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 ...