Ndakaini 2018 – the run that never was (almost)

Ndakaini 2018 – the run that never was (almost)

“Mbona hulewangi Sunday?”

What the….?

That is exactly how my Saturday morning started, when I boarded the 14-seater matatu at the Uthiru highway at around 5.10am.  I had to wake up at 4.30am for breakfast and was out of the house at 4.55am.  I spent 5 minutes convincing the watchie to be steady enough to open the two padlocks of the compound gate.  He was from deep slumber and his mind was not yet sober for the reality of the morning.

“Mbona hulewangi Sunday?,” the lady repeated.

“Unajua Monday ni job, na nitasumbuka na sleep kwa ofisi,” her lady colleague responded.

It was evident that they were both too drunk to care that they were speaking at the top of their voices, in this small vessel, for all to hear.  They did not seem to care if walls have ears, it was story time.  By the way, I have observed that the drink deafens and hence the sound level has to be high be it talk, music or quarrel.

“Kula tu ka-sausage with pilipili, na soda ya stoney,” the asker informed the respondent.

“Utakua sober whole day, try it,” she concluded, even as she shouted to the conductor to stop at the Maunte stage.

But that was after they filled us in about the brawl that they had just had.

“Chali yangu ni mjelous, ye ndio alianza hiyo vita,” the lady who had been given the prescription shouted out, then for the benefit of team mafisi added, “Lakini I love him, he is the only one.”

Never give up

“I shall try it,” I said subconsciously after they disembarked.  That was not to be the last of the drunks we were to share a matatu with this morning.  After Westlands, there is this famous club that parks many cars on the road and seems noisy at the wee.  Galileo is it?  Something like that.  That  is where we carried the next drunk – with his evidence being half a bottle of some drink, Chivas, I guess, having seen a similar empty bottle at the work place kitchen – where code of conduct rule no. 8 is ”You can only drink at the bar”

The matatu dropped me and a fellow runner at the junction of Kenyatta Avenue and Moi Avenue.  We walked to Reinsurance Plaza, just on the other side of Hilton after passing through Kimathi Street.  The bus was there alright, but no one was in, apart from the driver.  Slowly by slowly the few runners started trickling in, each checking their names by the organizer, before boarding.  We should have left Nairobi at 6.00am sharp, according to the many reminder smses that we got.  Kenyans being Kenyans, the last athlete came in unapologetically at 6.20am.  The MM bus left the city at 6.25am.  The 40-seater had each of its seats with only one athlete seated.  This turnout was worse than I thought.  Canceling it when scheduled in September, then reconsidering it at the last minute just last week was not such a good idea.  Traditionally, at least six buses would leave the city for Ndakaini.  This time round, a half-bus left the city for Ndakaini.

The bug

The journey was uneventful.  We passed by Thika at 7.05am and took our left turn towards Gatanga.  This section led us all the way to Ndakaini where we arrived at 8.00am for the run that was to start at 8.00am.  Then the game changer happened, “Mtu asiache chochote kwa basi,” the pilot announced on the natural intercom by just shouting it out.  And… and this is the very first time that I had decided to carry a bag.  In it were two phones, a newspaper and some shopping bags.  It weighed about 1kg in totality, but I did not plan to run with it – how do you even run dressed in a bag?

I hardly comprehended what was going on before the run started, just like that, at 8.02am.  I still had the bag at hand wondering what to do with it.  With the feet already pounding the gravel, I did not have a choice but just to strap the bag on my back and join the rhythm of feet.  I was adorned with the marathon type bag, the one with two strings on either side.  By 5min of run, which is just outside the Nairobi Water main offices, the strings were already strangling my neck.  I had to find a new formula to carry it on my back by strapping an X shaped pattern on my stomach area and passing some of the strings on my shoulders.  This bag was the biggest bother that I have ever had on a run that is officially the toughest in the world.

“Damn the driver,” I shouted to myself as I hit the 2km turning point, where we now head to the first river, then we start the continuous hills to the finish.

“Damn the bag, damn everything!”

