Running at night part 2 - running with memories

Running at night part 2 - running with memories

Read part 1 here

Lightning does not strike twice, so goes a famous homeland saying, and that is what I was banking on when I re-attempted the Addis campus run.  I even took extra precaution and started the run earlier – at 5.15pm instead of 5.30pm.  I was good to beat the course in good time.

I flagged myself off and started the monotony of the circuit that runs generally on the perimeter of the compound.  I had already known it as a 2km high altitude route, with about half of it being a gently uphill.  I was starting at 2366m above sea level, to a low of 2360m, then finally to a high of 2376m.  With only a 16m height different, the route was not hilly by any definition.  

It was just one of those fairly flat routes.  But let that small difference not cheat you – running at an altitude over 2000m is not comfortable at all.  You just feel something pulling you back.  You apply lots of forward energy to get you going, and you tend to breath heavily.  Your speed is curtailed from start, unless you compensate by additional forward energy.

I would meet few other walkers on the route.  Greetings was the order of the day with every person that I met.

“Salamno!”

“Salamno!,” I replied, as I kept treading the trail.

Some encounters were even conversations, though I tried to keep going at a reduced speed.

“Salamno, you run good.  Very good!”

“Thanks,” I respond as I keep going.

“You extend also to road near gate, you must go to road there.”

“Oh, Ok, I shall try,” I respond while still on the run.  The person I am responding to must now be ten metres behind, walking.

“Be sure go that road,” he shouts to catch my attention, now almost fifteen metres ahead.

“Will do!,” I shout back.

What is this turning into?  A conversation!  Wasn’t it supposed to be a ‘Hi’.

But I am glad that I am even saying Hello.  It can be worse.  It has been worse, as I thought about what happened four months ago…..

When we got to P-10, our dormitory, the sun was still sweet and bright.  There was no way I would miss a run on this evening.  After all, this was a Wednesday – a run day.  While Paul and Eric decided to enjoy their day with the one-month free gym membership, I was on my journey of discovery – exploration of the open roads far from UiS.  

I had mapped my run on Google map and knew how it should turn out, at least on the map.  Unfortunately, I could not have the map while on the run, since I did not have internet connectivity while on the run.  This would not be possible without a local SIM card and data bundles on the SIM.  

Of course, I would have benefitted from the free wifi if I was configured properly on a local SIM, but that was just wishful for now.  I just had the map on computer screen, memory on how it should be, and reliance on good old luck to pull this off.  The map showed the route as being straight enough.  Just a long loop on the tarmac in front of my windows, and that shall be it.  It should be a simple 6km loop – a thirty minutes thing.  Simple!  Do this four times, and I am done.  Simple, I told you.

The time for the run would come.  I would adorn my running kit.  It was five-thirty.  I left and started slowly, past Kiwi supermarket and kept going.  I had now learnt to keep my runs to the side walkways.  And the walkways were available along all the roads, no exception.  

At times, the walkways would get under the roads as a crossing, then get you to the other side.  Other walkways were over the roads.  I would finally get to the main road that I intended.  I was to turn right on this road, which I did, and then kept going on straight ahead.  I soon passed the Clarion hotel on my right and kept following along Madlaveien, the main road to city centre.  

After some underpass that the footpath led me through, I found myself on the other side of the overhead main road.  This was just a road tributary.  The main road that I was running next to started drifting further to my left.  Soon the main road was so far to the left that I could only make it out by the vehicles swishing in the background.  

I kept running and found myself through a residential housing estate.  I was skeptical as to whether I was still on the right path.  This did not seem like a main road, but it was also not blocked in any way.  Wooden-walled houses stood on both side of this deserted tarmac road.  Most of the houses did not have fences.  The few with fences had some short green live fence.

I reduced speed, wondering whether I was still on the right track, but kept going through the estate for another five minutes.  I was quite relieved to finally get out of the residential estate and joined a sideroad next to a main road.  It was even possible that it was the same main road that had disappeared on me.  I was glad to get it, but that did not last.  After about fifty meters, the side road that I was running on seems to just end!  Just like that!  I just noticed it leading to some red strips marked on the tarmac, straight where I was to run.  What is going on here?

Nonetheless, this now red-marked part of the road was still on the side of the road, but not as well defined as the previous side walkways.  The previous sidewalks tended to have a gap, of greenery or otherwise, between them and the main roads.  This was just the road kerb, painted in red strips.  That is where I kept running.  It did not feel right, but I did not see any alternatives for me.  Then another fifty metres ahead and I got to a big roundabout, with large expansive roads all around the big circle.  I turned to the right, just as the road did turn right.  

Then… Then I heard a car hoot behind me, then pass.  I looked at it and did not see anything of concern.  Then another car hooted from behind and I stopped to look at it.  It soon came to a stop just next to my standing position, on this two-lane road.  The passenger on the front seat opened her window, and the driver, on the other side of the car tried to lean over, “No run here. This is highway,” he said.

“So where do I run?”

“Get run path, but no highway.”

I was forced to retreat the one hundred meters back to where the red marks started.  I still did not see the side walkway that would give me a chance to run towards this direction.  Where was it?  Where did I miss it?  I simply could not see how to run towards this direction on the expected footpath since I saw none.  

Not wishing to run myself into some trouble, I decided to just run back to UiS and remap my run from there.  I would also get an opportunity to maybe restudy the route map once more and then re-strategize.  So, I started running back, using the same path that I had taken.  It was a relief to start getting back home – just a reverse of the road that I had already taken.  A simple run back.  I kept running.  

It was now just past six.  The sun was still high and bright.  I kept going.  I met quite a few people on the side path, mostly those on bicycles.  I kept going.  Very few vehicles were on the main road.  I kept going.

“This must be my turn,” I finally told myself, relieved, as I got to the turn.

I turned to my left and kept going.  

