.  I still touched the tarmac as I did the U.

I was not looking forward to my run route back.  I knew that there was that hill after the river all the way to Ndumbo.  A two-kilometre section of pure hell on earth!  I soon found myself on that very hill.  It was tough!  The sun was just hovering straight ahead, beaming its heat onto my face as I kept running to the West.  The beams were painful on the face.  The glare of the horizon was blinding!  I kept going, hoping and wishing that this hill could just end.

While on Thursday we were even commenting that the hill was ‘somehow mild’ after Wangari Maathai towards Ndumbo, as we walked its length to completion, it was different today.  That hill was long and nowhere near mild!  I still struggled on and finished the uphill just past Ndumboini stage.  From there I did the right turn and then ran round the big circle, with the collection of churches encircled, to join Waiyaki way.

I now had only two more kilometres to finish the run.  My energy levels were still high, and the sun had started losing some of its hard-hitting beams.  It was even hitting me from the back as I ran towards the East on Waiyaki way.  I crossed that road and started the last stretch past Kabete Poly back to Uthiru.  My energy levels were still top notch.  It was a sprint to the finish line.  I stopped the timer at 11.93km in 58min 17sec at an average of 4min 53sec per km.  

Why the data was converted to 10.00km in 49min 55sec at an average of 5.00 when posted to the Stanchart website still remains a mystery.  That leaderboard showed that that time was a position 9 ranking.  Of course, there shall be adverse changes to that list when the elites post their data.  But the screenshot of that listing remains the truth as at the time of writing.  I even believe that I deserve a 42km medal.  After all, I did 42km in the virtual marathon week in those three runs, didn’t I?

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, October 31, 2021

The run to forget, unless it was corona

The run to forget, unless it was corona

If there is a day that I have ever been tired during a run then that day was yesterday, Wednesday.

“Oh emm geee!,” I had shouted out subconsciously, as I took the second step in the more that twenty-five thousand that I was meant to take on this run day.

If you are wondering what 25,000 means, then let me give you the mathematics.  If you were to count out one number in one second, then it shall take you 7 hours to count from 1 upto 25,000 – and therefore 25k is not a small number of steps.  And unfortunately, on this Wednesday, I was already tired on the very second step.

What could it be?  My stomach would soon start paining, hardly five minutes into the run and that would persist for the whole run.  Why I had the pain remains a mystery since I had just taken a normal breakfast, read, tea and bread, followed by a cup of hot water about one hour to the run.  So, the pain was a strange symptom.

Earlier in the day I had had a casual conversation with some work colleagues.  They had wondered why they do not see much of me in the office environment, of which I informed them that I had corona jitters.

“Watu wote walishapata korona,” the guy in the group of two other gals updated me.

“Kale ka homa kenye ulipata from nowhere, ilikuwa korona,” he continued.

“Hiyo ni kweli,” the ladies said almost in unison, “How do you explain nobody putting on facemasks out there and yet nobody is dying en masse?,” one of the girls asked.

“I have no answer,” I responded, “Maybe we are just lucky.”

“Don’t bring luck into the equation,” the gent told me, “You want to tell me that all children in the world are ‘just lucky’ not to get corona?”

I was taken aback on that.

The corona truth or myth was out there for all to decide for themselves.  How or what is it that is causing 237,241,246 infections and 4,843,732 deaths worldwide or 250,510 infections and 5,175 deaths in Kenya?  Isn’t there something out there for sure?  How else do you ‘mythify’ such numbers?

Anyway, that was about eleven.  It was now just about three-twenty and I was on the road for the run.  My inner spirit was urging me to abandon the run and take a rest, though my internal wiring was reminding me that it was yet another day for a weekly run.  I therefore kept going.  I just knew that I would not be turning back if I were to I get out of the compound in ten minutes.

And I got out of the compound in ten minutes and was out there onto Naivasha road and headed to Kabete Poly before crossing the Waiyaki way to the other side of it.  I kept running and my feet knew exactly where to take me.  I was going for the usual run through Ndumbo, Kapenguria road, then Mary Leakey school to enable me traverse through the Uni Farm and then join Kanyariri road for the run to the shopping centre and back.  This is a route that has become the default for the weekly runs but on this day it was just much more difficult than I had imagined.

