The May international in June – when the pain is delayed

The May international in June – when the pain is delayed

The pain would come in two days later.  I had thought that the worst was gone, but how wrong could I be?  I could hardly wake up this Friday, two days after the run.  My legs were hurting, especially round the knees.  I knew that it was that Wednesday run.

On that Wednesday, two days ago, I had started my run at 12.30pm on the dot.  The weather was great, with just the right intensity of sun.  The air was, however, a bit still.  I would have preferred some windiness.  There was no breeze, but it was a bit cool.  The sun was still suffering from the defeat of the long months of rain that persisted most of April and May.  School reopening date even had to be postponed by a week due to these selfsame rains that had rendered the country mostly flooded.  The rain clouds had now generally retreated and left a dry spell that had lasted for over one week.  The last real rain must have been at the end of May.  The sun has since been progressively trying to shine back to its glory while the rain clouds subside.

This lunch hour was no different.  The clouds were still trying to stop the sun rays at intervals as I started the run.  The run started well and I already had an idea of the run distant.  I was cognizant that I had missed the May marathon that was to be held on May 31.  I was however on a bus for the long 8-hour trip to Western Kenya on that marathon Friday.  I had for a moment thought that I would skip the May marathon after that miss.  However, I was sticking to the marathoners motto of ‘running is a must’, and here I was, finding myself doing a compensatory marathon on this twelfth day of the month.

“If you want me to cancel a run, then ensure that we do not cross the gate,” I have been telling my folks, and that saying remained true on this day.

I started feeling a pain on my right wheel as I started the run, hardly before reaching the exit gate.  This was just after a short warmup run of 4kms.

“Let me just push it to Kabete Poly and see how it goes,” I lied to myself as I exited the gate.  

I knew that an exit through that gate meant that I was going for the full run – come rain, come shine; come pain, come relief!  But do not take my word for it.  It was just last month during a similar compensatory run that I was rained on most of the way, and I still survived.  Sanity could have called for a dropping off, but the spirit of ‘running-is-must’ could however hear none of that.

The leg pain persisted to the 7km mark at Ndumboini market.  From there on I got some relief as I went downhill towards Wangari Maathai institute down onto Kapenguria road all the way to the river.  I would then take the 1km uphill on the same road to join Lower Kabete road five minutes later.  The sun was still overhead.  The air was still still.

I turned right towards UON Lower Kabete campus, and kept going.  The road was generally deserted of walkers, though the vehicular traffic of occasional matatus and mostly private vehicles traversed the road at intervals.  I approached two cops armed with Kalashnikovs just before the campus, also walking on the sidewalk heading the same direction.  

I thud my feet loudly as I approached their backs to alert them of my approach.  I did not want an incident where they pretend to have been run-towards and had to ‘do something’ in self-defense.  They both momentarily turn back as I get within range and soon after, overtake them.  I benefit from their “anakimbia na hii jua” comment.  I am happy that the complement is a bit mild this time round.  I have heard worse description of runners before, let me just leave it at that.

I keep going.  I meet a crowd of people around the campus.  I am running on the opposite edge of the road next to the campus compound, but even on this opposite sidewalk I do encounter people who look and behave like college students.  If it looks and behaves like one, then it is one!  But trust me, I know, have been there.  Same uni, different campus.  

Who else can display the following behaviours, if not the students?  To start with, I approach a group of three guys all of whom are walking all across the narrow one metre wide footpath.  And, do you expect them to give way?  No way!  They force me to leave the sidewalk and get around them through the rough grass patch between the tarmac and the sidewalk.  I feel like being angry, even uttering a curse, but I force myself not to.  It is the age.  

Soon thereafter I encounter another group of about five.  By this time the campus gate is just on the other side of the main tarmac.  These five are chattering and laughing loudly and animatedly.  They have no care in the world.  The world is theirs.  They almost remind me of that, and I guess are ready to tell me to ‘runner bow down’.  They even give me the benefit of a story about what they did over the weekend.  It is more of who did what to who, but I do get to listen to the eventualities, since my footsteps are already retreated.

I soon pass by that hullabaloo of the campus gate area and keep going towards Kenya School of Government, and soon out onto the leafy surburbs of Lower Kabete with hardly any walkers around.  I keep going.  The run is now imbedded into my system and I have reached cruising level.  I am just going through the motions in this quiet environment.  

I pass by the Farasi group of roads, one after another, that is, Farasi road, Farasi close and Farasi lane.  It is a relief when I finally get to Ngecha road junction just next to Zen gardens.  I check on the tower clock at the junction.  It is now 1.40pm.  I know that I have another kilometre or so, before I do the U-turn.  I keep going on the Lower Kabete road and then divert to Spring Valley road for the short run to the U-turn point above the Red Hill road.

It is a welcome relief to do that U.  The run is now at least halfway done.  I now just need to survive the run back.  I am still energetic and rearing to go.  The weather has remained good so far.  My good fortunes however come to an end when I am back to Lower Kabete road and now have to do an uphill run all the way to UON campus.  That is a whole 5km of uphill.  I persevere and persist.  I am, however, getting tired and I can feel it.  I wish for a sip of water, though I have none.  I wish for a shot of coke or a bite of a melon, but those are just wishes on this Wednesday.  I almost start losing my senses as I pass the campus heading back towards Kapenguria road.

One thing you learn as a marathoner is to learn to listen to your body and know when it can easily give up on you.  This giving up is sometimes called ‘hitting the wall’.  I start imagining that I may hit the wall.  My situation is just due to the dehydration.  I had underestimated the effects of the heat of the sun.  It seems to have been sucking the energy and fluids from me for over two hours now.  I am also losing my sense of perception.  

I know that I shall soon be on free fall if I do not do something about the situation.  I deliberately switch the phone that has my timer, from hand to hand in short intervals, just to keep my senses engaged.  That action, after about ten reps, brings me back to reality just as I reach the river in readiness for the 2km uphill run to Ndumbo.  I almost give up when imagining that Wangari Maathai hill, but I also envisage the relief from the cool orange juice in my fridge and keep running as I look forward to how it shall bring me back to life in another 20 or so minutes – if I make it.

And making it I do, when I finish that devastating hill and now has only the short run along Waiyaki way, then past Kabete Poli(ce) then Kabete Poly(tech) and soon to the finish line.

