When the marathon is washed off… with you in it

When the marathon is washed off… with you in it

“What did I get myself into?,” I muttered to myself on this Friday of April 28, 2023 at about six in the evening.

It was now about 1hr 45min into the run.  It was probably the second time that I was saying this statement.  The last time I said this very statement was hardly forty-minutes ago, almost at the very same place.  I had by then just waded through the worst mud ever!  It was bloody muddy!  The whole section through the University farm was just impossible and impassable.

I had even been forced to grind to a standstill and had to walk a very impassible section of about four hundred metres with that Uni farm.  My shoes were heavy with mud.  Every lifting up a foot usurped double the otherwise amount of energy needed to lift and run.  It was also slippery and careful baby steps were needed in the whole of that section.  I was hardly halfway through that section when I had said loudly, subconsciously, “What did I get myself into?”

My colleague Mathew had already passed by that section.  I believed that he must have also talked to himself when passing through that section.  He had overtaken me earlier on the run, just after we left Lower Kabete road towards Mary Leakey school.  Though I had been leading the run till that time, I had then decided to divert to a different route to tweak my run and add some mileage, sorry kilometer-age.  

But he need not have said anything anyway.  After all, he was to blame for this exact predicament by daring nature when I had proposed otherwise.  I did not mind running through any terrain or difficulty.  If anything, it is him that I had worried about albeit now too late to do anything about the situation….

We had started our run at the Generator ten minutes later than planned.  It had rained the whole day that Friday.  The run had technically been cancelled, only for the weather to change for the better, just at four when the run was to start.  I hurriedly swapped work for sports attire and ran towards the generator.  I was surprised to even see Mat there, since I was not expecting anyone to turnup for the run.  Not in this weather.

Though there was no rain as we started our run at 1610 hours, the dark clouds remained perched on top of the big overhead umbrella.  It was dark.  We left and ran away.  We would just deal with the weather and its children when its brings forth future surprises.

The weather remained calm, despite the dark clouds.  I had initially suggested to Mat that we do ‘marathon route 2’ instead of the usual.  This route-2 is tweaked from the usual route but formulated to keep us confined to the tarmac.  This would however mean doing a U-turn as we hit Lower Kabete road, then coming back to Ndumboini.  There we would take Kanyariri road on the right and run as usual all the way past Uni farm turnoff, to Wangige-Gitaru underpass to do the extreme U-turn back.

“Halafu tupande hiyo mlima yote ya Wangari turudi nayo?,” Mat had asked, as we just started the run and were discussing the route.

“Yes, that is the only way to avoid the Uni farm mud, but if you are upto it, then we do it.  I do not mind.”

He thought about it for a minute.  By the time we got to the gate to start the run proper, he had made up his mind, “Hiyo mlima, hapana, let us just go through the Uni farm.”

I knew the better but kept this knowledge to myself.  We kept running and finally left the comfort of the tarmac at the 7km mark, 8km in my case, and diverted off to the left.  It did not take long to reach the dreaded Uni farm.  The Uni farm was muddy due to the earlier rains that seem to have fallen all the way from Uthiru to that section, some ten kilometres away.  I was ready for this and so waded through successfully.  I am not sure how Mat managed to get by, but I could see his prominent run shoe footprints well defined on the muddy path, mostly on the edges of the road.

We finally got off the mud and joined Kapenguria road tarmac.  We kept running and the weather remained stable.  We even made it to the Gitaru-Wangige underpass and made our ultimate U-turn, with Mat always on the lead as I tweaked around.  Trouble started on the way back, as I got to Kapenguria road after the U-turn at the underpass.  By this time Mat should have been about six-minutes ahead from my calculations.  That means that he was now turning towards the short Uni farm diversion that is part of this route to emerge back on Kapenguria road.  It was at this time that I realized that the sky was darker than usual, and some drizzles had started.

I kept running.  The drizzle remained sparse.  I would probably survive this.  After all, the cool shower spray from above was cooling the body in small measures, just at the right level.  I even increased pace on this section as I reached the Uni farm diversion for a three-minute run, before getting back to Kapenguria road.  However, getting back to the road marked the beginning of trouble…..

I started hearing the sound that accompanies a heavy rain coming from somewhere and getting louder with every step that I took.  I wished that it was not true, but the sound of the rain got louder and louder and louder until it finally busted out loudly on my path as the heaviest, coldest, shock-inducing, unexpected and painful water droplets hit me.  I was just approaching ‘the tank’, which marks the Uni farm turnoff, the very turnoff where earlier on I had almost got stuck due to the mud.  However, this time round I would be sticking to the Kapenguria road tarmac as I head towards the finish.

