LONDON MARATHON – 22-04-2007
Julie Andrews (Maria) sang in the Sound of Music; let us start from the very beginning, a very good place to start. And so I proceed to 490 BC.
There was war between the Greeks and the invading Persian armies. The Greeks won the battle of Marathon and Miltiades (Greek Army leader) sent word of the victory to the King via a runner Pheidippides. (You might wonder why he didn’t send a text message, or flash (Naija style)).
Poor (or patriotic) Pheiddippides ran the full 42.2Km at full speed to the Palace and promptly died after delivering his very important message.
If na Naija, e for climb Okada. E fit even branch Mamaput for pounded yam and pure water. Between ‘swallows’ he will surely mutter, ‘man pickin no go die for government work’.
If na mai village Pheidippides die, dem for ‘forbid’ running that distance. But Europe different. Na that 42.2 Km na im we dey all run till today; so God help us.
Back to the present. 21-4-07.3.30pm
I am driving down the M25 to the Excel Centre to register for the race. Paul Play’s Angel of My Life is playing and I cannot help wondering. Has Paul in all his playing considered that women like Angels can grow wings and then fly away? One has to call his babe Angel with some trepidation!
All my people are voting for our next Nigerian president back home.
At the Excel centre, I join a queue and hand over my letter bearing my running number 15900. I get handed a bag, which contains a computer Championchip, and running numbers for my bag and vest.
Everything went smoothly. Well, they wrote my surname incorrectly but hey, what’s new there?
For those who don’t know, the chip is what makes ‘rigging’ the race impossible. For starters you lace the chip to your trainers for the race and your progress can be tracked as you run across various sensors that have been placed across the road. If not sharp guys fit enter train, empty bucket of water on im self and appear at the finish line as winner.
Cousin’s House .7pm
(Not quite. Every family friend in Nigeria is a brother or cousin and every mansion, flat or rented room is a house)
Eat dinner with cousin. Was working a night shift so left me at home to sleep. But not before he wound me up. ‘Wilson, abeg on your way back from the race tomorrow buy Malt and canned drinks. You need to replace what we have drank’ he said.
I could believe my ears! After 26.2 Miles, make I go shopping?
I did some breathing exercises.
‘Look, you should get yourself to the finish line and help me home. Am I not your guest? I am buying nothing’ I said.
‘Abeg buy the drinks’ he said.
I was perplexed. We grew up together. Our fathers entertained each other in Lagos. Is this what living in England can do to a man? Too much night shifts and too little social interaction. Na wa!
The weather forecast was hot, hot, and hot. I begin fear.
Julie Andrews (Maria) sang in the Sound of Music; let us start from the very beginning, a very good place to start. And so I proceed to 490 BC.
There was war between the Greeks and the invading Persian armies. The Greeks won the battle of Marathon and Miltiades (Greek Army leader) sent word of the victory to the King via a runner Pheidippides. (You might wonder why he didn’t send a text message, or flash (Naija style)).
Poor (or patriotic) Pheiddippides ran the full 42.2Km at full speed to the Palace and promptly died after delivering his very important message.
If na Naija, e for climb Okada. E fit even branch Mamaput for pounded yam and pure water. Between ‘swallows’ he will surely mutter, ‘man pickin no go die for government work’.
If na mai village Pheidippides die, dem for ‘forbid’ running that distance. But Europe different. Na that 42.2 Km na im we dey all run till today; so God help us.
Back to the present. 21-4-07.3.30pm
I am driving down the M25 to the Excel Centre to register for the race. Paul Play’s Angel of My Life is playing and I cannot help wondering. Has Paul in all his playing considered that women like Angels can grow wings and then fly away? One has to call his babe Angel with some trepidation!
All my people are voting for our next Nigerian president back home.
At the Excel centre, I join a queue and hand over my letter bearing my running number 15900. I get handed a bag, which contains a computer Championchip, and running numbers for my bag and vest.
Everything went smoothly. Well, they wrote my surname incorrectly but hey, what’s new there?
For those who don’t know, the chip is what makes ‘rigging’ the race impossible. For starters you lace the chip to your trainers for the race and your progress can be tracked as you run across various sensors that have been placed across the road. If not sharp guys fit enter train, empty bucket of water on im self and appear at the finish line as winner.
Cousin’s House .7pm
(Not quite. Every family friend in Nigeria is a brother or cousin and every mansion, flat or rented room is a house)
Eat dinner with cousin. Was working a night shift so left me at home to sleep. But not before he wound me up. ‘Wilson, abeg on your way back from the race tomorrow buy Malt and canned drinks. You need to replace what we have drank’ he said.
I could believe my ears! After 26.2 Miles, make I go shopping?
I did some breathing exercises.
‘Look, you should get yourself to the finish line and help me home. Am I not your guest? I am buying nothing’ I said.
‘Abeg buy the drinks’ he said.
I was perplexed. We grew up together. Our fathers entertained each other in Lagos. Is this what living in England can do to a man? Too much night shifts and too little social interaction. Na wa!
The weather forecast was hot, hot, and hot. I begin fear.
No comments:
Post a Comment