Even three strikes could not stop the Divas International

Even three strikes could not stop the Divas International

After our last international marathon on Feb. 15, code name NLLV, the MOE* had directed that the next marathon would be organized by the divas.  They would choose a date and route.  They would map out the run categories and formulate all the rules.  “Anything and everything is at your discretion,” I recall sending them a confirmatory email in response to how much ‘degrees of freedom’ they could exercise.

Then came the date… they informed me that they had settled on the twenty-second:

“Coach, we have a date,” a caller whom I later recognized to be Fay informed me on my office extension.

“We do?”

“Yes we do.  March 22.  What do you think about it?”

I soon realized that we were talking the marathon.

“Just go ahead.  All rules are on you.  Is it agreeable to you gals?”

“Yes, it was unanimous.”

Soon I would be breaking news on the date on the mailing and Whatsapping groups.  It seemed a perfect Friday for this run.  Just enough time to recover after the Kili marathon, and not so late in the month to prevent ‘end month loading’ from interfering with the participation.  By March 10 we had the initial run rules under discussion – more of the gals telling us about it, while we, the rest of us, accepted them as they came.

It came as a surprise when they released the route maps… and… and the infamous ‘Mary Leakey’ route was back in the mix.  This section has not been featured in any ‘international’ ever since we started the series last year.  This is a route that we avoid at all costs.  After diverting off Lower Kabete road, you are faced with a general uphill on dry weather road for about 3k.  Though you get to run through a shaded area at the University farm, the isolation and loneliness can get to you.

More was to follow.  While we are used to an ‘international’ being a ‘do it or don’t do it’ run, the divas had a new twist to the equation.  They introduced four variants of the marathon.  You read right – four variants.  A 10k run – the usual ‘tarmac’, a 13k run – the usual ‘Mary Leakey’, a new 16k to be 13k + 3k loop on Kanyariri route and finally the full ‘international’ that goes to the 16k route loop back but continues on the new Rukubi road all the way to Gitaru-Wangige road and back.

Then the three strikes happened….

Strike one – an official visitor who had been planning to visit my department for over one year was finally given clearance to travel and chose the week of March 18-22 as the suitable week.  March 22 was to be his final day where he scheduled a departmental debrief at 3.00pm to 5.00pm to be followed by a ‘must attend’ farewell dinner.  Early same Friday, and I would get an invitation email indicating that we shall leave the compound at 5.30pm on pre-arranged transport for this dinner.

It was not long after that particular email that I got a calendar reminder about a Cooperative meeting taking place out of campus at Limuru road ‘from 12.30pm to 4.30pm’.  Travel time between the two locations was at least 30 minutes and worse during the evening traffic jam.  Attending this meeting would mean getting back for the run around 5.30pm.

I would be hit a third time on the same day when I got insider information, being in MOE, that I would be a major participant in the Divas International with two roles – to countdown the run, a task I had done in all the ‘internationals’ and that I would be the ‘first-aider’, which means running with the slower runners to ensure that no one was left behind.

“Please, keep time and do not disappoint,” part of the insider info indicated.

How was I supposed to survive three strikes!  Must all happen on the same day?......

At 4.27pm I ran to the generator adorning my ‘first aider’ jacket to find a big group of runners.  This was the largest group that I had ever seen ‘generated’.  My quick count gave me 15.  Soon others would join in on the countdown to a final number of 21.  All were in high spirits.  The psyche was overwhelming.  The excitement was uncontainable.  I even met a few ‘Kili-thoners’.

“Everyone, line up behind this line,” I pointed out, as I drew an imaginary line.

The runners obliged.  Soon we had some semblance of a lineup.

“OK, we now start the countdown… ten, nine, ei….”

“Stop!,” someone interrupted, “We have not taken the photo.”

The tension subsided as the runners readjusted their state of readiness to take a pose.

“Ahoy! Let us resume the countdown,” I brought order back from the interruption.

“Eight, seven, six, fi…”

“Stop!,” another shout, “Our Strava is not yet ready!”

What is this turning out to be?  A run that will never happen?

The tension subsided once more and runners confirmed, reconfirmed, started or restarted their various gadgets.

“No more interruptions.  This run is happening now in… four, three, two, one – Go.”

