Chapter 12 – The routine
Dream running
I had now taken to doing two long runs in any given week. The usual convention has been two short or moderate run, but I have taken to two long ones since the Stavanger marathon of August 31. My second run after the Tuesday one was to be on Friday. It had turned out that Tuesdays and Fridays would become my run days. However, I should be back to the three short/moderate runs from next week. That meant that the Friday run was a ‘must-run’. It would be the last long run before the next marathon.
I had stayed indoors the whole day. My only companion that I had was the laptop screen and my busy hands as I typed along. I was on a programming project and now I know why they call those people in that CS department as ‘geeks’. You are just there pounding on the keyboard, occasionally talking to the screen, and when things go haywire, uttering a few curse words – you can assume in a low tone, but I can assure you that it is usually loud enough for a passer-by or neighbor to hear.
And those programs take forever to work. All additional enhancements to the program code usually create more errors and the internet search has all manner of misleading, wrong and utterly false information. It takes many ‘wrong turns’ from ‘bad advice’ before you get yourself back on track – or you sometimes even get stuck forever, in a worse position than where you started. Some systems do not even have an ‘undo’ feature. Once you have been misled into testing things that do not work, you are left with nothing, not even your initial idea. The web!
I was in the middle of these swear when I realized that I had sat on that desk for over eight hours already. It had been a day full of drizzles, as observable from my seat facing the two big windows. I soon realized that it was already five and I had to go for the evening run. The weather seemed still – no rain, but no sun either. It looked cold, since I could only judge by looks. The room was warm enough, with an electric heater, usually off anyway, under the table. It was warm in the rooms.
I abandoned my half-cooked program code that was being done in the snake-language and just got my running gear. Just then it started raining, as I was affixing the timer onto the shoe laces. This timer aka ‘accelero’ communicates with the GOA to get me the distance of my runs. The distance is usually accurate, but occasionally not. I had realized that when it was accurate, then would be accurate. But, when it is not, it is not. It seemed to change moods with change of seasons. It would stay accurate for a season, which could last months, then without notice or warning, it would become erratic for a short season.
The first task in synchronizing the wristwatch and the foot gadget is ‘pairing’. This is just a button press on the watch and after 5 seconds you get an ‘OK’. Sometimes the communication fails. Today was one of these days. I tried pairing and got an ‘accelero missing’ error message. At this point, you can retry, and usually get the same message and retry and keep retrying, or cancel the pairing and ‘run without distance’. I like the analog because it also works like a stopwatch – whether it would record distance or not, or be accurate or not, was another thing. When you cancel the pairing then you shall run without distance measurement. The distance mode would be automatically disabled, and you would only get the stopwatch on the display. That is what happened on this day, even as the weather was now changing to a drizzle. It was now 5.15pm local.
I decided to give the weather a short observation, and it paid off, since by 5.30pm it had stopped raining. I opened the running apps on the two phones and put them ready to start timing. Endomondo had a full GPS signal strength. Runkeeper continued searching for signal without success. They were however both on the 0.00.00, just ready. The weather was still. However, that was my cue to get going. I left my room H217, at the very end of the twelve cubes per side corridor and walked the full length of the corridor to the exit door. My other alternative would have been to just use the fire exit door next to my door, but that would mean triggering the fire alarm first. Anyways, I was soon downstairs and at the main exit. I opened the door and was sent back by the rain that had already restarted. Momentarily someone passed by outside with an umbrella, as observed from the comfort of inside the entrance yard of P10. I was just about to start up the stairs when I decided to get out and have a final look at the weather, only to see that the rain had stopped.
“What type of rain is this?,” I asked the door as I opened it up a second time in less than two minutes.
I got out of the block and walked the twenty meters to the road next to the block. This road had a way of navigating round the campus on a distance of two point something kilometers. I had taken to using these around the campus circuits as warm up before I went to the hilly forest to run with nature. My first run round was uneventful, apart from the cold that was a bit biting. Things changed on the second round at the third kilometer, when out of nowhere it started raining. I was already 15 minutes deep in the run and there was no turning back. It would mean missing my very last long run if I were to cancel today’s run for any reason. I was ready to run in the rain, instead of cancelling it altogether.