Ready or not

I was fully prepared for this run by virtue of three international halfs in the last two months.  Endurance was not the issue, finishing the run was not the issue.  The issue was just this ‘bug’ and my final run time.  Having skipped last year’s run, due to another change of date, due to electioneering issues*, I did not expect any difference in the run, if Ndakaini was still Ndakaini.  And… and Ndakaini was still Ndakaini.  

*For information, even the Nairobi International marathon of last year was rescheduled to November, from the traditional October month.

The good – bottled water every 5km.  Instead of 4 points by calculation, they threw in two additional water points, just for the fun of it.  

The good – sponge stations, every 10km.  Instead of 2 points by calculation, they threw in an additional point, just for the fun of it.  Enough respect to Ndakaini.  It is the only marathon in Kenya at the moment with sponge stations.  With sponges, that are moisten and ready for use by any athlete who picks.

Ndakaini the bad – 21km of hill.  I do not know whether this is on ‘the bad’ list.  This is what makes Ndakaini be called Ndakaini.  It is what gives it its name, but let us for a moment keep it in this list, you will be the judge.  

The bad – no certificates and no medals… and no timing chips.  But let us go back to the run for a moment….

I am now a veteran of Ndakaini.  This is my run no. 5, so I know this run like the back of my running shoes.  There is always a surprise at every turn.  The trick with this run is to approach the turns and corners with caution.  Chances are that there is a surprise awaiting – and usually this is some new hilly section.  You can imagine the agony of sprinting towards a bend only to encounter one of the 10 hills!  You are finished there and then.  I have mastered this ‘a surprise awaits’ so much that I never get caught off guard by any of those hills.

The road ahead

Since the run of ‘very few’ was flagged off, I had been running on my own.  I overtook quite a number of runners, but another three or so also overtook me over the course anyways.  I encountered a few ‘cheaters’ sorry ‘cheats’.  Some runners did not bother start at the starting line.  They just joined in whenever they saw the runners coming their direction.

My best moments were the ‘surprise’ hills, where athletes would just come to a standstill.  That is when I would just overtake without much effort.  The hills are tough, but if you are walking then be ready to be overtaken – what else?

“Biya isho,” someone shouted in my direction.  It was a member of the spectators.

I knew that for sure I was not carrying any ‘beer’, so that was a surprising comment.  If anything, I had my phones in the bag on my back, and rattling in my pockets caused by some keys and coins, currency, Kenya money.  It took me a translation five hours after the run to know the effect of rattling of currency to bystanders.

“Tupa bag,” was another shout that I encountered.

I threw off my bag and it landed somewhere behind me.  I kept running and did not get any relief.  Sorry, it was my sub-conscience that threw that bag, since in reality I kept running with my bag.  This was at the final corner, that 90 degrees bend that goes downhill, and at the foot of the downhill you get the dreaded 45 degrees hill!

Cortisone

The adrenalin kicked in when I realized that there were no more hills.  However, for your peace of mind, always know that there shall still be another hill.  You have not seen or experience the last of the hills.  Keep that in mind while doing the Ndakaini until you cross the finish line – that is how you survive Ndakaini.  However, the veteran in me knew for sure that the hills were now done when I reached that last shopping centre where you make a 90 degrees turn to the left.  Hit that and you now know that you are on the 3km home stretch.  And… and this is where the adrenalin kicked in.  I overtook upto four athletes, two of whom had been in front of me for eons.  I just zoomed past them.  I did not even understand myself where the energy came from.  One of the overtaken chased after me, caught up, overtook me, but miscalculated the terrain, leading to his downfall.  When I said the hills had ended, I just meant the 40-45 degree ones.  We still had mild hills ahead and that is where I zoomed past him again – just for the love of the game, nothing personal – athletes are universal friends, it is the game that spoils things.

The finish line appeared from nowhere.  It was like I had not done the 3km since the market, but there it was, “Ndakaini Start/Finish 21km”.

I stopped my timer at 1.49.00 – the first time that the seconds have been exactly zero.

Surprises

An official slipped a small piece of card into my hands, the size of an ATM card.  On it was written “24”.

“What is this,” I asked amid gulps of water.