We set off at 4.45pm, all runners aware that they had a choice of four different runs on this day.  I stuck to the back of the group as per my mandate.  I would soon be completely left behind, but rules are rules, and roles are roles.  I kept with the last runners at all times and took them to their various turning points, starting with one that I took to Wangari Maathai, then increased my pace to the next group at the tarmac.  As I headed up Lower Kabete road, I did get yet another runner whom I took slowly, walkingly all the way to Kanyariri turn off after conquering the Mary Leakey section.

“I would have been lost in this section,” runner Jully told me as we made a final turn to now run the section through University farm.

“This place is cool but scary,” she reminded me as we savored the shaded trees at the farm, few meters to the tank and exit to the tarmac, “I cannot run alone here.”

“It is a good route, especially with some company.  It is even doable over the lunch hour,” I updated her.

Finally, we got to the tarmac at Kanyariri, where she turned left back towards the finish line, while I turned right to face the full run.  I would soon catch up with JV and friend running for the 16k route.

“That teq that you have been complaining about since last year is available today,” JV reminded me.

“Can’t wait.”

“You shall be blessing the ancestors, as usual?,” she commented.

It reminded me of the ritual, last done sometime last year, when J&B was at the centre of the table.

I soon got their permission to run ahead and that is what I did, as I now faced the rest of the route as the last runner.  At some point after diverting right on Rukubi-Kanyariri road, I found the leading group of Edu and crew already on their way back.  We exchanged our greetings and let them continue their lead while I kept the chase towards the extreme turning point.  Before the extreme turning point I met the final group of runners.  I noticed that Fay, Janet and Beryl were in that group.  Someone in the group handed me a bottle of water as we run in opposite directions.

“Water!,” I told myself in surprise, “This is a first one!”

After my turning point, I continued to race behind the runners and found the last group that had earlier handed me the water bottle waiting for me at the 16k junction.

“Stop!  Pass by here,” Janet called me back.  By that time I was about to pass the group as I kept on running.

I stopped and crossed the road to where this group of runners was assembled.

“We have some fruits,” Fay informed me and pointed to the containers.  This was in front of one of the shops at the cross road and junction.

Sure enough we had some fruits.  Bananas and water melons, already cut down to size.  This was a welcome relief.

I knew that the divas would come up with some surprises, but they had now beaten me twice with these surprises.

We resumed our run as a group and kept going at a steady pace, but gauging each other out so that no one was left behind.  After 2km of run, just next to the Primary school and Mary Leakey turn-off, we were asked once more to stop at a roadside shop.  This was another water stop, where we took bottled water.  Three surprises, completely unexpected, and all attributed to the Divas International marathon.

Though we finished our run quite late, when it was seriously dark, the divas surely over-did it this time round.  They set the bar so high that the upcoming ‘internationals’ have lots to learn from.  By role, I was to be the last person at the finish line.  I took that honour in 2hr 50min, with two other runs just seconds ahead.

Back to my predicaments – how did I survive the three strikes?  Here’s how… I missed most of the official afternoon meeting with the visitor, but this came at the expense of missing out on the marathoners teq party.  I had to miss out on this now well matured teq that we started planning for as early as October last year.  Of course I did attend the chama meeting, but I left the meeting early, around 1530hrs.  A Taxify taxi, sorry Bolt taxi, bolted me fast enough to the compound by 1600hrs.  I had a brief meetup with the visitor for the closing meeting and was at the starting line by 4.27pm.  Finally, being at the starting line at 4.30pm enabled me flag off the run and take up my role as the ‘first aider’.

*MOE = marathoners of expert, the organizing committee for marathons

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, March 22, 2019

First International Marathon of 2019

First International Marathon of 2019

The hill

“Do you see a bar around?,” Fay asked.

We were just hitting the 10km mark, on the first international marathon of the year.  That was a strange one.  By this time, we were walking up the hill, on this new international route.  The very route that has a 6km hill that stretches from the Ndumbo river on the 4k mark, all the way to Nakuru highway on the 10k mark.

Earlier on, we had started with a run – just the two of us.  She was doing her first run on the new route.  I was on my third.  The usual B-and-B team was not participating on this particular run.  One B has just disappeared without a trace and gone incommunicado.  That is why I was on F-and-B on this Friday the twenty-fifth day of January.  The FB team left ‘the Generator’ at exactly 4.35pm, having been ‘generated’ (being at the ‘Generator’) by 4.32pm.  We did not wait for anyone, nor was there anyone to be waited for.