“Leo kweli uliwezwa,” the sentries welcome me back laughingly as they open the gate as I head to the finish line.

I am too tired to even respond in affirmation.  I do not even know how I get the energy to wave back in resignation.  I soon thereafter reach the finish line and collapse on my seat wondering, “Why do we even run!”.

That question is soon answered when I access that cold juice after a shower.  I am rejuvenated and my body feels different.  I cannot describe this exactly, but it is some form of jumpiness.  A mixture of tiredness and satisfaction.  Just the feeling of a run.  No, we do not run for the 27.25km distance of this Wednesday done in 2:31:10.  That would be bad motivation and we would not even want to be on the sun for that long.  There must be another reason why we run.  Maybe we just wait and find out about the real reason when we do the next monthly international marathon on the last Friday of June.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, June 14, 2024

Running in installments during the April International Marathon

Running in installments during the April International Marathon

I left for this run not very sure of my run route.  One thing was for sure – I needed to register at least 10.5km on this Tuesday, so that I can wrap it up with another 10.5km the next day to make the 21km half marathon.  This came to be since the MOE* allowed the April international marathon to be run in two installments, equal or unequal, but installment run was allowed for the first time in the history of the event.  This exemption came about due to the severity of the ongoing rains.  It had been raining daily and at all times, that getting a run time window, let alone a long run time, was virtually impossible.  Breaking the marathon into two offered a real possibility to be out for a shorter time, and still achieve the longer run.

*MOE - marathoners of expert, the committee that plans our runs

I left at 12.35pm on this Tuesday.  I knew that I had at least 10.5km to do in this day 1, with a repeat the next day, if this was to be so.  Those of you who have done daily runs know that it is not an easy thing.  I was already dreading the mere thought of doing two consecutive runs.  And do not take my word for it.  I tried doing the 5-runs-in-5-days just two weeks ago and failed for the first time in the history of these challenges.  I could only make it for three-runs on Monday, Tuesday and Friday.  I skipped two consecutive runs on 17th and 18th – but with good reason.  I was booked for an internal meeting on one of the days, and external on the other day – both at the lunch hour run time.  But even the three were not easy on my legs.

The monthly April international marathon was scheduled for the last Friday of April, being April 26.  But it was a month of firsts, since for the first time in the history of the monthly international runs, we had to cancel the marathon due to the unrelenting rains, that were especially prevalent in the evenings.  We were all happy with the cancellations, glad that finally the MOE had given us a break.  We even went for the rainy weekend in high spirits.  A first month without a marathon.  We were looking forward to a new week with the schools back in session and a new month beckoning soon after, where May 1, a Wednesday, would be a holiday break.  What a great week ahead!

That was not to be.  Things took a turn on Sunday night.  It was just past midnight, repeat, midnight, when the national government announced that schools were not to reopen due to the effects of the rain.  They granted one week extension to the school holidays.  I came to learn about this later in the day, Monday, after I saw comments online about the chaotic situation on our roads and schools, with some students already travelled to school since they were not aware of the postponement.

There were to be new surprises, when later in the day the MOE sent a notification that the April marathon had after all not been cancelled.  It has just been postponed and would in fact be held in that week of April 29.  They sweetened the deal by indicating that the run would be done in installments over the two-day period that was remaining in the month of April.  Runners were encouraged to pick their run distance, divide it into two, and do the first bit of the run on the Monday, with a commitment to finalize the remaining bit the next day.

I have never faced an installment run before, where the distance is split into two.  That is why I was not very sure of the run route as I left for the Monday run on April 29.  A 10.5km is a direct run from Uthiru to Lower Kabete road through Kapenguria road and back.  However, that is only possible if the river just after Wangari Maathai institute is not flooded.  It has been flooded of later, and was impassible hardly ten days prior, when flood waters overwhelmed the support structures and filled up the whole valley including the road passage on top of the drainage culverts underneath.

My plan A was to get through to Lower Kabete road, and get as much distance as possible on day one, maybe even stretch it to 15k, then wrap up the balance 6k on day 2.  That depended on the river section not being flooded to enable me cross over.  If it was, then anything goes, and this has in fact happened before and not long ago.  

Take that April 12 run as an example.  I had encountered exactly this challenge.  I was set for a long undefined distance run, that was to at least get to Lower Kabete road.  It was not to be.  I reached that river crossing and found it flooded.  I saw some people wadding through the completely submerged tarmac road, dirty brown water reaching almost knee high as they struggled through the five or so metre crossing.

I had screeched to a halt.

“Oh emm gee!,” I shouted subconsciously.  

I found other stranded people contemplating whether to cross or stay put.

I stopped and assessed the situation.  I could see a flooded plain on the left side of the road.  The flood waters had formed a big lake on the once lush green agricultural land that had some banana stems, maize plants, and arrow roots.  They were all mostly submerged.  Only the upper half of the banana stems were visible.  The flood had thereafter formed a river on top of the tarmac road, as it flooded towards the left edge of the road, all across to the right side and onto a valley.

This stoppage interrupted my run rhythm on a day that I was having one of the best run paces in the year.  I was already at an average of 4.40min per km, which was quite something.  I am usually over 5min per km by this point on the run.  I had to go to plan B.  I made a U-turn and decided to tweak my way back.  

Running back the Kapenguria road hill early in the run was not fun, when my last 2km had been a smooth downhill.  I persevered and reached Ndumboini.  I then turned right and went to a run on Kanyariri road all the way to the Northern by-pass near Gitaru and back, registering a 25k in the process.  That was 17-days before this Monday run.  I was not planning for another U-turn at the river, but with the rains being as unrelenting as they have been, this dreaded U-turn and a new plan B was still a reality.

Back to this Monday run.  The weather was quite good, being just a bit sunny but with a cloud cover that was preventing the sun from its aggression.  I was to get to Lower Kabete road first, then decide on what to do next.  The aim was a 10.5km, the ambition as a 15km, the reality was yet to be determined.  All was well until I got to Ndumboini and did a loop towards UON Upper Kabete gate.  I was just turning back from the gate when I heard something like a drumming or a humming noise.  I had already met a big group of students, and thought that maybe there was a congregation of sort making these noises on this apparent opening day.

