Let's Live Together

Oh, Nigeria. Yours' a feared history -
Pandora's box - bleak, cold, dour...
Sour grapes' past; fruits of a new story.

FIRST AND RIGHT

Credit: truppr.com

 My first and only Truppr experience, was in August. Lord have mercy, Natachy, a friend who had shed over 70KG and still counting, had invited me to a run. We had always complained about how I live in town, and her in Karu and how it was difficult to meetup for a run. Bam! She sent me a direct message me on twitter and invited me. I promptly registered, bragged about it, and then looked forward to it with all the gusto I could muster. On the day, I arrived early, not been to the old parade ground before, I was skeptical of my taxi driver. But he was right. By the time I summoned courage to walk through the gates, I saw figures of all shapes and sizes, most figurines perched around a handful of cars, engaged in friendly chatter and waiting for the late comers. Apparently I fell in the latter category.

Credits: twitter.com/Natachyy

I met a few familiar faces like Messrs Sangowawa and Mukoro, who made blending in easier for me. Soon, Natachy arrived, and pleasantries were shared. And that was when the warm ups began. The stretching, running, bending,  turning all in one position, caught the winds out of my sails to remind me how much I‘ve missed working out and exercising beyond the acceptable boundaries of lazy. But it as worth it. I felt better, my muscles felt stretched and oiled for the run, and I was looking forward to it. A little while later, the run was off, and I was still around the cars, helping to pack up ‘stuff’ in to the cars. Thus, I was a couple minutes late. About 3 minutes I guess. 

I turned on the music on my phone, plugged my earpiece and strutted away in a bid to catch up with the bunch of runners/walkers. Now, the thing with me, is that I’m a great competitor; and then a bad one as well. I love competition. I believe that life is about who gets it first. No matter how much we all stand in the queue waiting for our turn, if I turned up earlier to join the queue, it would be my urn first. And I brought that mentality to the run, even though I knew I wasn’t in the beat of shapes, to finish ahead of everyone. If for anything, my competitive spirit can’t be easily dampened. Not even by the smiles and abandon on the faces of those whom I overtook within seconds, though they had a three minutes start.

By the first turn, I had to climb a hill. My muscles were grinding and fatigue was setting in, but I was not the type to just give in. But a second look at myself, changed everything, I happened to be the one really interested about finishing first. Maybe those who are like me were far ahead or something, but everyone whom I overtook, never seem to take it serious. To them, it was about burning the unnecessary fat, staying fit, and clocking their best time yet. And I was there trying to kill my muscles for not fueling me enough. When I hit the imaginary red tape, there were a couple of faces who had eaten up the race like yam, and were nestled around the cars and waiting for the rest of us to turn up. Natachy was one of them. She was already posing for pictures and was being ‘famzed’ by ladies with rings around their torsos, hoping to be like her soon.

Soon, everyone had crossed their red tape, and there was a call for dance aerobics. I had a seminar to catch that fateful Saturday, so I said my goodbyes, and off I went in a painted taxi. I looked forward to the September edition, but I missed it doe to pressing deadlines. Now, I’m looking foreward to an October date at a race, where everyone, whether you chose to run or walk, end up first and right, clocking their best time ever!