At the Lekki-Ikoyi Link Bridge. Almost there!

It is Thursday and I am rushing to the airport.  I keep checking that I still have my passport and my Immunisation Card.  These at least would guarantee that I get on to that flight to Lagos, Nigeria.  The second most important item that I made sure was packed was my pair of  running shoes.  In two days’ time, I would be running the Access Bank Lagos City Marathon.  As I arrived at the airport I suddenly felt the butterflies in my stomach.  This trip was different from all the other trips I’d been recently at the time.  I was excited and had so much playing in my mind.  The last time I had this feeling was when I was travelling with my brother to Japan  and Singapore; Japan to run the Tokyo Marathon and Singapore for leisure.  The trip in itself was set off from the start to be an epic one.  First of all, I had gifted my brother, on his birthday, with a ticket to travel with me.  This was my thank you gift to him for all the years he has supported me and for being a great brother and my greatest cheerleader.  Singapore was also a gift to myself as I was going to turn 40 years young whilst there.  So I was naturally over the moon as there was so much to be celebrated.

This time around though, the butterflies were different.  I was experiencing some rush because I literally had six days from the day I decided to run this marathon to getting a visa and getting on a flight to Lagos.  This was with a weekend in between, so the timelines were tight.  I still had work pressures to attend to, so up to the time I boarded the plane I was still attending to work commitments.  I was also experiencing thrills of anticipation.  It had been eleven years since I last saw my friend Isi and a whole lot of other friends who live in Lagos.  I call her a friend but she is more like a big sister to me.

I met Isi more than 15 years ago on a flight from Lagos to Johannesburg, during my flight attendant days.  We got along right away and formed a friendship that developed to sisterhood over the years.  When I got my entry to the marathon, she was the first person I called to announce my pending visit to the city.  I was looking forward to seeing her again.  There was a period in my life that saw me living in Lagos and I lived with her.  As I waited at the lounge before boarding, memories took me back to the year 2016.  Broken, confused and mourning the loss of my mother two years earlier, I found myself reaching out to Isi.  During a brief call I said to her, “Auntie I’m not doing well. I’m hurting, I miss my mom.”  She had a pending trip to London coming up and she suggested that we meet there so I can take my mind off the difficult period.  Fast forward the London trip was not happening so I suggested to her that I come to Nigeria instead.  Two weeks later I landed in Lagos.  A year and multiple visa extensions later I had slowly started the journey to acceptance and healing.  I found myself at home away from home.  I had started speaking a bit of pigeon English.  I was always mistaken for a Yoruba girl until I would start speaking and my accent would give me away.  Isi became my daily source of strength and faith.  She became a mother I had lost and a sister I never had.  That would be the best 14 months in a foreign country.

Isi Omiyi and I

Memories also took me back to our daily grinds.  I imagined Isi sitting in her favourite chair in the kitchen where she would always be every day and would either be telling me some story or warning me against the traps of falling for sweet talking Najia big boys.  During these chats I would blush because she had this funny way of saying it.  All in all it was good advice from a big sister.  Each morning and mostly throughout the day; the kitchen is where you would find us.  I would watch her cooking, she was amazing in the kitchen, and I would wash the dishes as we chatted throughout.  The kitchen was not big but we found a way of making it work for us.  Even during the times when the power was off, which was daily from around 9am to 4pm and the kitchen was hot, we still found our best moments in that kitchen.  So my butterflies were feelings of euphoria of longing.

As I sat at the airport lounge waiting for boarding time, I had a bit of anxiety as well about the marathon.  I could recall the days spent in Lagos and how hot it would get.  This would be from very early in the morning to high heat temperatures and humidity as the day progressed.  I had not run in any conditions close to that and that got me worried a bit.  The time for my boarding came and as I left the lounge I met a dark, handsome, gentleman who, with confidence evident in his high shoulders and upright stance, came up to me and introduced himself.  I can’t recall his name as I was so focused on his sparkling white teeth.  I also got a bit distracted by the pleasant smell of his cologne which was a mix of oriental spice and ash burn.  He had on an African print outfit and was very well put together.  He asked where I was travelling to and followed that question by asking for a reason for my trip.  After answering his questions he confidently said; “well I may just come and run as well just so I can see you again”.  I gracefully smiled and said, “no problem”.  I was not charmed by this but rather thought of how many times I have heard lines like that before from men.   He was not done and therefore proceeded to ask me how many kilometres was the marathon.  “42km”, I said.  “Good Lord! Abeg! I no fit run 42km. I thought it’s 5km”, he said.  I let out a good laugh and I guess that was the end of his dream because we boarded and went to our seats never to chat or see each other again.