“What did I get myself into?,” I muttered to myself for a second time.

It was now about one-hour forty-five minutes into the run.  I had another at least thirty minutes of run ahead to cover the remaining six kilometres or so.

The rain increased in intensity.  There was no place to shelter on this fairly deserted road.  I was stuck.  I could not go back and going forward was proving difficult with the pain and cold of the rain.

“This is messed up!,” I shouted to no one in particular.  

I kept running.  The road was hardly visible due to the white sheet of raindrops that had enveloped the air.  I shoved the phone that was doing the timing into the pocket of my shorts.  I kept running.  Soon I was facing the 1km uphill towards Ndumbo market.  The rain did not relent.  It just increased the pain of running uphill.  I was dripping wet by this time.  My run shoes were heavy with the waters.  My clothes were freezing cold and dropping off water in my wake.  I was shivering along as I ran.  I did not stop.  I kept going.

I finally reached Waiyaki way.  It still raining heavily.  I could hardly see the oncoming vehicles.  Some were courteous enough to put on their headlights.  Others decided to remain invisible.  It is only the sound of their engines on approach that signaled their presence.  I somehow crossed one side of the road to the middle island, despite the invisibility caused by the rain.  I had to wipe off the rains from my face many times in the process of waiting and crossing.  I once again finally crossed the other carriage of the road and got to the edge of the Waiyaki way.

It was now time for the final run past Kabete Police station, then do the sharp U-turn towards Kabete Poly.  My run would be over in a moment.  I caught up with Mat at the Uthiru roundabout with less than two hundred metres to go.  It was the best feeling to finally finish the run, just as the rain as subsiding into drizzles.

I stopped my timer at 25.16km, 2.14.15, 5.20 average.

This is a run that I would have liked to forget in a hurry.  I did not want to reveal anything that happened on that Friday.  However, the best way to forget about something is to get it out of your system, which I have now done.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, May 10, 2023

Running short of words

Running short of words

This was the last day of my holiday.  It has gone well and I had had a good holiday since last week.  It has been the most relaxed week ever.  I even got my research project that had been stuck due to lack of time and motivation back on track, and it was now working well.  I do not wake up early during my holidays.  It was therefore not my day to wake up early, but the morning had destined that I would have to be forced to wake up early on this Friday.

“Wowi! Wowi!,” I kind-a heard a shout.  It was just about six thirty.  This would normally be a time to prepare for the last three hours of sleep.  But that was not to be.

“Hebu niue!  Niueeeee! Niue, niue, niue,” a definite woman’s voice shouted.  It came from the grounds of the next compound, with the noise permeating clearing onto the second floor where I was, window facing the open ground where the sound was coming from.

I ignored it, turned, tossed and tried to get back to sleep.  But not for long!

“Wowi! Wowi!  Leo lazima utaniua!  Nimechoka natabia zako!,” she continued and continued some more.  She kept talking, shouting, crying.

There was generally no answer.  Just murmurs from apparently other people around.  The woman would then finally give a “Umenichapa!  Leo utanijua!.”  That was the last I heard of that as she retreated sobbingly out of earshot.  It was just about six-forty-five.  The air become quiet once more.  I even tried to sleep, but this was not my morning.

I started hearing some crying from afar, and some muffled sounds that gave me the impression that someone was talking amid cries.  This lasted for some time, though the sound was just in the background without clarity of deciphering what was being said.

But at seven the muffled sounds come back to clarity as the distinct shouting of the same woman came into earshot.

“Sasa nimerudi!,” she declared, amidst crying, “Hebu sasa Senior atoke nje kama yeye ni mwanamme!”

Mmmhhh, this is it!  

The lady then kept shouting and calling names.  She said that she is not leaving until Senior came out and confronted her if he was a real man.  She said that she is now ready to die, and even gave her death time as sometime in the next one week.  She said that she is doing down since she fears that she is infected with HIV that she got from the promiscuity of his man, Senior.  However, she had a death wish.  She wanted to confirm to Senior’s face that he is responsible for her ailment.  She lamented how her mother had warned her against marrying Senior.  Now she was regretting and wishing that she had listened to her late mother.  She cried some more.

Some men tried to cool her down, from her shouting position, out of view, but she could not hear nothing.  She told all those talking to her to save themselves the trouble by just getting Senior out to face the music.  That was the only way she was going to keep quiet.

“Atoke twende tupimwe saa hii,” she said at some point, amid sobs and many other lamentations.

Finally, after many minutes, the accused popped out of the iron sheet walled den.  I could see his frame standing at the wooden frame iron sheet door.  That is the furthest he stood.

“We mama wachana na mimi,” he slurred, “Hi kelele yako ndio sababu nilikuacha!”

