It’s exactly 4 weeks since I won (lol) my first medal. While one of my big toenails is still purple and I have since managed only three runs, I think it’s safe to say I have recovered-ish from running 21km.
This time last month, I was doing my best not to eat anything and everyone in my path! More than anything, though, my feet were in so much pain that I had to trudge to the supermarket to buy a pair of Umoja flip-flops, aka sapatu. At the time, it felt like my feet would never work again.
I don’t suppose people take that long to recover from a small small half marathon; this narrator required it.
I’m happy to report that I have a bit of energy to tell you all about it. Let’s be honest, dear reader, you’re very lucky I haven’t had the energy for this; I was ready to be insufferable with my medal, but I have since discovered that this, too, is quite taxing.
Even worse, it’s unfortunate that I haven’t found a work event to wear my medal, but fingers crossed.
So, the brother and I trained. Speaking for myself, I clearly didn’t train enough. We had different strategies, mainly because we had different goals; he was aiming for the podium, and I was aiming to finish – within the time limit of the race. His strategy was to run a kilometre as fast as he could, then walk for a minute, while mine was to run for 3 minutes, walk for a minute, and repeat. In a way, it worked, because I finished, right?
I feel like I should tell you about the days leading up to race day because I think it matters. Two days before the race, I didn’t eat or sleep well; there was an on-site client meeting that ended close to 10 pm. I remember whining to my boss, and his flabbers were gasted because his response was, “What are you still doing there? Leave. This is unacceptable!” Such a cool boss.
Does anyone else lose sleep if they’re awake beyond their bedtime? I do. But then, it was the day before race day with only 5 hours of very poor sleep. Qweshunga was happening that afternoon till late; of course, we had to go play. Think childhood playtime, but for grown-ups. Bouncing castles, trampolines, games, food and dancing. No children allowed; the adults are having their turn!
Still buzzing with adrenaline, we retired to our fav’s place. She and the hubby were hosting us, which made getting to the venue easier. But, as is often the case with gatherings of close friends, we spent another night catching up. Add the adrenaline and anxiety about the race the following morning, and we ended up with just four hours of sleep! Oh. Did I mention that fav’s hubby organised the Independence Marathon? Well, I hope I remember to come back to it.
It’s race day; we’re at Metropolex Mall, skipping around all over the place with boundless energy! It’s a good thing, then, that the warm-up session began. In hindsight, it was a real workout. Before I knew it, almost an hour later (I should have started my tracker!), I was drenched in sweat and grinning like an idiot because I was having so much fun.
When I paused to catch my breath, it dawned on me that these warm-up instructors wouldn’t be joining us for 21km after this.
It was at this moment that I knew I had made an error.
The race kicked off, and I knew – I felt it. I had spent the little fuel I had for the 21km 😭
My brother flew ahead; he was convinced the podium stood no chance. I started very slowly, only picturing the medal. I got even slower because, only metres from the start, there was a gentle climb. The marathon organisers did so well to have the road closed. Northern Bypass was closed from Oryx Gas Station all the way to Busega! I had plenty of room to roll down or crawl up the road if it came to that; it didn’t.
I found a couple of runners with such a lovely pace; they were chatting and laughing. I thought to myself, “This looks and feels easy; I’ll stay behind them.” I lasted 6 minutes, tops! I could almost taste blood.
I resorted to what I’d practised in training. Run-walk, run-walk, but even that was so hectic for me. The one thing that kept me together was my Radio and Weasle Spotify playlist.
I found my people at the first water point, which had all the little sodas and assortments of fruit. Of course, they had to ask, “Eh, Naki, nga you’re behind?” Smiling weakly, I only managed, “But we shall finish this thing!” Which was funny because in the course of training, I thought I was doing relatively well; we even joked that come race day, the marathon would ask for water!
I trudged on, jogging slowly for 3 minutes and walking for one. Some kilometres, I walked more than I jogged. At my 5th kilometre, I saw the first athlete being escorted back by the Jetour car; it wasn’t my brother. He wasn’t second or third, but he did so well in that race. We were all very proud of him, and still are.
I saw my brother when I was probably on my 7th or 8th kilometre; I could hardly think, let alone count at this point – and he was already on the return leg; seeing him gave a little boost. I started to jog more, but the halfway point couldn’t come soon enough.
Spectators by the roadside did their best to cheer us on; water points were akin to the Formula 1 pit stops: fuel up, fist pump the volunteers, and power through for the next few minutes. By the time the halfway point came around, I think I had given up; I was daydreaming about finally sleeping, so it was a lovely surprise. Seeing it felt like the race was done. I started walking, and that’s when I felt my feet start to complain.
To say that my return was nearly impossible would be an understatement. The sun was finally out; I did my best to chase the medal, because eyes on the prize and whatnot, but I wanted to remove my shoes and enter one of the ambulances on the route. I did stop by the ambulance for a hit of Deep Heat on my calves because, boy, were they on fire! That gave me great relief. I realised that I wasn’t the only one with shoe trouble; I was happy to see some remove them and continue the race in just socks.
I’d trained in my shoes without any trouble, but the race itself had so many ups and downs, literally – or maybe I just didn’t have the right shoes, but soon, it was 19 km! Suddenly, the finish line didn’t feel like the second coming! By this point, I felt like I had drunk almost 2 litres of different kinds of soda; I just couldn’t get enough. I could almost feel the liquid as I moved.
I remember thinking, surely it’s possible to finish the last 2 km in less than thirty minutes? I finished them in fifteen minutes, barely. I saw my brother at the finish line, waving and gesturing to push on and finish strong. As soon as I reached him, he said, “Congratulations, my sister! I was worried you wouldn’t finish the race today!” Turns out, people were already leaving the venue 😂
It was really nice to have someone receive me.
I received my medal.
The medal was secured, and all was right with the world. It was time to have breakfast and compare stories. Part of me wishes you were reading his version; well, perhaps next time.
My biggest takeaway: If you didn’t get enough rest before race day, restrain yourself during the warm-up session, no matter how hot the instructors are, especially if you have Teacher’s Pet tendencies.
And if you’re looking for a running club in the Nalya and surrounding areas, consider Pacers Athletes. My fav’s husband runs it, and my brother is particularly obsessed with their jersey. Join for the jersey, honestly. It’s easily one of the best-looking jerseys among the running clubs around here.
A big thank you to Mr. K and the entire team for organising such a brilliant event. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, and we’ll attack the next one, where the marathon will most certainly be asking for water!
One might wonder, given all the lamenting in this post, whether I actually had fun. I really did! The energy from the other runners was fantastic, and being surrounded by so many people who had shown up to challenge themselves made the experience that much more enjoyable.
Sooo, what’s next, you ask? Find my comfortable pace, so I can run, chat, and laugh in a full marathon, while someone else trying to keep up nearly coughs up blood.
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