An injury is not so bad a thing after all. It could save you some self-invited punishment. I know. I am a beneficiary!
The young gazelle Japheth Ananda (I got his name, finally... haaaaaaaaaaaaaah!) whom am fortunate to have for a running partner and (quack) coach, came looking for me and was wondering if I was available for a run on Sunday, Sept 27th.
I said I wasn't sure since I had a bad knee that I needed to have fixed by a physician (or whatever specialist deals with knees).
At the mention of a bad knee he lit up and went into this narrative about stretching the knee, strengthening the muscles, blah blah, blah ...
So we were not going to Ngong, yippeeee!!!! Never mind that I would have done with some of that Ngong distance; as Ananda puts it, it knocks a lot of sense onto your legs and deflates the ego!
So Sunday, 5.40sh am we left the house onto the road and off to a run. Time: 5.49 am. New route.
Onto the road, Kawangware Road, Gitanga Road, James Gichuru Road, Naivasha Road, Ngong Road and onto the field just about Jamhuri Park, a lap and down to what Ananda called 'physicals.'
It was a Sunday and I thought the road would be 'empty' ... Shock on me - there were people all over walking to God knows where. It's Sunday before 6am ...
As I said up there, my knee was not up to scratch but it somehow held up all the way to the pitch and back.
It was a mix: gentle slopes, sharp hills, flat course, human traffic, vehicular traffic ...
James Gichuru road has some adolescent hill that is all steep but no power. After Ndakaini, it was a walk in the park but the knee, my God! It kept urging me to stop and walk back but I just ignored it and run-limped when it played up too much. I will see a doctor tomorrow ...
Anyway, up James Gichuru and onto the Met/Dagoretti Corner roundabout, Ngong Road and on to the pitch. Little traffic, cool air.
As we ran, Ananda was trying his coaching on me ...
'Try to breath normally' (How I wish)
'Run as if you are stretching your legs' (halloooo!)
'Pace yourself' (Don't I know that!)
etc
The pitch was good but uneven. Considering the situation my knee was in, I felt every bump on that course - all the way to the head. Quite some pain.
A good route to take for my short runs, I think. The James Gichuru hill is good for the legs - it kicks you right but it doesn't suck the air out of you, not at all.
Now that the Stanchart race is here, I'm back to my running on alternate days ...
PS:
I will not join Jack and the rest of the team for the long runs slated for 3rd and 10th October. Considering I get home close to 4am on Saturdays, getting up an hour later to prepare for a race is not fair to my body. Instead, I will make use of the Sunday runs to Ngong.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Fancy running shoes: Vibram Fivefingers Running Shoes
I run in kawaida shoes which I bought at a second hand stall for a princely sum of Ksh2,800 (about $37). They are not fancy but they get the job done. So far, they have covered over 300km and counting.
They are nothing when featured alongside the Vibram Fivefingers running shoes as blogged here by Michael Hyatt, Thomas Nelson CEO. http://michaelhyatt.com/2009/09/my-take-on-the-vibram-fivefingers-running-shoes.html
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Ndakaini, 21km, 3hrs 7 min ... yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!
Boy, Ndakaini. Ndaka-ini! Ngai fafa!
Everything I was told about Ndakaini, remained everything but the hard truth. Make that: You have to run the Ndakaini course to know what 'tough, hell, brutal, gruelling, punishing' means. Ndaka-ini was all that and more ... it was like the devil's gym ... the hills
Anyway, as usual, we sent the paper to press at about 3.30am ((Anybody out there get me a normal 8-5 job, please? I am a trained editor/publisher, I love reading, I have a great sense of humour, I am patient, loyal ... and all that jargon - just get me the job!!!) and I went to bed at about 4.30am hoping to be up by 6am and be in town way before 7am. It never was. I was in town around 8am.
Jack had informed me not to worry about the 7am kickoff trumpeted by the organisers - UAP - as the kickoff time. 'They never keep time - the race will kick off at 1am!.' I thought he was joking. He wasn't; never mind that he lied - the race did not kick off at 10am, it kicked off at 11:15am!
From the house to town to Thika to Ndakaini was all uneventful. Oh, Thika to Ndakaini reminded me of home and the way those matatus pack, 5 guys - not the legal 3 - per row and keep adding passengers ... terrible but went well. The road was good, traffic minimal, just perfect.
10.30ish, I was in Ndakaini, finally. Looking around were all these people as if they were at a circus show waiting for the main event; where the elephant does a cartwheel while sipping juice from a coke bottle.
