From Start to Finish: A Runner's Unforgettable Lagos Marathon

Origin of a stupid choice

I've had my sights set on the Lagos City Marathon since a friend first introduced me to running in 2020. However, I knew I wasn't ready, so I chickened out every year. You prepare, not just get up and run forty-two kilometers. However, something took control of me in November 2024. I chose to give it a try, whether it was stupidity or a midlife crisis.

I started to practice. I started going to the gym on a daily basis and started running on purpose. I was feeling like a long-lost cousin of Usain Bolt, developing leg muscles, and fortifying my core. I believed I was prepared. I had completed 10 km, 15 km, and 20 km before the end of the previous month, and just when I was about to do the 25 km in the final week, my legs failed to recover from the legwork I had done that week. I only completed 11 km in the end. But I persuaded myself not to worry.

The route, weather, and terrain

The race was primarily downhill with three or four slightly uphill sections, and the weather was favorable. I found it to be a lot simpler than my usual running. We finished at the Eko Atlantic City on Victoria Island after beginning at Western Avenue, in front of the National Stadium in Surulere. We traveled via Fadeyi, Gbagada, Ikoyi, Lekki, and the Third Mainland Bridge.

All runners were expected to arrive at 5:30 am, the cut-off time was 12:30 pm, and the flag-off time was 6:30 am.

Issue with the wardrobe

You don't wear any kind of pants during a marathon. I was unaware of that. I put on my black sports pants with two red stripes down the side. What was I thinking? The best shorts are light ones. Better yet, if you don't want to feel like your legs are burning afterward, males should wear tights to hold their groin in position.

What was the reason behind my burdensome baggage? A family member who recently completed NYSC loaned me a pouch. I packed a 30,000mAh power bank, cash, and my phone inside. In addition, I carried the useless nylon bag they provided us with my water bottle, ID, face cap, and face towel.

I pleaded with the officials to hold my pouch for me twice because I was so exhausted. And they had good reason to refuse. After moving the pouch from my front to my side, I felt as though a portion of my waist had been dislocated.

Water problems and distance indicators

Kilometer markers ought to be obvious for a race like this. I didn't see any for the first nine kilometers. Then 10km appeared on the ground out of nowhere. The marks persisted intermittently, at times by the road barrier and at other times on the ground. An orientation would have been helpful in explaining this, and consistency would have been beneficial.

The situation with the water stands was different. They initially provided everyone with soft beverages and chilled bottled water. However, the drinks were warm at the precise moment you needed them—15 kilometers to go. Thanks to onlookers and even the cleaning personnel who helped themselves, there was absolutely no water at some stands. Despite the fact that it was inconvenient to run with two bottles at each stand, I quickly adjusted.

There were no electrolyte-rich beverages available. You were going to have a difficult time after consuming as much water and 7Up as I did. Legs that felt like lead, headaches, and appetite loss.

My constant mouth breathing made things worse by causing aches in my inside mouth.

I'm covered in mistakes.

I had no idea why I gathered the pain reliever. One kilometer after applying the plasters to my inner thighs, I began to experience soreness that made it feel like I was learning how to use my legs. I was unable to run at times due to the agony. The lesson is to not trust everything you see on television.

A child's humility and unanticipated support

I heard my name about eight kilometers in. My friend Temidayo was there to support me from the sidelines. As a reflex of appreciation, I blew her a kiss without thinking. That gave me the boost I required.

A man I knuckled once took my hand and asked to run with me. Don't pull me back now, Oga, I thought. Before he let go, we ran together for roughly two kilometers. He never got back to me. Another time, when I began to walk, one of those I had urged caught up with me and reciprocated with his knuckle. A good turn is worthy of another. A child of about ten years old once sprinted by me. It still amazes me that we began at the same location. He had to have joined in the middle.

The Third Mainland Bridge, which never ends

The Third Mainland Bridge was a completely different story. It seemed to go on forever. Although I was informed that the bridge was 10 miles long, it seemed like 20 km. "Are we there yet?" seemed to reverberate with each step.