My only worry was whether these rains are usually accompanied by lightning which I would not risk. From my observations, there had been no lightning during the rains that had fallen previously. I let myself be hit by the cold shower as I circled round on the second loop. The rain persisted on the third circuit. By that time, both my phone had been slipped into the pockets to try to prevent them from getting rained on. The pockets were already soaked wet by the third round. However, they were a bit more shielded than being exposed on my hands as I would usually carry them. It was also a good new experience to feel how the phones can affect the weight of my short pockets as I did my runs. It was a good feeling to have my hands free for the first time here. It was awkward running with two full pockets, but a new experience nonetheless.
It happened just as I finished the third circuit, now ready to divert to the forested trees on my left. I would be running a distance of about four hundred meters to reach the forest trail. Just like a switch, the rain stopped, and the sun came out! It did. The bright rays started hitting my back – rays, not heat! I kept going, enjoying this change of weather. I was even imagining that it could get warmer with time. The brightness was quite welcome. The rains had already made the forest trail a bit too dark. I sometimes worry of some unknown ‘what if’, but I usually quickly remove such thoughts from my mind and just focus on how I would eventually just be through and hit that finish line.
Alas! I spoke too soon! It did not take more than five minutes before the drizzles started – despite the sunshine. I was now on the forest area, where I would usually run on some relatively straight tarmac on a half circuit of about 2km, then leave the tarmac for the forest train, then eventually rejoin the tarmac some twenty minutes later. When I rejoin the tarmac, I would do another run on the other side, the other half of the circuit. This would then get me back to where I had started the tarmac run. I can then do this tarmac as a full circuit for as many times as I can. Each circuit is about six kilometers. It is half hilly on the initial half circuit. The later part of the tarmac is generally flat.
It was while I was on the tarmac road of the forest area when the rain started fighting the sun. It was shining and it was raining. I was running, while it was shining and it was raining. My legs were now tapping a rhythm on the wet tarmac. I was already getting soaked. I kept going. I was soon completely lost in my run. I was just going. I had hardly done a 40-minute run. I was just past 8km. I had nothing more to do than run, with a blank mind – nothing to do but run, with a blank mind… nothing to do…
I find myself at my rural home, where I grew up. That corner of Butere sub-county. Kisa West location. Diriko village. My rural home. Where the grass is green throughout the year. Where the trees still flourish and the greenery covers almost all the ground and can be seen to the end of the visibility range. Where life was easy. Where people live in homesteads. A typical homestead is fenced off with an entrance gate. Fences are usually done with plant materials, or trees. The gate is usually just the prominent gate that you see in any compound. There is hardly a physical structure to make a gate. The entrance to the homestead is the gate. Trespassing through homesteads is allowed. You just cross the fence and you find yourself in your neighbours compound.
Yes, my rural village, where we still enjoy the two seasons of rains – the long rains from March to July and the short rains from September to November. Where guavas, mangos and avocadoes grow wild and you do not need nobody’s permission to pick and help yourself. Where I stayed without knowing how electricity felt like, until I joined secondary school. My village, where we feasted on raw, unprocessed food – straight from the farm. Talk of cassava. Talk of sweet potatoes. Talk of bananas. Talk arrow roots! Talk sugarcane. My homestead. My village.
The very village where going to school was a privilege and was for good ‘community’ use. As a ‘schooled’ person, provided you could read and write, you were a big asset to the whole community. Occasionally, usually weekends, you would be informed that one of your uncles wanted to see you urgently, ‘before tomorrow’. That would be urgent. When you got to your uncle’s place, you will find your auntie waiting.
“My son,” he would welcome you to the verandah, which was the usual expected sitting place, “Tomorrow, your uncle Awiti will be going to Nairobi. I want you to write for me a letter to my son James in Nairobi. The letter must reach Awiti today.”