“Hebu toka nje kama wewe mwanamme,” she responded from her concealed location.  I could guess just on the covered walkway out of my view.

“Mimi nilikuacha,” the guy repeated, “Tuliachana tayari!”

“Nimefanya investigations,” she countered, “Umekuwa ukilala na Sandra hapa tu kwa hii nyumba!”

Oh my!  What are we having this morning!

“Hebu twende test kwanza, kabla sijajiua!,” she added, amidst loud shouts.  I think Senior had ignited a fighting spirit in her by his responses.  She had now become completely mad!

“Kama una pesa, enda ununue hiyo test kit tujipime hapa!,” Senior in his don’t care attitude responded, by this time egg on his face by the morning embarrassment.

“Hapana, lazima twende hosi kufanya test na wewe!,” she sobbed back.

One of the drunks would throw spanners into the whole mainly monologue, “Kupimwa si ni free?,” he slurred, almost inaudibly.

“Thank you!,” the lady heard and responded animatedly amidst sobs.

I could still see the blue cap that marked the head of the accused firmly affixed to the door post.  He did not have the courage to face that woman.  That woman had energy!  How can you shout for over two hours and remain strong and still shouting!.  Senior kept bass-ing in the den, but now completely rained on.  He was not the usually jolly noisy domineering male bass that I had come to associate with that figure.  Today he had got his match, if that can be described as such.

And his match he did get!  That woman was blessed with voice, shrill, noise and shout!  She had it all in maximum measures.  I did not get to see her, but could only make out her voice and imagine her form.  I imagined some small lady, probably one-point-five metre tall, maybe fifty kilos in mass.  And she was far from done…

“You are the devil himself,” she added, “I must go with you devil!”

“Siendi mahali popote na huyu malaya,” Senior responded, which just led to more shouts and cries from the lady.  The lady was so loud that the whole three storey building facing the den could hear each and every word loud and clear, whether they like it or not!

“Tangu hi kelele ianze hakuna customers wamekuja hapa!,” another mature woman, whom I have associated with being the owner of the den, complained, “Hata wale wakamba hujuka saa moja leo hawajakuja”

Her complain got an immediate reaction… 

“Aweke chupa chini kwanza ndio nikuja,” Senior attempted to leave the door post, but remained put.  I now learnt that the lady was armed, and Senior was afraid!  He waited for affirmation on this request, but none of the three gents or two ladies who were in the compound witnessing the confrontation responded.  

The shouting lady continued shouting.  She swore that she was going to die… but not alone.  She was going the one way street with Senior.

It was now just over one and a half hours since I was woken up.  The shouting lady has kept shouting, though the voice seems to be retreating.  I can still see the group of five milling around the open space.  A young lady in brown jeans is serving the three guys, pouring something from a plastic bottle onto their metallic tumblers.  One of the guys gives her some money.  I cannot see how much, but she give back some change.  The other two gents just drink on.  Th elderly lady, who seemed to be the mother of the girl, keeps sitting around.  She must still be lamenting the loss of business due to the morning noise.

Senior and his shouting ex-wife, as he had claimed, must have somehow sneaked away amidst the chaos.  The shouting lady on her part claims that senior is still his husband, but he does not like his ‘sleeping’ ways, to put it politely.  She said the unprintable on the ‘sleeping’ issue, even mentioning names.  One of the drunks has taken advantage of the absence of the shouting lady, to update his colleagues and the neighbouring block where I am.  

He updates us that the shouting lady had earlier in the morning blocked the road in front of the den by lying across it.  No vehicles could pass through.  She kept shouting and crying while on the ground.  Only some lengthy persuasion convinced her to bring back her wrath to the den.  The same drunks let it slip that the owners of our apartment had met and sent a petition to the police due to the persistent noises that come from the den that disturbs their peace - this was a new one.

What a morning!  I should have just gone for my morning run and missed all this earache.  Now I have to get medication.

WWB, the coach, Eldoret, Kenya, April 14, 2023

Valenthon that was tougher than Kili

Valenthon that was tougher than Kili

If all had worked out, I would now be recuperating from a run at Kilimanjaro mountain.  But things did not work out.  I did not manage to travel to Tanzania, despite the best of efforts.  I still missed the bus.  It is for that reason that it is a run day Sunday in Kili but I am still in Nairobi and surviving another hot afternoon, a second hot afternoon.  Though I missed the Kili, I still had my own International marathon on Friday, February 24.  This was yet another monthly marathon arranged by the MOE*.

I know that folks are wondering what happened to the January international, since there was mention nor a blog story about it.  I will tell you why there was no story about it.  It turned out to be exactly as what I had written about in November and December, that is, I was alone on that long 21km route and I lived to tell.  I did not want to duplicate a story already written in November, so I left it untold.