A careful listening and a reaction from the student crowd would soon give me the answer.  There was a rain approaching from Ndumboini stage coming towards the University gate.  That was the drumming that I had heard.  I would soon see the crowd of students, whom I had earlier run against, scamper in two directions.  One group ran towards the shopping centre where the rain was coming from.  The other group were now running back towards me, intending to shelter back at the Uni.  I was running away from the gate to rejoin Kapenguria road.  However, I was now not sure what to do – either turn back to the Uni gate and take shelter or run ahead to the shopping centre and take shelter.

There was no time to even think, since I would soon be hit by those cold outburst of a heavy rain that seemed to have come from nowhere.

“This is messed,” I said loudly, as I kept running, completely unsure of what to do.

“Why did I even decide to run today?,” I questioned loudly, “When everybody else is enjoying their lunch!?”

The waters were just too cold and I was already soaked wet by the time I got to Kapenguria road still in indecision.  

“What a day!,” I muttered, as I got to Kapenguria road, already soaked.  It is only the running shoes that were still pretending to be dry, but that would not last long with this intensity of rain.

“This is messed,” I found myself repeating.

Anyway, I was already rained on, and taking a shelter was not going to help me at this condition.  I therefore saw myself turn right and run down Kapenguria road toward Wangari Maathai institute.  Visibility was quite low with the heavy rain.  I kept going, muttering curses as I went along.  I soon got to the river crossing, the one that was uncrossable just two weeks prior.  

I found a big group of workers, struggling to take shelter on the trees next to the riverbank.  The rain was subsiding.  The workers seemed to be doing something on that river crossing, since I could observe a big pile of stones beside the road.  I guessed that they wanted to deal with the drainage issue.

The river waters had not yet risen to the level of the road.  The muddy waters were still forcefully permeating through the culverts below the road.  I could hear the rumble of the force of the pressure as the waters emerged on the right side of the road.  It would just be a matter of time before the waters overwhelm the culverts and start spilling onto the top of the road.  However, the road was clear and crossable for now.  

I decided to cross over and keep running towards Lower Kabete road.  I already knew that it would take just another 1 hour of rains and the return journey would surely come to an end on this river crossing since it would surely be a submerged road.  The rains had reduced by this time as I crossed over, and I therefore hoped that I would have the opportunity to cross back when without being stuck when I came back at some point.

I reached Lower Kabete road with my clothes dripping water.  It was still raining, though it seemed to subside.  I decided to turn right, instead of doing a return U-turn.  That now meant that I was going for the big 21, since once you make that right turn, there is usually no turning back until you get to the natural turning point at Red hill road.  I kept running, and by some bad coincidence, it started raining and it kept raining.  I cursed along, wondering why I kept going instead of turning back when I got to Lower Kabete road.  

Anyway, I kept going and decided that I would have to turn back soon.  I could not survive running in the rain.  I promised myself to do a U-turn as early as Farasi lane, but that did not happen.  It rained and I kept running.  I promised to do a U-turn at Ngecha road, but I crossed and kept going.  The rain continued.  I was to do a U at Zen gardens, but I did not, I kept going.  That meant that I surely reached Red Hill road and finally did the U-turn for my way back.

To my credit, it did shine for about 1 minute while going past Zen garden on my way back, and another one-minute of sun at Kenya School of Government, just before UON Lower Kabete campus.  After that, it was back to some drizzles as I tackled the Kapenguria road on my way back.  I was lucky that the river was not yet swollen as I crossed over.  The group of workers was still there, with their building stones piled up on one side of the road.  

There was no rain as I finished the run just before 3pm.  If anything, it seemed like it would even shine if the clouds could delay their advances in covering the sun.  A hot shower finally ended my misery on this Monday, as the timer recorded a 2:21:36 for 26.53km.  Would I do this again?  Of course not!  Running in the rain is a bad idea.  I should have done a U-turn at that first sign of rain at Ndumboini and saved myself from this misery, but then again, runners have a mind of their own – or lack of.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, May 3, 2024 

December international that was mean!

December international that was mean!

While the November international marathon went largely without a hitch, the December one was different.  It was done on the same route, but it got to me bad!  Blame it on the new route that came into the works during the October international marathon.  This new route takes you from Uthiru towards Ndumboini, and then down Kapenguria road, past Wangari Maathai institute all the way to Lower Kabete road.  

The usual runs, before October, would then direct me to the left to head towards Mary Leakey school to eventually join Kanyariri road, to then run along that tarmac to some turning point on the Northern bypass for a U-turn back to Ndumboini and eventually back to the starting line.  This December run, for the third time in as many months, would instead require a right turn as you join Lower Kabete road.  Then the run goes along Lower Kabete road all the way just past Zen gardens, then a U-turn back to the starting line.

This new route may sound simple, but it is not.  It has turned out to be one of the meanest routes that I have ever ran on.  I was initiated in October, did a second run in November, and hoped to nail it in December, but it was not to be.  The October debut was a struggle, as I got to learn the route.  The November run was more of a confirmation that this run could be modelled into the ‘new normal’.  December was to confirm that this route could be conquered and officially unveiled to the rest of the runners as the new route.

The November run, held on the twenty-fourth, was more of a memorial, and I would like to forget it in a hurry.  I even did not blog about it!  I left for that run on that Friday at lunch hour, instead of the usual evening run time.  It had been raining like crazy in that month, as blamed on the El Nino weather phenomenon (for those who do not know better), but the real culprit was climate change (who those who know better).  

In that month of November, it was raining daily, every time, every hour.  We occasionally had a few hours of no rains, and it is during such hours that we had to squeeze in the runs.  Friday lunch time was one such time slots.  The weather was good, and I just left and went for the run, not thinking much about it.  I went through the motions and finished the run at about 2.45pm after 2:16:02 on the road on that 25.25km distance.  My average of 5:23min per km was good enough.