Anyway ... Sikuku and Kamau were on the lookout and spotted me quick enough, ushered me to the relevant desk and I got my tag, '0042 UAP Ndakaini Half-Marahon.' No turning back. This was it.
Small talk.
'In that track you will sweat like hell.'
'You shoulda worn shorts - Ndakaini ni kubaya jo!'
'Ndakaini is far, eh?';
'100 bob from Thika yet it was 70bob from Nrb?, these guys are thieves?;
'Where is Ciru?'
'What of GK?'
'Kariuki is not coming? He chickened out? Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha!'
So and so forth.
At 11.05 we lined up at the staring point. The ladies were first off. The starter gun sounded like the burst of a balloon. Anyway ...
The officials came around, did some counting, some usual talk then, with another burst of the balloon, we were released into the hills and unending hills of Ndakaini.
We started off well. Sikuku, Kamau keeping me company for like 200 metres then ... I never saw them again.
My knee was not well; in fact I was walking with a slight limp, hoping it would ease off and let me be but no luck.
The first two or so kilometres were not as bad - they were ordinary - they sloped gently, a corner here, another there then the hills set in. Hills like you've only heard of or scene in Ice Age, the movie.
One after the other. Steep, winding and demanding. It didn't matter: walk, run, jog etc, the hills just sucked the air out of you and demanded more. Who designed these hills?
Up to the 5km mark, I had company, lots of it. Then the separation begun, some ran ahead, other walked behind while others gave up right away and started the 'When is the ambulance coming?' talk. We'd hardly covered 5km and these guys were already done? Puhleease!
At the 5km mark, we were given some much needed and welcome water. Sikuku and Kamau had warned me that I'd need the water, that I'd literally want to jump into the nearest pool given the heat. They were right. However recalling what water did to me at the Stanchart Race, I didn't drink the water but carried it just in case.
People were dropping off and walking like flies - I counted about 20 guys between the 5km and the 10km mark. Kwani they came to Ndakaini to drop off or to finish the race and at a decent time?
At that time, I'd gotten a running partner. He was going on and on about how Lewa was nothing compared with Ndakaini; about why I should try Longonot too; how ... he might as well have been going "yada yada yadda rari yari yari ..." for all I care.
I was trying to save and use all the energy I could. Talking wasn't one of the ways to save or wisely use my energy at that time, no! He almost got me into a conversation when he said some nasty - but interesting - things about my employer: That for all my employer's talk about being the biggest in its category in East and Central Africa, my employer was at sea when it came to planning, strategy, people skills and what not. That its billion-shilling profit had gone into its head so it was farting and shitting all over every employee it could get its hands on and it seemed like there was no stopping it ... I almost told him he was right/wrong but I remembered my good manners especially the ones taught by Mrs Lucy Onyango from Class 1-3 and just said, 'Shit happens everywhere man.' I kept the real thoughts to myself because, boy, I need this job like you can't imagine - economy slump, recession, financial crisis and all ...
We went on for some time then we slowed to a walk, then a slight run then a walk ... I'd had it, I limped off, left him behind .. and never saw him again.
Right ahead - all these between the 10th and the 15th mark - I came across two guys and a chic. One of the guys seemed relaxed for he was chatting up the villagers like he was their headman. Two words stood out: 'Ilima' and 'Ngai'. Hills and God. He went on and on - might have been 10 seconds - but it felt like hours ...
We left him holding court and ran on. Now I had a new team, a guy and a chic. The guy wasn't into much talk he was breathing his lungs out. At one time I thought he'd collapse on us but he kept on. When we slowed down to walk as we approached the 15km mark, he just kept on, breathing, running and all.
'6km to go, you are doing well, 6km to go!'
Definitely this UAP/Ndakaini official didn't know what he was talking about. Before we got here, some villagers had told us - masochists and sadists, those villagers - that we had two more tough hills to take. That the ones we'd covered were childplay!
It'd taken me 10 minutes shy of two hours to cover 15km. I didn't worry about the remaining 6km. I was going to cover it, whether walking, running or both.
At the last water point, 4km or so, I gave up all pretense of running and settled to a brisk walk. But the hills, boy, had no time for a brisk walk. They were sharp and tough ... only way up was to crawl or just walk so slowly ... even breathing was a problem ...Damn those hills
The St John Ambulance did me two favours: they gave me two bottles of water. On their next trip, they asked if I was ok, I said yeah, and they told me 'That is the spirit!'
Along the way, before and after the 15km mark, I kept running with my eyes closed. I also discovered splashing water on my face felt good ... I'd drunk as much water as was possible - any more was useless; I didn't feel its effect.
