Pomona Pitzer Athletics

Finding the 2004 Kenyan XC Champs
11 Feb 2004 - Wednesday

(T&FN correspondent Kirk Reynolds is visiting Kenya this winter and will be submitting observations from time to time. The first major distance running stop on Reynolds' trip will be the Kenyan Cross Country Nationals, the competitive kettle from which annually emerge world-beating Kenyan squads for the World Cross Country Champs)

One of Wednesday's papers finally had a short article on the cross country national championships scheduled for Friday. Like in the US, the Kenyan sports pages offer scant coverage of running; recent articles have focused on cricket, the impending arrival of Manchester United's under-15 soccer team for ten days, and the 2004 African Cup of Nations soccer tournament in Tunisia, where Kenya didn't advance out of its group.

Wednesday, the Daily Nation had nothing on 'athletics,' but the East African Standard had a photo of women racing in last month's Armed Forces Championships and an accompanying article announcing some of the more notable entrants (as well as the official notification of the absence of five-time World Champ Paul Tergat from the Armed Forces men's team). There was no mention, however, of where and when the races were to be held. Before leaving home, I had visited the webpage to Athletics Kenya (www.athleticskenya.org) to try and glean some information ahead of time, but many links, including the schedule page, went nowhere. I did print out a page with a phone number and address. No one answered the phone at 10am, so I figured I'd jump in a taxi and go there directly.

Athletics Kenya is housed in the upstairs of a newish, funky, open-air building called Riadha House a bit out of downtown, with the hustle and bustle of cars and foot traffic along Aerodrome Road and the dizzying squeal of cars on the roundabout that meets with Uhuru Highway near Nyayo National Stadium.

I went up the front stairs and into the inner courtyard, and saw a shiny gold sign that said 'KAAA' for the Kenya Amateur Athletic Association, but no directory, so I asked a couple of gentlemen walking out if they knew where the AK offices were. Apologetic, they said no, and I poked around the lower level some more before heading upstairs.

Walking along a 2nd floor balcony I saw a desk ahead with a woman seated there. It would be like a desk on the balcony of a Motel 6: functioning, open to the breezes, but rather incongruous in its location. I asked if she knew where AK was, and she said it was right here. I stated that I was looking for information on Friday's competition-schedules of races, the location, maybe an advance meet program, etc. She looked at me uncertainly, and I couldn't tell whether she didn't know about the race details, or about the meet itself--the one that would determine the 2004 national cross country team of the world's most successful distance running country.

She motioned that I should step inside an office right behind her desk, so I knocked on the open door, went in, and found an older gentleman seated at a desk looking at some papers. No computer, maybe a phone tucked somewhere, but not visible. Just some papers and notebooks, and four walls painted an unsettling green. I tried to imagine any USATF staffer in Indianapolis handling such surroundings, but stopped myself. Instead, I rationalized a sensible equilibrium. On one hand, you had an inefficient (by Western standards) and historically embattled AK office overseeing the world's fastest runners, and on the other hand you had what is I'm certain a highly modern USATF office overseeing, well, runners slower than the Kenyans.

I introduced myself to the gentleman and asked him about the meet. He looked back down, began shuffling his papers some more, then said, "Are you already registered to race?" I had to stifle a laugh at the George Plimpton-esque thought of me on the starting line next to Eliud Kipchoge, Richard Limo, John Kibowen, et al. A resulting book's first chapter would discuss me hearing the gun and seeing numerous Kenyan rear ends fade off in the distance ahead, and then multiple chapters would follow about altitude sickness, searing lungs, inchoate pain, and a sobbing, hours-long recovery.

"No, I just wanted to spectate," I said to the gentleman. At that, he looked up, with an expression of puzzled astonishment. "Spectate? You mean watch the races?" I nodded yes, and he said, "Well, the first race starts Friday at 8:00 sharp with the young boys, and we will get through all the races, and we will be handing out trophies by 11:30. The races will be at Ngong Race Course, and for you there will be no admission charge to spectate."

2004 Kenyan National Cross Country Championships
(T&FN correspondent Kirk Reynolds visited Kenya and submitted observations from time to time. The first major distance running stop on Reynolds' trip was the Kenyan Cross Country Nationals, the competitive kettle from which annually emerge world-beating Kenyan squads for the World Cross Country Champs)