I got a “wait a minute” moment, when the road somehow made a turn to the right, hardly two hundred meters after the turn.  My expectation was that once I turned left, I would run generally straight, all the way to Kiwi.  There surely was no right turn anywhere on the road, if I was to retrace my steps rightly.

“Maybe I was too busy running to notice the road profile,” I told myself, “For sure, I had made a turning when I was running to this direction, and that turning must surely be this one.  There was no other turning but this.”

I still kept going, but with lots of doubt in my mind.  The surrounding infrastructure did not seem familiar at all.  Maybe I had not been keen when running through the first time!?  I was running without my specs, but I still wondered why the route seemed different this time round when running back.  

Ten minutes down the road and I would for sure know that I was lost!  This is because this road came to an end and joined another crossroad.  For sure the road to Kiwi had no other junction at all.  It had a roundabout but not a junction.  That was a certainty.  I was lost!

I ran back to the first junction that I took from the main road, and thought that maybe I had turned left too early.  So, I decided to rejoin the highway and continue further down, then take the next left turn, just in case I had taken my first turn too soon.  

I started running down the main road, and soon enough found another left turn.  I took this turn and started another run on this road.  This road would again soon turn slightly to the right, unlike my expectation that it should be continuing straight on.  I kept going, grudgingly, but ten more minutes of run would lead to the same realization that I was lost, again.

So, there I was, lost twice…. but nothing to worry, it was still too bright.  It was hardly six-thirty.  My strategy was to still go back to the highway, rejoin it, and continue with the highway further down and get to the next left turn, just in case I had again turned to my left too soon in the last two attempts.  This third attempt was even more disastrous.  My road just came to an end then turned left into a residential estate!  That was for sure not the turn that I expected to take me back to UiS – no way!  

I therefore ran back to the highway and chanced once more on that first turn that I had taken initially.  Maybe I was just not being observant.  Maybe the road to UiS was just there in plain view, but I was not seeing it.  I once more faced that first turn that I was already lost on anyway, but my mind told me to give it another try.  

I kept running, came to that same turn and ran its full length.  There was no change.  It brought me back exactly where it had brought me the first time – to a cross road which was surely not the road to UiS.  I ran back, now worried.  It was over an hour now.

I had done more than twelve kilometers, yet I was not yet back to my UiS starting point – a starting point that should have just been a 6km circuit.  And now I was surely lost!  Lost in the Arctic circle.  Will I ever be found?  What would my family say?  Will my friends ever know?  These thoughts were now filling my mind.  I was heading towards a panic.

My phone could not load a map to show my position.  I had no idea at all where I was.  I came to a standstill and started looking around, just to see if I could decipher anything familiar.  Nothing came to mind.  I saw a place called Stokka Forum building, and opposite it a church, I guess Lutheran, written Karismakirken.  I was standing next to them now, but I could not recall ever seeing these two when I was coming this direction for the first time.

I now had no choice but to ask someone.  I felt bad about this prospect of asking someone.  I would have preferred to continue looking for the route myself, however long it took.  Nonetheless, there was no use going round and round without any possibility of getting out of this maze.  If anything, I would get more lost.  

I passed besides Stokka and headed towards a compound that looked like a school or sports club of sorts.  There was a big field with children playing.  There was a fence around it.  A footpath ran next to the field.  I saw some gentleman on the footpath heading away from the field, going same direction.  I quickened my walk and soon caught up with him.  I was just about to break the cardinal Norwegian rule of MYOB.  I felt bad about it. 

“Excuse me,” I said when we were walking parallel.

He was taken aback.

“Hello, I was running but I seem lost.  I want to go back to UiS,” I updated him in quick succession.

“Hi,” he hesitated and stopped.

I also stopped.  We did not exchange any handshakes.  We just gauged each other.

“I was running from UiS, and want to go back there.  I seem lost,” I reassured.

“I see,” he continued to gauge me out.  

I looked harmless enough.  Just a Tee-top, a pair of green shorts and the running shoes.  No danger from me here, on this bright daylight.

“Which UiS?”

“University of Stavanger!”

“They are many, which one?”

“The one near Kiwi.  Kiwi supermarket”

“Kiwi are many.  Which Kiwi?”

I was completely lost.  I did not have sense of direction or road names or building names or even localities.

“Main campus… The main University, the big one... Near a tall tower”

He absorbed the new intel.  I could see from his expression that it seemed like bad news awaited.

“You are far,” he finally said, in reflection.  Sympathy forming on his otherwise expressionless face. 

He extracted his phone, “You are here,” he pointed at some place on Google map, “And you are going here,” he pointed at another place.

“Wuuwi!,” I almost shouted.  

I was completely lost!

There was no way I would have got myself out of this quagmire without help.  I immediately realized that I was getting lost further with every attempt that I made in keeping going down the main road.  I immediately knew that my mistake was having missed the correct left turn in the first place.  I had from the onset taken the second left turn, instead of the correct first left turn.  That is why I was now lost… by far.

“You have two ways.  Go back and round, or cross through here, turn left to the main road then turn right on that road.  Keep going until you get to the turn that goes to UiS” he talked, while pointing at the map on the cell.

“Mhh,” I responded, noddingly.

“You sure you will get it?,” he sympathized, visibly.

“Sure.  Provided I get to the roundabout.  Just to that turn and I shall be done.  Thanks a million.”

And as surely as explained, I just crossed through the edge of the playing field, the children and apparent guardians looking at me suspiciously, and got out of that enclosure.  On the other side of the field was the tarmac road where I turned left.  Before long I had seen the main road where I crossed and turned right.  This was the very elusive road that I had already stepped on during my first phase of the run.  

I resumed my running on the sidewalk and it did not take me long to start seeing all the familiar landmarks.  Everything that I expected to see was back – visible in plain daylight!  There it was, the DNB arena.  I remember marveling at its size on my first leg of the run.  ‘Stavanger Ishall’ was next to it, then the building marked DLL.  Even the elusive Clarion was there!  In plain view!!

