Training Day 2: 7km, 51 minutes

I would be lying if I said I woke up at 5am; I didn’t. I didn’t sleep at all. I got home from work at about 4.48am. That is not strange for a Saturday – we go to press on Friday. Come every Friday, we arrive at work resigned to getting home the next day. We just screw up, somehow, every Friday.
Anyway. As soon as I got to the house, I changed into my running gear, lazied about a bit then set off. The usual routine: walk about half a kilometer to Naivasha road then start the run. That was 5.20am. I was committed to doing 30 minutes – 15 minutes to and 15 minutes back.
Ku ku! ku ku! Hhm! Hhm! Hhm! I went. Metres, turned into tens of metres then hundreds then kilometres to match the change of seconds into minutes. My breathing changed from the easy almost noiseless type to an audible pant but I kept on. The sweat was pouring, the t-shirt soaking it all and I was feeling good, never mind the thigh muscles were speaking a language of their own.
It dawned on me that the route was pretty unlit except for a few security lights: one before the river, another just after the dumpsite then the few lights at ILRI’s fence all the way to the gate. Thereafter as you take the roundabout , you get back to darkness. And it seems some moron has been digging up the road thereby exposing me to leg injuries. Who is in charge of the lighting and what is he doing? Hold on, where does Nairobi City Council jurisdiction end and Kikuyu County Council start? Once I establish which local authority is in charge, I will write them a letter a week until they fix the street lights; you wait you will see. But wait, right after ILRI on the other side of the road stands a Kenya Power and Lighting Company sub-station!
Being a Saturday, the traffic – both vehicular and human – was almost non-existent save for one or two people, a vehicle here, a rickety matatu there and of course me – and Mbaraka Mwinshehe’s Dr Kreluu in my head.
Coming down the river, I thought I heard some sound like that of a person walking/jogging ahead of me. So I turned my ear to the direction of the sound knowing very well it could be my own feet. Two, three listenings and I could make out it was a fellow runner. And he was running in the same direction. What a joy!
Elated at the company, I went all the way to Uthiru thereby breaking rule number whatever: If the schedule requires 30 minutes of running, give it 30 minutes of running, nothing less.Thus, when the alarm went off signaling the time to turn back, I was so into the run I saw no harm in throwing in a few more minutes and in the process mileage to the legs. So I ran on all the while Mbaraka Mwinshehe’s Dr Kreluu is going like crazy in my mind.
I kept to a friendly pace all through. My breathing was light enough. The feet were co-operating and the breeze was ok. There was some pain in the chest, almost like a stitch but it somehow subsided.
On my way to Uthiru I met 6 runners. On my way from there, I met 21 runners, conspicuous in their dressing. May be I need to dress like them complete with a light-coloured nylon jackets that cover the head leaving only the eyes. But in that state, wouldn’t I be run over by a vehicle coming from behind? I am not sure I would hear it approach. Talking of vehicles, why oh why, can’t they be kind enough to runners and dim their lights as they approach you – the way they do with approaching vehicles? That light disorients one to no end.
Twenty-seven runners in the morning is encouraging. I’m tempted to change my tme from 5am to 6am. But 5am is so quiet you can hear yourself think. I’m not sure I want to shift to 6am – what with the crowds, the citi hoppas, KBSs, matatus…
Fifty-one minutes, seven kilometers done. Next stop 100 minutes at the UoN.
I love it.