I arrived in Lagos in the evening to a scenario I knew very well.  Inside the airport; at the drop off and pick up area, it was as I left years ago; busy!  The driver was already waiting for me courtesy of my other friend who arranged that I get picked up.  The drive to Ikoyi to Isi’s house was just as I remembered back then.  The traffic was crazy but fortunately for me I was heading the opposite direction of the evening traffic.  Traffic in Lagos is unimaginable for most of us that live in South Africa.  A trip which would normally take fifteen minutes can easily turn into an hour drive and this is without any accident on the route.  You have to plan properly when living in Lagos.  Finally I arrived at Isi’s house to realise that she had moved to a new house.  The moment she opened the door and saw my face she let out a loud scream of jubilation, gave me a big hug and a kiss and just like that we were once again reunited.  After dropping my bags and admiring the new house she led me to the kitchen and like old times we sat in there and the gist started lasting past midnight.

I’m from South Africa. I’m here to run this marathon

I woke up on Friday morning and as I sat in the kitchen enjoying my coffee I received a call from Chidinma and she was inviting me to attend a press conference in Ikeja.  Chidinma is a lady I exchanged e-mails with when I wanted to enter the race only to find out that it had already closed.  I wrote her a thesis as to why they should consider making an exception for me.  With her kindness I received an entry.

So with little time I got ready and made my way to the other side of town.  Fortunately for me, once again I was going the opposite side of the traffic jam.  I arrived at the venue to a full house.  There was media crew everywhere and the elite athletes were already sitting down in one section.  You couldn’t miss them.  They had the look; petite and very focused.  The press conference was well attended and this gave me a taste of the magnitude of the marathon.  There were over 50 000 registered runners.  It was towards the end of the press conference when the MC opened the floor for Q&A’s that I raised my hand.  I didn’t have a question but at that moment I couldn’t let South Africa go unnoticed so I wanted to make a comment.  I didn’t fly all that way to just disappear.  In short, I mentioned just how much I was looking forward to the race and that I will be bringing more South Africans to run the marathon in 2020.  That moment would plant me in people’s memories and that would be my saving grace in overcoming some hurdles which were race related as most of the key people remembered me.

I intend to keep to the promise of getting as many South African runners to partake in the Lagos City Marathon as possible.  We must run the world but we ought to run more in our continent.

Race Day

 I was up at 04h15 and got ready.  I had ordered Uber and on time at 04h45 the driver was outside waiting for me; then the rain came pouring down.  Considering the anticipated heat later in the day; the rain was a much-welcomed cooler.  After making it through the traffic I was at the start well on time.  There was so much buzz and excitement and runners dancing to live DJ mixes.  I saw  a few runners wearing other international marathon t-shirts; one was of Tokyo Marathon and the other for one marathon in Canada.  I took a few pictures with some runners and chatted a bit.  As I was going through the crowd, a few runners stopped me and asked if I was from South Africa, after all I was wearing my SA flag vest.

Race Gear

Most of them could not believe that I flew from SA to Lagos just to run a marathon.  I guess at this point it was not necessary to tell them that I have flown halfway around the world just to partake in a tiring 42km ‘rat race’.  I also chatted to one Femi guy.  He was doing some warm up exercises and as we chatted about the race and he confidently told me that his target finish time was 2hrs 30min.  Ok! I’ve learnt not to ‘judge a book by its cover’ but I couldn’t help myself in this case.  He looked nothing like a 2h30 guy but I left it at that and wished him well.   I also met three beautiful ladies whom after taking selfies with and few questions told me they have no intentions of finishing the race but that they just want to run and will stop when they are tired.  We laughed at this and I told them that I was aiming for under 4hours.  Little did I know myself that the 4hours would be but just a dream.  With shock written all over their faces we wished each other well and got ready for the start.

We didn’t hear the gun go off, the music was very loud.  All I saw were people moving and heard cheers and realised the race was on.  We made it through the puddles of water that had gathered from the earlier rain.  By now the rain had stopped and it was still cool.  There was a bit of chaos at the start with some runners not running straight, crossing carelessly to get from one side to the other.  I decided to slow down and let the crowd go and move with the few runners from the back.  It became very clear from the start that there were only a few seasoned runners and that most were just running to be part of the event and that they would not finish the race.  It also became very clear that the conditions were not what I was used to.  The air was warm to the face.

It was in the first kilometre that I was joined by another runner and we paced together.  We didn’t say anything to each other but it was evident that we were running together.  After three kilometres we were joined by two more runners.  Still no one was talking.  In South African race language we would say “bekukhala iteki”; literally meaning all you hear was the running shoes.  For the purpose of following the story I shall call the first runner to join me, Kunle.  We paced well with the group but I could tell that Kunle was feeling strong.  At around 11km I started feeling a bit out of breath and I was battling to get my breathing consistent.  I slowed the pace down a bit and that seemed to help but not for long.  I got to the next water point and decided to walk a bit and take in some water.  It must have been at this waterpoint that I revised my target time to a sub 5 finish.  I realised that there is a possibility that there would not be any cold water.  The water stations that I had already passed were well stocked with more than enough bottled water and soft drinks but no ice in sight.  With the humidity already being a struggle and the anticipated heat still to play its part, I knew I would not be able to sustain a sub 4 pace without cooling down.  So I grabbed some water, continued walking and took out my phone and started connecting to social media and tuned myself to just run and enjoy the moment.

