Hobbies. We all have them. They are choices we make consciously and choices have consequences- some greater than others. Too bad you sometimes realize that when it’s too late.
It’s 7:50 AM on a Thursday morning. I should probably be behind a screen, but today I’ve joined the touch-grass movement. I’m in an unusually silent forest. The ground is slick with dew and I’m standing face to face with an adult monkey.
She’s- notice I say she because this is definitely a light-skinned middle-aged monkey judging from her attitude. She’s standing body facing away from me, head fixed in my direction and I can read the smirk on her face. She’s probably lived enough to have heard the proverb about them being unable to see their kundule which is also likely another false quip from the Wahenga. She tilts her head as if to say, ‘The nerve!’
The news that dawn had gripped the day was delivered by the bizarrely loud alarm that sent echoes in my den. As a young mzee in the current economy you can’t go on sleeping after sunrise. Somersaulting out of bed, I spontaneously decide to go on a long ride.
Usually, when you think of doing anything strenuous; folding the clothes sitting at the foot of your bed or hiking Mt. Kenya, you prepare mentally- and physically. At least, that’s what you’d think when you saw me join the highway in the 6AM winter in cycling shorts. I hadn’t looked up the route. Surely, my Maps app should have figured out by now I ride a road bike- it can’t actually recommend anything other than. Makosa ni yangu.
I was probably three kilometers into this hilly murima, a bike-ride turned hiking, when I spot an infant monkey. She jumps from one branch of a tree to the next with panache- showboating. Paranoia hit. Flashbacks. Biology Class. The Food Chain. Surely, if there’s a monkey then there must be a lion here. I imagine a roar. Luwere!
When I saw the other monkey, my legs had given out from the 40K I’d already covered to get here. I couldn’t run. I could probably fight one monkey if there was a rule against throwing stones- I’m based like that. These guys can aim better than any Otieno. It’s the lion I was not looking forward to. This is probably what old age feels like. Crossing the road, seeing a vehicle hurtling toward you and all you can do is surrender to the frenemy that has you by the bones: age.
The 16-year old kid whose only interest was bingeing episodes of Prison Break wouldn’t recognize what I’d made of him. How pathetic a death this would be. When you are faced with such a situation, everything seems to add up. In Jerusalem, the last supper was chapati, which I’d had the previous night. You remember the news about a kid who went missing and you picture yourself on the ground, guts gobbled up by the lioness and her two cubs who keep running away from your feet because of your dirty socks. You pray. You repeat- until the sudden whistling wind jolts you. It’s time!
You like seeking out situations that make you distraught. This is the question I received while I sat in the kibandaski enjoying some chapo ndengu, a lunch to counter the thought of the last supper.
It’s not the first time I’ve found myself at the end of this question. To be in full bloom of health- to hop on a bike and ride 100K without thinking twice- fitness, time, freedom, working limbs, the delicacy of youth, what a privilege it is! As for the monkeys and lions, hope springs eternal, I’ll probably do it again next week!
words of a professional amateur in the world of endurance sport. sinking an ungodly amount of time into things like running and cycling and obsessing over them like a professional athlete would, all whilst performing at a highly unremarkable level. If it involves a start, an end and a humbling journey to get from one to the other then I’m probably passionate about it. ~ Dan