I had largely switched off during that run.  I was still in deep thought over the events that had taken place that Friday.  Just a few hours ago, we had all assembled at the main hall.  The mood was somber, if anything, tearful.  I have never been in such a quiet meeting.  You could hear a pin drop.  There was no cheering, no clapping, no applause, no whispering, in fact, you even felt out of place to just think of clearing your throat.  The memorial service had started at ten.  The departed colleague had succumbed to breast cancer.  She was just a mother of one young child.  The service ended at 12.30pm.  I was downcast.  I could not have gone for the scheduled run that evening, I was feeling drained.  I decided to just go for the run after that service.  I was mostly robotic in my motions that day.  I was in Karatina one week later for Evalyne’s sendoff.

It is therefore the December marathon that was the run to confirm that the new route was a candidate for the new marathon route.  The MOE*, cognizant that December was a short month, had scheduled the Dec run on the second Friday of December, instead of the usual last Friday of the month.  Bad coincidentally, this last Friday would see me attending the last day of a three-day first aid training course.  This Friday was the last day that had the practical and theory exams that determined those who finally got through to be certified as first aiders for the next one year.  I could not make it for the run that should have started at four, when the exams were ending at four-thirty.
*MOE – marathoners of expert, the committee that organizes our runs

The December international marathon would finally come knocking on my door on Monday, December 11, 2023.  I did not feel ready.  I just did the run because it was a run day, and was also probably my last work day in the year.  I was scheduled to leave the city on or after the holiday of the next day.  In fact, this initial plan of starting the holiday the next day was put to the test just a week prior, when it became clear that I would have to miss the staff party on that Friday if I was to leave early.  I therefore had to extend my workdays by another three days after the run due to this last minute change.  Nonetheless, this was not going to change the date of the run.  The run was on.

December had also started with those daily rains, day and night, anytime, every time.  They kept being unpredictable.  Running continued to be timed whenever the weather permitted, instead of by schedule.  Finally, it was run day.  The sun was bright on that Monday at noon.  I was not taking any chances.  I found myself in the changing room and was out for the run at 12.35pm.  I had been on this route two previous times.  I should have been a walk in the park, but this was no walk.  It was a real run.  A real international marathon, where athletes are made… and crashed!  A run that you fail to take seriously at your own peril.  A run can dent your records… forever.  It is a run not to take lightly.

It was a good run, all the way to the U-turn on Lower Kabete road just past Zen gardens.  I even extended my run slightly to the Red Hill road underpass, where I did the new U-turn.  I was momentarily back to Lower Kabete road to run its length past Kenya School of Government, and the UON Lower Kabete campus.  And it is that section on Lower Kabete road that did the most damage to my run on that day.  The section was just hilly without a break.  It went on and on and on, every leg step being more tired than the previous.  It was a stretch of road section to forget.  I laboured on and managed to finally get to Kapenguria road.

However, the turning left from Lower Kabete road into Kapenguria road only offered a short seven minutes relief, as I went slightly downhill.  It was soon time to face the infamous 2km Kapenguria road hill.  The usual marathon routes have been crafted to avoid this particular encounter.  The new route unleashes this selfsame uphill in an equal measure, just when you are already tired after the long hilly section of the Lower Kabete road.

I was already deep in the run, with 19km already conquered, in just under 100 minutes.  Whatever was remaining had to be done.  What else was I to do?  Give up on the run?  Drop out!  Cry out loud!  That last one I actually did do.
“For crying out loud,” I cried out loud, when I reached Wangari Maathai institute where the next hill towards Ndumboini looks at you with a dare.  
With no choice, other than that crying out loud, I ran on and kept going.  I ignored the road repair crew who had reduced the road to a single lane for all traffic, and just kept pushing the legs uphill.

It was a relief getting to Ndumboini.  From there I knew that nothing, repeat, nothing, was standing on my way to the finish line.  And twenty minutes later, I finished my run at 2.50pm, after 2hr 22min and 54sec on the road.  My average speed had gone down to 5:27min per km.  I was happy that I was still standing after this run – another monthly run in the bag, oh, the last monthly run of 2023.  Lessons learnt from these twelve monthly marathons in 2023 – running is not easily, find a recurrent run event that keeps you on the road to force you into a routine, and finally, celebrate your run achievement every time, whatever it is.  You are doing better than you imagine.  Merry Christmas!

WWB, the coach, Eldoret, Kenya, Dec. 22, 2023

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

Running the C4D route

Running the C4D route

I have to give it to the people who organize seminars.  It is not easy and it may be disappointing and frustrating.  I have tried a few seminars myself and I am getting to accept that getting an audience may not be that easy.  I have learnt the trick of first listing the invited guests then taking an honest assessment of their likelihood to attend.  If this is not possible, I usually just work with 20% attendance.  These numbers do not disappoint me since they turn out to be the actual.  I shall however conduct a study that shall give me the authoritative numbers, but for now, work with 20.

It was therefore no surprise when I have the run-in with C4D (computers for development) seminar at the Savora Stanley and expected maybe a different picture at the meeting of stakeholders to discuss strategy on cloud computing.  Seven tables, each with seven seats on a circular format and hardly 20% members on any of the table, 30 minutes after due time.

Introductions
One of the members of my table makes an introduction, “Am Tonny”
“WB,” I say, only to realize am talking abbreviations.
“Am your student at School of Computing Chiromo,” I add.  It should be more like ‘former’, but I feel good that way.  “Am currently working on a new smartphone app at your C4D lab, that shall change the way we use the gadget,” I hesitate to add.

“Oh, you mean?  And which sector are you in now?”
“Running,” says my mind.  “Technology… Engineering, but my interest is ICT,” I am taken aback.
I struggle with the wifi that does not connect despite the notice at the head of the room reading, “Wifi password microsoft”.  I give up on the wifi and head to the blog story, even as the room fill up disappointingly slow.

I recall getting the notification for the meeting about a week ago from the UON C4D project.  I expected this to be a seminar overflowing with participants, especially the ICT enthusiasts in Kenya.  Surely, it is the strategy on cloud computing – the current big thing – that we were to formulate for Kenya!  FCOL!  Later I recognize other familiar faces from Chiromo – Prof. Waema, even as the meeting room finally fills up and am more proud to be part of the team that shall make history.

Scholars
When the seminar started at about 9.15am, Tonny introduced the subject matter and recognized the presence of those in attendance by forcing a self-introduction.  The scholars from UON were there – faculty and students.  MS was there – the cloud computing, attorney and corporate affairs.  The internet society was there, was as Jamii, Red Cross, Natural Disaster Management Authority, Elimu TV, Technobrain and MKU students.