RACE DAY
13 Feb 2004 - Friday
“I don’t think the horses are racing today,” says my taxi driver. “And certainly not at 8am.”
We’re heading out onto Nairobi streets, and I’ve asked the driver to take me to the Ngong Racecourse, the capital city’s horse racing venue about 10k southwest of downtown.
“No, not horses. Runners are competing there this morning,” I say. As we thread our way through cars and people, I tell him about the Kenyan National Cross Country Championships, and he tells me he knows that Kenya has good running athletes, but that he didn’t know they were running at home today. The papers again had no mention of the event.
Nairobi has been in a transportation crisis the past couple of weeks. The government is cracking down on the licensing of public buses and matatus, the local mini-buses, vans and trucks that typically overload with passengers-sometimes 15-17 in a vehicle. The government wants fewer passengers, seatbelts, and speed governors on the engine, plus regular inspections to stem the continual rash of accidents -- many lethal -- in the country. As a result, people have had trouble getting into the city to work. The few trains are packed, and even have crowds of people hanging outside on the outside walls and sitting on the roof. Many more people than normal are simply walking miles and miles to their job.
As we head out of town to Ngong, we’re fighting upstream against a mass of cars bumper-to-bumper heading in, and hundreds of people walking along the road edge. Car horns and thick clouds of black diesel exhaust from trucks and buses fill the crisp air.
As we near halfway I begin to see a few others swimming against the current as well. Runners. And they’re running. On the dirt paths on the side of the road, they’re wearing sweat jackets to ward off the morning chill, and some are clutching racing flats. Occasionally, they’re even going faster than we are, and they’re getting a pre-race warmup through the often thick haze of exhaust. I wonder how far they’ve had to come.
Ngong Racecourse is beautiful: well off the main road, and serene in the morning light. A once-a-week schedule of horse racing occurs on the wide, 2400m grass oval, but today it has been transformed into a terrific cross country venue. A small grandstand sits next to the track edge, and the cross country course is a 2000m loop that has two long, side-by-side straights going both directions in front of the grandstand, with two sweeping loops on each end. It’s slightly rolling the entire way.
Large signs mark the start and finish areas, and the course is edged with plastic ribbon wrapped around what look like thin, 1-inch tree saplings that have been hatcheted into 4-foot lengths. The grass is thick, long and dewy at 7:30, and it’s probably 60 degrees, sunny. It will get hotter throughout the morning. Tall trees frame the track edge, and a 9-hole golf course tucks inside the horse loop. It’s perfect.
Anticipation fills the air, which is an improvement on the diesel exhaust down on Ngong Road. Runners are warming up, coaches are huddling with athletes. Officials are setting up tables and banners, and running a long white electrical cord from the stadium to the results tent by the finish.

As a sport, cross country pits runners of various strengths into a smaller number of races. Instead of the multiple track options of 800m, 1500m, 3000m steeplechase, 5000m, and 10,000m races, all runners get to choose between only two cross country options: long or short. Shortly, here at Ngong, what some term ‘the toughest race in the world’ will commence, with scores of the world’s best runners competing against each other for a handful of berths to the 2004 World Cross Country Championships. I can’t believe I’m here.

Teams have arrived from many areas of the country: Armed Forces, Police, Prisons, North Rift, Western, South Rift, Central, Nyanza South, Southern, Nairobi, Coast. But what strikes me most of all-visually- is the profusion of national team wear. You know, the green, red and black singlets and warm-up jackets that turn your head at U.S. and international meets (“There’s a Kenyan! Who is it?”). As athletes pin on bib numbers among various groups sitting in different team camps, someone is usually wearing national gear. My neck hurts, and I have to remind myself that I’m in Kenya and, well, nearly everyone is a Kenyan, so get over it. But then I counter myself by realizing that I’m walking among world-record holders, Olympic Champions, World Champions, major marathon winners, all-time lists runners, etc.

The PA announcer begins to talk, and it’s a verbal stream of Swahili and English: instructions to athletes and coaches, pleas for officials to report, and a continual welcome to everyone to this “wonderful event.” He won’t stop all day.
The first race at 8am is the women’s junior 6k, and about 50 toe the line-with half the field doing so literally, without shoes. I even see a handful wearing dresses or skirts. After three laps of the course, Chemutai Rionotukei wins by two seconds in 20:02.

It’s still cool for the senior men’s 4k at 8:30, but I’m swearing because my camera has stopped working. Last year’s track sensation Abraham Chebii and two-time World Champion John Kibowen lead the group as they come back in front of the grandstand at 1k and head toward the other end. Suddenly, they’re back again at 2k. Now, I know running, or at least think I do. I’m constantly around high school and college runners, I’ve seen U.S. Champs and Olympics in person from stadium seats, and I’ve run most of my life, but this is insane. They scream around their two loops. I scream at my camera just enough to unfreeze it and snap a shot of Chebii winning just near the line. His time is 11:00, and eighth place is just five seconds back. It’s awesome, awesome.

The PA announcer is terrific. In addition to calling the races, he is giving some background on individuals-both in the races and in the crowd. “Here in the stands is the winner of the Boston Marathon.” Or, “Olympic medalist…” Or “This runner is the two-time cross country world champion.” Or, “Commonwealth Games winner…” I begin to scrawl a list of names on a scrap of paper, but it fills so fast I eventually abandon it and decide simply to soak it all in. Crowds line the fence along the course and roar and cheer at runners, and encourage individuals in Swahili as they pass: “Catch her!” “Keep going!” “Now! Right here!”

In the senior women’s 8k, Alice Timbilil breaks away mid-race from Sally Barsosio, the former 10k World Champ, who is returning from maternity leave. Timbilil clocks 26:46. Finishing sixth and earning a spot on the worlds team is ageless Jane Ngotho, who first competed in the world champs 17 years ago.

