You are on your own – the Nairobi Marathon 2018 story

You are on your own – the Nairobi Marathon 2018 story

(updated 21-Nov-2018 with official results)

*Image extracted from marathon organizers site (nairobimarathon.com)

Weather

The weather was perfect for a run as we left the meeting point at 0600hrs on the double dot on this last Sunday of October.  The twenty-eighth.  About five marathoners were in the bus, with another one being picked on the way – while probably over five missed the bus either from the onset on within the travel route.  It was cool, towards cold, with the sun completely buried by layers of black clouds.  It seemed that it would rain at some point.  Soon.  In the next hour.

We tried to reach a parking lot around Upper Hill at 6.25am, only for the Police to direct us to go towards Kenyatta Avenue and access Uhuru park from that route.  That was not to be, since we found the road closed at State House road junction.  That is where we disembarked as the driver tried to get some parking slot, which he said would be around Integrity house.

Everybody was in high spirit.  The 42km full marathon was only 20 minutes away.  The crowds were already swelling at Uhuru park, with the starting line jammed by all manner of runners, 42k or otherwise.  It took a reminder to reduce the numbers.

“Let us have only the 42km runners, those with red run numbers,” the public address bellowed.

“All other runners, please move back to the 21k starting line,” he urged.

“Those running 10k should in fact head to Uhuru highway where their run shall start.”

Anthem

That reduced the crowd a little bit.  A little bit, since many runners still refused to give way, even though they had the blue run numbers denoting 21k or even the green ones denoting 10k.  Despite this, the two national anthems were ‘brassed’ out – rather the brass band played the instrumental for the Kenyan national anthem then the East African anthem.

The wheel chair race started at 6.50am, while I was gone for the ‘last washroom’.

“You must pay,” the operator instructed.

I have known better over time, that you need to go for these marathons with some money.  Surprises usually await.

I gave out a 50-shilling note and was ushered in without my change, “Sina change.  Ngoja,” is the directive the ushered me in.

Five minutes later, and I was still waiting for change, with my run already on the countdown.

“You must pay,” he instructed another group of runners.

“We have no money,” they said.

“There is money in the car…. And toilets for marathoners should be free,” a guy in the group responded.

“I am so pressed,” a lady urged, “Let me just use.”

With a stretched hand, the operator motioned, “You pay, you use.”

Gagged

“I shall pay for the gent and lady,” I volunteered, more to reduce the change that I was waiting for, than in support of the operator.  That is how I got my 20-bob back and had to run to the direction of the starting line.

Why did I opt to pay, when there were many ‘free’ portable loos?  I already had a bad experience when I arrived at the venue for the first break.  The cubicle that I used, which was claimed to ‘the best’, had a puking experience.  I have never seen such a mess since secondary school days.  I gagged out after using the plastic structure.  It was the worst experience on this good day.  I was not going to use any of those freebies ever, unless I wanted my stomach to go to empty.

The run started one minute late.  At 7.01am, we started our timers and off we went.  I was with Janet, who was doing her inaugural 42.  Donning runner no. 1279, I was soon on my own as each runner found their pace.

*Image extracted from marathon organizers site (nairobimarathon.com)

Same old

The route was generally the same, apart from the starting point that had been pulled back about 400m onto Processional way, instead of Upper Hill road, Railway club where it started last year.  The rest of the route turned out to be largely unchanged, apart from maybe an extension of a turning point here and there, or a reduction in some rare cases.

I have already said that the weather started good… and it remained good the whole run.  No sun, just shade.  Some threat of rain and hardly any cold.  No breeze, and so it turned out to be a ‘sweaty’ run with no draft to keep that sweat out.

I usually plan my 42k as a two-part run – the first 21k from start to Nyayo stadium, then another 21k on Mombasa road.  I further divide the Mombasa road bit into two also – just for the sake of manageability.  10km first loop, 10km second loop… and of course a final 1km back to the Start/Finish.  With that done, the run is manageable since I have run all these variants of the 42k total at some point.  I did four ‘international halfs’ in the last two months, each 21k.  I do a 10k run at least once a week.  Think about the 42k as back-to-back of 3 of these runs i.e. 21+10+10… of course… +1.  However, it is easier done mathematically than practically.  Practically, you are already ‘done’ by the time you hit Nyayo stadium at 21k.  How you will do another 21k is akin a miracle!

Miracles

But miracles do happen, and that is why breaking it down helps.  The 21k to Nyayo was uneventful.  Nothing extra ordinary on the route.  Water points everywhere.  With water, if I may add.  The first water point being hardly 2km from the start.  The usual interval is 5km.  The organizers exceeded my expectation on this front.  The crowd of runners all along the route as expected in the marathon.  Starting with the thin stream of ‘red labelled’ numbers, followed and overtaken at some point by the ‘blue labelled’ sprinters.  At 21km, only 42km runners hit Mombasa road, where they are on their own for the two circuits.