Just after the last water point, the lady I was running with gave up and boarded the ambulance. I was alone.
I was alone with my thoughts and my hopes of clearing the race. I went to Ndakaini to clear the race. I thought I'd do 2hr 30min but after the 15km mark, I knew that was out of the way ... The last 3 or so km, I shamelessly walked, briskly where I could and slowly where the hills had the right of way...
I got to the finish line 3hrs 7 min later ... all I wanted was to get back to Nairobi, shower and leave for Bungoma. I was completely 'finished'!
At the final desk, I met great confusion. Perfect.
'Wapi nitarecord my time?' I asked
'Right over there,' they pointed me to an empty desk.
I walked over to the desk. A minute, two, no help. I went back
'Your guy isn't there? So what happens?' I ventured.
'Sijui,' the attendant answered back.
'So, can I get a certificate to show I cleared in 3hr 7min?'
'We don't have any? They are over.' he replied.
'What of a number/position, at least for my ego?'
The young man across the desk just bared his discoloured teeth and tried a silly smile ... They can as well keep it. I'll take it next year.
My right knee was killing me. I could only limp ...
Well, Ndakaini: I see the hills, the unending sharp hills and the way they sucked the air out of me and left me wondering why I even enrolled for the race. But, it psyches me up and tells me to prepare even harder for Stanchart next month. And eat well the night before.
2010, I plan tto come back and do a 2hr 15min on this very punishing terrain.
Sikuku did 1:47, George Karimi 2:10 and Kamau 2:22. I did 45 minutes after Kamau, i.e, 3hr 7min. For that, Jack called me a warrior.
You've not run if you've not run in Ndakaini... (ok, I'm told Embu is equally tough!)
Now a few days rest then back to mileage and some tactics/tricks from Jack and their coach ...
Everything I was told about Ndakaini, remained everything but the hard truth. Make that: You have to run the Ndakaini course to know what 'tough, hell, brutal, gruelling, punishing' means. Ndaka-ini was all that and more ... it was like the devil's gym ... the hills
Anyway, as usual, we sent the paper to press at about 3.30am ((Anybody out there get me a normal 8-5 job, please? I am a trained editor/publisher, I love reading, I have a great sense of humour, I am patient, loyal ... and all that jargon - just get me the job!!!) and I went to bed at about 4.30am hoping to be up by 6am and be in town way before 7am. It never was. I was in town around 8am.
Jack had informed me not to worry about the 7am kickoff trumpeted by the organisers - UAP - as the kickoff time. 'They never keep time - the race will kick off at 1am!.' I thought he was joking. He wasn't; never mind that he lied - the race did not kick off at 10am, it kicked off at 11:15am!
From the house to town to Thika to Ndakaini was all uneventful. Oh, Thika to Ndakaini reminded me of home and the way those matatus pack, 5 guys - not the legal 3 - per row and keep adding passengers ... terrible but went well. The road was good, traffic minimal, just perfect.
10.30ish, I was in Ndakaini, finally. Looking around were all these people as if they were at a circus show waiting for the main event; where the elephant does a cartwheel while sipping juice from a coke bottle.
Anyway ... Sikuku and Kamau were on the lookout and spotted me quick enough, ushered me to the relevant desk and I got my tag, '0042 UAP Ndakaini Half-Marahon.' No turning back. This was it.
Small talk.
'In that track you will sweat like hell.'
'You shoulda worn shorts - Ndakaini ni kubaya jo!'
'Ndakaini is far, eh?';
'100 bob from Thika yet it was 70bob from Nrb?, these guys are thieves?;
'Where is Ciru?'
'What of GK?'
'Kariuki is not coming? He chickened out? Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha!'
So and so forth.
At 11.05 we lined up at the staring point. The ladies were first off. The starter gun sounded like the burst of a balloon. Anyway ...
The officials came around, did some counting, some usual talk then, with another burst of the balloon, we were released into the hills and unending hills of Ndakaini.
We started off well. Sikuku, Kamau keeping me company for like 200 metres then ... I never saw them again.
My knee was not well; in fact I was walking with a slight limp, hoping it would ease off and let me be but no luck.
The first two or so kilometres were not as bad - they were ordinary - they sloped gently, a corner here, another there then the hills set in. Hills like you've only heard of or scene in Ice Age, the movie.
One after the other. Steep, winding and demanding. It didn't matter: walk, run, jog etc, the hills just sucked the air out of you and demanded more. Who designed these hills?