Turning back was not an option, despite how I felt, and I felt tired, with paining legs and paining stomach.  It did not get better nor did my pace improve.  It would be a miracle if I even managed an average of 7-minutes-per-kilometer on this day.  It was that bad.  I was glad that it was not yet the date for the international marathon, that is set for the week of Oct. 25-31 virtually.  I would have posted my ‘best worst personal time’.

I struggled along until the relief of doing the U-turn under the Gitaru-Ndenderu road.  While it was a relief doing that U, it was a pain imagining that I still had another 10k of run to get me ack to the finishing line.  Anyway, I was already too deep into the mix that I just had to find the willpower to finish the run, however long it took.

I even had a flashback on that corona discussion and really thought hard about it.  Could I have been infected, hence my lethargy?  I had however passed two temperature checks within the day, and did not feel chills or pains on the chest or throat.

I finally made my way to the finish line by some miracle.  I was tired, finished and almost dizzy.  However, I was back to normalcy as soon as I had taken a short rest and a bottle of water laced with Fanta orange soda.  My legs would however pain through the night and my body felt almost malaise.  I even thought that I would have to seek medication for something that I did not yet know.

I was therefore quite glad to wake up on this Thursday feeling well and normal, the memories of yesterday’s run still lingering on, though I would like to forget that episode in a hurry, when I posted the worst run time of 5:58 per kilometre over that 24.5k distance.  It is a route that I have done before in just under 5:00 average at my peak… and that is why I want to forget this run very fast and concentrate on the next.  This run was quite a welcome to the month of October, being the first run in the month.  The very month when the Standard Chartered Nairobi International marathon awaits.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Oct. 7, 2021

It is Freedom Day… I wish it were

It is Freedom Day… I wish it were

The UK celebrated ‘freedom day’ yesterday, July 19.  That is the day when all corona restrictions were lifted, meaning that there would be no more social distancing, face masking or any other restrictions that had been imposed due to the corona virus disease (COVID).  While the global corona infection numbers* now stand at 191,855,140 infections with 4,115,649 deaths and 174,673,792 recoveries, the 19-month-old pandemic seems to have now become ‘too much’.  The reason why the UK decision is noteworthy is because they say that people are fatigued and just want to go back to life as it was in 2019.

While this freedom has not prevented corona virus from spreading, it has at least brought some comfort to the people.  With vaccinations now rolling out in many parts of the world, the end of corona is not far off, despite the debates on issues such as efficacy, variants, booster shots and vaccine hesitancy.  While some may criticize the UK for the ‘live-with-it’ approach of dealing with corona, it would be worthwhile to also appreciate that the corona related restrictions had curtailed the enjoyment of human life as it was meant to be.

Take Kenya for example, where the confirmed infections* are 193,189, with 3,783 deaths and 182,921 recoveries.  Do you know how much life has changed and continues to change in these last nineteen months?  Nightlife ended, and may never come back, with curfews imposed in most of the country to the ten o’clock limit, while it starts at seven in the western region.  Social gatherings came to end, with funerals, weddings, birthdays, parties, you name it having been abolished or scaled down to a handful of attendees for the fewest of minutes, under strict supervision and restrictive guidelines.  Some businesses had to close down, due to restrictions or lack of customers.

*source: worldometers website

Even sporting events somehow came to an end!  There was no major marathon event held in Kenya for the whole of last year.  Even this year has already seen the cancellation of the Mater Heart run that was to have been held in May, while the Stanchart Nairobi marathon has new restrictive rules for the first time in eighteen years, after having been cancelled last year.  This year’s Stanchart event that is scheduled for Sunday, October 31 has gone virtual – yes – it is a virtual run for the first time in history.  However, before you call the organizers names, they have allowed a limited number of about 2,500 to attend the physical event on a new route out of the city, unlike the ‘within the city’ tour that we were used to.  Those ‘limited’ numbers are reserved for the marathon elites – those who can run the 42k in under 2hr 30min.  That restriction has put off most of us, leaving us with the option to either participating in the virtual one or skipping the run altogether.