I have just seen postings of the performance by the Kenyan team members who went to Kili and who did their run today, Sunday.  I congratulate them.  I do not envy them.  I know how hot the run must have been, though they had the privilege and opportunity of being supplied with water, soda and fruits.  I did experience a similarly tough run on Friday, albeit without any water or nourishment in that hot Friday evening.

Let me thank Mathew for ensuring that this story is written, otherwise I would be skipping the writing and referring runners to the December event if I would have run solo on this hot February.  In fact, I was prepared for yet another solo run, with Edu having conveniently cancelled his participation hardly 3-days to the event.  He was the only team member that was capable to taking up the challenge.  His excuse this time round was an evening meeting on the Friday, but I knew better.  While the meeting was convenient, the real reason was the fear of being roasted in the scorching sun.  He even let that sentiment slip, but it was too late to state that this was not his reason for cancellation.

I started the run at four from the locker room, and headed to the ‘real’ starting point at the generator.  I did not expect anyone to be joining me on this run.  I just ran there as a routine to get this run officially started.  It was a pleasant surprise to see Mathew, a second time runner at that starting point.  The last time I did a run with him was sometime in November, when Edu was also in that trio.  We had run the Mary Leakey route on a 13km distance in an evening.  It was a general slow run.

We were meeting for a second run, four months later.

“Where is your water?,” I asked, as we prepared to reflag the run.  I had my own 500ml water bottle, whose content was already warm, despite having filled in some cold water hardly ten minutes prior.  The weather was just blazing hot.

“Will I need it?”

“Did you not read the notice?  We said that every runner must carry some water.  This heat is nothing to joke with!”

“I will buy some along the way,” he shrugged.

We started the run, as he confirmed that this was his first run on the 21km route.  It was a slow run ab-initio.  We ran together through the designated route to Waiyaki way and crossed over to Ndumboini.  We went down Kapenguria road, past Wangari Maathai institute and ended up on Lower Kabete road.  From there we turned left and ran about a kilometre, to once again turn left through the rough road past Mary Leakey and eventually traversed the university farm.  We finally emerged at the tank, and joined Kanyariri road.  We turned right and kept going, slowly, though I could at times increase pace go gain over five minutes, only to stop and wait for Mathew to join in.

Running on Kanyariri road from the tank to Gitatu underpass and back was the hardest part of the run, with all the sun and the tiredness continuously setting in.  Eventually, Mathew took a break to buy his water at ‘the tank’, which is the junction to the rough road towards University farm.  On the return leg we would however not go back to the farm, but instead keep to the Kanyariri road tarmac all the way back to Ndumboini and do the same route back to the starting line.  I had hardly touched my water.  It was already boiling inside that plastic bottle.

I did a few tweaks and variations of the run to give myself some extra mileage as I also allowed Mat to catch up.  Finally, after almost 2hr 30min in the hot sun, that was now slowly fading off as the sun sets, we did finish the run.  I stopped my timer at 02.27.01 after 24.30km, with an average of 6.03.  I did not know that running slowly can be that tiring.  But that was not my Kili tiredness moment.

The tiredness moment came when I was walking home at about eight in the evening.  My body was just too lethargic.  I struggled to get to the home and literally collapsed into the house.  I took a litre of coke soda, but that did not seem to quench my thirst.  I tried to eat something, I do not even know what, but I was just not myself.  At some point in the night I did fall asleep.

I woke up yesterday and found an open bottle of soda by the bedside, and some half eaten food.  I cannot even remember how I left these leftovers, yet my mind had convinced me that I had partaken them all.  At that moment of waking up I surely confirmed that dehydration was real.  Worse can really happen if an athlete lets dehydration have its way.  This was the worst feeling that I have had in many years.  I survived the last Kili over the 42km in 2020, but it did not feel this bad.  The aftereffects of the Valenthon were just from another world!

*MOE = marathoners of expert, the committee that organizes for marathons 

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Sunday, Feb. 26, 2023

Why run on New Year Day?

Why run on New Year Day?

I really do not have an answer as to why anyone should do anything, leave alone do a run, on the New Year Day.  I kept asking myself that question today, especially after the second out of a five-circuit run at the home of champions, that is Eldoret town.  I was on the same circuit that lies on one side of Sosiani river.  It is generally hilly, and I was facing yet another hilly section when this question came to mind.

It was morning.  I had started the run at eight.  There was hardly anyone on the road.  Even the motorbike people who are usually at the road junctions in groups of at least three or four were missing.  I was on the same route where I had had a fall just four days ago.  My knees were still aching.  In fact this was a deliberate run to confirm that my knees were still working well.  I have major runs this year, starting with the Kilimanjaro marathon in TZ scheduled for February 26.  I have to be ready for these.