Up to the 5km mark, I had company, lots of it. Then the separation begun, some ran ahead, other walked behind while others gave up right away and started the 'When is the ambulance coming?' talk. We'd hardly covered 5km and these guys were already done? Puhleease!
At the 5km mark, we were given some much needed and welcome water. Sikuku and Kamau had warned me that I'd need the water, that I'd literally want to jump into the nearest pool given the heat. They were right. However recalling what water did to me at the Stanchart Race, I didn't drink the water but carried it just in case.
People were dropping off and walking like flies - I counted about 20 guys between the 5km and the 10km mark. Kwani they came to Ndakaini to drop off or to finish the race and at a decent time?
At that time, I'd gotten a running partner. He was going on and on about how Lewa was nothing compared with Ndakaini; about why I should try Longonot too; how ... he might as well have been going "yada yada yadda rari yari yari ..." for all I care.
I was trying to save and use all the energy I could. Talking wasn't one of the ways to save or wisely use my energy at that time, no! He almost got me into a conversation when he said some nasty - but interesting - things about my employer: That for all my employer's talk about being the biggest in its category in East and Central Africa, my employer was at sea when it came to planning, strategy, people skills and what not. That its billion-shilling profit had gone into its head so it was farting and shitting all over every employee it could get its hands on and it seemed like there was no stopping it ... I almost told him he was right/wrong but I remembered my good manners especially the ones taught by Mrs Lucy Onyango from Class 1-3 and just said, 'Shit happens everywhere man.' I kept the real thoughts to myself because, boy, I need this job like you can't imagine - economy slump, recession, financial crisis and all ...
We went on for some time then we slowed to a walk, then a slight run then a walk ... I'd had it, I limped off, left him behind .. and never saw him again.
Right ahead - all these between the 10th and the 15th mark - I came across two guys and a chic. One of the guys seemed relaxed for he was chatting up the villagers like he was their headman. Two words stood out: 'Ilima' and 'Ngai'. Hills and God. He went on and on - might have been 10 seconds - but it felt like hours ...
We left him holding court and ran on. Now I had a new team, a guy and a chic. The guy wasn't into much talk he was breathing his lungs out. At one time I thought he'd collapse on us but he kept on. When we slowed down to walk as we approached the 15km mark, he just kept on, breathing, running and all.
'6km to go, you are doing well, 6km to go!'
Definitely this UAP/Ndakaini official didn't know what he was talking about. Before we got here, some villagers had told us - masochists and sadists, those villagers - that we had two more tough hills to take. That the ones we'd covered were childplay!
It'd taken me 10 minutes shy of two hours to cover 15km. I didn't worry about the remaining 6km. I was going to cover it, whether walking, running or both.
At the last water point, 4km or so, I gave up all pretense of running and settled to a brisk walk. But the hills, boy, had no time for a brisk walk. They were sharp and tough ... only way up was to crawl or just walk so slowly ... even breathing was a problem ...Damn those hills
The St John Ambulance did me two favours: they gave me two bottles of water. On their next trip, they asked if I was ok, I said yeah, and they told me 'That is the spirit!'
Along the way, before and after the 15km mark, I kept running with my eyes closed. I also discovered splashing water on my face felt good ... I'd drunk as much water as was possible - any more was useless; I didn't feel its effect.
Just after the last water point, the lady I was running with gave up and boarded the ambulance. I was alone.
I was alone with my thoughts and my hopes of clearing the race. I went to Ndakaini to clear the race. I thought I'd do 2hr 30min but after the 15km mark, I knew that was out of the way ... The last 3 or so km, I shamelessly walked, briskly where I could and slowly where the hills had the right of way...
I got to the finish line 3hrs 7 min later ... all I wanted was to get back to Nairobi, shower and leave for Bungoma. I was completely 'finished'!
At the final desk, I met great confusion. Perfect.
'Wapi nitarecord my time?' I asked
'Right over there,' they pointed me to an empty desk.
I walked over to the desk. A minute, two, no help. I went back
'Your guy isn't there? So what happens?' I ventured.
'Sijui,' the attendant answered back.
'So, can I get a certificate to show I cleared in 3hr 7min?'
'We don't have any? They are over.' he replied.
'What of a number/position, at least for my ego?'
The young man across the desk just bared his discoloured teeth and tried a silly smile ... They can as well keep it. I'll take it next year.
My right knee was killing me. I could only limp ...
Well, Ndakaini: I see the hills, the unending sharp hills and the way they sucked the air out of me and left me wondering why I even enrolled for the race. But, it psyches me up and tells me to prepare even harder for Stanchart next month. And eat well the night before.