At the gate pit-stop, we met Ben, who was supposed to have been ‘generated’ with us, but had somehow succeeded in getting late for his first international run.

“Edu shall show you the way,” Fay had told him while he disembarked from the motorbike at the gate.

The run started well, and was going at 7min per km by the time we were at Ndumbo on the 3km mark.  This was after we had a first-aid break near Vet Lab at the loop.  What are the chances that you adorn a First Aid jacket, as a fire marshal, and you actually do first aid?  The chances are low, and the first international of 2019 was one of those rare occasions.

First Aid

All of a sudden, Fay slowed down and almost stopped.

“This hurts,” she said, pointing at the back side of the leg.

“It is called the calf,” I responded, “You can take a rest and confirm that you are still able to run.”

She did take the rest by sitting on the grass patch and starting to have a feel of the leg.

“You need to help me out with some first aid,” she said.

“I am a fire marshal.  Let not this jacket fool you.”

“You branded yourself as one.  This is your chance to prove yourself,” she said as a matter of a fact.

The first aid break did not take long – just 5 minutes max.  From there we were back to the normal pace.  The sun was still hot, but the temperatures were starting to lower with the approaching evening.  After Ndumbo we met Edu in a big car.  He flashed on us and shouted in our direction that, “Ben is just ahead.”

We could momentarily make out Ben’s form, as we now rolled down to the river ready for the 6km hill.  We ran and walked up the hill and eventually reached the Nakuru highway.  By this time we had already caught up with Ben and were running and walking together as the ‘international’ trio.

I was wondering whether Fay seriously needed a drink, but kept the thoughts to myself.  The marathoner creed expects us to ‘judge not’ and respect other marathoners points of view.

“Here is one,” I pointed towards the roof of a side building.  While I said this, Ben kept going and left us behind.

“Let’s get in,” she stated and led the way.

We got in.  I stood near the exit, while observing the almost dark internal, with loud vernacular music and smell of barley spewing towards the entrance yard.

“What drinks?,” the waiter asked.  By that time Fay had somehow disappeared into some place in the dingy.

“Not yet,” I found myself saying, then momentarily started the downstairs walk out of the building.

Running is a must

Fay would soon join me and explain that she is having a day similar to Isaac’s.  I later got to learn that that ‘similar’ situation meant a stomach problem.  Though I asked her whether we should turn back and call off the run, she maintained that we had to finish the run on the prescribed course.  We therefore just walked and ran until we got back to Kanyariri road ready to face the downhill back to the river.  

We then had the reprieve of the downhill to keep us going all the way to the river.  We once again caught up with Ben and kept going uphill to Ndumbo.  With only 3km to our finish point, nothing would stop us from finishing the first international in 2019 – and that is what we did exactly – finish the first international marathon of 2019 in 2hr 39min and 55sec.

Though we missed the teq, which was one of the marketing goodies for this run, we still managed to have a substitute when we ‘door-crashed’ a staff party and still got our fill.  It was however not long before I saw a reminder on WhatsApp that we have the next marathon already planned.  

The ‘no-love-lost’ Valentines marathon on Friday, Feb. 15, 2019 promises to bring the best of the marathoners since the rules for the day have already been set – you are allowed to run your best run… ‘without looking back’.  Whether the experiences of the day influences the participation by Fay (and Ben) remains to be seen, in 3 weeks’ time.

WWB the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Jan. 25, 2019

The 6th International Half marathon – The reset

The 6th International Half marathon – The reset

It shall not happen

This final run was not going to happen.  Most team members had said their ‘Adios’ loudly or by action when the end year party took place on Friday, Dec. 14.  I had sent the weekly call-for-marathoners-to-run but the number of out-of-office responses gave me the first indication that there was not going to be any run.  I met few runners at the Friday party and they told me straight on the face, “We are off the run until next year.”  The Dec. 21 run was a no-no until 2019.  And this is why they were not doing any more runs in 2018….

The music had been getting louder, especially after 6pm, with each hour causing an increase of ten or so decibels from the boom box.  Prior to that evening, I had watched with embarrassment how many staff had been dissed ‘live’ on stage for failing to adhere to the dress code of ‘denim and white’ or was it ‘white and blue demin’?.  What does that even mean?  Who are these two guys?  Are they a couple?  I never heard of them!  Not on my running tracks.