What a welcome relief to be back to familiar territory!  That final underpass at the roundabout marked my final left-turn that would then take me straight back to UiS on a 2km stretch of road.  I was so charged up, full of adrenalin, when I reached UiS that I had to take an additional dose of another quick 2km circuit around the uni, to finally stop my run with a time of 02.04.48.  The analogue showed 20.87km, while the mobile phone app showed 21.99km.  The app provided a route map of the run.  A map that I would treasure forever as the half marathon that was not meant to be… the lost half… the accidental half...

“Very funny,” I said to myself as I shook my head back to the reality of the moment.  I realized that I was still running the trail round the Addis Ababa campus.  The route was fairly deserted, just these two regular walkers that I overtook severally during the run.  Just the ache of the run at high altitude.  I was now doing the seventh and last loop.  It was dark, just as dark as my Tuesday run.  For a second time, nature had beaten me and forced the dark onto my running path, despite my early start.

I was glad to finally fight the dark path to the finishing line, with my gadgets recording differently:

Endomondo gave me 15.40km in 1.15.09

Runkeeper recorded the run as 16.01km in 1.15.08

The marathoners guide 101 dictates that I pick the maximum time in the shortest distance, so, Endomondo it is.

WWB, the Coach, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Dec. 5, 2019

Running at night - dare you?

Running at night - dare you?

“Am I imagining that I imagine a light hitting my face?,” I asked myself, as I stepped carefully, with heavy steps, on the dim trail.

It happened again, a beam tore through my approaching form, just for a moment, then it went dead again.  This caused my second temporary blindness as the rods in my eyes had to readjust from high intensity light to darkness.  I kept going.  I would soon pass by a sentry, hardly visible, apart from his form that could be made out from the side of the now dark and almost invisible trail.

“Salamno,” I say in his direction as I pass by.

“Salamno!”

I am soon gone and face the left turn on the ninety degrees corner of the farmland.  My only worry now is a stumble, which may affect the run completion.  A fall would be worse, as it would spell the end of my run for the day.  I just kept stepping on by faith that all is well.  From the corner, I would run about half a k, to get to the main road that leads in and out of the compound.  I then have to continue making my way through the trail that generally runs around the outer perimeter of the compound.  

This is just my fifth circuit out of the six that I plan to do.  I still have one more of these dark runs to contend with.  However, I am not to blame.  Blame my location.  I surely started the run at 5.30pm, when it was still bright and light.  It just become dark as I started the fourth circuit.  It was hardly 6.10pm when the darkness hit.  I was doing this ‘torch-beam’ circuit hardly ten minutes later on this 2k circuit.  My last sixth would end at 6.38pm.  I had survived over 30-minutes of running in the dark.

Running in the dark has its own share of issues.  To start with, you need to be alert – all senses alert type.  Your eyes are not your only guide.  They are hardly your guide since you cannot see properly.  Your ears are your second most important sense.  You judge your action with what you hear.  Like that apparent movement in the thickets on my left before I met with that beam.  That thicket noise surely meant something.  I was faced with a ‘stop-think-retreat’ or ‘accelerate-think-later’ when I first heard these sounds.  I accelerated, only to get that face load of beam!  

The wild

It was just one day after this Monday run that we were discussing the ‘animals on campus’.  I was all smiles as I saw the presentation on large screen about the other stakeholders that this campus in Ethiopia coexists with.

The list had snakes – that is not strange.  Have vegetation, have trees, have insects, have rodents and that would be the natural predator.  This campus has all these.

“We have rats,” the presenter would say.  

Surely!  That is not something worth talking about when listing animals on campus!  Is a rat even an animal?

“We have jackals, near the field.”

“Did you say jackals?,” I had to reconfirm this.

“Yes, just on the thicket next to the field.”

My experience on that trail next to the field came back to mind.  That must have been it.

We would be provided with the full list of the other animals on campus, those that my Engineering department had to find a place for.  Blue breasted bee-eater, the bird.  A duiker, I had to check that out before I found out what it was.  How about another bird, the Rouget’s rail!  Several tortoises – I had seen these while on previous runs, just grazing next to the trail.  Hooded vultures – no comment on this.  Frogs – this is an animal?  Liars!  White-tailed mongoose.  

A civet – that was another animal that I had not heard of, but there it was projected on the big screen.  Vervet monkey – so that is what that thing is called!?  The list would go on… Green parrot, Honey bees…

“We also have three of the four species of Ibis nesting around the waste water ponds,” the presenter would update us.

I had to look that one up, since that would be quite something.  The real genus for this would therefore be Bostrychia, though my source would indicate five species in this genus.

Back to the run at night, where you must have both your eyes and ears open.  You also need to have your instinct ready and waiting.  The run at night is also likely to be faster since your adrenalin is likely to be elevated ready for ‘anything’.  However, this also means that your stress level may be unnecessarily high during and immediately after the run, hence you need to know how to deal with it.  Just finish your run and get something to relax you, like a warm bath and a cup of your favourite drink – water can still do.  I finished off with a bath and a glass of warm water, even as my Endomondo gave out the stats as: 

DISTANCE - 13.94 km

DURATION - 1h:08m:10s 

Finally, please note that there is a difference between running-in-the-dark and night-running.

WWB, the Coach, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Dec. 4, 2019

Route 11 run – passing the mock and failing the exam!

Route 11 run – passing the mock and failing the exam!

The boycott

This was a boycotted run from day ‘announced’.  It was initially scheduled for Friday, November 29 but hardly had the announcement sank before we had to reschedule it to a week early.  This was because several ’elite’ runners had informed the MoE* that they would not be participating if the date was not changed.  

It was a quick action on the part of MoE to move the run to November 22.  This was hoped to ‘appease’ the elites, who are usually the main sponsors of this run.  They sponsor by participating and pulling a group along.  Take four of such elites, multiply by the groups that they pull along and you have a big marathon.  Do the converse and you can guess how it shall go.

