Kenya Diary: National XC Champs

11 Feb 2004 - Wednesday
(T&FN correspondent Kirk Reynolds is visiting Kenya this winter and will be submitting observations from time to time. The first major distance running stop on Reynolds' trip will be the Kenyan Cross Country Nationals, the competitive kettle from which annually emerge world-beating Kenyan squads for the World Cross Country Champs)

One of Wednesday's papers finally had a short article on the cross country national championships scheduled for Friday. Like in the US, the Kenyan sports pages offer scant coverage of running; recent articles have focused on cricket, the impending arrival of Manchester United's under-15 soccer team for ten days, and the 2004 African Cup of Nations soccer tournament in Tunisia, where Kenya didn't advance out of its group.

Wednesday, the Daily Nation had nothing on 'athletics,' but the East African Standard had a photo of women racing in last month's Armed Forces Championships and an accompanying article announcing some of the more notable entrants (as well as the official notification of the absence of five-time World Champ Paul Tergat from the Armed Forces men's team). There was no mention, however, of where and when the races were to be held. Before leaving home, I had visited the webpage to Athletics Kenya
(www.athleticskenya.org) to try and glean some information ahead of time, but many links, including the schedule page, went nowhere. I did print out a page with a phone number and address. No one answered the phone at 10am, so I figured I'd jump in a taxi and go there directly.

Athletics Kenya is housed in the upstairs of a newish, funky, open-air building called Riadha House a bit out of downtown, with the hustle and bustle of cars and foot traffic along Aerodrome Road and the dizzying squeal of cars on the roundabout that meets with Uhuru Highway near Nyayo National Stadium.

I went up the front stairs and into the inner courtyard, and saw a shiny gold sign that said 'KAAA' for the Kenya Amateur Athletic Association, but no directory, so I asked a couple of gentlemen walking out if they knew where the AK offices were. Apologetic, they said no, and I poked around the lower level some more before heading upstairs.

Walking along a 2nd floor balcony I saw a desk ahead with a woman seated there. It would be like a desk on the balcony of a Motel 6: functioning, open to the breezes, but rather incongruous in its location. I asked if she knew where AK was, and she said it was right here. I stated that I was looking for information on Friday's competition-schedules of races, the location, maybe an advance meet program, etc. She looked at me uncertainly, and I couldn't tell whether she didn't know about the race details, or about
the meet itself--the one that would determine the 2004 national cross country team of the world's most successful distance running country.

She motioned that I should step inside an office right behind her desk, so I knocked on the open door, went in, and found an older gentleman seated at a desk looking at some papers. No computer, maybe a phone tucked somewhere, but not visible. Just some papers and notebooks, and four walls painted an unsettling green. I tried to imagine any USATF staffer in Indianapolis handling such surroundings, but stopped myself. Instead, I rationalized a sensible equilibrium. On one hand, you had an inefficient (by Western
standards) and historically embattled AK office overseeing the world's fastest runners, and on the other hand you had what is I'm certain a highly modern USATF office overseeing, well, runners slower than the Kenyans.

I introduced myself to the gentleman and asked him about the meet. He looked back down, began shuffling his papers some more, then said, "Are you already registered to race?" I had to stifle a laugh at the George Plimpton-esque thought of me on the starting line next to Eliud Kipchoge, Richard Limo, John Kibowen, et al. A resulting book's first chapter would discuss me hearing the gun and seeing numerous Kenyan rear ends fade off in the distance ahead, and then multiple chapters would follow about altitude sickness, searing lungs, inchoate pain, and a sobbing, hours-long recovery.

"No, I just wanted to spectate," I said to the gentleman. At that, he looked up, with an expression of puzzled astonishment. "Spectate? You mean watch the races?" I nodded yes, and he said, "Well, the first race starts Friday at 8:00 sharp with the young boys, and we will get through all the races, and we will be handing out trophies by 11:30. The races will be at Ngong Race Course, and for you there will be no admission charge to spectate."