Embarrassment did not end there, since I was lucky by a whisker not to be called out when the MC called to stage the most out-of-dress-code staff of the day.  This was a ‘peoples choice’ thing, where those seated around the various tables shooed one of their own to the stage.  I was in my formal attire, It was just the earth-wire missing.  There was more to come while there was still daylight.  

Bread-and-tea eating competition – how do you set yourself up the stage, while under the watch of a multitude in a big tent, who are cheering you on as you tear off bread from its form until it is fully dismembered and disappeared into the digestive system?  With hot tea?  To win, what… a ‘k’?.  While you earn the honours of staying on our lingua for the next year until another moment (if ever) shall overtake this particular one?  

How about competition for the team that can down the most alcohol?  At least this one did not happen since the ‘most drunk’ who represented the whole of the ‘congregation’ confessed to have been ‘saved’ but could still do with the prize – a crate of beer.  However, he refused the prize due to his changed status and negotiated for a voucher instead.

While the music was increasing in volume with every passing hour after six, and the bass was now hitting at the very heart by ten, there were ‘manenos’ going on at the dance floor.  I feel ashamed to even talk about this, since I see the people involved in the light of day like daily these days and shudder in disbelief.  We have this shy guy in the money department who planted his lips on another gals.  This is something that he denies to this day… but we have witnesses.  How about this other guy who works in my section.  I know him to be the type who cannot hurt a fly.  However, many cans latter, he was on stage with loud music as his witness, caressing a madam visibly to the level where other guys told him off of his action for ‘embarrassing’ the ‘boy child’ in such a fashion.  Manenos did not end there, I know a ‘waifi’ who got a text from SQ that she was ‘queening’ the waifi’s man.  Our security had a real tough time restraining the ‘waifi’ from storming in and slaying the slayer.  Of course, she finally got in and missed both…  you can only imagine how the drama, searching, name calling and vitriol that rent the air was.  For disclosure, SQ is not servants quarters… it is slay queen, silly!

Finally, the drinks got finished at some point.  But that point was long into the night, about eight hours after the drinking started at two.  Usually, the revellers start by ordering ‘cans’ of their choice.  This is called the ‘choice time’.  Around seven, the choice is reduced to ‘some alternative’ but same category, beer-for-beer, wine-for-wine, soda-for-soda, nonetheless same category, call it the ‘same category time’.  By eight, there is no longer choice in the same category, you have to cross over, call it the ‘cross over’ time.  Those on cans are the first ones to suffer after no can is left.  They hit the bottle – usually the non-popular brands that have remained.  Wine people move to the same non-popular league.  At nine, we move to the ‘no choice time’, where anything goes… a beer guy is scrapping the wine dregs or sobering up with a soda.  The soda person has gone to water.  The wine people are on soda water or something like that and it is a scramble for anything left.  After that…. That is it.

It may happen

One day to the event and there was little hope of the run taking place.  However, there was hope, as I got a message from one of the runners that she shall tag along for as long as she could, then shall turn back at her limit.  I also got a phone call from Nick that he shall join in on the run.

I was also bidding farewell to some friends on the same Thursday evening, since I was heading for a short leave after ‘the reset’.  I had seen Fay and some other gal sit on a next table at the club of farewell.  When I saw them at that time, around six, I had just waved my ‘Hi’ and each table continued their whatever-they-were-doing.  On my table, we were having tea and farewell speeches, on her table I could only see a green bottle from far.  It looked full and untouched.  

When I joined the duo around eight, after my ‘farewell’ table had dispersed, I started by the matter at hand.

“Tomorrow, we are on, right?,” I asked Fay.

“First meet my classmate,” she volunteered.

We exchanged greetings and exchanged chit chat on dis-and-dat for a moment.  After that it was back to business.

“We are on the road kesho?”

“Are you seeing this?,” Fay asked, pointing deliberately at the green on the table.

I re-observed, taking note of the JB bottle, now about half empty.  I nodded.

“After this,” she said, pointing at the centre of one of the tables where JB was resting, “I am going nowhere,” she updated me, “You are not seeing me on that wretched road of yours until next year.”

“What do you mean?,” I sought clarification.

“I mean that you need to take some of this yourself,” she beckoned for a glass, which I let come over to the table but declined to fill.

