To say I was nervous before running Saturday’s marathon would be a gross understatement. At least three friends had told me a few days prior not do it – that it was too dangerous, bearing in mind one’s age. Yes I run three times a week but jumping from an average of 20km a week to 42km in one day is a different matter entirely, so I most definitely appreciated their concern.

So at 3am on the morning of the race I got on my knees and prayed – asking God for divine power and energy for every single muscle and joint in my body. All I can say is he most definitely answered my prayer. Thank you Lord, because YOU are the one that got me through those 42 Km of pain and torture. All glory goes to you, and you alone. Indeed it was during my plea for help that the Holy Spirit gave me my strategy for the run – run 3km then walk 2km, then run 3km then walk 2km etc etc.

As if I wasn’t nervous enough, just before the race began I saw Femi, Yemi, and other members of the Warriors Running Club gathered in a circle doing their pre-race warm up. My immediate thought was, ‘look at those guys. They’re primed and ready. Am I sure I’m up to this?’. My nerves increased ten-fold.

I witnessed so many comical moments during the early stages of the race that the first 5km went really quickly – best of which was an individual in a high pitched voice shouting ‘”water-o. I need water-o”, after just one kilometer. I was shocked to my bones when I saw the 5km line. ‘Have we really already ran 5km?? This is gonna be a sinch’ I thought to myself. Boy o boy was I wrong!

At eight km those grim voices doubt reared their ugly heads. My thighs were starting to twitch, and we hadn’t even reached Third Mainland Bridge. But then came my darling friend Funke. I can only say that God sent Funke to me yesterday. Funke has ran four marathons in four different countries. Not only did she encourage me for the next 13 kilometers but ensured I didn’t run too fast or too slowly. She was like an angel sent by God to get me through the first half of the race. With knowledge, wisdom, and encouragement, she guided me through the first 21km. Thank you so much Funks.

I never knew Third Mainland was that long. In-fact after a while I kept looking back to see whether we had actually made any progress. I was sure we were stuck in some kind of time-warp – forever consigned to running and walking on a never-ending bridge. From now on I’ll give that bridge far more respect whenever I’m on it.

As we finally began to see the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, with Third Mainland proving to be just a bridge and not some kind of evil twilight zone, Funke, who was only running a half marathon, gave me a stern warning about the next 23 kilometers.

“Segs, you know I didn’t plan or train for this particular marathon so I’ll be stopping at 21km. I want you to mentally prepare yourself for the second half of this race. Just know that it’s now just you and your God. Keep going, and take it easy when you need to. God will get you through it.”

I appreciated what she was saying, but in truth nothing could have prepared me for what was to come.

What I’m about to say next must be told as it happened – no mixing or diluting of words.

Wanna to know what goes on in the mind of a hopelessly deranged man? Here’s the un-diluted version of my absurdly scrambled thoughts as I trudged along Kingsway road.

‘Chai! Maybe my friends were right-o. I shouldn’t have done this. There’s no way I can make it. F…… 7up are bloody useless. How could they have run out?! I need a pee. I can’t do this anymore. I’m f…… starving. Would love some bread. F…… 7up are bloody useless! If this guy doesn’t stop complaining I’m gonna slap him. Damn that girl’s cute, bloody good figure. If I finish this thing I’ll treat myself to a pizza. Where’s Lisa? I thought she said she’d be at a stand in Ikoyi?! Okay, time for another three km run. Na, I’ll wait till after Falomo. And I need to stretch first. How the hell am I going to run up Lekki/Ikoyi bridge. F… it, I’ll run the whole of Bourdillon and walk the bridge instead. I have to prove Edgar wrong – writing that it would take me 24 hours to finish the marathon!! The Kenyans must have finished hours ago. They’re probably on their way to the airport. Why’s the sky looking so pink? And why the hell have both my hands swollen up? Am I about to have a heart attack? How come I don’t need a pee anymore? Chai! I hope I haven’t peed myself-o. Well, nobody is looking at me so I guess I haven’t. If I make it to the end I’ll beg Lado to send his driver to pick me up. Ambode is a great Lagos State Governor, but if I see another poster of him running I’ll f…… scream.”

I didn’t scream. But I did cry – one of pain and frustration.

Those, and many more deranged thoughts scrambled my mind as I crawled along kingsway road. Then after Falomo I remembered Funke’s words – “It’s between you and your God”. So I asked God for help. No sooner had I done so and I was miraculously mentally and physically ready for the next 3km run.

Fast forward to Lekki, where I came across God’s second angel of mercy – my good friend Temi – handing out bottles of Lucozade Sport to friends and members of his running club on Admiralty way. By then I’d decided to boycott 7up for the rest of my life. I was desperate for sugar. I wanted to hug Temi but I didn’t for fear of never letting him go.

No sooner had I taken the first sip of my Lucozade Sport and some chap started complaining – about everything from the economy, to 7up, to Buhari, to the sun. I had to get away from him, but the only way to do so was to start running very quickly, and that, quite frankly, wasn’t an option. Fortunately he began to complain about thirst, so I quickly handed him my drink to shut him up. “Are you sure?” he asked.

‘Of-course I don’t want to give you my bloody drink but I’m way out of options for shutting you up,’ I thought to myself as I politely handed him my treasured bottle of Lukozade Sport.

“Thank you so much,” he said. “I’m a Taekwondo instructor. Maybe you can give me your number so that I can come and teach you. It’s very good for self-defence.”

‘Self f…… what??’ I thought, with an ever so fake smile hiding the fact this chap had managed to make himself the biggest irritant to my life within the space of a few minutes. I felt trapped again – this time in a hapless zone of complaints and irrelevant chit-chat.