I was pondering over all these new-look Stanchart 2021 during my Sunday run, two days ago.  Would I be receptive to a virtual run?  The organizers expect you to craft your own route, meet your own medical emergency preparedness, have your own way of water and nourishment support, as you run and record your own time, not forgetting the issue of managing the traffic and road perils on your own.  A physical run would have all these issues resolved, with the runner only showing up for the run.  These virtual run requirements being put on the self seem to be a bit too much, not forgetting that the run must be done within the Oct. 25-31 window.  It is still little comfort, despite the participation fee having been reduced from the usual $25 and $10.  Modalities of getting the run T-shirt and medal for a virtual event are not that clear-cut.

I did that Sunday run with other issues to think about.  I had been down with a common cold for three days by that Sunday, when it metamorphosed into a flu.  It is usually difficult for an ailment to pin me down, but this one had virtually won over me by that Friday.  I could hardly walk around as I felt the lethargy, sore throat, cough and running nose that comes with such attacks.  No home remedy in the name of hot water and hot tea would improve my situation.  I do not even know how I was convinced by Edu to do that Friday evening run on the 19k course, since I was for sure out of running strength.  I survived it and probably that marked the beginning of my recovery.

I did the Sunday run feeling a bit better, but my run energy was at probably the lowest that it has been in the month.  I could feel it as the run progressed.  I could see myself slowing down with each passing minute as I tackled the usual Uthiru-Kapenguria-Mary Leakey-Kanyariri-and-back route.  I was doing the U-turn on the 15k mark at Gitaru-Wangige road with so little run energy that I doubted whether I would make it back through the 9k that was waiting for me.  Somehow, I made it back, with forced run steps along Kanyariri road back to Ndumboini then Uthiru.  I managed a 2hr 8min run, for a route that I have previously conquered in under two hours just two months ago.  Nonetheless, I was just glad to have survived the run.

It is now a Tuesday.  I am fully rested from that Sunday run.  It would have been a busy Tuesday, but it is the Eid ul Adha holiday, and businesses are closed.  I have just walked the streets of Uthiru and observed that I was probably the only person with a face mask in the whole of that 2km walking stretch, that was generally full of passers-by and roadside traders.

As I head for full recovery from the flu, I wonder whether I should hibernate and forget about any more runs until I am one-hundred percent back to health, or adopt the ‘learn to live with it’ approach and just keep doing what I have to do.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, July 20, 2021

Six months later…

Six months later…

Today has many significant events worth remembering.  It is 9-11.  Yes, the date in 2001 when terrorists attached the twin towers buildings in the US and brought them down, causing death to 2,996 people and damage to property.  Thereafter, the terrorists affiliated to the event have continued to attack, damage and kill people in different places in the world, especially on or around this date.

It is also on 3-11, six months ago, when the World Health Organization, WHO, declared that a new virus, the Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome Corona Virus version 2 of 2019 (SARS-CoV-2-2019) as a global pandemic.  The disease caused by this virus came to be known as Corona Virus Disease (COVID-19).  The virus and disease originated from a food market in China’s Wuhan City in Hubei province in December 2019.  The virus then started spreading from China to the rest of the world… one country at a time.

On that date that WHO was declaring ‘the thing’ aka TT as a pandemic, the world had recorded 123,416* infections and 4,641 deaths.  Those 124 thousand infections were distributed in regions as follows Americas had 1010, South-East Asia 189, with 22,320 in Europe, 9966 in Eastern Mediterranean, 71 in Africa and 89,860 in Western Pacific.  The deaths were distributed worldwide as 28 in Americas, 1002 in Europe, 2 is SE Asia, 364 in E-Med, 0 in Africa and 3238 in W-Pacific.

In the same month of March when WHO was declaring that pandemic, and in response to this pandemic did Kenya also initiate a dusk to dawn curfew and lockdown of four regions, including the cities of Nairobi and Mombasa.  On that 3-11 date, when WHO was declaring the worldwide pandemic, Kenya had 0 cases of Corona virus.  