“Your position, go register your details at the next desk.”

At the registration desk, there were only 3 questions, whose responses were recorded on the paper:

“Your number?”

“0328,” I responded.

“Your name?”

“Check the online registration system for crying out loud!,” I thought of saying, but I did not.  I instead responded with the name.

“Your position and card?”

I stated “Jack Bauer” and handed over the card.

He just looked at me with utter disbelief, while I moved out of the tent.

“Hebu gota!,” a stranger beckoned, “Nilikujaribu, but you beat me fair and square.”

I immediately recognized the athlete as the one we had the hill test with after the 18k.

“You are good yourself. It was just my day,” I responded, team spirit guiding my choice of words.

Ten minutes later as I was walking towards the bus…

“WB, or maybe not,” someone encountered me, hesitated and waited for reaffirmation.  Only those very close to me know that presidential name.  A stranger beckoning would be unexpected some 100km from my usual territory. But wait a minute... 

“Geff?, What are you doing here, in Kenya!  At Ndakaini!!”

“I am running the first Ndakaini,” he stated, as a matter of fact, “This run was tough!”

“10 or 5?,” I queried.

“Twenty-one, however, Terry did better than me.”

By this time we were walking back, just catching up.

“You mean Terry is here?”

“Sure thing, we did the run together, but she beat me to it”

It was quite a pleasant surprise to meet the duo, whom I had last met in my previous life at Telkom.  By then I was not a runner.  To my understanding, both had left their duty station as volunteer teachers at a local Gilgil school and travelled back to the UK, for keeps.  Those who know my story already know that I started my runs when I left Telkom for research.

“You still do IT?,” he asked.

“Nope, retired back to Engineering”

“But…. But you were the IT guy?  Anything computer was you?”

“Ebindu bichenjanga,” that just slipped from my mouth, unintended.

“Ebi-what?”

“ABCD, I was just mumbling after a tough run!”

The Experiences

With Ndakaini marathon facing one of the lowest turnouts in history, I do hope that they shall quickly get a sponsor on board so that this run on its 14th edition retains its status as the toughest, while it also achieves the continuity that its big brother has.  Their difference after all is only a year.  Nairobi International marathon aka Stanchart where we are going next is on its 15th edition come October 28, 2018.

Finally, few comments that I gathered from the runners from Nairobi, those on the MM bus:

“First time, and toughest run ever”

As to whether she shall be back, she responded, “Definitely, but for another 10 before I move on to the big one”

“I am now ready for Stanchart,” some other lady stated loudly, while getting into the bus, for the benefit of all.

“Stanchart is nothing compared to this,” she concluded.

“I am happy and sad,” one gent said.

While we were puzzled on how you can mix bronze with clay, he elaborated, “I have nothing to finally show my grandchildren when I get them.  No medal, no certificate.  What will I tell my grandchildren?”

That is called thinking ahead… way ahead, just like thinking about the 2019 Ndakaini run which is a must.  Ndakaini just has ‘it’.  You just need to experience it yourself.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, October 6, 2018

21-o-21 – the third half

21-o-21 – the third half

Good start

I had started this run session by warning our runners not to call this run ‘21-oh!-21’ or ‘21-oooo-21’, but just as it should have been called… 21-o-21.  We are running the third international 21km run on Friday September 21.  By this third edition we, the IC, were already seasoned on this route and it was just going to be ‘another run’.  Only Janet and Isaac was first timers.  The rest had either participated in one or both of the past international halfs.  And ‘IC’ means ‘Inner Circle’ for those who are new to the 21.

Our troop this time round had a total of seven athletes, two ladies and five gents.  All were in high spirits and only two were strangers on this route.

The run that was to have started at 4.15pm actually started at 4.45pm.  We had already split into two groups by the cross-of-highway at Kabete police, with Edward and the boys sprinting it ahead, while ‘coach’ and the ladies were cautiously pacing at the back.  The weather was good, with the usual evening sun cooled down by the impeding dusk.

End before start

The three of us were now at the 3k mark at Wangari Maathai institute of peace and environment with a time check of 21minutes.  And that is when it happened….