Those days we still had the Butere-Kisumu and Kisumu-Nairobi railway in operation, with real locomotives and real coaches. Train travel was the only mode of going to Nairobi. It went without saying that Awiti would be traveling on the train at our local train stop, called Namasoli halt, about a 3km walk from my home. From Namasoli, the next station would be Butere - the end of the line. The train would then turnback and come back to Namasoli, then proceed to Yala, Luanda, Maseno and eventually Kisumu. The train would pass by Namasoli heading Kisumu around one, having earlier passed by at eleven to go to Butere. The Kisumu-Nairobi travel, over about 360km, would take the whole night, from 5.00pm departure in Kisumu, to arrive in Nairobi at about 8.00am the next day. Slow and steady wins the race anyway, and that train won the race for as long as I was a child.
You would then be given a piece of paper and a pen, that is, if you were not asked to carry them along. The dictation would then start, you auntie dictating, while you write. And…. and there used to be secrets in those letters!!! Let me not reveal any, since I was a favourite scribe, due to my appealing handwriting.
Occasionally, the rain and the sun would be manifested at the same time. It was a rare occurrence, as rare as once a month. The children liked it. We liked it as children. When this spectacle happened, we would run out in the rain. We would sing out loud in our homestead. All the other children would sing out loudly in their homestead.
“It is shinning.
And it is raining.
The leopard is at the river.”
My village being multi-lingual, with both Luhyas and Luos, it would not be long before the song is being sung by the children in their mother-tongues, from each side of the village. From each homestead. The sign of life in the homestead. There was usually life in any homestead. The children. The grandchildren! The visiting children. Children taking shelter? Children sent from one homestead to another for something or another – for unga? For salt! For cooking oil! For matchsticks! Rarely, for sugar! Sometimes for money! How about children just visiting the next homestead for good old playtime.
“It is shinning.
And it is raining.
The leopard is at the well.”
The children sang. We could sing. We could play in the rain. One homestead sang it in Luhya. Another sung in in Luo. Some sung it in both.
The mothers would look out and shout at the children, shout at us!
“You children, get out of that rain at once!”
The children would ignore. We would ignore.
“These children! Get out of that rain now!”
“It is shinning.
And it is raining.
The leopard is at the river.”
The children would ignore their mothers and continue their jovial songs… in the rain.
“Back to the house now! Or you shall know that I am your mother!”
That would be the final straw. Motherhood would not be invoked until something serious was surely bound to happen. We had learnt that the mothers meant what they said. Some mothers would keep the promised punishment ‘in permanent storage’ and would not forget about it until the punishment had been fully dispensed – however long it took. Imagine coming home from school one month later, putting down your books, and being met with canes on your behinds. You would be informed that that was for the mistake that you did sometime last month. It would therefore be easier to get punished immediately, whenever you did wrong, instead of getting unexpected unpleasant surprises later on in the month.
However, children are children. We were we. Immediately after being recalled to the houses we would soon forget that we had been recalled. We would in a moment find ourselves out in the rain.
“It is shinning.
And it is raining.
The leopard is at the river.”
The sun-and-rain event would usually lasted for just a few minutes – usually five, ten tops. And soon the children would be back to normal, the frenzy of the leopard now gone, the proper rain would usually then start. The heavy one.
We would take turns in arranging containers along the verandah to receive the rainwater from the roof gutters. We would draw water and fill anything and everything that could contain some water. This harvesting of water would save us, the children, a good number of trips to the river. There would be no trip to the river for two or three days. The very river that we sung about. The song would be gone until another day. The gloom of solitude would set in as each child now stayed in their indoors. We would be sad that the leopard was no longer at the river. It was gone….
It was gone. I am going. Where am I?
I come back to reality to realize that I was still running at the trail near UiS. I was now out of the tarmac and already climbing the forest trail. I had been running now for about one hour. My mind was completely gone to the village. I did not even notice that the rain and sun had both stopped. I did not even realize that I was now dry. By dry, I mean ‘marathoner dry’, that is, ‘not dripping’. How else would it be dry on such a rainy and damp day?