*MoE – marathoners of expert, organizing committee of the marathons

On that same day that the MoE were rescheduling, there was a call amongst the MoE to scout the route.  As a general guiding rule, the ‘international’ runs cannot be held without a scouting and re-measurement of the route.  This is usually to confirm that the route still existed and that it was at least 21.1km as per international standards.  

The last time this route was in use was during the July International, code name ‘the unveiling’, when we unveiling our branded merchandise.  Five months later and many things could have happened.  These are the ‘many things’ that needed to be discovered in good time, before the run and hence planned for.  You cannot send out an international team of international athletes before the route is confirmed to still be of international standards.  It is a never!

“Hands up anyone who can volunteer to check out the route before next week,” I posed to the MoE.

All hands remained down.

“Surely, we need to scout the route, don’t we?”

Hands remained down.  Voices remained muted.

“So will we just run it?”

No answer.

Scout it out

When I left the starting point on Monday, November 18 to scout the route I did not know what awaited my run.  I had not been on this route since my last ‘half’ on August 7, when I did a 1.43.25.  At that time the Waiyaki way was still being expanded from Kangemi towards Uthiru.  The major works had not yet taken over the Uthiru section.  

I was hoping for the same old situation when I hit it out on this Monday evening.  This was not to be.  I faced the first struggle when trying to cross the now expanded and almost finished up Waiyaki way road section at Uthiru, just after Kabete Poly.

“This shall disturb the runners,” I made a mental note as I waited for more than a minute to get a chance to cross the first section of the road of three lanes, to get to the middle island between the roads.  After the middle island, I had to cross the other side of the road used by oncoming vehicles.  This was another three lane road, followed by a barrier, then yet another two other lanes after that half meter barrier.

“This is worse than I thought!,” I did another mental, though this side of the road was not as busy as the side that I had just crossed.  Nonetheless, one had to jump over the half metre barrier – which was not a comfortable leap when doing a run, or even when walking.

However, the ‘same old’ came back immediately after crossing this wide road.  Just the run as it should be, through Kanyariri road all the way to Nakuru highway at Gitaru market, then a turn to Wangige road for the short half k that then leads to the right road to get you round the market and back to Kanyariri road.  

But turning onto Wangige road brought a new experience.  This half k section was under construction.  The vehicles were being diverted to a narrow side road, while the profile of the once original road was a now a heap of soil and busy heavy machinery.  I even had to stop and re-evaluate my options on how to proceed – either by walking on the drainage cover that was still under construction on my right, or battle it out with the vehicles on the narrow muddy road on the left of the heap. 

Road closed

It did not take long to be told, “Just go through here,” the person who looked like a contractor of the road, due to his reflector jacket, pointed as he responded to my query as to where I should follow to get through.  He did not have any qualms on the narrowness of the temporary road, nor the volume of traffic that I was already seeing struggling to jostle for all the hardly available space.  I was tempted to ask him an “Are you sure” question but thought the better of it.  Aren’t these adrenaline inducing moments, such as the battle with the machines on the road, the fun of the run anyway?

I walked and ran along as I tried my best to get through.  The vehicles and motorbikes were full of hooting and gestures as I went along, opposite their approach.  I finally survived the scare and finished the run.  

After my run, I had informed the MoE of my experience on the road.  They authorized a communique to the runners before the Friday run.  It therefore came as no surprise to those in the inner circle when this information was included in the final call for the run on Friday…

“

Precaution –

1) be careful as you cross Waiyaki way at Kabete Polytechnic, which is now expanded with many lanes and a barrier on one side.  Vehicles have right of way.  Take your time and only cross when the road is clear.

2) the road from Gitaru market towards Wangige is under construction.  All traffic (vehicles, construction vehicles, pedestrians, motorcyclists) have to squeeze onto the temporary narrow side road.  Nonetheless, vehicles (and specifically motorbikes) have right of way – do not dare them. Run easy on this section, or just walk.  Do not dare these machines!!

”

Can’t be happening

By the time of that particular announcement on Friday, everything that could go wrong had already gone wrong.  Even the coach was surely going to boycott his own organized run!  This started on the same Monday that I did the scouting, stopping my timer after 1.42.42 for 21.28k.  All of a sudden, I was just hit by a ‘feel bad’ on my body as I took that shower after the run.  By Tuesday I was already feeling something strange creeping within.  

By Wednesday I was so out of normalcy and I could not even imagine that the Wednesday midweek runs still existed on our three-times a week run schedule.  I saw my two Eng-thoners run it out over the lunch hour while I sat on my desk wondering how it was even possible to run.  I could not imagine treading the tarmac for anything in the world.  

Then the bug hit!  It did so just before I took supper – I just felt the pain on my lower right jaw and it started intensifying with every passing minute.  By the time I had given up on trying to eat due to the pain that accompanied every movement of the jaw, I knew that I was heading for trouble.  But ‘imagining trouble’ and ‘getting trouble’ ain’t the same!

By the time I was about to hit the sack at midnight on the Wednesday, I had fire burning in my mouth!  The pain was pulsating like a heartbeat.  I am even convinced that the heartbeat was responsible for the rhythm of the pain.  I turned and tossed and turned and tossed some more – but the pain intensified with every turn and toss.  It was a night with a mouthmare!  

It was a bad night.  I did not even wake up.  I was awake whole night.  I just got out of bed without knowing my next move.  Instinct was directing me to just try to sleep, though duty was calling.  I also had an important meeting to preside over – one of those that you have planned for, for over four months.

“I will do this and I am out to the doc,” I told my lazy walking body as the pain on my right lower jaw persisted.  I could not eat or drink.  I just walked with a now slightly swollen jaw.  I could hardly talk.  I just pretended to speak normally but I was really struggling.  I did not even try out the plenty of tea and snacks provided for the meeting.  Each item on the serving table reminded me of the anticipated pain if I dared.

