Nigeria for beginners…#009 The first rule of run club…
Running clubs are now Lagos’ worst kept secret. There’s a guy who pesters me on WhatsApp to know why he hasn’t been accepted by the Road Warriors. I don’t know why he’s pestering ME. I don’t run. I just know lots of runners. I’m sort of like a baggage handler for a member of Led Zeppelin. I just hang around on the sidelines holding rucksacks and Lucozade bottles for the rockstars.
I remember a few years ago there was a big scandal in Lagos when a number of women grew suspicious of their husbands’ run club antic and flew out to surprise them at a running retreat abroad and caught them in unmentionable acts of debauchery. Or not — cold tea can be unreliable. Shock horror, not all runners are men. Some are women and predictably they’re probably in better shape than you or I. That’s the problem with your husband joining a run club. One of them anyway.
My husband came home with this T-shirt. And he’d already eaten. He sat down with a cold beer and a dreamy look in his eye. I strangled him with the T-shirt. Ok, I didn’t. Why? Cos I’m a somewhat rational person. I also respect the happiness he’s found in the running community. Famous last words eh!
He usually runs at 6am in the dark on his own and I worry about him being run over on an unlit street (Lagos is nothing but unlit streets). There are few pavements where we live. it just seems so solitary. And he actually did get run down by a kekenapep once and hurt his shoulder. Now he gets to run more safely in a group and have mini man-versations like “Hey dude, first time?” “Yeah” “Ok” — end of manversation.
Now he does beer miles, attends post-run BBQs, runs on beaches at Tarkwa Bay and runs for money.
Yes there’s money in running, money that you’ll never ever win but hey you certainly won’t if you’re not in it. No-one ran in Lagos six years ago except benighted expats who’d recently transferred to Lagos from places like the Green Zone in Iraq. Now running is a national pastime. There are a plethora of competition runs, charity runs, fun runs and love runs (see Lekki-Ikoyi bridge).
As well as the Road Warriers, there’s the Pacers, the Hash Harriers and more. Each club has it’s own personality, innate chumminess and a way of corralling its members before dawn.
My husband has invited me along several times — bless, but in spite of all it’s goings on, I find running in Lagos boring and unsettling. My sense of self-preservation is too high. I don’t drink beer and my preferred dress code is smart casual, not sweaty and disheveled.
There’s a price you pay for this run life. What you gain in washboard abs and perspective from hours of solitary contemplation you lose in lack of sleep, blackened toe nails , twisted ankles and time spent constructing motivational music playlists and finding run buddies half way across the world on twitter.
All this being said, the running community makes me feel optimistic about life in Lagos. Progress is being made here regardless of issues holding it back. When you see so many people running together, whether marathon, charity or just for fun, it is inspiring. It shows what we can do when we take an idea and run with it.