My knees were not yet fully healed.  The wounds were still visible.  But that was not the test that I was doing today.  The test was on whether they were folding well and could withstand the pressure from the run over the varied terrain, some of it stony.  The pressure of the run was a bit too much as I could really feel that something was wrong on the knee, especially the right one.  I found myself relying on keeping my weight on the left leg, keeping my right leg in contact with the ground for the shortest of time.  Anyway, at least I was able to run.  I was afraid that I could not even run at all.

I was however just too careful with the run to enjoy it.  I was focused on where I was stepping.  I could not afford another tumble and fall.  I wanted to heal and be ready for the many runs in the year.  The test was therefore necessary, carefully done, and it went well.  The roads were deserted.  Even the church services at the three or so churches that I run past on my route did not start on time.  I could hear the loud church activities by eight-thirty when I did the Christmas run last Sunday.  I could hardly hear any church by nine-thirty on this day, when I was two more circuits from my finish.

Eight hours early was midnight that ushered in the New Year.  It was the usual dark night with the sky being lit by the fireworks when the clock struck midnight.  The noises were however not as intense as they were last year.  Even the drunkards den just downstairs was unusually quiet on this night.  It would usually be noisy and evidently drunkard laden.  By now, the partakers of the traditional brew, cham or chang’aa, would have been unruly, noisy and occasionally fighting about over some nonsensical things like someone did not greet someone.  This time was different.  The den was already closed by ten.  Was the economy that bad, that even cheap drinks were now not affordable?

So the night had generally been quiet.  The morning was equally quiet.  Was this the end of New Year as we know it?  Could it be the deaths in sports, religion and media in the last three days that had caused all this?  The legendary footballer, Pele from Brazil, had just died, followed closely by the former Pope Benedict at the Vatican.  Then the darling of the first major TV channel in Kenya (KTN), Catherine, has also passed on just a day to New Year.  Were these the causes of the major dampening of the New Year mood?  Of course, the first time that I heard that Edson Arantes do Nascimento had died it did not click, until they confirmed that it was the person that I have only known as Pele.  So what a way of ending the year, and starting another?

Then come Sunday morning and it was New Year 2023 day 1.  I found myself on the run route, deserted I may add, and finished the 25.7k run after some 2:14:18 run time.  I did not see any much difference between this New Year and any other run.  I did not seem to get the big deal about the New Year.  Maybe I am just being old fashioned?

For those who have a special something for New Year, go for it.  Celebrate it, enjoy it, shout over it, make it count.  For those who need to make some declarations on this day, so that that resolution becomes true, please do that.  It may work.  It should make you feel good.  As for me, I know the better.  There is nothing special on January 1.  It could even be fifteen of April on this day that we believe is January 1, who knows.  This January 1 thing is just in the mind.  What happens to those who did not make their resolutions today?  Does it mean that they are stuck with nothingness until next year?

This is from me to you on this New Year Day – do what you want on a day that you want to do it.  If you make a resolution today, then that is good.  If you decide to make it tomorrow, that is equally OK.  Make your decisions in life when you want… not only on New Year Day.  That way you have 365 days to live and do what you want… without having to wait for one year to do anything.

Happy New Year 2023!

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, January 1, 2023

The fall and the double run

The fall and the double run

Every seasoned marathoner finally falls, and my day for the fall came to pass today, Wednesday.  And it came and passed so fast that I did not even have time to enjoy it!  I would have loved a more dramatic incident, with some preparation and a long time on the ground.  But that did not happen….

I should have technically suspended all runs until 2023 after the Christmas run, but the urge to do one ‘last run’ was just so strong to resist.  I therefore left for the run at eight, against my better judgment, and would soon regret this decision.  I should have instead stayed in bed and enjoyed another hour of sleep on this cold morning.  However, I left the warmth of the bed at on my own volition and stirred trouble in the face.

The rains had started falling almost daily after a long dry spell.  The first serious rain fell on Christmas eve.  It has generally rained daily since then.  Yesterday, Tuesday was no different.  It had rained most night.  I had hoped that the running trail would not be very muddy.  Instinct told me otherwise.  The road was already slippery during the Christmas day run, with hardly a day or rain.  How about the road after four days of rain!

Anyway, I was out for the run and knew from the start that the run would be muddy.  I was still aiming for the four full circuits on the trail on the south side of Sosiani river, facing Eldoret town on the other side of the river.  I hardly started the run before I encountered the muddy puddles on the mostly dry weather earthen road.  It was slippery and called for running at a reduced speed so as to tread carefully with every step hitting the ground.  I almost fell at a road section near the river.  I marked that section mentally and reminded myself to be careful at that section when I faced it on the second circuit.