“Mwalimu, leo hauli samo?,” a departmental colleague attending the meeting at the new auditorium asked, a mixture of smiles and wonder on his face.

“Later, after masomo,” I responded, struggling to sound normal, a beam on my face.  I was lying.

November is December

I was on the phone with the doc’s clinic immediately after the seminar that ended at twelve-thirty.

“When is the earliest that I can see doc?”

“Let me check,” the respondent stated and went quiet for some time, each second counted by the number of painful pulses passing through my lower jaw, “How about December 4 as per your originally scheduled checkup”

“You are kidding, right!?,” I almost shouted out loud, but I did not.  Instead I did say, “This cannot wait.  I have a new situation”

Another, “Let me check,”, another pause, then, “Kesho at nine, how about that?”

“Can’t it be earlier?”

“Nope, Doc reports at nine.  That is the earliest”

“I will be there.”

I did not eat anything on Thursday.  I struggled with a cup of tea.  Ending up taking it cold after waiting for the ‘right moment’ which never came.  I just had to force it down.  Though my Thursday night was not as mouthmare-ish, I still felt the pain and the swelling was evident.  I was out of the house Friday by eight.  The first matatu that could leave Uthiru took me towards Kawangware, while I did not care paying 50 shillings to town, though I was alighting just at Adams.  I was just in need of a relief.

A brief exam on the dental chair is all that was needed before the verdict was out.

“We have figured out what was causing the pain,” the doc declared.  

I have noted that she liked using ‘we’, just like you do when writing a research paper.  However, I could only see her alone at the upstairs clinic room.

“We have noted an infection that need urgent and immediate attention, otherwise…. Big trouble.  We sense big trouble!”

The known unknown

The x-ray machine that I was sent to, at the downstairs clinic cube failed after only one of the expected three runs had been done.  I was left seated with a heavy lead jacket while the doc was being consulted on the next action.  

While seated, doing nothing, I wondered why humanity calls these rays as x-rays.  In 1895 when they were discovered, they were surely ‘x’, unknown.  But now we know them, don’t we?  Wouldn’t calling them the ‘rays between UV and Gamma’ be too much trouble, or too mouthful?  Maybe be RBUVAG abbreviation would be easier on the mouth?

I would end up being sent for RBUVAG rays, OK, x-ray procedure at Upper Hill and to a pharmacy at Hurlingham!

“Am I your patience or a tourist?,” I almost asked the receptionist.  These two locations were worlds apart!  I however did not have time to care.  

By this time the lidocaine anaethesia had cooled things down.  I was back to almost normal.  I had still not eaten anything since the last failed dinner.  I found myself walking to Prestige, then to Yaya, then to Hurlingham for the medicine.  From there, another 20 minutes’ walk took me to Upper Hill for the RBUVGA rays, sorry, x-ray.  

I was still waiting to be booked for the x-ray when the phone rang.  I ignored the unknown number.  After a short disconnection, it did ring again.  Another ignore led to another ring.

“Eh, Hello, Who is it?”

“This is the chemist.  You left your medicine.”

“Wait, say what?”

“I am calling from the chemist, remember, Hurlingham chemist?  You left your medicine!”

This ‘you left your medicine’ blame was surely their own making.  I had initially wanted to just pick the three packs and shove them into my bag but they insisted on parking them ‘properly’.  The next thing I remember being given was the medical card as I left the premises.

“So I have to go back to Hurlingham!  This is just great,” I murmured even as my name was called to the upstairs x-ray room.

Double walk

I was facing another walk back to Hurlingham, then yet another walk back to Adams to get my matatu back to Uthiru, which were not on the initial plan.  The initial plan would have been to get a matatu at Upper Hill KNH stage and go straight to Uthiru.  

This change of plans did not even consider that I had not yet taken anything, solid or liquid since morning.  These walks were taking out all that I had.  I had already trekked for 10km by the time I stood at the stage just past Adams waiting for the Kawangware matatu.  It had to be past Adams since the road construction had now removed the Adams stage.

It is also at this point of waiting for the matatu that I got the first reminder of the run.  In reaction to the walking stats on Runkeeper, Janet had posted a message, “Yenyewe you can walk fast!”

“I have to make it to route 11,” I responded.

It did not take long before I saw her message on the runners WhatsApp, that she was also joining route 11.

“I shall be doing a virtual run today,” she posted.

“Very funny,” I smiled widely, as I momentarily took my gaze off the phone to look around for any approaching matatu that should take me to Kawangware.  There was none yet.

A virtual run means sitting in the house, with the only run done being the slow walk to the kitchen to fix yourself a drink of your choice while running your fingers through the remote of the TV.  

It was on the same matatu stage that I also saw the other postings by runners who were joining in on route 11.  Edu posted a message on how hot it was at Turkana on Thursday as he did a run there.  His message did not need interpretation.  He was nearer to Ethiopia than Nairobi.  

Beryl had already informed me that she was running in Ug on November 23.  She left it to my interpretation as to whether she would be anywhere near route 11.  Bad news is better left to the interpretation.  It sinks deeper that way.

No run, just walk

I eventually got to Kawangware and could easily have taken another matatu to Uthiru, instead, I did a last walk from Kawangware to Uthiru knowing for sure that ‘Route 11’ was off.  I was just recovering from a strange bug, while my body was in need of carbos and fluids, and hence was not the right candidate for the run.  

My regular participants had either ran virtually, ran far north or ran in the neighbourhood.  Additionally, the elites who had called for change of date had not indicated that they would participate on this new date, a date specifically rescheduled for their benefit!

That message about the ‘precaution’ on route 11 was therefore just a formality.  It would not be of any benefit to anybody.

Two bananas and a glass of soda later, and I found myself starting to be back to normal.  It was now two o'clock.  I was not worrying much since I was now just getting back to taking some solids into my system.  I would assimilate slowly over time.  Maybe try some carbos at dinner?.  Maybe.  

