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.