It’s in Vienna, Isn’t it? I hear it’s foggy-way too foggy. Kenya is watching and I’m watching too. We are all watching out for a calm, contemplating kind of a man, a real ambassador for the sport. By now you should have known that Eliud is the world’s greatest marathon runner.
At thirty-four he is the official world record holder. I hear they refused to accept it for some reason- the International Association of Athletics Federation (IAAF). They said the rules were not utterly followed. I don’t know. It was something about the need to have at least three competitors and others like the lack of anti-doping controls. Really! The guy has eight victories in his name, and these were in big cities around the world. He is an Olympic champion from Rio. So we don’t expect anything less from him.
He knows he’s got it- the burning urge in him to prove he’s worth the money, the cheers, the victory and my time of course. A sole competitor who wants to prove more than once that he’s the marathon’s G.O.A.T (greatest of all time). We saw Dennis Kimetto. He was good and we were happy. He set a new record back then in Berlin. It is a different tale here. It’s this man Kip we are on the lookout for. Running four miles non-stop is one thing, doing it at nearly six meters per second is another. It’s Epic.
Kenya’s Vanguard of distance running. Eliud Kipchoge!
Families have come together; communities have reunited and the world is in ‘purple’ support for the man. I say purple because it represents the future, the imagination, and the dream; the dream of a superhuman, our imagination of a super run and the future of an awaiting victory.
We love you Kipchoge. Well, I see great achievements come with lots of love, doesn’t it? We don’t care. Kenyans feel something for you. It can’t be a bad feeling. It brings us joy, happiness, and pride. How can it not be love!
We hear they had plans to host the event in London. It’s October and the weather there is not as appropriate as it should be. They run a long search for the most suitable venue, and it all comes down to Vienna, Austria. An event put together by the world’s best organizing team. How can this not be great!
We watch you in awe as you attempt to go where no man has been before. We smile with you as you push your body and mind to the limit. Four miles will sure need our support and here we were. Beating all the odds, stretching your legs and running like the world depended on you. God saw you run days and train your legs each morning back in your home town. He saw you sweat for now what you have been given a chance to show to the world. It does not matter if the world didn’t believe when you ran and broke the two-hour barrier the first time. What matters is whether you are going to do it again. You need to; for the cameras; for the pride; for the satisfaction, for every little thing in your life.
We watch you cross the streets in Vienna with pride. Your strides are not any longer than that of the ordinary man- the man selling pajamas on the streets of Nairobi; the man who drinks and doesn’t know when it’s dusk. You are not any different. The world must have thought we, Kenyans created our superhuman. Tell the world you are an ordinary citizen. You live a simple life. Tell them you train at your camp which has a washroom with the water coming from a well. Tell them you are a rich man also. Indeed, not a pre- Madonna and Instagram is for business- Marathon business.
Our hearts are aching- the pain is sweet. You’ve made everything stop for a while. The streets are singing your praises. Our number one mobile network has even given us the freedom to watch you from YouTube as you break a leg. The sun, down here in Kenya unlike in Vienna won’t put us away. The streets are packed. It’s packed with people who for a while don’t remember from what tribe they come from. These great people have a knack for you and now they have taken a break from the politics down here. You know us brother! Yes, you know how corrupt we are but at this moment everyone is doing everything but stealing- the politicians. Perhaps the next time you meet the president you should have a sit down about it. Tell him that Kenya is better off united.
The clock starts to count. Our heads are in position and our eyes are fixed. Our eyes move as you move. When we see you twitch, our eyes blink. When you are okay, our eyes are wide opened. It’s like we are watching you and making sure the clock doesn’t rob us off even a single minute. We know it’s unfair that we have to put you through this. But keep running boy!
Those men following you, I hear they are pacemakers. Okay, I know of Lagat. He impresses me. I hear he is forty-four. Wow! He runs well.
Why are you picking your fluids via the bike and not the normal traditional table? Ooh, that’s what they decided? It’s still fine. No odds against you are going to win. But I thought it’d be a little challenging to pick your water from the moving bikes. So it means when you feel thirsty and there’s no bike in close range you’ll have to go a while without water? Can you manage? Of course, you did. The IAAF thinks picking the water via the bikes is easier. They’ve got to be a little nut. I hear this is one of the reasons they do not want to clear your record as the current world record. It’s still fine.
You’ve moved through the event with ease, like a vanguard that you are. You look angelic, leading your pacers like a real man that you are. A man of his words. When you said No MAN IS LIMITED indeed we heard you well and so clear. We are even making it the new thing in town here in Kenya. Now even those who sleep and wake up at nine then spend the whole afternoon eating and watching television keep saying they are not limited. Wow! What a disorder. But it’s fine that it came from a champion. Those who want to be champions in life know what you meant.
You are a darling. We see victory as you pace through the fog, and as sweat runs down your face it’s clear we haven’t been writing a story of a fairy man. It’s a man whose work has shown how tough he is and how persistence can get him anywhere.
As you run your last minutes of the marathon, Kenyans can’t even keep their calm. They have already seen another barrier being broken. This time it might have even been better. They yell and howl words of gratitude as you cross the finish line in a superbly done 1:59:40. Everyone is cheering. Your wife is there to hold you so tight and to show the world that you are her man. White people, black people, they all want to shake your hands.
You are graceful. You did it.
It seemed like you were not tired of running. You were still running. Perhaps it’s joy. We loved it
Kenya feels blessed. We’d continue talking about you. Congratulations G.O.A.T and as you stay awhile in Netherlands, share our culture over there.