I applied the run and walk strategy for the next 10km taking pictures and videos in between.  I would also stop and chat a bit with other runners on the route.  Looking back, I’m glad I did this.  This is also where I met two runners from Lagos Road Warriors running club.  They had run two and three Comrades between them.  We promised to meet each other again at the finish.  There were not a lot of women on the route, in fact for about 20km I only saw no more than 5 female runners.  The runners all around were very kind and supportive and would chat back and whenever I took a brisk walk there would be a runner coming behind to encourage me to continue running.  Like most marathons the first half is always full of hope and excitement for many runners.  In the first half one is still running with fresh legs, the weather is normally cool and energy levels are still high.  It’s the second half though where targets are confirmed.  Depending on how you paced yourself in the first half, you’re either set for meeting your target or changing your plans and adopting plan B in the second half.  If you were overly enthusiastic in the first half you will soon find yourself going through all the alphabets till you get to plan Z, i.e. sub finish as it is called in SA.  That’s when you’re just running to reach the finish before cut-off time just so you can collect the medal.

The fun of the race started in the second half for me.  The thick morning air had somewhat thinned a bit.  I could breathe better and the sun was out a bit but still not too hot.  I had conquered the beautiful Mainland Bridge, a long stretch with few supporters either than the police and volunteers who were manning the waterpoints.  I was now in an area where there were people on the road supporting, cheering and even running a bit with runners.  I got to 22km and guess who was sitting on the side of the road with his running shoes off?  The sub 2h30 guy, Femi.  I waved at him and he let out a big laugh and said “keep going, I’m tired”.  I laughed.  “Take it easy” I said as I carried on running.  It was in the next kilometre that I saw Kunle in front of me.  He was walking.  When I reached him I asked how he was doing and he indicated that he was ok but not too great.  I encouraged him and invited him to join me and we would take it easy with lots of walk and runs.  He started running but I guess the damage on the legs had been done because he only lasted for less than 2km with me.  Sadly I had to leave him behind.

The route is really flat and friendly for a fast finish time.  It is every other contributing factor that decides whether you run fast time or not.  I guess for most runners the reality of how long a 42km is was now in play and this is where things go interesting.  I saw a lot of runners, still wearing race numbers, in bikes (okada).  At first, I thought these were the race bailers and paid no attention really.  After all even in SA runners leave the race for various reasons so it was nothing to be alarmed about.  I started being curious when I saw Femi (the 2h30 guy) in front of me at 28km that I thought that something is not right.  I ran to catch up with him and asked him how it was possible that he could be ahead of me when I passed him.  He casually responded “ah this marathon will not kill me o.  I will get to the finish any way possible”.  We both burst out laughing.  I left him and shortly after I saw Kunle with another runner, in an okada.  I wanted to call him out but I didn’t know his name.  Needless to say, I would see Kunle ahead of me around 39km.  My thoughts, on whether or not Kunle had bailed from the race or if he was also using Femi’s strategy, were interrupted by another runner who started running besides me.  After a few metres he started making small talk.  Although I hate chatting during a race I welcomed his presence as I was feeling a bit lonely.  His name is Moses.  It was his first marathon and I could tell he was fighting a battle.  He looked very young and almost ‘lost’ in this enormous task.  Moses and I took on the heat and weary legs and we promised to stick with each other till the end and with regular walks we entered the Eko Atlantic finish area and with a press to the watch I recorded a 04h40 finish time.  I was sore and stiff but I was over the moon.  I had just run through one of my favourite cities in the world. Not Africa, but the world.

The beautiful medal

The lack of medal threatened to dampen the mood but it is the goodness of one of the runners that restored my broad smile when he offered me his own medal. 

I would later get my own medal from one of the organisers and managed to find the gentlemen that gave me his and returned it thanking him greatly.

I went home to Isi very fulfilled and reminded of how great the people of Nigeria are.  The next two days I spent seeing friends, visiting the market, eating Isi’s food and just appreciative of my life and the people God has placed in my life.  As I bid everyone goodbye I felt complete; I know I have family in the Omiyi family.  My memories of Lagos are that of generous, funny, spiritual and hard-working people.

The Access Bank Lagos City Marathon is not just a 42km road race.  It is a heart-warming adventure and a story waiting to be told by each participant.  If you allow it and its people, it is a life defining experience.