2010, I plan tto come back and do a 2hr 15min on this very punishing terrain.
Sikuku did 1:47, George Karimi 2:10 and Kamau 2:22. I did 45 minutes after Kamau, i.e, 3hr 7min. For that, Jack called me a warrior.
You've not run if you've not run in Ndakaini... (ok, I'm told Embu is equally tough!)
Now a few days rest then back to mileage and some tactics/tricks from Jack and their coach ...
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Phase II Day 5: 7km jog, 47min
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: I am involved in high treason with all means available to me. Can I count you in?
Werner von Haeften: For anything, sir. Anything at all.
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: "Anything" is a *very* dangerous word, Lieutenant.
(Valkyrie)
Oh, the morning routine... is here with me. And it's good.
I slept late - 12.26am - for a night before a run. All the same, the alarm sounded at 5.20am, yanking me out of a sick dream and sweet sleep.
Quick, toilet, running gear and was out the gate. The watchman was cheery - I think he was remembering Sunday when I left at 5.40am with that youthful gazelle only to return at 9 something.
I walked like 2-3km and at one time contemplated just walking all the way and back. What was I feeling really? The route was busy - vehicles, people, cyclists name 'em. Anyway, I'd promised myself a warm up run and a warm up run it was going to be, si?
Anyway at 5.55am this guy came by running as I approached the river/bridge. It is as if he was the one I was waiting for; I 'chased' him all the way up. In my mind was the idea that I would just run lightly, testing my knee which was not being friendly.
So up the river, a kilometre or two, ILRI fence, the roundabout ... further up the Waiyaki Way bridge. Panting like am being paid to rate my panting on a pant-o-meter.
At 6.16am I turned back, the pace slightly better.
I noticed the knee screaming for attention as I came back downhill but very quiet uphill. I hope to God it holds for the 21km at Ndakaini this Saturday.
Talking of Ndakaini, Jack isn't coming - his employer has sent him to fiddle, tinker and do the hell they do with computers at their station at the coast.
Here are the times he predicted for us:
Ogutu: 2:40
Kamau: 2:18
Sikuku: 1:48
GK: 1:50
Chiku: 2:20
Kariuki does 10K in 1:15
Bonnie: 1:54
And Kamau has said he is sure to beat me to the finish line. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha! That is nice.
Running at that time of morning when people are up and going about their business is not as scary - for a self-conscious person like me - as I feared. Though you must do your toilet properly, thoroughly for you are denied the cheeky habit of farting anyhow nor thinking aloud.
PS.
The empire is crumbling - I hear some troops will be discharged soon. It reminds me of the movie Valkyrie about an attempt by some German Colonel (Col Claus Van Stauffenburg) to overthrow Adolf Hitler. Apparently everyone loved Hitler to death. So this colonel plans to kill Hitler and launch his takeover of the government from there. The plan goes on well enough - he and his guys even claim Hitler is dead, call in the reserve army to disarm the SS etc... However, Hitler had not died, just minor injuries. When the Reserve Army goes to arrest that famous propaganda minister, Hitler happens to call and the minister hands the phone over to the arresting officer and the rest ... well, they don't get to take over the government - they are all killed. Here are some quotes:
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: I am involved in high treason with all means available to me. Can I count you in?
Werner von Haeften: For anything, sir. Anything at all.
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: "Anything" is a *very* dangerous word, Lieutenant.
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: We have to kill Hitler.
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: There has to be a chance of success.
General Friedrich Olbricht: That's why you're here.
Ludwig Beck: Remember, this is a military operation. Nothing ever goes according to plan.
To the empire referred to above, it sure is crumbling what with arbitrary discharge of troops, merging of battalion, disbanding of others etc etc all in the name of aligning forces, anyway ... Don't this people read war novels nor watch war movies?
I am hopeful but knowing too well, like Red in Shawshank Redemption, I also know that ..."Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane."
Werner von Haeften: For anything, sir. Anything at all.
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: "Anything" is a *very* dangerous word, Lieutenant.
(Valkyrie)
Oh, the morning routine... is here with me. And it's good.
I slept late - 12.26am - for a night before a run. All the same, the alarm sounded at 5.20am, yanking me out of a sick dream and sweet sleep.
Quick, toilet, running gear and was out the gate. The watchman was cheery - I think he was remembering Sunday when I left at 5.40am with that youthful gazelle only to return at 9 something.
I walked like 2-3km and at one time contemplated just walking all the way and back. What was I feeling really? The route was busy - vehicles, people, cyclists name 'em. Anyway, I'd promised myself a warm up run and a warm up run it was going to be, si?