It was also a cold day for many. This is because I met very few people walking the hills or walking the pedestrian tarmac. I met three people walking their dogs at different places on the trail. I met three other couples just walking around, fully jacketed somewhere along the trails. I was lucky to meet some three runners, at different points of the trail, doing their runs. It was a day of threes. I would meet three bikers on the pedestrian tarmac. And talking about the dogs, they were three different types. I have already confessed that I marvel at the many different types of dogs that I see on those trails – and we keep our respective distances.
I just added one circuit on the pedestrian tarmac walkway on the hillside and was done with my run of the day. I was just glad that my last long run had been done and that I would not be on such a long distance again until October 20. But now we had to see how the gadgets behaved, didn’t we?
For the first time I would only have to rely on Endomondo, since the GOA was not measuring distance from the start, while Runkeeper had failed to get GPS signal. I even recall hearing it saying, “one kilometer in fifteen minutes,” during one of its five minute interval announcements. It was a complete goner! Here goes:
Endomondo: 1.58.01 – 25.34km, with a route map to support its claim
Runkeeper: 1.58.03 – 21.43km – liar!
GOA: 1.57.59 – no distance tracked.
Learning Norsk
I was now learning some Norsk, or pretending to. I had to, otherwise it would be difficult to continue surviving. I had learnt a few survival terms. ‘Lett’ meant milk, or its derivatives. Anything with Lett either had milk, was derived from milk, or it was milk itself – told you! Now for a test of language. What can you make of a sign affixed on the washroom door that reads ‘Ledig’ with green lettering, and when you move the slider, it covers this and exposes the red-lettered word that reads, ‘Opptatt’? Obvious, isn’t it?
I had observed how uncaring our P10-nians were with this sign. They just matched into the washroom and left the label on ‘Ledig’. When you would try opening the ‘green’ door is when you would find that it was occupied and locked.
“Can’t you guys learn to slide the cover of that sign to indicate ‘occupied’?,” I usually murmur as I now had to either wait or use a next washroom assigned to other rooms. We have four washrooms, but each was assigned to four or three housemates. It however seemed impolite to use a washroom that had not been assigned to you.
Back to language classes, it did not take long for me to discover that ‘kylling’ and its derivatives is related to… to chicken. Just pick a ‘kyllingerklubber folkets’ package and be rest assured that you shall not be quite lost. The written words also tend to combine two or three stem words. That kylling-thing is a combination of about three separate words. ‘Epler’ is easy, surely. I can’t tell you that! ‘Tea’ is tea. It is ‘lett’, easy. How about ‘Applesinjuice’ – I told that there is combination of words. Try figure that one out. Now, this is easy, ‘Maismel’ – think Kenya for this one. ‘Bixit’ – the name says it as it is. Then we have ‘Sukker’? You know that already. ‘Lettmelk’ – too easy, told you so! What of ‘Rodlok’? – that is tricky right? Know that words are likely to have been combined. Let me break it down for you… how about rod+lok? What if I said that ‘rod’ is red? Surely? Anyway, that is red onions. ‘Nypotet’ – can’t be any easier, especially knowing that words are usually combined. Finally, ‘buss’? Easy, right!
Let me put a close to the 101 on language with ‘pant’. That one you shall guess wrong all the time. Don’t think English at all on that one. It took me many un-learning lessons to get that one right. ‘Pant’ means container. Usually returnable to the shop, upon which you get back some Kroner, usually three Kroners. As you can imagine, pans came in all shapes and sizes – think soda container, think juice container – yes, the plastic type. Think caned soda – yes, the can is also a ‘pant’ and it entitles you to a voucher of a few Kroner upon return. But let me not burst your bubble. You are initially charged for these pants as you purchase your items. It is common to see soda and juice price as NOK xx + pant. If you thought that means free ‘pant’, then better carry extra money. You shall pay xx + 3 NOK before you even attempt to get a receipt from the cashier.
