After the Nairobi City Marathon 23, the runner’s high hit so hard that I decided, “You know what? I need more of this. Besides, I needed a hobby that involved leaving my house more often. So, I started scrolling through socials, hunting for a nearby running club.
That’s how I stumbled upon the crazy, loveable tribe called Karura Running Club (KRC).
I could already picture trees everywhere, birds chirping, and soft forest trails. A runner’s paradise, right?
Well, while Karura is still very much loved by the squad, we mostly admire it from a safe distance these days. Because more often than not, you’ll find us sweating it out literally anywhere but inside Karura.
After paying the subs and officially joining the crew, I wasted no time and signed up for the Nairobi Club Run, scheduled a few days after the Nairobi City Marathon.
I knew I was still limping from my first race and should have been resting, but my ego had other ideas. And as if that wasn’t enough, the run was at Upperhill. Apparently that didn’t raise a red flag for me.
By the time I arrived at the startline around Nyayo, the run had already started. With no map and too much misplaced confidence, I decided to just start running and figure things out along the way. Within the first few strides, it was clear that my legs were not ready for another 10K. So, I convinced myself to just settle for a 5K.
As luck would have it, I found a group cruising at exactly my speed. However, instead of asking the simple and obvious questions like “How far are you guys running?” or “Is this the 5K route?” I got caught up in the chit chat like long lost friends who were reuniting.
By the time I figured out that they were on a 21K route, it was too late. And I knew retracing the 5K route would be nearly impossible.
Oh, and did I mention I still had no idea how to use Strava? Sure, running without Strava or a Garmin can feel liberating, until you realize you have absolutely no clue where you started, how many kilometers you’ve covered, or if you’re even still on the right trail.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, steep hills came along to remind me that they don’t care how much confidence I have. They were brutal and unforgiving, especially for a rookie like me.
For some reason, I thought that running with recreational runners would be a fun and light-hearted experience, almost like an evening stroll. This wasn’t the case here though. Honestly, had I not joined KRC while doing this run, I would have quietly hung my running shoes and forgotten the idea of ever running in Nairobi willingly.
Eventually, after battling what felt like an endless stretch of hills, I officially hit the wall. I moved to the closest bus stop, where I stood pretending to stretch when I was actually waiting for the next nganya to rescue me from my self-inflicted suffering. Thank God I had my phone and some cash wuth me.
But of course, pride has a way of sneaking back in when you least expect it. Just a few hundred meters from Nyayo, I discreetly hopped off the bus, dusted myself off, and sprinted past dozens of unsuspecting runners. Like I hadn’t been dying on the side of the road just moments earlier.
After my dramatic finish, it was finally time for breakfast. And let me tell you, I devoured it like someone who hadn’t seen food in days. With zero shame, I felt like this was a perfect reward for the troubles I had just encountered earlier.