C4D had done a baseline study where they confirmed that there was no regulatory standards for cloud computing in Kenya, hence the essence of this start-up discussions.  They hoped for a draft cloud computing strategy paper by end of year.  On their part, MS educated us on the various cloud computing approaches, where they marked themselves as the leader in all.  The move from traditional on premise ICT has moved to IaaS, PaaS and SaaS i.e. Infrastructure, Platform and Software as services.  They mentioned Azure as the solution to all.

More or less
All was going well, until around the lunch break and end of session, when MS provided us with a ‘less is more’ overview by their presenter who epitomized the saying ‘clothes that start late and end early’ – both top and bottom.  The things that we men are exposed to!

There was nothing special about dining at the Stanley, in fact, I could have forgotten the experience had it not been for the starter butter that delayed forever, forcing those on the same table to just give up.  On my part, I told them that I shall wait, “for as long as it takes” – which turned out to be about 15-minutes after the soup and three reminders to their serving staff later.

My day could have been perfect, had it not been messed up by my stockbroker.  I had just passed by there to change a dividend disposal bank account when I experienced a new message translation system at my very face.  To start with, I had to wait without service for about 30-minutes, then later I had to explain the same issue to about three staff and finally, they exposed me to third party messaging a.k.a. translations.

Translation
I was just seated outside an office door, when this took place:
“Tell him to wait for the refund from NSE,” I heard from behind the open door.
The lady then came to where I was, “Eh, Just wait for NSE refunds, since the cheques are not ready.”
“But I did not come for the cheque.  I have come to change the bank account for dividend disposal.”
The intermediary went back, and started explaining to her two fellow lady colleagues, “He says the bank account need changing.”

“Tell him that we shall deposit on the account that he gave us.”
She was back, “We shall deposit to the account that you gave.”
Mad is less than what I felt.  However, I counted ten to one and started the explaining all over again.  By the time they had given me another form to fill, to replace what they ‘could not trace’, despite having filled it not so long ago, I was totally moodless.


Big
Then again, I still had to prepare for the C4D project proposal of the following day, where Thomas and I are inventing the next big thing on smartphones, but let me not say yet, since when we finally presented the idea to the group of about ten inventors and students at UON Chiromo C4D lab, the questions were fast and fast…

“This is too good to be true,” a student started, “Are you sure you shall get this going?”
“This shall be the biggest thing on smart phones.  I have been frustrated by this problem myself and I shall be ready to buy your solution.  But are you sure it shall work?”
“How shall you get the money?  Do you want to rely on the same Telcos to give you back the money?  Those MFs shall keep all the money!  Am most, expect a 70:20 deal,” he paused, “70 for them!”
“Who shall program for you?  Are your good at coding?” a student asks.
“We generally expect to manage the top level issues of the project.  We shall provide the use cases, flow chart and AI logic.  We shall get a programmer to code in C# and translate to Android,” I clarified.
“Refine the idea incorporating the views expressed and let us have the revised proposal for our approval.  You can work with C4D on this,” the C4D coordinator finally put the matter to rest.
Quite an eventful 48-hours – but just the adventures of running.

Barack Wamkaya Wanjawa, Nairobi, Kenya

Many Serious Contenders (MSC) 2012 run

Many Serious Contenders (MSC) 2012 run

In January 2012 I joined a new running team – the Many Serious Contenders Informing the Society (MSCIS).  This was a running group trying out the course in the 15th edition of the run.  The two year run was bound to be interesting and different.  I have previously had only one serious running group – the ilrithoners and this group has taught me most of my running skills, running through the hills and valleys of Kabete and its environs.  A new group and a new course were to be a new experience with new lessons.   By some coincidence, I find myself as captain of both teams.  One year has ended and another one is about to start.  I however look back at the run and it has not been easy…

First lap
“You shall soon be talking a lot,” The Deputy Director said with a pause, then continued, “Believe me, it shall not be long”

I knew what he was talking about.  It was quite accidental that I was joining this particular forum on a late Monday evening.  If fate had had it otherwise, I would be doing my evening run back at the hilly and dusty Kapenguria road in Uthiru.  Three days prior, I was at this same faculty, making an enquiry on what had become of my application for studies.  The journey to join these studies however started three years before.  In 2009, I had paid a course application fee of KShs.3,000 and started waiting for a formal admission letter.  Many sent emails later, I was still at home, the year had ended and I had not been admitted.  When 2009 ended, the Director’s Secretary had told me that, “I missed the September intake” because “I did not follow up”.  I was in Christmas spirit at that time, so I let it slip.

Three year wait
In 2010, after many visits to the School of Computing and Informatics, SCI, of the University of Nairobi, UON, I was still at the same place as 2009 – no admission, no communication.  Towards end of 2010, the Secretary told me that I had failed to be admitted because I did not do some two prerequisite courses.  “Just try next year,” she had said with some triumph in her voice.

Taking no more chances, I had started my 2011 journey early.  On the first week of January, I forced my way to the SCI and asked for details of the prerequisite courses and when they would be held.  I was informed that they were scheduled for May 2011.  I was asked to be checking the newspapers for the advert, though I should continue following up.  Subsequently thereafter, I made it a point of visiting the SCI offices monthly to get an update.

“Be ready, the courses start next month.  You can go and pay,” the Secretary informed me during a visit in early-April.
“How many courses do I pay for?”
“Let me see…”, she looked at some documents behind the high barrier that makes the counter that separates her from the visitors.  She failed to get what she was looking for and therefore said, “Let me find out, call me later today”

I just left the office with the slip bearing the UNES bank details at Barclays Westlands and awaited the details of how many multiples of 20k I would have to part with.

On that afternoon, I called the Secretary who confirmed to me that I shall do one course called ‘Programming Methodologies’.
I had already protested this issue of prerequisite courses.  It was partially the reason for the two year delay already.
“You are lucky to be doing only one (course).  Most of the others are doing two, including Data Structures,” she volunteered on phone, to reassure me that I was sailing in better waters.