I cannot end my vocabulary lesson without recounting what I experienced yesterday, Saturday, September 28. I had gone for ‘late’ shopping at about seven in the evening. It was still bright outside anyway. This shopping trip was important since I remembered to remember that next day, being a Sunday, all shops would be closed and those who did not shop for essentials would have to stay ‘hungry’ until Monday.
Once at the shop, I usually walk around just to appreciate the items and especially the cost of items. I also like the price tags at Kiwi. These tags are small LED screens, the size of a matchbox. Each such LED digital screen is affixed just under the products on the shelf. The screen indicates the price, the name of item and usually the cost per kg or cost per litre. That is the part that I like about the display – cost per unit. You can use that metric to easily compare two or more items and make a quick decision, that is, if you are price conscious. Who said that I am price conscious? I just use the information on the displays because I like the technology!
To my surprise, I found one complete counter covered by a full-length fabric, in a manner of blocking it from shoppers. The writings on the covering were in Norsk but it left no doubt as to what was going on. Apart from alcoholic drinks being served to only those over 23, the time to purchasing drinks had also passed, and hence the counters had to be closed by fabric curtain. Of course, one could easily just pass a hand behind the fabric and pick a drink + pant.
However, how you would get it out of the outlet would be the challenge, since once closed, there is no selling, however many you want to buy – even if you offered to purchase the whole supermarket. You ain’t buying nothing. You just have to come back on Monday and buy the whole supermarket. Even then, ensure you do it before 7.00pm. Bottom line, you cannot buy alcohol after seven, even if the world was ending. Final word on the language classes – free guessing on what the following have in common: Lammestek, Lammebog, Farikalkjott Lam, Lammelar I skiver – just find the common denominator. Then guess what this list all about.
Planning a walk or a run is difficult here in Stavanger, a generalization of the whole country. You cannot run or walk along the main roads. You must use a pedestrian sidewalk at all times. These pedestrian walkways do not necessarily follow the profile of the main road. At some point, these walkways divert far from the main road and you really need to have some ‘faith’ in the system to still believe that you are walking/running in the general direction of the road. Eventually you should be able to get back to walking next to the road. That means that you need to carefully plan your walks or runs. You need to know which walkway to use in order to arrive at a particular point on the geography of the place where you are going. Crossing the road is only done at pedestrian crossing. If there is not pedestrian crossing – marked as much – then there is no crossing. You are not supposed to just walk across the road – simply because you can.
Lack of a pedestrian crossing on a road would mean one of two things – either there is a pedestrian underpass in the vicinity somewhere or you have not yet reached the pedestrian crossing zone. The good news is that the vehicles would stop for you at these designated pedestrian crossings. At a traffic lights controlled pedestrian crossing, you can either wait for the green light or press a ‘priority’ button on the traffic light post on the side of the road. That button would prioritize the lights to turn green to enable you cross, without having to wait for too long. Remember, the drivers are blind to pedestrians at traffic light controlled junctions. They strictly obey the lights. They shall surely knock you over without an inkling if you were to cross when it is all clear for vehicles to drive through.
Bottom line – this system of running only on pedestrian walkways would require careful planning of your walks and runs – usually planning in advance, especially if you are running and timing and targeting a particular point on the geography. Chances of being ‘lost’ are quite high, even when you can see your destination. You do not just cross any part of the road to go to your desired destination. You have to find the designated crossing.
When I left for my Monday run, I had to keep in mind that all runs should be done on the pedestrian sidewalks and crossing of roads only at pedestrian crossing – those marked as such. That meant running some longer distances, just to maintain the profile of these expected routes. This Monday run was similar to the one of last Friday – in fact, I could have said congruent to the Friday run, had it not been for a few exceptions.