All of a sudden, Beryl stopped and stooped, bringing the three of us to a labored halt.  Though the stretch towards 4k was a downhill, this incident was quite unexpected as the run was starting to gain momentum.

“I feel pain on my stomach”

“Like a stitch?,” I wondered.

“Yes, like a stitch but sharp,” she added.

I instructed Janet to keep going while I walked slowly with Beryl, my mind racing on what the options were in such a situation.  I have had runs and run incidences before, but this was still unprecedented.  By this time the quadruple of guys was surely past ‘the tarmac’.  That would also mean that Janet would have to tread it alone in the middle of the pack.

“You may have to call off the run,” I told the evidently pained Beryl, “You cannot expect to run in pain for 19km nor walk through such a distance.”

“Nothing is stopping me from my second international,” she said painfully.

“It is your health that matters…. And it now seems to have the upper hand,” I said encouragingly.

“Let us gauge the status at the tarmac,” was our collective agreement.

Overtaking is not allowed

We started walking the 1km down the river, then the next kilometre up to the tarmac.  It is while heading up hill that we were surprised to see Ralph running towards us.

“But…, but you people were way ahead of us?,” we both asked almost simultaneously, “Are we seeing double?”

“Not really,” Ralph slowed down upon catching up, “We decided to do the Kanyariri to the river and back, just to give you people time to catch up”

“Is this 21-o-21 or 24-o-21?,” I wondered questioningly.  By them diverting at Ndumbo to the river and back, they were adding 3km to their bill.  Did I say ‘their bill’?  Yes I did.  Did I say ‘our bill’? – No I didn’t.

By the time we hit the tarmac, walking, the rest of the guys – Edward and Roger – were just behind us ready to overtake.  And that is when Beryl recovered and started the run up Lower Kabete road, to head to the 9k mark on Wangige-Gitaru junction.  Though the guys eventually passed us, we also gave them a run for their money.  It is only the discomfort of my colleague that caused us to walk for longer intervals.  It is also on this 5-to-9 stretch that Isaac also joined us and the trio of us did our run-walk all the way.

No water no run

I did not say that I had the ‘misfortune’ of carrying three water bottles through the 21.  It happened just when we were flagged off when I offered to carry the water bottles ‘briefly’.  With Janet already gone since the 3k, and never to be found, I had to endure the ‘pain’ of treading along with 1.5kg package and the discomfort of balancing three bottles on two hands… but for the team… I shall do anything for the team.  I also reminded my duo that I had landed in hospital for running without water, hence my attachment to water.

“I value water so much since I ended up in hospital for three days for running without water,” I told them the story.  Of how I was doing one of my long runs in a morning and how I lost consciousness on the stretch of road from tarmac to Ndumbo.  How I somehow operated between consciousness and unconsciousness for the whole 3km until my final collapse at Ndumbo where a good Samaritan picked me up and how I spent three days admitted.

“Since then, I am not running without water for any distance over 15km.. Never,” I concluded.

“And you survived to run again?”

“What else would I be doing?,” I asked them, resignedly.

Running geographically

Hitting Kanyariri road was quite a relief and we even managed to run most of the downhill from 13k to 18k at the river.  It was while nearing the river, with the environment now pitch dark that I wondered yet again why, “It is getting dark so early, it is hardly seven, despite this being the very Equinox day”

“Equi-what?,” asked Beryl.

“Equinox, the date when the earth’s equator is aligned to the sun.  When we should be having longer daylight hours”

I continued to explain, “It happens March 20 and September 22”

“How did you know all these?”

“Primary school geography,” I started, and seeing her perplexing look, continued, “They used to punish us in primo whenever any pupil got the geo-facts wrong.  The punishment was running around the 8-classroom block”

“And…,” she prodded.

“And… it is no secret, I used to hate running.  I just had to know the facts.  I started running in my adult life when I joined the international marathon team.”

Just then…

“Cause Reggae is strong!,” Isaac blatted out. 

And we simultaneously joined in, “Nobody can stop reggae.”