Prerequisite
Our prerequisite courses began in early May 2011.  Even before the second class, we were advised to countercheck our courses with the Coordinator of MSc courses.  When I visited the coordinator one evening before the evening classes, he asked me to provide my undergraduate transcripts for confirmation.  The next day I was back to his office with the transcripts.

“Let me see,” he started, as he went through the transcripts.  He evidently had gone through many such, since he went straight to some particular entries.
“I see you got Bs and As in the second and third year IT courses,” he commented, partly looking up from his gaze on the papers.
“Sure, I did”
“However, I can see this ‘C’ here,” he pointed out, “in your first year, eh, ‘FEE132 Computer Science II’ course”
“Yes…,” I started.
“You got a C,” he repeated, while completely abandoning the papers.
I started to mutter something like, “I was still young and restless….”
 “That is the C that shall cause you to do a course in Programming Methodologies,” he handed back my five sheets of paper.
As if to console me, he continued, “Be happy that you are only doing one course.  Most are doing two”

The ICS600 PM prerequisite course sessions were quite eventful.  Am tempted to reveal the ‘secrets’ of what went on during the 6-week course that run from May 2 and culminated to the final exam on June 16, but am not saying much now.  Just imagine congregating students of different backgrounds, for evening classes, at Chiromo, for computer programming, with 20k at stake and a lecturer who did not believe that it is possible ‘not to know such simple things’.

Speak out
My thoughts were brought back to the present, when the DD continued with his encouragement of the comrades to speak out.
“I do not know most of you.  In fact I only seem to know this guy with long hair”, he gestured.
“He seems to have been here before”
There were some giggles.
“And I also know this other guy seated in front,” he pointed to where I seated, in front of the classroom dubbed ‘Seminar Room’.  I was on the front row, just next to the table holding the computer and projector, next to the white board.  Opposite us, alighted to the wall, were some faculty members.  He continued, “I know this one because he was in my office today morning,” he informed the rest, as attention focused on me.

After a pause, “But I will get to know all of you with time, starting now,” he momentarily unearthed a list and started calling out names, “This is the list of fifty-five members of this class.  Please lift up your hand if you hear your name”

The visit to his office on the morning of that Monday, January 9, 2012 had been presided by a similar visit to SCI the Friday before, when I visited the Director’s office to find out why I had not got an admission letter, despite having cleared the prerequisite course in June (and getting quite impressive results as per the results confirmed by letter July 4, 2011).  During a previous visit to SCI in August, while expecting the course to start in September 2011, the faculty had confirmed the postponement of the session to January.  By my last visit in early December, the admission letters were not yet out.  My current worry was the failure to receive an admission even when I was aware that the UON would open the next week, as per newspaper ads.

Friday
The Friday visit went something like this – on arrival at the Director’s office, I had asked to speak to the Director, not knowing who else to talk to, so that I could get information on the status of my admission.  The secretary intercepted me, informing me that such verifications could be done at her desk.  She started by some questioning:
“Did you apply?”
“Yes, I even did the prerequisite course as per this…” I extracted the folded A4 paper with the notification of results, “… this was my result”

She scrutinized it, a brief beam on the face at the score, then “You are sure you did not pick your letter?”
“No, this is my first trip since last December, when you said the letters were not yet ready”
“Let me check,” she went through a list of names, against which I could see some signatures.  For sure my name was not on the list of those who were supposed to sign for letters.  My heart skipped the first beat.  What was going on!?

“Are you sure you applied?,” she asked again.
“What the h*** have I just shown you?  Was it not my confirmation of results?,” I did not say that, though that is what my system prompted me to say.  Instead my mouth uttered, “I sure did.  You just saw my results.  Here it is again,” I unfolded the letter and extended it to her direction once again.
She ignored it, “Let me confirm the committee report, just a moment”

After some scrutiny, “Yes,” she said and looked at me, then back to the papers, “You did not do all the prerequisite courses,” she paused, “That is why,” she finalized and gazed in my direction – some sense of accomplishment evident.

To address my perplexed state, she added, “You were supposed to do two courses,” she let that phrase sink in first, then continued, “But you did only one”

Shock
That did it.  It took willpower and lots of strength to match from Director’s office and travel back to Uthiru.  In fact I spent the first ten minutes of my walk toward Riverside Drive stage not even aware of my surroundings.  I think I suffered shock but that did not last long.  Soon I was on denial that maybe I was dreaming.  Nonetheless, by the time I was in the starbus matatu traveling back to Uthiru, I was bargaining of a better outcome.  By noon when I matched to my work place at Uthiru, I was in complete acceptance and was starting to plan for how I would do the missed prerequisite course during the May 2012 session.  The current situation would definitely be a setback, but there was nothing that I could do to change it.  A five month delay was not that bad, I reasoned out.  Worse could have happened, I consoled myself.  Maybe I was not even ready to pay the 100k fee for the first semester – “That could be the reason,” I told myself.

Monday
The reason why I was at the office of the Deputy Director of SCI on that Monday morning was to at least voice my concern over the improper communication by the faculty.

“Happy New Year to you.  What brings you to my office on this first day of work?,” the DD had greeted me.
“Happy New Year also,” I started, “I had applied for the MSc course and did one prerequisite course that I was told to do.  When I came to look for an admission letter, I was told that I was supposed to do two,” I cut a long story short.

“Do you have your results?”
That is something I had learnt before – always carry your papers if they are likely to become the subject matter.  I handed him the confirmation of results and five transcripts.

“There must be a mistake.  You are properly supposed to be admitted,” he said after flipping through, then added, “We have had few such cases, especially Engineering students, whom we tell to do only one course depending on their undergraduate results.  I was on leave during the committee meeting hence this omission”

I had mixed emotions.  I had already resigned to waiting for May and joining the programme in 2013.  I had even switched off plans for securing the 100k fee.  To get me out of my daydream, he instructed me to get my file from the Secretary.

The file
The Secretary glanced at me only briefly, she already knew me from my numerous visits to this office.  I cannot remember her acknowledging my greetings, “What do you want?,” she must have asked.

“The DD has sent me for my file,” I said.
“I told you that you have not been admitted,” she resisted, then went ahead and made a phone call.  From the conversation, she was summoning someone to come over for an errand.  Within five minutes a lady in white dust coat matched into the office.  She was given a name written on a small piece of paper and instructed to get a file.