“You can’t do us like this,” her friend questioned, “Take some,” she pleaded.

“I do not drink before a marathon.”

Later on, I was on water for the duration, but the saying that you get drunk when you are with those drinking was true, since I was as loud as the rest by eleven when we parted ways.

It was inevitable that we shall discuss all manner of things, but things changed for the worst when ‘the short man’ joined in.

“To the short man!,” the gals lifted glasses, excited, as they welcomed him to join in.  He sat next to Fay’s friend, just opposite me around the two hex-shaped tables.

He acknowledged by calling for his own glass and immediately joining the cheer.  I know him for many years.  He is not short by any definition.  I was still wondering at the ‘short’ form of his name… but that would not be for long.

“Remember how you messed us up at KCO?,” Fay directed at him.

His response was to call for another glass, pour in a shot and give it to Fay.

“Take that!”

“But why?,” Fay protested.  Fay’s Friend (FF) and I looked puzzled… a bit perplexed… observing the unfolding.

“That one is for cheating these distinguished friends that I messed you up at KCO.”

We were soon lifting glasses, water in my case, as Fay downed the shot in disbelief, hardly five minutes since welcoming the newcomer.

Later the conversation was concentrated on this whole KCO event.  How it unfolded, two years prior, from our very current sitting position, all the way to the various stops within the 300km route, leading to the before-, during- and after-KCO.

“You recall how the fracas that ensued caused Bill to shatter the bar glass?,” Fay stated.

In response, another ‘shot’ was filled in and directed to Fay.

“Now what again,” Fay protested in amused chagrin.

“That is for distorting the facts,” he said, “Bill shattered the windscreen of his own car.”

Many more shots later and I now knew that the ‘short man’ was actually the ‘shot man’….

And as if things could not get any worse, finally, FF was ‘shot at’.

“We had a 5 litre JD last Christmas at shags,” she had said as part of the many story lines that were keeping the bar man amazed at the noises and glass clinks coming from our table.

“Hakuna JD ya 5 litre,” the shot man responded and proceeded immediately to prepare a shot for FF.

But this shot missed out, since FF clarified that, “JD means Jug-Daniel, the local brew”

“Lift your glasses for the shot man,” Fay finally got her revenge, and we did raise our glasses, as TSM was forced to drink his own shot!

The gathering however came up with something good in the end – setting up the date of the next international marathon that FF shall join in and shall end up with a celebratory teq and choco.  The date being set for Friday, January 25, 2019.

It shall happen

On the run day, I met Beryl at the lunch hour.  She confirmed that she was also out of the run since she was having ‘homa’.

“What does homa have to do with running?,” I questioned.  It is like that scene in some movie where someone cannot sing because she has a sore finger.

“I shall just slow you people down,” she decried.

“It is just a fun run.  Give it a try,” I had pleaded.

“Watch me walk out of this,” she said as she exited. Without looking back.  Never to be seen again that day.

At four-twenty-five I got off the locker room and headed to the starting point aka ‘the generator’.  I was not sure if there was going to be any other runner apart from ‘the coach’.  This turned out to be true since by four-thirty there was no one else.

It is happening

Just as I was about to countdown at four-thirty-five, Nick stepped onto the arena from nowhere and joined me, with a, “My shin has been hurting for some time, but I believe I shall make the run.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?,” I asked the typical ‘coach’ question.

“This is a two and a half hour run, are you sure?,” I repeated.

“I am here,” he confirmed his presence, “We shall just have to go, though slowly.”

We set off, slowly, and started on the ‘new international route’ for a second time.  The first time being during the fifth international done by the B-team.  This time however the B-team was no longer defending the title.  Nonetheless, the run was as per script.  You get to the 4k point at the Ndumbo river, then you are faced with the 7km of uphill all the way to the Nakuru highway at Gitaru.  This is where ‘the new international’ gets its name as the ‘meanest’ of circuits so far.  I was taking it slowly at the head of the pack, with Nick tagging along.  I set a slow pace and kept monitoring the footsteps behind to time my pace.  By the time we reached Gitaru, I had to walk a bit to let Nick catch up, and then join me in the walking.

“We still have another 10km back, are we making it back?,” I asked.

“Slowly by slowly,” he said, as we kept walked upto the Gitaru-Wangige road where we eventually resumed the run at some point, then redirected back on Kanyariri road, for the downhill to Ndumbo river.