The first circuit was quite good.  I did not feel it as much.  It just started, then somehow before long, I did the U-turn near Cabanas and was soon back to Nyayo stadium – done.  The second circuit was another story.  It was the ‘stressful one’.  I somehow, by willpower only… and water of course which was still plentiful even on Mombasa road… somehow, I managed.  The most difficult point was after the U-turn on second circuit, that should be at around 35km.  You just feel that the body has ‘refused’.  The legs wobble and you can imagine fainting and collapsing with every step that you take.

“Strong!,” a stranger beside the road shouts… to no one in particular.

“Baby steps…. To the finish line,” another stranger directs a shout to one of the runners ahead of me, clad in yellow T.

I do not respond.  I do not recall seeing the yellow T respond.  Maybe I am too tired to even notice what is going on.  Maybe I already fainted and it is just my subconscious playing tricks.  I don’t know nothing at this point.  The only thing I know for sure is that I am picking a water bottle at every station and forcing a sip as many times as I can.  I am not letting go of a bottle until I see the next station.  Just then, I see Janet just ahead.

“Will I manage?” she asks my passing form.

“You shall make it… Just one more circuit,” I update her, “Remember to keep taking water through out,” I turn back to give that final one.

Glad

I am glad to see that sign that shows, “42km loop 1 right turn, 42km loop 2 Finish straight ahead”.  I keep to the right as I now get to the Nyayo stadium roundabout.  I now know that I shall be done in a kilometer or so.  Nonetheless, this was the most difficult k of all.  I kept going and could not reach the finish line.  I can hear the public address and the ongoing festivities at the finish line area at Railway club.  The place seems too near yet so far.  The road is now jam packed by the 21k runners, most of them just walking.  They look at me as “a crazy guy who has decided to run when we are all walking”.  I am too tired and too gone to even care to notice.

This k is surely long.  I have gone over the railway flyover, but I cannot seem to reach the finish line.  I make a turn at Haile Sellasie towards Railway club and the finishing point is still nowhere to be seen.  I am now at the brink of collapsing.  Any minute now and my legs shall be the last sign that I can’t do any more distance since they shall just give way on the tarmac.  I see the word, “Finish” illuminated in red neon, hang above the road just ahead.  The road is however full and packed with walkers and ‘selfie’ takers.  It is a nightmare to pass through.  I know that if I stop I shall collapse.  So I keep running the last 400m to the finish.

“Teet teet,” the mat reacts as I cross over.  I regain consciousness and stop my timer at 3.34.15 (42.63km).
(*UPDATE of 12-Nov-2018: final results as per the official timing by the organizers is 3.33.58(chip time) / 3.34.09(gun time), being position 212 out of 499.  I am on page 15 of the 34 page results table)

But… but.. surprisingly now I am energized once more.  My strength is back.  I can walk without much ado and there is no big deal.  I do not feel any peculiar pains.  I am quite OK.  I start wondering whether this was a real 42k or there is another finish line.  No wonder I was not given a medal!!

On your own

“Where are the medals?,” I remember asking, since no one dished any out.  Traditionally, you get one as you cross the finish line.

“Go to Railway club,” the attendant advises, even as I now join a train of runners from 42k, 21k and even 10k streams, all heading to the club, about 400 meters away.  This is the slowest train that I have ever taken!.  After some journey, we get the medals for our particular runs.  Someone with a felt pen ticks on our bib numbers upon collection of medals.  They do not seem to care about tearing out the lower portion of the bib, which they traditionally do retain.

“Wow,” I exclaim in amazement, to no one in particular, just to myself, but loudly.  The wow reaction is from the design of the medal.  The medal looks good.  It is well crafted in a good pattern, unlike the traditional circular things we are used to.  “15 years – 42km Finisher – Nairobi Marathon 2018”.  I note that the 42k ones are ‘goldish’, the 21k are ‘silverish’, while the 10k are ‘bronzish’.  Maybe they have always been this way – I don’t know – but I noticed today.  What I also noticed today was that there were no distance markers all through the route.  All my distance estimates were just from past experience or tired-o-meter readings.  No wonder I said that for the 2018 run, “you are on your own”, with nothing to guide you but experience, instinct or just run until you hit the finish line.

Final results
The men's full marathon was won in 2.14.19, with the next two positions being done in 2.15.01 and 2.15.09

In a time of 2.33.11, Josephine conquered the divas course, followed by a 2.34.12 then a 2.34.53.

Real history was made in the divas 21k run when Valary, the 2017 winner won for a second consecutive time in 1.12.02 , followed by a 1.13.37, then a 1.14.05 in third position.

The guys did some history of their own, when the the 2012 21k men's winner repeated the feat in 1.04.57, followed by 1.05.24 and 1.05.32.


Will I do this again or do I ‘finally’ take that retirement and settled on the more manageable 21?

WWB ‘the coach’ – Nairobi Kenya – Oct. 28, 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