The new virus was spreading through breathing in respiratory droplets (cough, sneeze) from an infected person.  The infected people exhibited symptoms such as fever, dry cough and tiredness as common ones, with some reporting loss of smell and taste.  The virus incubation period was determined as 14-days, leading to such a duration of isolation after travel to a hot zone or self-isolation when one suspected that they had the infection.  

However, only a few of those with the disease required hospitalization, and most would just suffer the discomfort of the infection symptoms and get well without the need for medication.  Getting rid of the virus from their body in two or so weeks.  At the period of disease, those ailing are advised to take lots of rest, avoid interactions with other people, be on a balanced and healthy diet.  Visiting the hospital should be the last resort, when home rest is not helping at all.  

It was therefore a virus that was serious and not serious at the same time.  Serious because it was new, with many unknowns and spreading exponentially, but not serious due to the low mortality and hospitalization rates.  

Unfortunately, some of those who needed hospitalization would turn out to be surely badly off, with respiratory failure and hence needed assistance to breath by use of ventilators.  This need for ventilators posed a new medical challenge since this required a higher level of hospitalization facilities with associated equipment and expertise costs.  This is where the disease was considered a serious thing.  Lack of such intervention would surely mean death.  This is serious I tell you.

Six months later and the world is different.  There are no more social gatherings or any grouping of more than ten.  Bars and night clubs are closed.  Hotels and restaurants are mostly operating take away service or minimal occupancy with short operating hours.  Night life ended, as most countries have night curfews from nine.  People have to put on face masks when in any public place, including while using public or private transport.  

Temperature checks and handwashing or hand-sanitization at entrance to public spaces such as supermarkets, public transport systems and office blocks has become the new norm.  Humanity have to keep a distance of at least one-metre from each other wherever they are, be it while using vehicles or while being served in a supermarket.  This restriction on number of people at any gathering has meant that sports and social events are now cancelled for the year.  

All marathon events are not possible this year.  The organizers of the Stanchart Nairobi International marathon that was to be held on Sunday, October 25, 2020 have already communicated the cancellation. The event is now pushed to next year and is scheduled for Sunday, October 31, 2021.  However, this remains a tentative date, meaning that the possibility of another postponement exists.  That is how badly things have gone.  Ndakaini marathon that should have been held tomorrow, Saturday, September 12 is off.  The Mater Heart run of May was cancelled (read the list of marathons on this earlier blog, where anything scheduled since April 1 has been cancelled)

Our own monthly ‘international’ marathons remain cancelled since March.  I do not see possibility of holding any such event this year.  Nonetheless, individual runs are ongoing just like the one I did this lunch hour, despite them being lonely, boring and non-motivating.  I was on the same route from Eldy town to the 8km junction at Kipkenyo, then back same route then added a twist on the 15k mark leading to a finish on the 22.32km mark.  That was a 1hr 52min 46sec run.  I was glad that I was not rained on, for the first time in many runs.  The last time I took this selfsame route was on Monday.  The rain hit me through the last five minutes of that run.  Today I was lucky, was I not?

But not being rained on did not prevent the world from the reality of Corona virus as we mark the 6-month anniversary of the declaration of the pandemic.  While the total cases were only 124,116* on 3-11, when TT was declared a pandemic, the infections now stand at 27,972,386* with 905,413 deaths.  The infections per region (and fatalities) being 14.4M in Americas (0.5M), 5.1M in SE Asia (89k), 4.6M in Europe (0.2M), 2M in E-Med (54k), 1.1M in Africa (23k) and 0.5M in W-Pacific (11k).  The infection numbers have multiplied 226 times in that 6-month period.

Good news is that the fatality rate for TT remains relatively low at 3.2% world average.  Nonetheless, loss of life remains a serious thing and we do hope that this COVID thing shall be defeated soon.  Several vaccine initiatives are at advanced stages of development, while Russia already has a vaccine available for its masses.  It is now just a matter of time before TT is defeated.  Let us enjoy the secluded moments while they last.  We shall be soon back in the midst of big crowds… laughing out loud in crowded eateries…. while looking back at how 2020 was a totally messed up year.  

Enjoy the moments while they last.

*All the data used in this article are from who.int

WWB, the coach, Eldy Kenya, Sep. 11, 2020