Last Sunday I participated in the Standard Chartered Nairobi Marathon. It was my second marathon (well, half marathon) since I turned 50. The first one remains my most memorable one yet: the Two Oceans Marathon in Cape Town earlier this year. I’ve run the Standard Chartered Marathon for a decade now, though not every year. I confirmed that through those ‘On This Day’ memories shared by Facebook. One came up from this exact marathon nine years ago, back when it was based at Nyayo National Stadium. My buddy Peter recorded me while I was running the last mile. But it’s not my running that he was recording. It’s not like I was among the elite runners. It was who I was running with.
The Stanchart Marathon has a wheelchair category for people with disabilities. That’s one of the reasons I like participating in it; it’s inclusive. I think they’ve also had visually impaired runners in the past. So, as I neared the stadium, there was a fellow marathoner in a wheelchair struggling to move. I think her hand was hurting, or there was something wrong with one of the front wheels of her wheelchair. At that moment, I was trying to beat a personal best I had set for myself, so I couldn’t help her. Plus, she was almost done. That’s what I was convincing myself of so that I could pass her by without feeling guilty.
Sir God created us in a way that we can run from people and avoid situations, but we cannot run from or avoid ourselves. He put a conscience in us that we can numb but never mute. It tells us the right thing to do. At that point, my conscience was shouting at me to help this lady. I realised the longer I processed this while running, the farther I would get, and the harder it would be to turn back. I instantly shelved my personal best goals, slowed down and asked if I could help her. The look she gave me answered my question. I grabbed the handles of her wheelchair, tilted it slightly backwards so it would move better, and off we went.
Of course it slowed down my run, but she started chatting with me, and I could tell she was relieved. We got into the stadium and did our final lap to the finish line. Crossing it together felt like we had won a tag-team race, hehe. I think we both felt how Kipchoge feels when he wins marathons, hehe. I gave her a high five, congratulated her, and entered the crowd to get my finisher’s medal and some glucose to replenish my energy.
Seeing that post on Facebook reminded me of that moment nine years ago, and I felt good. For a moment there, I helped someone’s life be kidogo easier. Folks, maybe we overcomplicate life sometimes. When the Good Book asks us to be our brother’s keeper, could it be we are just being asked to push someone in a wheelchair for a kilometre or two? We lose nothing by doing small and random acts of kindness. I hope that lady is faring well nine years later, despite her circumstances.
And that’s why I love running. Apart from clearing my head, I think I observe people more, especially in a marathon where there are many of us. Stanchart this year had 30,000 runners. I like living in a capital city with a running problem, hehe.
Some of my friends wonder why I love running, especially at this big age. My buddy Bob recently told me that one day my body will tell me to stop running. So, I sent him a photo at the finish line to communicate that last Sunday wasn’t that day. He joked that watching people run on TV is still running. We laughed it off as I told him that he’d be watching merunning on TV soon.
That gives me an idea. Maybe Standard Chartered should introduce a 50-plus category next year. It happened at the Cape Town Marathon, and I was able to see how well I performed against my fellow mubabas. Maybe our running kits should include some Kaluma, Deep Heat, and omega supplements instead of Blue Band hehe.
Running along the Southern Bypass felt so good. It is next to the Nairobi National Park, a place where my photography has thrived. Various sponsors had stations and dancers along the route to keep us entertained. They were a good distraction from our aching legs, and the music fuelled us to keep going.
I enjoyed seeing the small groups that formed, running together with their own music. That kept their morale up to get to the finish line. Or maybe it was just like being in a running disco— without the booze, of course. Oh, but wait, this marathon had beer: Heineken Zero. Heineken was one of the sponsors, and some of the runners took one for the road, literally!
I even saw a guy running in a full suit, tie and all, as if he had come straight from the office! There was another one dressed in a full firefighter outfit. I could only imagine the weight and heat inside that thing. We could say he had a mobile personal sauna and steam combined, hehe. I also noticed a bunch of runners from across the pond, Uganda. They ran with their flag proudly displayed and cheered each other on along the way. The East African spirit was on display nicely. It feels good when you meet your fellow countryman or woman in another country. It reminded me of running into fellow Kenyans in the Cape Town Marathon. It gave me a sense of safety that if I were to faint, one of these guys would take me back home, hehe.
At the 19-kilometre mark, there were small kids from Kibera cheering us on. It was so heart-warming that I gave them my water and energy gels, which I had picked up along the route. It’s amazing how a marathon can bring out the human spirit so purely and genuinely, rising above gender, age, nationality, and status. And yes, even accommodate our various personalities and celebrate just being alive, being African, and being able to run.
Now I hope I have convinced my buddy Bob why I run and don’t intend to stop anytime soon. I hope I’ve also encouraged some of my fellow folks at midlife to take up running. Your body and mind will thank you later.
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Beneath the titles, roles and achievements, who is the person you have been all along? Many of us in Africa reach midlife carrying the weight of everyone's expectations: family, community, career. We rarely stop to ask who we are underneath it all.That is what we will unpack in Webinar 2: The African Midlife Dilemma, the next session in the Success to Significance series.
Friday, 30th October12:00 – 1:00 PM (EAT)
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