This happened as we now hit 18k at the river.  By this time it was completely dark.  We had stopped running and we were not going to run anymore in this condition, on a busy road.

Our singing was inspired by a tune in the background, from a motorbike that had blared opposite us with that hit pouring out of the evidently big stereo affixed to this two-wheeled machine.

“I did not know that she can do reggae,” I commented to Isaac, who was evidently good in this genre, he even had locks, “I consider her dot-com,” I finished off.

“Hey guys, don’t speak about me like I am not around!,” she complained, “I bet that I probably know more about ‘music with a message’ than the rest of you pretenders.”

“I have a test for you,” I tempted her, “why did you give Bob so much trouble until he sang no woman no cry?”

“You can’t even interpret such a simple song?,” she shot back.

We just walked on and chatted through the last three kilometers back to our finishing point.

Though we finished the run walking, with a time of 2.58.27, the real fun of this run was the small talk over the big distance.  I finished the run feeling nothing.

Though we thought that the international-halfs had ended this this one, Edward just reminded us by email after the run that ‘Ndakaini is back on Oct. 6’ and that we need a ‘final international’ to prep for Nairobi marathon…. and even named it ‘21-o-12’ scheduled for October 12, while confirming their run time of 2.33.53 over a 23.26k course.  For the forthcoming runs… I know nothing for now…. whether I shall participate in either of these runs…. only time will tell.  However, the ‘fourth half’ sounds quite exciting – can’t wait.

WWB the coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Sep. 21, 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

The first international half… a full half

The first international half… a full half

It ended

“The run is ended,” I told Faye, when we hit the 13k.

“You mean?”

“Yes, I do. From here it is a downhill for five…., a single k…, then the final home stretch of two,” I elaborated, amid sips of water, “This run is done.”

That was about one hour and a quarter into the run.

It started

The event, the first ever 21k international half, which initially was called ‘Kanyariri half’ started as a joke between regular runners.  When Edward (finally) shared a 21k route that circuits from the compound and back, we, the ‘inner circle’, knew that it was getting serious.  ‘The circle’ of six kept this to themselves as the planning and discussions continued.

It was my duty, as ‘the coach’, a name that had been forced my way principally by the same circle, to market and sell the idea to the bigger marathoners group.  By ‘bigger’ I mean one hundred and twenty or so members bigger.

I did send a message to the marathoners and gave them the full details of the ‘first every international half’.  I mapped the route, shown below, and also worked out some alternative distances, being 18k, 15k and 12k, just to encourage as much participation as possible.  I had two weeks to do this.  I had two weeks to see if it shall happen.  Knowing my bigger team, this was an event that I was not holding my breath for, it was an unlikely.  However, my mind had been made from the time I first saw the route – I was going to do this run, even if I shall be alone – just to scout this route out.

I had an idea of the profile of the route.  In fact, it is only the stretch between 9k and 12k that I had never run on.  I had been to the route upto 9k on some occasion.  This section goes to ‘the tarmac’ at 5k, then on Lower Kabete road all the way uphill to the junction of Gitaru-Wangige road.  The other section of the road that I had been to is the usual ‘Kanyariri full’.  This branches at Ndumbo stage, and runs the full length of the Kanyariri-Gitaru road, all the way to Nairobi-Nakuru highway at Gitaru.  It is just the connection of the two route sections that was new to me.

Countdown

“Today is (finally) Friday, August 10, 2018.  It is 12.30pm.  We have 4hours before the international half marathon,” started my Friday message to marathoners. 

It gave subsequent instructions on what to do, where to assemble and most importantly, “No one should come to the assembly point without at least 500ml of water, ideally 1,000ml.  We leave 4.30pm, and not a minute later.”

I did not get any confirmations.  I was not expecting any.  I know my marathoners.  They consent in silence (or course, they also dissent in silence).  My only worry was that this was not one of the occasions for the latter response – but as already said, I was not holding my breath on this.

I filled up my water bottle at 4.20pm, then changed to my running gear.  That is when I met Chris at the changing room – also changing.

“I did not think that you shall be going for this run,” he reminded me, “I have not seen you run whole of this week.”

