As we walked along the Royal Mile in Edinburgh the day after the marathon, people kept stopping my Kenyan friend, Japhet, and asking to take a picture with him. “Japhet,” they said, “we watched you run yesterday. You were amazing!”
He was constantly taken aback at being addressed by name. “I am famous,” he said, delighted.
When people asked him his time and he said 2hr 21min, they shook their heads in amazement that this skinny boy from Kenya had run so fast. “I was just behind you, in 4hr 20min,” one man joked.
It was a far cry from the immediate aftermath of the race. Then Japhet had looked stunned. “I don’t know what went wrong,” was all he could say. This was his big chance, and at that moment it was clear he hadn’t taken it.
His journey to Edinburgh had begun a long time ago, when I began a crowdfunding project to get him to the race. Touched by his story, many readers of my book, Running with the Kenyans, had chipped in to pay his airfare and other costs.
On the Monday before the race, he set off from his home town of Iten on an overnight bus to Nairobi. He got to the city only to find that his visa was not ready and that he would have to delay his flight for a day while it was sorted out. The next night he turned up at the airport only to be told, for reasons I still can’t fathom, that his ticket had been sold to someone else. He missed his flight and spent the night sleeping on the floor in the airport in the hope that things could somehow be rearranged the following day.
Finally, at 11pm the next night he flew out and arrived, two days later than planned, in London, less than two days before the start of the race. I decided to drive him straight to Edinburgh, hoping he’d have at least one full day to rest. But it was a Friday before a bank holiday weekend, at the start of half-term, and the motorways were blocked in every direction. We finally arrived in Edinburgh, after 12 hours in traffic, at 1 o’clock in the morning. It was hardly the ideal preparation for the biggest race of his life.
On race day, as ebullient as ever, he arrived at the start line saying he felt good, bouncing on his toes and looking sharp in his new kit donated by New Balance. And as the race got underway he was soon in the mix, running with a group of five at the front.
When Nourdine Jalal of France made an early break, Japhet let him go, sticking close to his more experienced fellow Kenyan, John Kales, who later said he was talking to Japhet in Swahili along the way, telling him to hold back. They soon caught Jalal, and then the Ethiopian runner Tola Lema made a break. Japhet courageously went after him, despite John advising him to wait a bit longer. At 18 miles Japhet was clear in second place.
When I next saw him run by, at around mile 22, he was starting to struggle. He was back in fourth now, his face fixed in a determined grimace, his legs looking slightly wobbly. “Come on, Japhet,” I yelled. “Stay strong.” He didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed ahead.
At the finish I stood watching as the first three runners crossed the line: Lema, Kales and then Jalal. We waited for the next runner to arrive. I was praying it would be Japhet, but then around the corner came Andi Jones. More minutes rolled by and I began to think he had dropped out when he lumbered into view, crossing the finish line in fifth place in 2hr 21min. “If he can run under 2hr 16min, we can get him another race,” one agent had told me. His time was way off that, and he knew it.
Andi Jones, who finished only two minutes in front of Japhet, is one of Britain’s best marathon runners. The Edinburgh race is one of the most prestigious 48 marathons in the world, an IAAF Bronze Label race. Fifth place was a great result. But, unfortunately, Kenyans have to work to a different measure. In Kenya, 2hr 21min will not even appear on the outer reaches of the widest radar.
Later, as I read out the endless messages of congratulations I received though Twitter, Facebook and text to Japhet after the race, he smiled happily, but his question was telling. “Did any Kenyans say anything?” he asked. The answer was no.
Yet I didn’t help Japhet to come to Edinburgh in order to launch his career in running. It was a favour to a friend who had helped me out in my time of need. And it was as much about the experience and adventure as any possible running success.
Japhet is made of sturdy stuff. After an amazing 15-hour sleep that night – which showed just how tired he was – the next day he emerged as excited as ever, marvelling at everything he saw, and talking about how much he would be able to tell his friends back home and how excited they would be to hear his stories.
“This life is wonderful,” he exclaimed, his arms flung wide as we stood in the garden of my parents’ house in Scotland the next evening. “My friends will be so excited, because, you know, when you experience success, it is not just for you, but for everyone. In this life, it is always good to share.”
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