“Please get the file for this… eh…”, she hesitated, “… student.”
In her hesitation, she was probably ready to chip in a big adjective.

The person sent came back about thirty minutes later, “Nimetafuta, hakuna.  Hiyo file hakuna kabisa,” she confessed her inability to trace the file.

“Are you sure you applied?,” the secretary asked me.
I have always learnt to keep my cool, but I tend to think that the Sec was deliberately trying to make me loose it.  I therefore counted ten to one and said, “Yes, I delivered it here personally two years ago.”

“Go back and check the archives for stroke zero nine,” she instructed her colleague, who momentarily left, evidently with some protest, for another thirty minutes, only to come back with the same verdict, “Haki yenyewe nimetafuta everywhere.  Hiyo file hakuna,” she said resignedly.

I knew that the Sec was about to panic, because of the implications of loosing a file in an ISO9001 certified institution.  The panic probably restored her memory, “Let me check these other files that you were supposed to file.”

A simple flip of the first four files from the pile behind her seat unearthed the lost file.

Today
Back to the DD about one hour later – he was not impressed with the one hour search.  He did not mince, “Had you gone to the high court registry?”

He signed a few sheets of papers in the file and handed it back, “Take it back to the Secretary.  Tell her to hand it over to the Director.”

As I stood to leave, he added, “You shall need to wait for about one week to get your letter.  However, make sure that you attend today’s evening class, where we shall be welcoming members of the new class.”

That is how I found myself amongst the thirty or so students who attended the first session of the class, though I was probably the only one without an admission letter.  The journey that started three year prior was now just about to start properly.  It had previously been a rehearsal.

Christmas
It is December, the year is ending and am looking back wondering how I survived the journey.  I have had runs before, including the 2009 42km marathon where I collapsed at the finish line, but the SCI course was different. 

Take the first three courses in semester 1, when we were all green and just getting acquainted.  It did not take long before we were bundled into groups for groupwork by random selection, thanks to the DD’s own initiative.

“You see, I gave you people a chance to form groups but you failed.  For that reason, these are the groups,” he introduced the topic during one of his evening classes.  Thereafter we were on our own as we tackled the ICS612 DB design course.  Most comrades would like to forget two events in this course – the group presentations, where he had given a marking scheme before, but the scores were still quite mean.  The second event was the final exam, which we shall just call, ‘the exam with the case’.  The two other courses in Computer Architecture and Foundations of Artificial Intelligence had their share of challenges, but we had a sigh of relief when the results came out week 7 of semester 2.

Mean
The next dose of three courses for semester two were manageable, mainly because we had already learnt that the UON is as mean as it has always been and nothing is a ride in the park.  That is how we managed the courses in OS, Networking and System Analysis.

Strike
Just when we thought all shall be smooth to the end, the lecturers and staff of universities in Kenya, including the UON went on strike, just when the third semester was to start.  The semester had the precision of clockwork and was to end just before Christmas.  The two week strike and hence two week delay in starting the term threw spanners to the clockworks and caused a full month extension of the semester.  When the session started, we were faced with four courses which were quite a challenge to manage, in terms of time and workload.  While ICT project management and ICT and society seem to have been comfortable courses, memories of ICS600 were brought back in full swing with the ICS618 Object oriented technologies course that took us back to the deep end of C++ programming.  But the feather on the cap belongs to Research Methodologies class. 

The second Prof. to teach the class in the year had warned us from day one that, “Woe unto you for deciding to take this course.  You shall regret that decision since we shall put you under the highest pressure ever,” he said repeatedly.  Being a physicist, he actually meant ‘pressure’ by definition involving force.  “After all, what is the meaning of masters if not to master?,” he would always declare.  His assignments proved it.  For the first time ever, people were getting zero out of ten.

He would add, “But because am generous, whenever I give you a ‘repeat the assignment’, am sugarcoating a mark of zero to three”

Is it not a relief that we now end the year and just await the four semester exams in mid-January?  After that we shall be four courses short of getting out of SCI.

Happy New Year 2013 – the run continues.



Wanjawa, W. B. - Nairobi, Kenya, December 31, 2012

Marathon before Marathon - the road race of Sunday, September 30, 2012

Marathon before Marathon - the road race of Sunday, September 30, 2012

I was to do this run on Sunday morning.  However, I found myself staying in bed past nine and later having a heavy breakfast.  At 9.30am, when I was supposed to be 5km deep in the run, I found myself watching a documentary on Sports Injuries on Explorer Channel.  The lesson was that injuries can occur and that athletes are prone to these - even on simple exercises.  I had finally got the perfect excuse to stay indoors.

A glance at the 8-week marathon schedule, on my earlier blogpost, indicated a 1hr 30min run on this weekend.  This was the only opportunity to do this, after which it would be too late.  This new realization forced me into rescheduling my long run for later in the day.

Hot
The afternoon sun was hot.  I headed to the workplace to pick my running gear, with the hope that the heat would subside as the clock ticked towards four.  This was not to happen.  By 4.30pm it was still hot.  Bearing in mind that the run would take about 1hr 45min, I had to start before five, in order to finish before seven.  With a 500ml water bottle at hand, and a phone set to stopwatch on the other hand, I left the dressing room.

With the blazing heat, I started off slowly and exited the employer's main gate.
"Otsia tsimbiro? Otsia khena?," the sentry asked, even as he opened the gate.

I changed the stopwatch timer on the phone to split mode and started my run: 

0.00.00 - Start of run, just outside the gate
It is 4.50pm.  I start with the mild hilly section towards Uthiru roundabout.  The heat is just too much.  Am tempted to turn back and cancel the run, but the schedule forces me on.  I see two or three couples seated on the grassy lawns just on the outer fence of the compound.  In about three minutes I join the tarmac road from AHITI and Kabete Technical.  On my left I see a crusade in progress.  The preacher beckons, "Come here, all you sinners walking by.  Your day of salvation has come."  Luckily, am running, so am not in that category.  Just behind me, the roundabout is overflowing with weekend revellers.  There are all forms of activity in that circular enclosure - face painting, idling, chatter, photography, recording of music video.  I divert from the tarmac to the dusty road that joins the highway, just besides Kabete Police, now renamed Dagoretti Divisional Police headquarters, as per the signboard near the highway.  I cross the Waiyaki way and run to 'the wall' as I join the route that makes a circuit next to the Department of Veterinary Services.  This circuit get me to Ndumboini stage.