I'm running for my daughters.

I met a man as I was running, and he informed me that he had completed the Lagos Marathon five times. It impressed me. I wasn't doing too terrible if he could complete it six times and I was keeping up with him. We were engaged in a friendly rivalry. He would overtake me again after I caught up to him and passed him. I saw him aboard a BRT bus reserved for individuals who had given up around the 27-kilometer mark.

Oh! I became completely depressed. Then I thought of my three daughters back home. I had no intention of disappointing them. Not my little 'Nike, who is constantly asking, "Daddy, are you going to run for exercise?" If not for myself, then at least for her, I had to finish. The girls were all sick, so I had left them at home. Therefore, this cannot be a time waster. One of them had been admitted to the hospital by the time I arrived home, and I still had to limp to visit her.

Traffic jams and close calls

Road restrictions from 5 a.m. to 1 p.m. were declared by the Lagos State Government. We were fighting with autos by ten in the morning. There was chaos at intersections.

I almost got hit by a Danfo bus at one point. I've never been this close to meeting my maker. Around the 29-kilometer mark, I stopped caring. I thought, "Hit me if you want." Fortunately, nobody carried out my death wish.

A snacking expedition

I was tempted to buy when I noticed an egg vendor. I brushed the idea aside, only to regret it a few moments later as I excitedly looked about for another seller. Then I had the same impulse when I saw someone selling eggrolls. Again, I brushed it off. However, I had lost all self-control by the time I came upon a puff-puff vendor in the final 15 kilometers.
I bought two pieces and beckoned him over. I was disappointed with myself as a man who shuns greasy food like the plague. But other males around gave consolation, “Oga, eat o. This race is going extinct. We also don't slice buns. Is this a firm that loves misery? I don't give a damn.

I nearly lost my way to a "monumental" triumph.

I nearly confused the 42-kilometer finish line with the 10-kilometer one. I freaked out when I saw individuals approaching me wearing medals. I missed my way, according to one guy. Before realizing he was mistaken, I turned around and ran a full kilometer in the other direction. I muttered a curse and turned around. What an energy waste. Eko Atlantic was the finish line. I sighed with relief as I stepped inside the gate. They then informed me that the endpoint was still two kilometers away. This is what kind of wickedness? People kept telling me to "keep going" when I asked them. I was resolved to pass at least four competitors before crossing the finish line when I finally caught a glimpse of it from a distance. I was thrilled when I passed six people, many of whom were exhausted and had given up on walking at that point. Even though it was a minor triumph, it felt enormous.

Insufficient medals

When I finally got there at 11:28 am, I was met with the most devastating news: "Medal don finish," which means that the medals are over. How can the medals be completed? They counted the number of persons who registered, didn't they? To make matters worse, medals were awarded to both the bus passengers and the 10km runners. I nearly started crying, my people.

A moment of extreme cruelty while looking for a spot to relax

I went in search of water after realizing that my hopes of winning a medal had been dashed. You know what? None existed. I needed a seat since I was exhausted. There was mayhem everywhere I looked. Bags were even being shared in a tent, and you can only imagine how haphazard it was. I went to relax after seeing a tent with some officials. One bearded, fat man began yelling, "What are you doing here? Are you insane?

Leave now! Despite a young woman endorsing me, this man maintained that I was acting. "Iro lon pa! Tokan domi sori eni! He's telling lies. He simply doused himself with water.) I would have laughed if I had been strong. But I simply wanted to pass out at that point.

His response was icy, albeit it might have had some background. Here, my marathon number was visible on my green vest. I gazed in agony. But this man was incapable of kindness.

Someone said I had to see the clinic in the end. I merely needed to relax my aching legs and back, so of course I didn't need a clinic, but I jumped at the chance to get out of there.

Fortunately, a man employee approached me, helped me up, and indicated another tent that serves as a temporary clinic. I became better there. A fellow runner gave me some ointment, and after resting for about half an hour, I felt some short-term relief.