I was not going to run as a convalescent on this serious international.  I would skip it with feeling.  Bad things happen on unexpected days.  That day turned out to be today – just when we are scheduled for an international marathon.

Mock or exams?

When I went to the Generator, the usual starting point of the marathon, at four-forty-five, all dressed up, pretending to be ready for a run, I did not expect to find anyone at the starting line.  I was not disappointed.  It was true.

“Umeona wakimbiaji wowote hapa?,” I asked the sentry who sits at the next block. 
(*Have you seen any runners around?)

“Tangu saa kumi sijaona mtu.” 
(*None)

“I knew it!,” I said loudly.

“Kweli sijaona mtu.  Ni wewe wa kwanza” 
(*You are the only one so far)

My mission was to wish those running well, as I explained my situation and hence why I was skipping the run.  There was nobody to explain nothing to.  I was just standing there, generated, alone!  I therefore just started the timer, for the love of the game, for the love of the team, and flagged myself off for the eleventh international marathon, codename ‘route 11’.  There is no way that this run would go un-ran.  

I was soon on the road running, carbo-loaded or not.  Convalescing or not.  Ready or not!  The run turned out to be just as it had been doing the scouting mock of Monday five days ago.  Same route, same challenges at Waiyaki and Wangige, same 10km of hill and almost the same time – 1.43.14 for 21.26km.  I however failed to score what I did get on the Monday mock which was 1.42.42.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Nov. 22, 2019

TCS Amsterdam part 2 - The medal that brought trouble

TCS Amsterdam part 2 - The medal that brought trouble

Strike Three

“Three phenomenon at once!”

That was my sigh as I opened up the curtains and looked out the windows at ten on this Saturday.  It was shining.  I could see the brightness of the sun hit the white student hostels just across the road from my sitting position.  And secondly, it was raining.  The droplets were slowly staining my window pane and kind of blocking my view of the outside.  And finally the third occurrence… the large rainbow was prominently colouring the sky, in the background just behind the student hostel blocks.  

The view was spectacular from my sitting position.  It was only spectacular because my room heater was on, at about 32 degrees, the windows were tightly closed and the cold out there was only in my imagination.  The winter was on its way.  Eight weeks ago, the trees and shrubs were green.  Hardly two months later, the few remaining leaves of the trees and shrubs were now coloured yellowish-orange.  The once dense leaves had mostly fallen off to the ground, littering the undergrowth with layers of dead leaves.  These were becoming an eyesore on the tarmacked parking spaces.  It made them leafy-dirty.  

The branches of trees and shrubs were now becoming more visible – actually they were becoming skeletons of the plants that were there before.  At this rate, it would not be more than a month before there was no leaf left on anything.  Even my favourite forest area, where I do my runs, visible on the left background from my sitting position, was starting to turn yellowing from its usual dark green.  Whether the forest shall also shed off to a skeleton remains to be seen.  

I am already taken aback….

I had intended to sleep early after the marathon.  I did not.  My host was having an African party in NL.  Apart from Dori whom I already knew from that trip to the marathon and James from Kenya who co-shared the apartment, I had to opportunity to meet another three guests.  Two gents from Kenya, whom I learnt were both graduate students, and one lady, Loraine.  We just sat at the dinner table, dinner going on, and talked about dis-and-dat for over two hours.  The house cleared around eleven.  I slept past midnight.  

The house was empty when I woke up Monday morning, past ten.  Fay and James had already left for school.  I was scheduled to visit a friend at Amersfoot, two trains away.  However, my day become uncertain when the person that I was to visit cancelled at the last minute, due to unavailability.  I just stayed indoors until evening, when I was taken around a tour of the University of Wageningen, a life science university.  To be politically correct, sorry, academically correct, the place is called Wageningen University and Research (WUR).  However, there is political correctness to this name, since I learn that the place is a merger of a university and research institute.  

At 100-year of existence as at 2018, the institution was surely well established.  At the walk of fame, a paved walkway of about fifty-metres, I saw at least three Nobel laureates associated with that university.  Not far this, there is a work of art, the giant ‘water beetle’, that is flying without moving, on top of the water, just next to a pedestrian walkway bridge.  In the water, under the beetle, one can clearly read the illuminated sign – “Must leave”

“It is getting dark, We must leave,” I tell Fay.

It is already dark, though it is hardly seven in the evening.

“It is cold, can you feel it?”

“This is nothing,” I respond, “I can shed my jacket and survive this place.  Norway is twice this cold.”

I take some time thinking of that beautiful beetle that is flying but not moving, even as we walk back. The symbolism of having to fly away from the usual habitat really gets me.

Night in the morning

I was to sleep early in readiness for my early morning travel back to Amsterdam, then back home.  However, I found myself just typing on the keyboard for my stories until I realized that it was way past midnight.  I surely had to sleep, or otherwise risk oversleeping on one of my many changeovers planned for the next day as I travel.

It was Tuesday morning before I knew it.  I left the apartment when it was still dark.  I was not very sure of the route to take, especially from the apartment to the stage.  I was just getting familiar with the geography.  Fay showed me to the walkway outside the house.  James had said his goodnight and goodbye the previous evening.  

I was now on my own.  The timing from now henceforth had to work like clockwork.  Any missed travel or missed connection would spell my doom.  I was only wary of missing my first bus stage.  If I got to this bus stage, then I was surely making it to Schiphol.  I walked from the apartment with apprehension.  It was still dark, but the streets were well lit.  It was cold, but comparatively, not as cold as the North.

Led by pure instinct and self-belief, I made my way through the residential estate and found myself at the bus stage.  It was now 6.25am.  I was waiting for the 6.30am bus no. 88.  I found one other person waiting at the stage.  Another person, suitcase in tow, would soon join us.  

The three waited for the bus at Bushalte Bornsesteeg and were swiping in at 6.30am.  

“I am making it home,” I sighed as I took a seat in the well-lit bus.