Anyway at 5.55am this guy came by running as I approached the river/bridge. It is as if he was the one I was waiting for; I 'chased' him all the way up. In my mind was the idea that I would just run lightly, testing my knee which was not being friendly.
So up the river, a kilometre or two, ILRI fence, the roundabout ... further up the Waiyaki Way bridge. Panting like am being paid to rate my panting on a pant-o-meter.
At 6.16am I turned back, the pace slightly better.
I noticed the knee screaming for attention as I came back downhill but very quiet uphill. I hope to God it holds for the 21km at Ndakaini this Saturday.
Talking of Ndakaini, Jack isn't coming - his employer has sent him to fiddle, tinker and do the hell they do with computers at their station at the coast.
Here are the times he predicted for us:
Ogutu: 2:40
Kamau: 2:18
Sikuku: 1:48
GK: 1:50
Chiku: 2:20
Kariuki does 10K in 1:15
Bonnie: 1:54
And Kamau has said he is sure to beat me to the finish line. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha! That is nice.
Running at that time of morning when people are up and going about their business is not as scary - for a self-conscious person like me - as I feared. Though you must do your toilet properly, thoroughly for you are denied the cheeky habit of farting anyhow nor thinking aloud.
PS.
The empire is crumbling - I hear some troops will be discharged soon. It reminds me of the movie Valkyrie about an attempt by some German Colonel (Col Claus Van Stauffenburg) to overthrow Adolf Hitler. Apparently everyone loved Hitler to death. So this colonel plans to kill Hitler and launch his takeover of the government from there. The plan goes on well enough - he and his guys even claim Hitler is dead, call in the reserve army to disarm the SS etc... However, Hitler had not died, just minor injuries. When the Reserve Army goes to arrest that famous propaganda minister, Hitler happens to call and the minister hands the phone over to the arresting officer and the rest ... well, they don't get to take over the government - they are all killed. Here are some quotes:
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: I am involved in high treason with all means available to me. Can I count you in?
Werner von Haeften: For anything, sir. Anything at all.
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: "Anything" is a *very* dangerous word, Lieutenant.
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: We have to kill Hitler.
Col. Claus von Stauffenberg: There has to be a chance of success.
General Friedrich Olbricht: That's why you're here.
Ludwig Beck: Remember, this is a military operation. Nothing ever goes according to plan.
To the empire referred to above, it sure is crumbling what with arbitrary discharge of troops, merging of battalion, disbanding of others etc etc all in the name of aligning forces, anyway ... Don't this people read war novels nor watch war movies?
I am hopeful but knowing too well, like Red in Shawshank Redemption, I also know that ..."Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane."
Phase II, Day 4: 6km walk
Back to doing the walks in the evening ... I did one more yesterday (Tuesday) after work just to Yaya. Quite brisk, so much so that I was out of breath. I wonder how it would feel to run up Valley Road - it's quite steep.
The walk was pretty good for the muscles that were screaming 'Stretch me, please, stretch me!!!!!'
Tomorrow, Thursday morning, I do a warm up run and wait for Ndakaini come Saturday. I register on Friday. Now is to have my arsenal ready - clean biker, change of clothes, water bottle, glucose, fare, watch, clean shoes, and a kick-ass frame of mind.
As I was climbing Valley Road, George Karimi's description of Ndakaini kept ringing in my mind, 'there are two killer-hills in Ndakaini...'Everyone who's been to Ndakaini they are hills like they have never seen; that they can't even find the words to describe them short of 'hills ordered from hell!'
The only hill am familiar with is the one going to Uthiru ... if Ndakaini is tougher, steeper etc etc, I am game.
PS.
The Standard Chartered marathon banner is here, finally. I see a sub 2hr beckoning...
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Njeri, welcome aboard
A wee digress: My friend Njeri M - we've been 'going out' for two years now but have never met - is reading my blog. she doesn't believe I can walk to Yaya, leave alone all the way home.
Karibu Njeri - what if I co-opeted you into our running family now that the other guys were taken away?.
Karibu Njeri - what if I co-opeted you into our running family now that the other guys were taken away?.
Phase II, Day 3: 11km walk
This is one hard blog to begin. I walked home, all of 11km.
It happens Carol A, my buddy, had an interview somewhere on my way home and she was walking there so I offered to walk her there - and in the process try my tired lines on her (haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha!) then proceed home.
We set off at about 545pm. She was bubbly and giggly and chattery and all while I was all ears, urging her on with a comment here, a laugh there ... all that you do to make for good company.