My run started with the wristwatch failing to sync with the ‘accelero’ timer gadget on the shoe, just like it failed on Friday. The phone with Runkeeper failed to register GPS as I started the run at 5.30pm, just like it did two days ago. The weather was just as cold as Friday. There had been a preamble of rain – just like Friday. The exception was that the preamble even had some hailstones, albeit briefly. The first time I had seen this. The other exception was that it did not rain while I did my three warmup runs around UiS. The other exception was that it was unusually cold. Colder than last time. I could feel it. My breathing was labored. My hands were freezing. My speed was suffering. I felt lethargic with every step that I took. I was really longing for the hills, where at least the trees would ‘somehow’ shield me from the windy cold drafts.
I reached the hill side after thirty-five minutes of run. It did not take long before it started raining. That cold windy rain. It was cold I tell you. My hands were suffering the effects. The wind hitting me straight from my approach made the cold worse. I knew that this was it.
“This is it,” I murmured, “I would have to drop out of this one!”
The rain would soon stop, and the wind would also reduce. This gave me time to re-think my dropping out of the run. By this time, I was back to my road of approach to the hills. I was now about to take the forested trail that runs within the trees. It is true that it was warmer in the coverage of the tall tree canopies on both sides of the trail. Just like Friday, I still met a few people either walking the dogs, walking on their own – none, and jogging around – three. The rest of the run was just like Friday.
I kept going, same route, same pace assumedly and finishing the run when it was already dark. This run was as similar as it can ever be to the last one. I finished with ‘frozen’ hands. I could hardly clench a fist. It took great effort to hold the key and open the main entrance door to P10 block. It is crazy but true. I could hardly close my fingers on the key to get it to the keyhole. It was strange. I was freezing. This was bad. Friday was not this bad. Similar distance, but different temperatures. However, would the be timing be similar?
Endomondo: 1.56.45 today v/s 1.58.01 – 25.50km today v/s 25.34km
Runkeeper: 1.56.43 today v/s 1.58.03 – 24.93km today v/s wrong time last time
GOA: 1.56.53 v/s 1.57.59 – no distance tracked, but I had done the distance 1 minute faster! Wow!
I did not know which of the gadgets to give the run of that today, but my long runs were done – I didn’t care. All my focus was now on the big marathon in 20-days’ time. That is all that mattered. I also hoped that I would not be facing another freeze during any other run! It took me twenty minutes in the shower to get my body back to normal. I was starting to worry that something had failed in me. I could hardly fell and use my fingers, especially the right hand. I had to start by soaking the hands in a warm shower jet, progressively increasing the water temperature as my body adapted. My forehead remained painful for sometime. The progressively warming water seemed to work. By the time I had set the temperature to the usual 34 degrees, I was back to normal – but that was twenty minutes later. I do not wish such a cold freezing run on anybody – not even myself.
Yet some more
For the first time ever – the Runkeeper failed. Let me rephrase, the Runkeeper shutdown before the end of the run. I would later discover that the phone battery had been drained. It was strange, when I tried unlocking the screen to stop the run, only to discover that the phone was not coming back on. I had to do a forced power on for the phone to start and give me that beep-beep-beep battery 1%. The last time I heard the phone make those 5-minute announcements was on the 1.35.00 split, when it announced that I had done “Twenty kilometers three hundred metres in one hour thirty-five minutes.” In contrast, the Endomondo announces the 1km splits. I had heard from both during most of the run. However, Runkeeper failed to ‘report back’ when I expected it to, at the finish of my around just past 1hr 40min. I knew that something was amiss. Now I know that it is the power that was amiss – first time this had ever happened. It must have been the cold?
I started my run at 4.53pm. Both the phone-based apps were on 100% GPS signal. They indicated as such. The wristwatch could still not sync with the foot gadget – the accelero – the small black gadget that I affix on my shoelace to communicate to the wristwatch and measure distance. I suspected that the battery was not fitting properly, having bought a CR2016 battery locally, that was thinner that the usual CR2030. The battery fitted loosely and worked for a few runs – as few as whole of August and September. The failure started this week. I either have to buy the right fitting batt or tweak the gadget to somehow hold the wrong battery more tightly.