Getting this bus at this time was the only hurdle, which had now been overcome.  The rest was going to be smooth.

I was settling down to the quiet boring ride, when I remembered that there was ‘internet in de bus’.  I quickly searched the wifi on my phone, got the one ‘in de bus’ and was soon catching up on my route planner and other quick info.  

I alighted at Ede at 6.48am and swiped out of the bus, then crossed over to the train station in the next block.  I recall seeing a fare charge of about Euro 2.44 on the small screen of the swiping machine just as I alighted from that bus.

“Two-hundred and eight shillings?  For a 8k distance!,” I Kenyan-thought about it even as I headed to the train platform.

I swiped into the train platform and was ready for the train at Platform 3.  The display monitors overhang at the platform updated us that the train was expected at 6.56am.  The train actually arrived at 7.00am.

I remembered that final warning from Fay, “Do not get to first class... Unless you want to pay double”

Two is better than one

I looked around for a coach labelled ‘2’ and got in, then perched myself on the upper deck.  It was still dark outside despite being seven already.  The upper deck was virtually empty.  I found only one other person on the deck that could sit twenty of so.  I sat next to a window and started peering out in the dark.  I could occasionally see street lights and vehicle headlights somewhere in the background as the silent train went along.

It did not take long to remember that I was entitled to ‘internet in de train’.  I once again searched my phone for the train wifi, clicked on a button that I assumed meant ‘OK’ or ‘Continue’, and there I was online.  Journey planning, WhatsApping, checking mail and catching up with the going-ons in the world.  But that online presence would not last long, since I would soon hear the first English announcement in the whole of the hour trip.  

Before that particular announcement, I had heard some station names being mentioned in the midst of Dutch announcements, whenever the train approached the four intermediate stations – Driebergen-Zeist, Utrecht Centraal, Amsterdam Bijlmer ArenA and Amsterdam Zuid.  I especially remember ArenA as the place with that big Ajax Amsterdam stadium.  Now finally, the English announcement was loud and clear, “We are now getting to the last stop at Schiphol airport.  All are asked to alight”

I double checked my two phones as I got off the train.  I recalled that after the Sunday marathon, while on the train back from Amsterdam to Ede-Wageningen, I did lose my phone.  At some point, I had tapped my pockets while perched up on that decker, seated on one side, with Fay and Dori opposite.  We were chatting while the train pulled at my back.  I had decided to check on my ‘smaller’ phone to see if it was capable of the free wifi.  That is when I had noted that I did not have it.

“I cannot find my phone!,” I told the gals, “I believe that I must have lost it somewhere in Amsterdam.”

There was puzzlement.

“Are you sure? Check your pockets!”

“I have!  There is nothing!”

“Are you sure you had it today?”

“Positive.  I even remember viewing the stats from Runkeeper after the run.  I for sure had it upto the point when you went to have your medal engraved outside the stadium.”

I was already resigned to losing it already.  There was no chance of finding it, in case it had fallen somewhere on the route since end of marathon.  I had walked so many paths since the finish.  

In consolation, I stated that, “I only worry about my bank app.  I cannot transact without it.  And I cannot replace it until I can call my bank... whom I cannot call until I get back to Kenya... which I cannot do for some time!”

Out of desperation, I decided to send a text message to the phone, using my other phone with the Endomondo.  The sms just indicated that the phone was lost and if someone found it then the person should communicate to my email address.  Desperation, I told you.  Then….

Beep beep!

Beep beep!

All the three looked around, as we heard the vibration alert, as the sms-received-notification sounded from somewhere on the floor under my seat!

Reality check

Back to the moment.  It was exactly 8.00am when I got out at Platform 4 and took the escalator to the upper floor.  I did a final swipe out of the system and saw a charge of Euro 16.20 for that one-hour train ride.  I ‘Kenyan-thought’ about this eighteen-hundred shillings charge, and just shook my head as I headed to the ‘Departures’ gate of Schiphol.  It was a second time in one hour that I was doing such a ‘thinking.  My thoughts are momentarily distracted by that big twenty-five meter long “I amsterdam” sign, laid down on the tarmac just outside Schiphol on my right, just outside the building.  Each letter is like two-meters in height.  I remember pondering whether it was “I am amsterdam” or I misread it?

I subconsciously keep moving forward and get myself at the terminal.  Getting through the airport was smoother than I thought.  I walked the long distance to my gate and queued for security check.  While I passed through the metal detector scanner without incidence, my bag failed me for yet another time – the second time in 4-days!  My shoes and laptop successfully passed through the scanner and I would soon be receiving them on the conveyor belt out of the scanner.  I put on my shoes and picked up the laptop to now await the bag.  However, my bag was redirected to a conveyor belt that led to another security person.  

I saw some lady receive the bag at the end of that conveyor belt.  I followed in that direction to await my fate.

“%@(*S#@#!,” she said.

“I do not understand,” I responded.

“Is this your bag sir?”

“Yes”

“I want to check inside, can you open?”

I moved next to the table where the bag had been placed in a tray.  We were standing on either sides of the table.  I started opening the big zip of the main bag.  Clothes were clearly visible.  She motioned a ‘close that one’ message.

“How about here,” she pointed to the top zipped compartment.  The small one where I would usually keep small handy items such as keys, money, cards and other small emergency items.  It was a strange place to be checked.  I unzipped the small purse and removed the small items.  USB cables, keys, some money, ATM cards, then… 

Then I finally removed the TCS Amsterdam marathon medal with its blue lanyard and gold.

“Yes, this is it!” she said, causing a pause to my movement.  She took possession and looked at the medal.

I was surprised, waiting.  Unsure.  About to bolt!  Did these TCS people deliberately set me up!  Could it be real gold?

I then observed both relief and disappointment on her face.  Relief probably due to the apparent lack of a dangerous situation, but disappointment due to the unlikelihood of a big bust!  We just regarded each other.