“Nikose, nichekwe,” was my response, “Being out of the run this week was just one of the strategies that I had for this run… I have plenty of these strategies for today.  Just wait and see.”

Full team

We were to assemble at the generator house… and that is where I jogged to at about 4.28pm.  The run was a strictly 4.30pm sharp event.  I was surprised to find Faye at the assembly point.  She was the last person that I thought capable of joining in.  She was just running her first month with the team.

“I have been waiting since 4.20pm,” she complained.

I responded, “It is 4.30pm that matters, and I am here now.”

“Hey, you guys can’t leave without me,” Edward shouted from somewhere.

“Mimi pia niko ndani, ndani, ndani,” Chris added from somewhere in the works.

A team of four was more than I could ever hope for in the first ever international half.  This turnout had exceeded my expectations already.  I had feared for a solo run.  I was now 400% successful.

“OK, it is 4.35pm, we must leave,” the coach declared.

“Not so fast,” Faye interjected, “Nathan is joining us!”

“You must be kidding!  I have not seen him on the road all year!?”

“Don’t speak about me like I am not around,” Nathan appeared momentarily, “I am in the run, even if it is the last thing that I do.”

That could then only mean that we move to business…

“Race call!,” I shouted out, “Any 12?, any 15?, 18?”

Silence.  No one answered.

“Okay, 21s?”

“Yea! Tuko!,” all the team shouted.

A few seconds of describing the route preceded the real countdown and at exactly 4.45pm the run started.

Pole pole

Slowly at first, we started off towards the gate, and out of it.  The runners were generally in two groups by the first kilometer mark at the Waiyaki way.  The faster group of Chris, Edward and Nathan, and the slower duo of coach and Faye.

It was a good, sweet, relaxed run.  We headed for the 4k at the river with the runners all in great spirit.  It was generally slow on average, but fast on the splits, clocking nothing over 6km per minute so far.  We hit 5km at the ‘tarmac’ in about 34minutes.  We now have to do the 4km uphill on Lower Kabete road to Gitaru road junction.  I have been on this road.  I know it is mean… and it turned out to be as mean as I know it.  Gentle uphill, but uphill nonetheless… for 4k.  Having decided that this was a group run, we kept each other company and slowed down, or even walked if a team member was out of form.

New section

The 9k to 12k section on Gitaru road towards Nakuru highway was the new stretch that I was doing for the first time ever.  It turned out to be a gentle, but short hill since we soon (about 16 minutes later) were taking the left turn towards Gitaru market and then onto Kanyariri road that I know so well.

“The run is ended,” I remember telling Faye, when we hit this road at 13k.

As sure as mapped out, the next five km were smooth downhill all the way to Ndumbo river.  By the time we reached that river crossing it was already getting dark.

“This lying Equinox!,” I shouted, “How can it be this dark when it is hardly seven!”

“Be happy that there is still visibility,” Faye updated me, “In Europe it would have been dark at four-forty when we started the run.”

“You don’t say!”

Do it again

It was a relief when the five of us reached the ‘Stop’ painted on the tarmac at the gate.  That is where we stopped our timers, technically stop watch for me and some form of digital gadget for all the rest – one particular type of these gizmos that keeps making announcements every ten minutes.  Our group time was an impressive 2.26.40.

As we took a ‘selfie’ of five, (though I am informed that there is no such, if anything it is a ‘groupie’), we congratulated ourselves for a run well run and promised to do this again.

“After Ndakaini for me,” that was my response.

“What Ndakaini?,” Edward wondered, “There isn’t going to be a Ndakaini this year.  The main funders pulled out”

“Not possible,” was my disbelief, “This is the second longest running marathon after Nairobi marathon?  They can’t dare do that!”

“You wait and see.”

On reflection, this was my most enjoyable 21.  So relaxed, no pressure, and also did run in a group the whole distance.  My legs were not aching as much, in fact not at all, for the first time ever.  I ended the run without feeling like collapsing.  This run had a different feeling… a good different feeling.

WWB 'the coach', Nairobi, Kenya, August 10, 2018