The sun was shining as I started my run. This is the first time in over a month that I have had an evening sunshine during my run. The sun did not necessarily mean warmth, but it mitigated some of the cold in the weather. So it was shining alright, but it was still cold, though not as cold. I did the three circuits around UiS as warmup and then headed for the hills to run within the forest. The run was as familiar as usual, apart from the lack of rain that meant many more walkers, dog handlers, bikers and joggers than usual. The trail was also dry. The other ‘usuals’ remained. The tranquility in the forest. The nobody-says-hello-at-all persisted, the rabbits that cross the road in the forest kept crossing.
The run had nothing unusual. It was a run like any other. It would come to an end with Runkeeper powered off, and ….
Endomondo: 1.42.44 – 22.15km
Runkeeper: failed at 1.35.55 at 20.55km
GOA: 1.42.46
I was now back to the three-runs-a-week routine. This was now run 2-of-3 for this week and it was going great. I was also reducing my run distances having finished the longer runs the previous week. I was now on 1hr 45minutes max runs. Looking forward, I would have my last three-times-a-week run next week, then I take a breather in week of Oct. 13. Then… on Oct. 20, we run the big NL.
Failed run
It was just a matter of time before this was bound to happen. And it did happen, hardly two days after my last run. It happened during my Friday, October 4, 2019 evening run. It had not rained through the day. A brief drizzle had earlier escorted me to class around noon, but the weather was back to ‘normal’ by the time I took that X60 bus at 1330 for the 10-minute trip to Stavanger town. I ensured that I was through with my town business in the shortest time possible, since I had to force myself to be back within an hour of the time of purchase of ticket, so that I can benefit from a roundtrip with the same NOK 37.00 ticket. The definition of normal weather is one that is cold, still and overcast. Anything warmer than that is ‘abnormal hot’ or ‘normal cold’ if on the other side of the spectrum.
The weather was still normal as I got ready to leave for the evening run. The sun was even visible on the west, ready to go down in two or so hours. The sun provides light, not warmth, and hence I was not surprised to experience a very ‘cold sunny’ evening. I started the run at 1740. I just did my three runs round UiS as warmup before going to the forest trail on the hills. I started the run with my wristwatch not recording distance due to missing accelero, the phone with the Runkeeper was not receiving GPS signals, and the only working gadget seemed to be the phone with the Endo.
The run was like any other, apart from the cold. The sun persisted, while the cold persisted. My hands were getting frozen with every passing kilometer – but – the sun persisted. It was evidently cold as per the new ‘measure’ of outdoor ‘conducivity*’ that I had developed. This measure registers the number of walkers, joggers, riders and dog handlers on the forest trail on any particular day. The more you see these various groups, the better the weather is. There were very few of any of these groups on this day. The measure was therefore that ‘outdoor conducivity was low, hence cold and unsuitable for outdoor activities’.
*conducive – inflected to conduciv-ity
It however got dark by seven, just like that, the very time that I was to finish my run. It was dark when I got back to P10. I was surprised when I attempted to stop the gadgets, only to realize that Endomondo had failed, and was showing that ‘An error occurred, do you want to restart’?
“You can’t lose my run and ask me to restart?, How do I re-measure?, Do I have to repeat the run to get the data?,” I asked the phone.
The other phone with Runkeeper had failed to get GPS for quite some distance, starting to register the first kilometer about fifteen minutes later. In other words, it had failed.
It goes without saying that the wristwatch had failed ‘ab-initio’, though it was still operational on a stopwatch-only mode, the distance mode having failed.
So, there it was, it did happen that ALL my gadgets had failed on the same day at the same time!
The timing registered, ignoring distance:
Endomondo: formed me to reset it to zero, though it had registered 11.19km in 0.53.05 by the time of reset
Runkeeper: 1.32.08, registering 17.25km
GOA: 1.32.15
To resolve the impasse, l had to do a manual measurement of the route using Google Maps and realized that the distance covered should have been 19.5km, however, the ‘permanent’ records remain at 17.25km – just another experience on the running journey.
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