The second circuit exposed yet another slippery section on the section before heading to the riverbed.  My slow careful run had made me survive this section, even as I learnt to note its existence in readiness for the third circuit.  The third circuit could have been smooth with muddy sections now well memorized, but a new section towards the main road to Kipkenyo would remind me that this 5km circuit was just a muddy maze and there was no safe road on this day.

Finally, when I was sure that I had mastered my run on the mud, and this happens.  I was carefully running through a section that I had encountered three times already and did not even seem any muddy.  This comes after a sharp turn to the left after going downhill.  This turn should enable me to then run about one kilometre then get to the riverbed section.  It is a turn that I had already done three times thing morning and had been as smooth as butter.

I was not even going fast, as I struggled to get a grip onto the mostly muddy road.  I made the turn alright and just made about five steps before I found myself sprawled onto the mud.  It was the knees that took most of the brunt of the fall as I went down on all four.  My hands had done well in preventing my thoracic area from falling flat onto the mud.  The palms of the hand near the wrists were full of mud.  But the shock of the fall was coming from my knees.

I stood up almost immediately and assessed the situation.  I once-upon-a-time had a cellphone on the left hand, timing my run.  I had been alternating it between left and right hands with every circuit.  It was on the left on this fourth round.  It was now missing.  I had involuntarily released it in reaction to the fall and left on its own device.  I examined the ground and saw it lying about two metres ahead, on the muddy path.  I picked it up only to realize that it had gone off.

Many things were now happening at the same time.  Recovering from a fall.  Dealing with a switched off phone, that was muddy.  Dealing with muddy hands.  Trying to resume my run!  I did not know how to proceed!

I decided to switch on the phone first.  I already knew that the run timing was already disrupted, and it was not possible to continue my timing on the initial record.  I just had to start timing a new run.  A second run on the same run.  At least the phone was still working.  I wiped some mud out of it, but it remained fairly muddy.  I then attempted to run, only to be stopped by the pain coming from my knees.

I stopped on my tracks, paused the timer that had hardly timed for more than five seconds, and decided to take a look at the knees that was causing so much pain.

“Oh, em gee!,” I shouted out, subconsciously.

I could see an area that was bruised and red on both knees.  Some blood was trickling down both legs towards the socks.

“Oh, em gee!,” I shouted out a second time.  I do not like the sight of blood, despite being a certified first aid, hence this second reaction.

The road where I was was deserted.  It had been deserted through the run.  I knew that I could meet a group of motorbike riders waiting for passengers some one hundred metres ahead, but for now, I had to deal with this alone.

The knees were muddy, dirty and now showing red streaks of blood.  The pain was deafening!  I tried to resume the run but folding any of the knees was just a pain in the, in the, in the a… knee.  Anyway, I re-examined the wounds and realized that they were mainly affecting the outer part of the skin.  I was convinced that neither the flesh nor muscles of the knee had been affected.  The pain was however another thing, despite my self-triage assessment.

I left the status as is, muddy, bloody knees and all, and restarted my run.  The pain especially when folding the knees for the run was sharp but manageable.  I just had to do the run as initially planned.  I was going to struggle through the new circumstances.  The pain got better with time.  However, my run speed had now been reduced to a much lower pace than before the fall.  I was now being over careful with the road and also reducing the pace due to the pain on the knees.  

In a few moments I reached the vicinity of Sosiani river.  Though the run route was about one-hundred metres from the running river, I could see the many little water streams that run from the hilly side on my left towards the river.  I stopped by one of these streams and washed my hands and attempted to wash my knees.  The pain of the water on the wounds was just unbearable.  I however knew that I had to clean my wounds if I wanted to prevent further complications from the bruises.  I washed away and was soon looking clean.  I resumed my run.

I finally cleared the fourth circuit and did the final finisher circuit that is not the full route.  This finisher is a maximum of three kilometres, and can be cut short by taking any of the many alternate routes back to the finish point.  I like this finisher since it gives me the option to run the full length or drop off and end the run at any time, depending on my energy levels.  I re-examined the place where I had fallen hardly thirty minutes prior.  

It is a place that I should not have fallen at.  However, I still almost fell even on this final round.  There was a small stone protruding about two centimetres from the generally flat ground.  That small stone could cause a tumble if you are not observant.  I had evaded it in the first three rounds, but it had caught up with me on the fourth.  It almost caused another fall on the final.  How small things can be the most damaging!