“That’s great,” I said, before happily realising I had a pebble in my right shoe. Recognising this God-given opportunity to get away from Taekwondo-man, I gratefully stopped to take it out.”

“Do you want me to wait for you?”

‘F… no,’ I thought, before politely replying, “It’s okay my brother. We go see for finish line.”

And thankfully that was it. Back to me and my God.

When I got to the 40km line I cried shamelessly as U2’s ‘With Or Without You’ played on my Iphone. A well of emotion gripped me as I realised I was gonna make it. But no further than half a kilometer later every joint and muscle in my body literally seized up. ‘This is it’, I thought. ‘This is what Gboyega was telling me about – people collapsing a few meters before the Finnish line. Either my marathon is over or I’m literally going to have to crawl on all fours to the finish line. I’m not sure I can even crawl.’ I stopped to stretch, but it didn’t help. Just when I was about to sit on the pavement in abject failure, a fellow runner jogged up to me and encouraged me to keep going.

“You can’t stop now. Don’t even think about it. Get up. Walk with me a little. We’ll do it together,” he said. A third angel of mercy.

After a hundred meters or so I thanked him from the bottom of my heart for his love and kindness, and told him “I must run to the finish line.” And off I went – trudging along like a blind snail on LSD ; streams of tears rolling down my cheeks as I realised I’d accomplished one of the biggest feats on my bucket list. On getting to the finish line I got on my knees, kissed the ground, and thanked God for sending me his three angels of mercy – Funke, Temi, and that very kind man.

Before signing off I want to offer some suggestions
to the organisers, so as to make the Lagos City Marathon even better than it already is.

1. Anyone getting on a BRT bus in the middle of the race should be taken straight back to the starting line. Not to the finish line, where they make false claims to have completed the marathon, and are annoyingly given medals and certificates.

2. There should be between ten and twenty people handing out certificates at the end, not one. I didn’t even bother trying to get mine because the queue was so chaotic. I had to appease myself with the thought that what really matters is knowing I completed the task.

3. 7up? F…… 7up ……hmmm…enough said.

Having said that I do want to say a HUGE THANK YOU to all of Lagos State Government, our Highly Esteemed Governor, Akinwunmi Ambode (you’re proving to be one of the very very very best Lagos State Governors. And if you want to be president one day you’ll have my vote), Access Bank, and Aquafina (the water just kept coming and coming – awesome! Very Well Done).

Thank You For Making Lagos Proud.

http://www.iamsegunakande.com/2017/02/12/lagos-city-marathon/

This is a very beautiful write-up. This is encouraging. OP, you do not know whose life you've touched with this narrative. In fact, words cannot quantify my delight while reading this. In as much as you were not the first, you were determined to make it despite all the obstacles. This is a big lesson to all.

Nice post, I wish I was there

I was laughing and reminiscing so hard while reading this write up

Thanks for composing this, Akande Segun

The part about third mainland bridge is so true!!!

I saw my life flash before my eyes so many times while I was on that bridge, Chai, I didn't know it was that long. I was getting irritated and frustrated at how long I spent on the bridge, I thought it would never end.

You see, I had used the bridge as a benchmark and source of motivation, telling myself that if I can get to the end successfully I would have done half of the whole thing but getting to the end is a true test of faith. The first ten to fifteen kilometers are a breeze if you have been training like me, but from thirty kilometers and above; my God!! All sorts of weird thoughts start to go through your head because of the immense pain and pressure and stress your body is feeling.

Naturally I am a competitive person so I egged myself on by attaching myself to another strong group that didn't look like they were going to give up anytime soon and challenging myself to keep up with them but the pain was too much to bear alas. I couldn't run the entire 42km. I did about 33km and got on a BRT. Besides I knew I had work to return to on Monday and I couldn't risk falling Ill and failing to show up at work, my boss would have asked why did I run knowing I had to work on Monday? He wouldn't have understood.

And yea, I agree. The giving away of medals and certificates should be for those that actually completed the race on foot. I know people who did that but couldn't get medals becauae the lazy ones that got into BRTs after just 5kms collected all the available medals at Eko Atlantic.

NLmember:
I was laughing and reminiscing so hard while reading this write up

Thanks for composing this, Akande Segun

The part about third mainland bridge is so true!!!

I saw my life flash before my eyes so many times while I was on that bridge, Chai, I didn't know it was that long. I was getting irritated and frustrated at how long I spent on the bridge, I thought it would never end.

You see, I had used the bridge as a benchmark and source of motivation, telling myself that if I can get to the end successfully I would have done half of the whole thing but getting to the end is a true test of faith. The first ten to fifteen kilometers are a breeze if you have been training like me, but from thirty kilometers and above; my God!! All sorts of weird thoughts start to go through your head because of the immense pain and pressure and stress your body is feeling.

Naturally I am a competitive person so I egged myself on by attaching myself to another strong group that didn't look like they were going to give up anytime soon and challenging myself to keep up with them but the pain was too much to bear alas. I couldn't run the entire 42km. I did about 33km and got on a BRT. Besides I knew I had work to return to on Monday and I couldn't risk falling Ill and failing to show up at work, my boss would have asked why did I run knowing I had to work on Monday? He wouldn't have understood.

And yea, I agree. The giving away of medals and certificates should be for those that actually completed the race on foot. I know people who did that but couldn't get medals becauae the lazy ones that got into BRTs after just 5kms collected all the available medals at Eko Atlantic.

braithwaite:


Ah collect vest and everything, only to boycott just few hours to the race.. My mind keep telling me..""are you OK at all""

Now reading this story, ah blame myself listening to that mind ..
#Beinspired