Finally, she broke the stalemate, “This medal showed on the scanner.”

“I am just from the marathon,” I said for lack of a better statement.

“OK, you can close the bag and take it,” she said while handing back the medal with her gloved hands.

“It is OK.”

“OK, but I know you can outrun me!”

I just smiled at that.  My legs were too painful at the moment.  I could not outrun anybody for the next three days.  I kept this secret to myself.

Stuck on tarmac

Apart from a change of boarding gate for the KLM Citihopper flight, nothing eventful happened thereafter.  However, this change of gate at Schiphol was happening for the third time at this facility with the same airline.  Maybe that was the norm.  I had already learnt not to trust the gate number indicated on the boarding pass.  This would likely mislead you to the extent of missing out on your flight.  Just trust the display screens.  

Events would start unfolding when we boarded at 9.45am ready for the 10.00am departure.  It is then that we found ourselves stuck.  We just sat in the Embraer 190, a 100-seater that was full to capacity, and waited as 10.00am came and went.  We were just stationary, waiting for the start of our about 750km flight North, on top of the Atlantic ocean – actually the North Sea.  We had boarded this plane ‘deep’ in the tarmac, having taken a bus from the boarding gate to the plane’s parking position somewhere isolated in the parking tarmac.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, expect delay in departure by about twenty-minutes.  We are advised that the skies are busy today.”

“Now what do to?,” I asked myself, “Even a simple bus has internet, for crying out loud!,” I cried out loud as I sat there, next to the window, top of the wings, with no internet and no story book.  Just staring at the long fifteen-metre right wing, with a single engine beneath it.  Wondering of the marvels of aviation.  Wondering if we shall ever leave NL.

I did not wonder for long.  We taxied off at 10.15am and joined the long queue waiting to access the main runway.  Our time to join the runway came and we left at 10.25am and cruised mostly at 550km/h in the cloudy skies.  We touched down at Stavanger Lufthavn Sola at 11.38am, for a 3-minute taxing.  We disembarked and walked to the terminal building and got out of the terminal in less than 3 minutes.  

Of course, I did not have check-in luggage and hence did not have to wait for anything at the luggage claim.  However, I vote Sola as the most efficient airport in the world!  But read that again.  The size of the airport in terms of passenger traffic could determine efficiency – the smaller the better.  While at it, we have bigger ones that are efficient and we also have bigger ones that are not.  I am not naming names.  

Reality check

The carefree feelgood moment of speedy clearing would not last long.  Things would change as I got to the Kolumbus bus no. 42 at the door of the arrivals gate, ready for my trip to UiS.  I would have a change of bus at Sandnes, where I would either get an X60 or a no. 6.  Since I was paying cash, I had to pay up NOK 57 for the hour ticket, instead of the normal NOK 37 (KShs.370) if I had got a ticket from a ticket machine.  I am pained when paying 370/=.  You can imagine how 570/= feels like!  I am even lucky that I remembered to carry some Kroner.  I normally would have just had a credit card on such a travel.  This time luck was on my side because….

I got into the bus just as the person in front of me was in negotiations with the driver.  He was also an arriver.  

“You take credit card?,” he asked.

“No.  Cash only!”

“How about Euros?”

“No.  Kroner only!”

“So, what to do?  I only have credit card and Euros!,” he showed the driver his wallet.

“I don’t know.  I am just a driver!”

That was quite a welcome for this fellow traveler, as he was forced to disembark, uncertainty in each of his retreating footsteps.  He looked like a first-time student of sort – just my observation.  I could not think about him for long since I had trouble of my own.  Being slapped with almost double the fare was also quite a re-welcome, simply because I paid cash.  Surely, you cannot penalize passengers, where there is no chance of getting a ticket from a machine!  There is no ticket machine at the airport!  Was this ‘forced’ fare escalation a way of getting back at travelers?  What wrong have we done?

Double double

All these memories were flooding me, late into Saturday, as I was seated, looking out at the trees and shrubs that were shedding off their leaves in a hurry.  There would be no leaf left on any plant by next week!  This progression was more serious than I thought.  The weather was not relenting either.  It rains or drizzles every day.  The sun gives us the ‘luxury of its rays’ in short bursts of five minutes or so, for very few times in a day.  The outside is cold – truly cold if you were there and visibly cold by just looking out.  

I only observe how things can change.  Back home they have coined a phrase for this – ebindu bichenjanga!  Things change!  It is true.  It was just last month, September, when the sun would set down at 10pm.  I would do my runs until almost eight.  By then it would still be as bright as mid-day.  Hardly one month later and it is dark by six-thirty, pitch dark by seven!  It was just last month that it was bright by four in the morning.  Now it is dark by seven!  Surely!!  

This environment is just messing up my physiological clock.  I want home!  And the worse was yet to come, when we had to reset our clocks backward by one hour – a once-a-year event on the last Sunday of October.  I could not miss it.  I had to stay awake.  This was surely the knockout.  In Stavanger, this ‘extra’ hour was handed down at 3.00am early Sunday morning.  Imagine having an occasion when your clock reads 3.00am, then one hour later, it reads 3.00am again!.  What a night it was!  I could not sleep a wink.  I had to see this double 3.00 with my own double eyes, as I missed the Nairobi International Marathon on this same Sunday, for the first time in ten years.  How I shall miss the other once-a-year event, on the last Sunday in March when NO shall ‘lose’ 1hour as clocks are forced one hour ahead, as 2.00am is forced to be 3.00am!

It is a Sunday when Team KE was running the Nairobi city marathon, while I was appreciating a personalized e-magazine from TCS, with my pictures and videos and all.  Back home it was a street run in the city, with sweat and sweet joy of running – over here it was a relaxed seat in a heated room, with online results and online certificate.  Just another Sunday with everyone doing their runs – onstreet or online.

WWB - the Coach - Stavanger, Norway, Sunday, Oct. 27, 2019