We finished the run at 0.00.00, this is because I hit the reset immediately we reached the finishing line.  The run was done.  I was happy to have finished the year with this run.  And it did happen, despite it not happening… almost not happening.

Nick’s final word was, “This is my PB time of all these international halfs.  I did it in 2.18.20”

We have reset and are ready to start the running odometer on the zero come January.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2019. 

WWB, ‘the coach’, Nairobi, Kenya, Dec. 21, 2018

The fourth half - 21-o-12 - The mirror

The fourth half - 21-o-12 - The mirror

*Screenshot courtesy of Edu

Fastest

“You are the slowest runners in the world”, Edward said amidst mouthfuls of chocolate.

This was about one hour thirty minutes after the run, 9.00pm to be precise.  The venue was the international diner – the poolside.  The music was already deafening, and we were only talking because we were outside the main bar where QHD was spinning.

A box of chocolate was a special treat for the finishers of the ‘fourth-half’ dubbed 21-o-12 aka ‘the mirror’.  This run was publicized for 12th October, as the very last international half marathon before the Nairobi International marathon set for Sunday October 28. 

“These are the best chocolates that I have eaten in a long time,” Beryl stated, ignoring the comment by Edu.

“Exported, I see,” I commented in the middle of my savouring.  I was on the receiving end today and so needed to do everything to get us off the topic of discussion.  It did not work!

“How long did you guys take?,” Edu prodded, not willing to let go.

“Two-hours fifty,” the coach stated.

“Yes, and the run was the greatest ever!,” Beryl added.

“We finished in two hours twenty-seven ourselves,” Fay updated us.  I could feel the triumph in the way she emphasized the time, “But you guys need to be serious.”

Serious

When the fourth half started at 4.35pm from the Generator earlier in the day, I witnessed the biggest crowd ever.  We were thirteen!  Repeat thirteen!  We started with a penta, and a similar quintet during the first two halfs.  The third half had a septet.  However, this particular run had the greatest number ever raised for ‘a half’ – four marathoneresses and nine marathoners.  As per rules of any international, all started by confirming their run distances and routes.  Johnny and Karen had already declared that they would be doing a shorter route – 13k.  Eliud had stated that he was “too old to do the marathon” and had indicated that he would do ‘a 16’.  The rest of the gals, the trio of Fay, Janet and Beryl, and the rest of the boys, including Coach were all set for the big-21.

Edu had swung a surprise on us by, for the first time ever, introducing reflector jackets for ‘route marshals’.  Three runners did adorn the ‘first aider’ reflector jackets.  Edu was with a jacket and was in the first fast group.  Moses and his jacket was in the middle group, while ‘the coach’ was a ‘first-aider’ at the rear of the pack, with the slow runners – the real fun runners.  These three divisions of the 21k somehow maintained their formation to the finish line, with the fastest two finishing in 2.05, the middle group of six doing it in 2.27, while my duo finished in 2.50.  Those who did not do the ‘21’ did a shorter ‘13’.

“What was the idea with the jackets?,” I questioned Edu, of course, amidst a munch of a piece from the assortment of the 36 pieces of chocolate from Deutsche Bundesrepublik.  The run was ended and we had nothing else to do but chat over it… and munch over it.

“Initially, I had picked the fire marshal jackets…,” he started, but we could not allow him to finish since we burst out laughing.

“You mean that you expected ‘a fire’ during ‘the mirror’?,” the four around the dinner table asked, almost in unison.  The five celebrating the fourth international were Fay, Edu, Ralph, Beryl and I.

“I just wanted something reflective…. The fire jackets seemed the most accessible ones before I managed to get the alternative”

*Screenshot courtesy of Eliud

The run

We reflected upon the run and discovered that there were quite a number of ‘surprises’ that occurred during ‘the mirror’.  To start with, Eliud, who was to do a 16k decided that the run was ‘too sweet’ to cut it short and hence did the full half, finishing with Ralph in group 1.  He run alongside Ralph who concluded that, “Eliud is a ‘bad’ runner!  Alinileteeee, ai, that guy is bad news.”

But that is the fun of the run, saying ‘this’ and ending up doing ‘that’.