In no time we were at Uhuru Park. Pan Afric then up The Chancery, the venue of her interview, which she texted me a few minutes later to say had been postponed.
From Chancery, I took the inner road, 5th Ngong Avenue, another road, another turn and off to the Nairobi Hospital, up Hurlingham, Yaya and all the way home.
Thanks for the jam, I didn't have to endure the harassment from the matatu guys. On and on ... all the way home, dusty shoes and all but feeling ok.
The walk did some good to my legs but I could not get up in time for the morning run. It will have to wait till Wednesday as I prepare for Ndakaini.
PS
Jack's leg is still on ice and George Karimi was urging us all to aim at a sub 2hrs when we go to Ndakaini. Boy, we are in ...
It happens Carol A, my buddy, had an interview somewhere on my way home and she was walking there so I offered to walk her there - and in the process try my tired lines on her (haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha!) then proceed home.
We set off at about 545pm. She was bubbly and giggly and chattery and all while I was all ears, urging her on with a comment here, a laugh there ... all that you do to make for good company.
In no time we were at Uhuru Park. Pan Afric then up The Chancery, the venue of her interview, which she texted me a few minutes later to say had been postponed.
From Chancery, I took the inner road, 5th Ngong Avenue, another road, another turn and off to the Nairobi Hospital, up Hurlingham, Yaya and all the way home.
Thanks for the jam, I didn't have to endure the harassment from the matatu guys. On and on ... all the way home, dusty shoes and all but feeling ok.
The walk did some good to my legs but I could not get up in time for the morning run. It will have to wait till Wednesday as I prepare for Ndakaini.
PS
Jack's leg is still on ice and George Karimi was urging us all to aim at a sub 2hrs when we go to Ndakaini. Boy, we are in ...
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Phase II Day 2: A million kms, 2hrs 18min (Walked forever!)
I ran a million kilometres, I kid you not; at least that is how the legs seemed to say. The run literally sucked the air out of me and kicked me silly.
It’s been eons since I last run, courtesy of a back problem that could not let me run. But am back; much so because of the announcement that the Ndakaini race is on this Saturday – September 19. Two, the Standard Chartered marathon is slated for October 25. I’m planning on running both (Jack urged me not to miss Ndakaini, that it is a race of a lifetime.)
Oh, by the way, we lost the KRA team to the KRA. The taxman set them a running team, and threw in a coach and a venue (Civil Service Club) for good measure. So gone are Jack, Kamau, Kariuki, Nderitu, Yvonne and Wendy. They had a run in Mwea on Saturday, September 12. On the outside it is now me, Bonnie and George Karimi. We either do UoN or sort ourselves out any which way – and we shall.
Anyway, I got round to running today – and with a partner: A form four student who runs 800m race to the national level. A typical gazelle who weighs in at 60kg and can kick the shit out of any average athlete, believe me. I’m over the moon in this regard.
We were to leave at 5.20am but my partner (shame on me, what is his name again?) showed up at 5.40am. Didn’t matter; I was going to run with a real athlete, no amount of lateness would rob me of that honour.
So, I was up by 5.10am, did the toilet thing, washed my face, took a cup of hot water and did some reading of Philip Roth’s “Sabbath’s Theatre” (He’s been turned out after a pair of Norman’s daughter’s silk panties were found in his coat pocket and after he made an all too open, tactless and shameless pass at Michelle, Norman wife).
Any my partner showed up at 5.40am. Out the compound, through Sokoni, on to Naivasha road and we started off. Up the road, turned right at Kinyanjui road, some tarmac turned left into some dusty road … and countless other turnings.
Boy, before we got to clean air, there were about five different odours, all unpleasant: shit, trash and just a stinky stink. I hadn’t run for a while so I had this urge to scratche myself all over the body – the stink made it worse but I survived.
Step after another we got to the edges of Lenana’s School expansive land, some railway line, aslum and into the Ngong forest. Turned this way, that way, came across Mugumoini, Mugoini ... (i know it ended in 'goini') PCEA church, back this, that way, run, turn, turn then we were ‘poured’ into the Mombasa Road bypass, that is between Ngong Road and some other road that connects with Karen.
I had not eaten well the previous night – githeri and black tea doesn’t count for much when it comes to ‘running food.’ Worse, I hadn’t taken enough water. So 10 or so minutes into the bypass, I was thirsty. Exhaustion set in and thoughts of a cool drink of water set in…It hit me me that am cooked but not served
A leg after the other we ran on, my partner ahead, me closely behind. We were not conversing much for I was fighting for air, never mind that he was in a mood for a chat as we ran.
