20kms and more

5.30 am - The alarm rings. It is so loud. So, so loud. I groan, I turn and then I hear a car roll up right under my window. Shame on his drunk a**e. I am allowed to judge on a day like this. My eyes suddenly pop open. I had told the watchman to make sure no one parks behind me. Today is an important day. I roll out of bed and look our unseeingly into the darkness. The guy stops, walks out, I panic. I grab the only thing near me, my towel and run down the stairs barefoot. His inebriated eyes look at my underdressed form. He probably doesn’t register what is happening at this hour in the morning. We jibber about how I am going to get out. Some small chit chat, exchange of names, mumbling and we finally come to a consensus. He reverses. I reverse, we exchange spots. Crisis Solved. Thank you Jesus.

6.30am – After a tour of “tembea Nairobi, know your city” (they have closed every conceivable road that would make vehicular transport possible), I arrive at my destination…my friend’s car park. I remove all my excess baggage, which is everything…almost. The water I had carried has soaked through everything else (cake, sweatshirt, wallet….all soaked). Keep calm and breath deep. I text aforementioned friend and thank her profusely for having the wisdom and courage to live so close to such a big event. 

7.00am – The first lot have just been released. My heart is pumping right through my shirt. I can see it. Thump,thump,thump it goes. I am irrationally scared for my life. I see the group on the other side of the road take off. Almost in slow motion. Then I realize they are moving really slowly. Taking their time, taking deep breaths…I watch them in wonder as they turn to face the sun.

7.30am – It is now our turn. The MC has made people irrationally dance. With the little energy we had saved at night. It has all been wasted on dancing and waving our hands in the air like crazy people…like we just don’t care. But we must care with the journey we are about to embark on. I care. My fear has reached its peak. I am bordering on panic attacks and irrationality. I avoid people’s eyes for what they might witness. Crazy eyes. No one shall judge me if I walk away now and go home. No. I am already here. There is no turning back. The gun is fired.

8.20am – The sun is HOT. It burns to my bones. My body is slippery, nothing is holding. My hands can’t hold my phone, my ears can’t hold onto my earphones. I’ve given up on the earphones, I shall sing to myself in my head. My body has become the path in which all sweat on earth passes through. So much so that the body has started showing signs of constipation. Whatever the he** is happening? I burp once, I burp again…Lord give me water from the well….I see a tent. Oh Lord Jesus thank you. I run towards it. I think I may have just hit the 9km line.

8.30am – I see a blurry 10km mark. On the opposite side, I see a recognizable rugby face. He is walking. Who am I to run when known athletes walk. I stop, I sip my water. I high five him. It feels like a burst of energy. I am almost half way there. I spit the remaining water to the ground. Because only athletes spit perfectly good water. Jesus take the wheel.

9.00am – Life is hard Lord. Life is HAAAARD! My legs cannot run no more. I see my friend just beyond the bend. I hope I do not look as battered as he does. My guess is that I look worse. I call his name. No. I scream his name. He stops and I can tell his heart has soared. The moral support he needed to take this last leg. We walk for abit…maybe 4km…we discuss how we should have doped. We would be done by now if we had and no one would have been the wiser. His shoes are killing him, my thighs are killing me. The route suddenly turns upwards, like it wants to test us more than it needs to. I am Moses. I shall face the mountain.

10.00am – We have been walking for an hour. I decide it is time to run. I jog on at a pace that is slightly faster than standing perfectly still. We are heading downwards towards the stadium. I feel my heart race at the prospect of finishing. I leave my friend behind. He refuses to join me in my joy. I should have guessed that he knew better. I take the turn. We are not at the end child. I still have to make a 2km loop before I can safely get on home. I want to jump the line that separates me from my freedom. Something my friend says keeps screaming in my head “You are only cheating yourself?” The damn conscience refuses to grant my legs the desire for early release. Lord, I thought you were taking the wheel.

10.28am- I am finally at the stadium gate. 1000 suns beat upon my body, my legs feel punished for no wrongdoing. They plot their revenge. I refuse them their satisfaction. I shall finish this race with a run. Everyone runs to the end. I refuse to be the one who doesn’t do the lap of honour. A few minutes later, I hit the glorious finishing mat. I love you mat. I love you so much. My body is too dry to cry but I could if I would. I get my medal and collapse into the grass. I cannot feel my right hip. The nerves may have been left somewhere near the 18km point. I shall wait for them in the grass. Maybe this what it meant when they said we will go through trials and tribulations.

2:00pm – I sleep in the shower, I sleep while I warm my food, I sleep while I eat it. Everything is sore and what is not sore, I believe is not alive. I switch on the TV. The nerve endings on my fingers are frayed and annoyed and they let me know. My whole body is hot. There is a deep, boiling heat from the depths of my stomach. I am burning. I lather my body in deep heat. No body part goes unpunished. I drag the duvet to my favourite spot on the couch. I curl up and die to the world. Goodnight world. Let’s not do this again soon.