The middle group of Edu and the gals did a somehow comfortable run, with the only comment being that, “We waited for you two, but we could not see you anywhere,” Edu said in reference to the current discussion as to why we took ‘forever’ to run.  Thinking about it, this seemed to be an excuse for being beaten by over 20-minutes by group 1.

“Your first run was 2.25, then 2.40, and now 2.50,” Edu reminded the table of five, “At this rate your next run shall be over the three hour mark!”

“Enyewe, mna ‘wana’ sana,” Fay added, “Kwanza we Beryl, you used to hit the 21 very comfortably.  You even did the Family bank marathon in Eldy last week in 2hr 10min”

“What is up with you guys today?,” I queried on behalf of Beryl who was in-between a chocolate, “Isn’t the definition of ‘fun run’ supposed to be ‘fun run’?”

Beryl agreed, “Give us a break.  I was drawing on the wisdom of the coach, and do not dare me… us… since we shall beat you square come the next run.”

(To give a confession, my duo spent most of the run walking and storying.  So when I was defining ‘fun run’ earlier on, I was serious about the definition.)

Fortunately, this was the last run before the Nairobi International Marathon scheduled for Sunday, October 28, 2018…. Only to read that email from Edu that we should be preparing for ‘2123’ – the fifth half on Friday, Nov. 23, 2018.  Who cares?  Bring it on!  This shall be the ‘B-and-B run’ (or is it B-and-C run?), as we beat all these noise makers to the finish line.  Watch out Edu and the rest of you pretenders.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, October 12, 2018

The Second Half – 2-1/2

The Second Half – 2-1/2

New Crew

“Don’t let your mind wander,” I warned Beryl, “This is an over two hour run, and you need mental preparedness”

“But how?,” she wondered, as we now set off from the starting point.

We were once again a crew of five, a different crew, running the second ‘international half’.  I thought I had heard some famous song with the same theme, only for Edward to pour water on that assertion by confirming that it is ‘herb’.  Edward was part of the organizing committee of this second run.  The run was specifically held to enable Beryl who missed the last inaugural run on August 10 to finally get a feel of it.

I had once again sent the customary call for run to the marathoners and followed it up with a reminder on the runday Friday - exactly 2-weeks since the last half.  This run dubbed “212” was a ‘21-ver 2’ or ‘2nd1/2’.  Whichever the flavour, the 212 finally arrived and it did so sooner than we thought.  We were to start the run at 4.15pm, with a four-ten assembly time.  Since ‘the last half’ ended almost seven-thirty, we wanted to end this one earlier.  However, as fate would have it, by 4.30pm there was no one but the ‘coach’ at the assembly point.  I started imagining a cancelled run, though I did not have a conviction on whether to go for the run or not, if it turned out that no one else turns up.

No crew 

I made a call to the main gate, using the extension phone at the block near our assembly point.  I wanted to just confirm that none of our runners got confused about the assembly point.  And as sure as the gate is different from the generator, Beryl was at the gate waiting.

“Ask her to come down here.  She has 15 minutes…. late”

When Edward appeared announced with, “I am already here,” though he was late, the trio of us were generally now set for the run.  However, we had to wait for a fourth member whom Edu was recruiting for a first 212.  Momentarily, Roger, another of our runners appeared from one of the office blocks, probably heading home, since it was now past 4.30pm and staff were already headed home.

“That can’t be Roger,” I taunted him loudly, “We are starting our run at your block and you are heading home?.  You can’t do us like this!”

“Aki Roger, usiwe hivyo,” Edu joined in.

“Woishe, Roger, just change twende hii run,” Beryl’s comment was the last straw.

Roger turned back towards the block without saying nothing, I think he said, “Wait”.  He is a few-worded kind a guy.  And as short as the word ‘wait’ is, Roger was joining us dressed and ready for the run.

We set off at 4.40pm just as the staff buses were leaving.  Edu and colleague set the pace, Roger in the middle, while Beryl and I were on the trail.

Slowly by slowly we started off, with nothing to do but run, with nothing to hurry, but time is all we had.

We hit ‘the tarmac’, the usual 5k mark in about 30 minutes.

“Water!?,” I asked Beryl, but she shook her head.  I was carrying both our water bottles.  I took my own two or three sips and kept going.  I know the story of water, and I cannot be taken unawares ever. (Read my 2008 blog on when I collapsed due to dehydration). 

And with nothing to do but run, the mind does wander…..