Up ahead some really fast runners overtook us. He seemed to know them for they saluted one another and rushed past. After a while he asked to follow them and that should I feel drained I could turn back – he would get me in good time. I told him it was ok – but I was going all the way to the end. Which I did – he came back, we went back together, stretched and were on our way back.
Boy, the return trip was hell. I was done, kaput, drained silly and … let’s just say I did more walking than running: uphill I’d break into a run, walk down hill but there was this hill that rose gradually and indefinitely (that is how it felt!). I dropped all pretence and walked on. Prompting my partner to stop running and walk with me. Jack keeps talking of babysitting – now I know how it feels to be babysat and it’s not nice.
Off the bypass and into the forest, walked some more then ran all the way to ‘civilisation.’ I was done. I told him to go on without me. And I sauntered home. First stop: the market for fruits …
The last time I felt this way was at the Standard Chartered half marathon last year.
Ndakaini, here we come.
It’s been eons since I last run, courtesy of a back problem that could not let me run. But am back; much so because of the announcement that the Ndakaini race is on this Saturday – September 19. Two, the Standard Chartered marathon is slated for October 25. I’m planning on running both (Jack urged me not to miss Ndakaini, that it is a race of a lifetime.)
Oh, by the way, we lost the KRA team to the KRA. The taxman set them a running team, and threw in a coach and a venue (Civil Service Club) for good measure. So gone are Jack, Kamau, Kariuki, Nderitu, Yvonne and Wendy. They had a run in Mwea on Saturday, September 12. On the outside it is now me, Bonnie and George Karimi. We either do UoN or sort ourselves out any which way – and we shall.
Anyway, I got round to running today – and with a partner: A form four student who runs 800m race to the national level. A typical gazelle who weighs in at 60kg and can kick the shit out of any average athlete, believe me. I’m over the moon in this regard.
We were to leave at 5.20am but my partner (shame on me, what is his name again?) showed up at 5.40am. Didn’t matter; I was going to run with a real athlete, no amount of lateness would rob me of that honour.
So, I was up by 5.10am, did the toilet thing, washed my face, took a cup of hot water and did some reading of Philip Roth’s “Sabbath’s Theatre” (He’s been turned out after a pair of Norman’s daughter’s silk panties were found in his coat pocket and after he made an all too open, tactless and shameless pass at Michelle, Norman wife).
Any my partner showed up at 5.40am. Out the compound, through Sokoni, on to Naivasha road and we started off. Up the road, turned right at Kinyanjui road, some tarmac turned left into some dusty road … and countless other turnings.
Boy, before we got to clean air, there were about five different odours, all unpleasant: shit, trash and just a stinky stink. I hadn’t run for a while so I had this urge to scratche myself all over the body – the stink made it worse but I survived.
Step after another we got to the edges of Lenana’s School expansive land, some railway line, aslum and into the Ngong forest. Turned this way, that way, came across Mugumoini, Mugoini ... (i know it ended in 'goini') PCEA church, back this, that way, run, turn, turn then we were ‘poured’ into the Mombasa Road bypass, that is between Ngong Road and some other road that connects with Karen.
I had not eaten well the previous night – githeri and black tea doesn’t count for much when it comes to ‘running food.’ Worse, I hadn’t taken enough water. So 10 or so minutes into the bypass, I was thirsty. Exhaustion set in and thoughts of a cool drink of water set in…It hit me me that am cooked but not served
A leg after the other we ran on, my partner ahead, me closely behind. We were not conversing much for I was fighting for air, never mind that he was in a mood for a chat as we ran.
Up ahead some really fast runners overtook us. He seemed to know them for they saluted one another and rushed past. After a while he asked to follow them and that should I feel drained I could turn back – he would get me in good time. I told him it was ok – but I was going all the way to the end. Which I did – he came back, we went back together, stretched and were on our way back.
Boy, the return trip was hell. I was done, kaput, drained silly and … let’s just say I did more walking than running: uphill I’d break into a run, walk down hill but there was this hill that rose gradually and indefinitely (that is how it felt!). I dropped all pretence and walked on. Prompting my partner to stop running and walk with me. Jack keeps talking of babysitting – now I know how it feels to be babysat and it’s not nice.
Off the bypass and into the forest, walked some more then ran all the way to ‘civilisation.’ I was done. I told him to go on without me. And I sauntered home. First stop: the market for fruits …
The last time I felt this way was at the Standard Chartered half marathon last year.
Ndakaini, here we come.
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