I do not know whether I did one or two runs on this day.  I had a timer reading 16.72km in 1:30:44, and another second one reading 9.00 in 49:03.  My knees remained painful through the day.  I could hardly fold my knees while walking or seating.  That did not prevent me from doing a 6km leisure walk around the town.  I was almost back to normal by nighttime.  I hope to be fully recovered by the next run… when it comes.

WWB, the Coach, Eldoret, Kenya, December 28, 2022

25 on 25

25 on 25

It was not my intention to run on the day when the Christian faith was in a birthday party, but it just turned out to be.  After all, it is very long since I did a run, as ‘very long’ as nine days.  The last run was the December international marathon aka ‘the boycott version 2’.  On this date of December 16, my running team, once again, boycotted the run, after doing the same in November.  I knew that this would happen since the three regular runners had said or had done everything that they could to ensure that they missed this run…. and they did give it to me the best way that they thought fit.

Let me start with Karl.  He had peeped through my door on Thursday, a day to the run, at about 12.30pm.

“I feel like I can go a ka-tooo kooo run, maybe to tarmac.  Can we go?”

I would usually have said yes, since the tarmac run route just goes from Uthiru, through Kapenguria road all the way to the Lower Kabete road, where you do a U-turn and back.  The run is anything from ten to thirteen kilometres, depending on the tweaks that you add to it.

“But why would you be running when we have the big run tomorrow?,” I asked him even as he kept holding the door ajar.

“Kesho siko, naenda shags, Mwingi, I have something to do.”

So that is how I got the first regret over the attendance of the Friday run.  Of course I did not join him for the Thursday run.  I was not messing the international.

The second semblance of an apology came from Edu.  He had been on a daily run on this month of December for whatever reason.  Marathoners do things that are sometimes not understandable to the rest of us, marathoners and even non-marathoners.  I had met him one week prior, as we were preparing for this run.  This was during the staff party that was meant to mark the end of the year, the first such party since 2019.  Corona had put a break to gatherings and mass events since that time.  The very corona that is now technically eradicated or a live-with disease, or did I hear that it has had a resurgent from where it first started in China?  

The corona that causes COVID-19 disease, which has now infected 661.7M people globally with 6.68M deaths, hence 1% deaths of the confirmed infections.  Kenyan numbers now stand at 342,470 and 5,688 respectively.  Of course, deaths from road accidents in Kenya this year has surpassed this number.  That is why I believe that corona ended and other things took over, but let me get back to the story.

That on December ninth.  It was the end year party, when the dress code was ‘the 70s’, and Edu was adorned with an Afro wig, a waist high pair of trousers with suspenders, with others in similar for guys and girls with short short-skirts.  On this day of the end year party, when I was in a grey suit and tie – which was surely a theme dress.  If anything, I had overdone it since I was even in a pre-70s attire anyway.  I did meet Edu and we talked briefly as we picked the food and drink stamps.  He had mentioned that he would be travelling out of the city from the next week.  He did not mention anything about the marathon.  I was left to add the one-plus-one on this.  For information, that suit was in readiness of a major award, more on this upon enquiry.

Lastly, it was Beryl who did a number on me.  We had had a Wednesday evening run, just two day prior, with compulsion coming from my side, since it was my run day and she had to follow suit.  She had confirmed that she would participate in the Friday run, but not the full distance.  I had my doubts.  She has not participated in any international since the corona pandemic.  I was doubtful that she would be doing a second run, albeit even shorter, two days after this run.  I did not say as much.  It was therefore no surprise when I got a WhatsApp message on the Friday of the run that was brief and to the point, “Have a good run, we shall speak after the run.”

It was therefore a second time in less than three weeks that I was facing an international run alone and lonely.  The things that I do for the team!  The run was the usual.  From Uthiru through Kapenguria road to Lower Kabete road for a brief run, then turn to the Uni farm past Mary Leakey school, then join Kanyariri road to Kanyariri centre for the right turn all the way to the underpass on Wangige road and back straight to Uthiru.  The weather remained warm and a bit sunny.  I cleared the 24.45k in an average of 5min 00sec per km in a 1796-1935m elevation range.

I subsequently vowed not to do nothing for the team.  And took the end of year leave to prove the point.  I was relaxing and enjoying the good holiday, doing nothing, when the run bug bit me on Saturday night.  I therefore woke up early, at eight-thirty, on this Sunday and just left for the run.  I was doing this run at the home of champions, though I did not expect meet any champion on this morning.  After all, it was Christmas day, and most people were preoccupied with the day’s festivities, be it in church or in the hood.  I met lots of singing from the churches along the route.  I hardly met people on the road, even the motorbikes were relatively few on this day.