0.12.34 - Ndumboini stage
I press split as I hit the stage.  The noisy matatu crew beckon passengers, "Tawo thirty, Westy twenty, Ungech kumi, Gari ya masaa"
I passby, then cross the tarmac to run on the left, as I now pass University of Nairobi's Upper Kabete campus inlet road.  From here, I head downhill, on Kapenguria road, all the way to the river.  I release myself and quicken the pace, in response to the downhill roll.  The stretch is dusty, though.  Coming from downhill, two vehicles in a span of five minutes create a dust storm on me.  I however reduce pace, struggle to regain my breath amidst the chocking dust, then trudge on.  As I reach the river, and the downhill ends, I see another couple, on my right, just beside the road.  The guy in sitting across a paddle of water, while the lady is standing opposite him.  I think they are discussing how the guy has crossed the river just for her, evident from the giggles.

0.20.32 - Tank
Twenty minutes of run gets me to 'the tank'.  This is the end of the downhill and the start of the next hilly section that should take me to tarmac.  I have to contend with running against another two dust-spewing vehicles following each other.  I passby Kenya Animal Genetic Resources Centre to my left, followed by the Nairobi Childrens Home to my right.  Momentarily, I hit the tarmac.

0.25.37 - Tarmac
Tarmac at 25minutes is quite a good pace.  I join this Lower Kabete road by turning right.  I take my first sip of water, then start the mild uphill towards UON Lower Kabete campus, which is on my left.  At the vehicle stage just next to the UON main gate, I see four ladies, just opposite my running steps.  I turn back just in time to see them gesture in my direction.  I can imagine them cracking a joke, probably in praise of dudes who have such prowess, but that is just my mind playing games.  I clear my mind by taking another sip of water.  This route has remained the same as I experienced it last year.  The only noticeable change is the renaming of Kenya Institute of Administration to Kenya School of Government.  I notice this change of name on the institution as I passby, now heading towards the generally flat terrain, with housing estates and homes lined up on both sides of the road.  I run past Kabete Telkom exchange without noticing it.

0.45.09 - Ngecha junction
I divert from Lower Kabete road into Ngecha road as I passby Lake View estate.  The condition of the tarmac is good.  The last time I was here its condition was deplorable.  Anyways, just a mild hill then a downhill, allowing me a sip of water, gets me to the Ngecha-Getathuru road junction.  The next part is now the dreaded section.
  
0.52.32 - Getathuru junction
I confirm that the split shows 52 minutes of run.  Am just about to hit the 1hour mark.  I have this long hill to battle.  It takes about 15-minutes to climb this unrelenting hill.  It shall take me through Kitisuru estate, the centre and later Mwimuto.  The sun is still blazing, but it has lost a lot of its fury.  I pace on without noticing much.  A matatu blocks my path at the centre, just to beckon passengers.  I am forced to divert from the side of the tarmac to the extremity of the road, just to avoid bumping into the matatu.  I am just in time to see the 1hr mark pass through the timer as I pass by the centre.

1.06.18 - Turn off to river
Am relieved to finish the hilly section, as I turn off to my left, towards the river.  This is generally downhill, then another uphill.  My mind is preoccupied with finishing the run.  I do not notice the hill after the river.  Am jolted back to reality while passing by the Nairobi Childrens Home, second home, just before I get back to tarmac.  I hear a sound like, "Jambo.  Endelea hivyo"
"Jambo," am startled, as I look to my right to see this guy just opposite the gate of the home, greeting me.
"Endelea hivyo, ubarikiwe"
"Ahsante sana," I respond, now about ten meters past his position.  Am cognizant that we still have a few good people who can wish blessings on a stranger.

1.14.40 - Tarmac
Am at tarmac.  It is now a matter of getting myself back home.  I know the route and can even close my eyes and run the rest of the track.  I roll downhill to 'the tank'

1.19.17 - Tank
I passby the tank, without much ado.  I face the hill with determination.  I overtake some guy who is just walking at this isolated part of the road near the river.  There in nobody else in sight.  It is now well past six.  The sun is setting.  Signs of darkness can be see from afar.  My mind wonders... what if this guy just removes, say, a gun and asks me to surrender my phone?  How would I react?  I have not have time to think over this since I immediately see some three people going downhill towards the river.  My dustless run is interrupted by a vehicle that dusts me as I keep my uphill effort.

1.29.15 - End of hill
It is a relief to finish the hill.  Now there is no more hill and I just have to move on to the finish line.

1.30.11 - Ndumbo
I reach Ndumbo stage hardly a minute after finishing the hilly stretch.  I notice nothing.  I turn to my left so as to face the Vet lab circuit, which should get me to the wall.  From the wall I have to cross Waiyaki way - very busy - then am back to Kabete Police on the other side of the road.  I just wonder why vehicles speed on this 60km limit stretch.

1.37.03 - Kabete Police
Am just about to finish the run.  A dirt road, to the tarmac, then to Uthiru roundabout, then down to the gate and that is it.

1.40.53 - Stop
It is now 6.30pm.  I hit the stop button.  I still have half the contents of the 500ml bottle, which I gulp down in one go, even as I reenter the compound for my warm down, rest and reflections.

Had this been an international triumph, the national anthem would have been played. Am taken aback...
It was just past midnight when four not-so-sober guys started to sing the national anthem.  Saluting with their right hand and a drink on their left, they stood up from their highly elevated seats to sing aloud.  It was quite a strange occurrence as evidenced by the look on the faces of the bartenders.  The singers did not seem to care though.  This was team Kenya passing by the Olympic Stadium during the London 2012 Olympic games.  This was Friday, July 27.  This was an historic day for all citizens.  After singing the stanza, and ensuring the flag was off screen, the revelers sat back and continued their earlier interrupted chatter.

I just smiled at this episode even as I came back to reality.

Doing this run was a major achievement.  This route is usually a 21km half marathon mock.  I can bet that I shall be able to finish the real marathon, come October 28, in this or a lower time.

Would I do such a run again before the marathon event?  The schedule says so but....