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(AN ACCOUNT OF THE 2016 STOCKHOLM MARATHON)
This one started as a typical schoolyard fight between Hector and I. You know the type, where boys will fight each other to defend important things, like the following:
Hector: Mine is bigger
Ndungu: Mine is longer
Hector: Really? But I bet mine is more popular with the ladies
Ndungu: Oh, yes! Says who?
The upshot of all this was a truce, the famous school yard peace treaty:
Hector: I’ll show you mine if you will show me yours
Ndungu: Deal! (Imagine an electronic ‘pinky swear’ here)
Some things usually look impossible, but the more you think about achieving them the more they get vague and then clearer as the days get nearer. It’s true, all dreams are valid. Here is my dream and how it became valid. Here is how not to set limits but go beyond them.
How to describe the just concluded Kilimanjaro Marathon? Two words come to mind: nasty, long and brutal. OK, I’m sure some will have figured out where that is stolen from even if corrupted, and yes I know those are not two words either but my brain is fried and I can’t quite count properly just now…
One can think of a few more words too: punishing, unforgiving, searing heat, hot sweaty affair, intractably exhausting, difficult terrain, testing the limits of one’s endurance, pure unadulterated insanity, so on and so forth. But all those are mere negatives that do not even take away from what is otherwise a wonderful run.
On the morning of departure, I personally made my way to Silver Springs with Jimmy, (who barely a month into his Swara Association), was determined to, and did make his first trip with us.
Once at Silver Springs we settled down for a Pot of Tea (Me), and a Cappuccino (Jimmy) when Wahome walked in, with Kellen, who both got a take away. On the way out Wahome mentioned to us that time was tight, and we might miss the Transport. I smiled back, and took another relaxed sip.
This is Monday, and as promised, follow the link at the bottom to view photos; right from departure on flight TPG something, something, something, piloted by the very interesting pilot Cockar, with whom Ndinda made a good acquaintance (I have no idea how the other flight was piloted); to the various stops on the way to Moshi where at one stop a good number of you disappeared into the bushes in a bid to reduce body weight ahead of the run, and at another some of you went behind the curios and ate and I had no idea people were eating!!! (though I identified myself with the Cameroonian contingent and had very sweet mandazis to show for it)