I was doing my usual circuits on one side of the Sosiani river, with Eldy town rising to its fullness on the other side of the river.  The circuit is just over 5km.  It is mostly hilly, but it is so far the only route that I could formulate, that avoids the vehicular traffic as much as possible.  Avoiding a competition with motor vehicles is one of the things that you want to do with your runs when you have an option.  I did four full loops and a conclusion run on the fifth one that did not go all the way.  I finished the run just before eleven, having covered 25.69k at an average of 5min 11sec per km.  The elevation of the run ranging from 2054m to 2104m.  I just hope that the run bug spares me and allows me to take a rest until I resume the runs officially in January week 2.

Merry Christmas!

WWB, Eldoret, Kenya, Sunday, December 25, 2022

November International boycott… when action is louder

November International boycott… when action is louder

The MoE* had communicated the Friday, November 25, 2022 date for the November international marathon as early as October, just after the Stanchart Nairobi International.  I was therefore confident that this scheduled run would attract many runners who had about a month to prepare.  The card was also full of choice – anything from 2km to the big 21km.  There was therefore something for everyone.

*MoE – Marathoners of expert, the committee that organizes marathons

Three weekly reminders later, and the day for the marathon was at hand.  This was the day.  It was a Friday with a good weather, unlike the evening rains that had ‘spoilt’ a few evenings earlier in the week.  A semblance of cloud cover brought about an overcast day in the afternoon, but the rain clouds remained absent.  The sun would force itself out of the clouds by four, and it remained bright thereafter all the way to sunset.

I expected a big turnout, but things would take a turn at about two.  Beryl was the first to make her way into my office, all smiles…

“I come in peace,” she knocked onto the frame of the open door.

“What a good marathon we shall have!,” I responded.  She surely must have been quite serious about the run to make it for the run this early, with two more hours before the start.

“I come with a peace offering,” she exposed a shopping bag and extended it in my direction.

There in lied the catch.  Nobody gives a peace offering when there is no war.  I however let it slip as I had an immediate encounter with Edu, who was just close behind.

“Coach, imagine I have a meeting at four,” he said in a manner of greeting, as Beryl took a seat.  I was now settled back to my seat.  Rummaging through the shopping bag.

I looked up.  He was still filing the door.  I had known that this type of statement would be coming sooner or later.  This is because Edu is usually the most enthusiastic of the runners in the team.  He would already have reminded me at least thrice that we had a marathon and that we shall be running.  He had done no such thing.  He had not contacted me at all since Stanchart.  

If anything, I had even met him on Thursday, just a day to the run.  I was finishing off my lunch hour run on the 17k, while he was walking leisurely with colleagues.  He would normally have even blocked my way and reminded me of the Friday run, lest I forget.  Not this time.  He just waved me along on this Thursday.  Those right there were signs that he was not running this international, but I still hoped otherwise.

Now it was all clear.  Edu was not doing the November international.  Edu would momentarily be gone, as I was now left with the peace offering to savor.

“Imagine I have to see my sis off,” she broke the silence, getting my attention off the bag of fruits.

“You mean!?”

“Yea, my sis is travelling abroad, and this is the day to say our goodbyes.”

Which coach in his right mind can refuse to grant a runner such a request? 

With no other confirmations for this Friday run, I knew that I was surely on my own.

When I started the run at four, I just left and did not look back.  I did not find or see any other runners, nor did I expect to find or see any other runner.  I was doing this on my own, for the team.  I was doing the run for all.  While the first 5k seemed relaxed and comfortable, as I run from Uthiru across Waiyaki way to Ndumboini then Kapenguria road, my real troubles started after the river on Kapenguria road.  My stomach just started paining.  I had not taken any other solid meal apart from tea and bread for breakfast, so this was a pain that I could not explain.  It was not a stitch, it would not be a stitch.  I wished it would go away.  It did not.

I was barely able to run as I traversed the university farm just past the 10k mark.  I was going to have quite an uncomfortable run, but it was now too late.  I would just have to endure to the end.  And the end was still far!  I was hardly halfway through.

Sheer willpower and pain endurance kept me going all the way to the turning point below Gitaru-Wangige overpass, before making my way back on Kanyariri road, to Ndumboini, then back to Waiyaki way and finally to Kabete Poly just 2k from my finishing point.

It was a relief to just somehow finish the run.  I did not care about the time.  I was just glad that I had done it.  The average run turned out to be 5m09s per km on the 24.5km course that took me 2hr 6min.  I was by now too thirsty having been unable to take any water in the course fearing the reaction of my stomach to water in my state of distress.  The thing that kept me going was the thought of the assortment of fruits waiting for me upon completion.

WWB, the Coach, Nairobi, Kenya, Nov. 27, 2022