Wanderland

I see myself back to the hospital at Kawangware.  That was just last week.  The mission was to ‘run out’ a marathoner who as being ‘detained’ in the inpatient facility.  She had been rushed there as an emergency on Tuesday night but was due for discharge on Thursday, after tests on Wednesday that should have led to medication… but did not.  The doc to interpret and treat was not available.  By Thursday morning it was already a family decision to forcefully discharge her.  Though I had the vehicle to ‘take her home’ on Thursday at 8.00am, the medical facility was just playing games.

First, they said that Nelly cannot be discharged unless the attending doc says so, the very attending doc who was last seen on Wednesday morning, and had not yet appeared more than 24-hours later.  The very facility that could not even give a remedy despite Nelly being unable to sleep due to pain.  Secondly, they told us that the discharge could only be done if the opinion of the facility was that the patient has not been attended to, which in their opinion was not an option for now.  Thirdly, they told us that the discharge could as well be done ‘against medical advice’, but still by the attending doc.  Isn’t the world round?

By ten o’clock there was hardly anything happening, with the nurses and admins avoiding the family and giving excuses including, ‘still waiting for the doc’, ‘are processing’, ‘NHIF’, ‘the insurer’, ‘the weather’?  And that is where combined efforts helped, since soon two other relatives joined in and before long a near confrontation was in the works…

“We want Nelly discharged now, or we shall call the press,” one relative told the nursing admin.

“And we are giving you 10 minutes or we shall call the police,” the second one added.

Attempts to cool the relatives down did not work, since soon they were both going into the administration offices arguing and ‘causing’.  Hospital staff were seen in small groups discussing and pointing in our direction.

“Drive off, and don’t allow the Security to check this car,” that is the command that met our driver around noon as we zoomed off the facility heading to another, with Nelly sandwiched on the back seat.

At one we reached our destination.  In this next medical facility at Parklands, we were received through the emergency entrance and were soon in a recovery room, IV in place, tests done and already waiting for results.  Nelly was even smiling some 1hour later, something that she could not do in the last three days.  However, I was left with the duty of taking care of her admin issues, including filing in forms and signing receipts.

“Give me your finger,” I told her, “We need to swipe the card to pay up for the tests.”

The fingerprint technology has its challenges, since by this time Nelly was deep in IV infusion and could not ‘lend a finger’ even if temporarily.

Then… there were this form that I was filling-in on her behalf, before she went for a scan.  It had almost one hundred questions, mostly of the Y-N type.  One of them, “Are you pregnant?”. 

“Of course I am not”, I responded to the question… smiling.

Smiles

“Hey coach, what are you smiling at?  Give me a sip,” Beryl brought me back to reality.

We were now heading to the 9km mark at the junction of Lower Kabete and Gitaru-Wangige road.

“I am not-expectant….,” was my response.

“What?”

“I am not expectant… eh… of these long runs,” I found myself saying.

“And, how do you stop your mind from wandering again,” she asked.

“Just tell yourself something about the run”

“Such as?”

“When approaching a hill, tell yourself that, ‘there is a hill coming up, I shall soon be there, I shall soon be through with it, and I shall do it’”

At 12k mark we left Gitaru road and turned left to join Kanyariri road, where finally Beryl realized where we were.

“You mean this is the famous Kanyariri?”

“This is it,” I affirmed.  “And it is now downhill all the way to the Ndumbo river”. 

Finishing

The five of us were in quite high spirits.  This 212 was much more enjoyable.  I was not tired and our run-walk strategy, especially after the 9k was quite refreshing.  We were not leaving anyone behind and our crew of five was well jelled.  We knew when to speed up and when to slow it down.

For Edward and I, doing a second international, this was no strange route.  If anything, Beryl whispered that Edu had done this same run (behind our backs) last week. 

I remember saying, subconsciously, “Oh, the strength of youth!”

Finally, we were facing the Ndumbo hill, at 18k.  As we approached, I saw Beryl smiling as we reduced speed slightly.  She finally burst into the song, “I am facing the hill, I shall soon be done with it”

“You are a good student,” I told her.

We were at the finish line around seven-fifteen.  We ended the run while dark (again).  However, it is the joy of finishing the run that counts.  That final selfie, that final high five, that last ‘we did it’ chant.

Will there be a third international?  How dare you!?  Or dare you how?

WWB, The Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, August 24, 2018