Standing near the finish line, I also notice that a man is holding up a lap counter along with a bell, and is giving every single racer their bell lap. It’s not like the track, however, where you have only a short kick to the finish. Only 2k more to go! It’s easy for the 4k runners. I imagine it’ll be much more helpful for the six-lap men’s race at the end of the morning.

I also become aware of something quite interesting. Among all the runners heading to the start-whether junior, senior, man or woman-no one seems to be filled with the near-paralyzing, going-to-the-gallows dread that I see in many U.S. high school, college and even national races. Kenyans, if nervous at all, at least express it differently. Instead of panicked, near-to-vomiting faces that many U.S. starting lines feature, Kenyan runners act as if embarking on a challenging adventure that they know will be exceedingly tough, but survivable-an opportunity that just might even be enjoyable, all things considered. Faces project confident but not cocky coolness. Sure, there’s some bouncing and fidgeting while anticipating the gun, but it’s done along with lots of smiling and hand-shaking and interaction among competitors. Then the gun goes off and the racing is forceful and hearty.

The sun is getting higher and it’s probably 70 degrees now. In the junior men’s 8k race, Barnabas Kosgei separates himself from a pack of seven halfway, then raises his arms at the line to win by five seconds in 23:28. Kosgei leads a 1-2-3 sweep by the North Rift team.

A nattily-uniformed school band has arrived and has set up shop in the shade of the grandstand. The director regularly stands up and strikes up the band-sometimes during a race, sometimes after. Never, however, during the starting gun. With trumpets, trombones, woodwinds, bass drum, etc., it makes for a raucous, boisterous atmosphere, especially since the PA announcer tries to continue over the top of the music.

I am probably one of 15 white people among a crowd that the following day’s The Nation newspaper will estimate at 5000. We wazungu (the non-derisive plural Swahili term for people of European or North American descent) stand out. As I move around the course, I’m repeatedly asked, “Jambo, are you here with your runners?” Or, “Are you a manager?” I chat, and tell them I’m just here watching as a fan. Other wazungu aren’t. Some seem to be managers, coaches, and somehow runner-affiliated. One races in the 4k.

It’s somewhat unsettling to acknowledge the fact that most Kenyan runners are represented internationally by wazungu. Here at 2004 National Cross Country Championships at Ngong Racecourse, surrounded by Kenyan fans, runners, coaches, and officials, my mental alarm goes off, telling me that something’s not quite right with this fact. I also can’t come up with any easy answers to placate my unease.

Kenya, a former British colony, gained independence in 1963 and has a population today of about 31 million people. The country depends highly on income from tourism, mainly from vacationing wazungu on safari to the fabulous game parks. Put crassly, this results in a two-tiered system, with many Kenyan citizens (on one level) employed in difficult, often low-paying jobs to enable money-laden visitors (on another level) a posh international adventure. Even though many Kenyan runners have earned untold riches on the world’s track or road running circuit, the numerous relationships between Kenyan runners and wazungu agents seems disquietingly similar.

Meanwhile, on the golf course inside the expansive horse loop, a lone golfer mzungu (the singular term) arrives at the hole nearest the grandstand. He’s with a Kenyan caddie. He looks over at the hubbub curiously. “Some of the greatest athletes in the world, pal,” I want to yell at him. “And carry your own bag.” But I don’t. He hits a middling iron shot and heads off, caddie trailing.

The biggest upset of the day comes in the senior women’s 4k. The race features Edith Masai, who has won the last two straight short-course world titles, plus Jane Gakunyi, third at last year’s world meet. But barefooted Beatrice Jepchumba surprises both late in the second loop to win, with Gakunyi second and Masai third. How can a two-time defending world champion, seemingly at full strength, finish third in her national champs? Yes, this is Kenya.

The last race of the day, the senior men’s 12k race, is scheduled to start at 10:30, but it’s closer to 11:15 when the gun fires. It’s probably 80 degrees and humid, not perfect for racing, but I don’t hear anyone complaining. This field is the day’s biggest, and the front pack after 2k is huge, with a front wall of eight runners.

After the lead group rips by, the rest of the field begins to thin out, and then individual trailers follow. I think the entire pack has passed, but then I see one more runner making his way toward me. He’s an older gentleman, with a well-worn shirt and shorts. Slightly hunched, but still possessing good turnover, he looks to me to be 45 or so, which in this country would probably make him 55. Although he gets lapped during the fourth circuit, he finishes the race.
Up front, notable names include 5k world track champ Eliud Kipchoge (in that thrilling, last-lap WC win over Hicham El Guerrouj), last year’s national xc winner John Korir, former 5k world champ Richard Limo, former 10k world champ Charles Kamathi, former Boston marathon champ Robert Cheruiyot, and numerous others all within striking distance of the lead. Also up front are brothers Abraham Cherono and Saif Saaeed Shaheen, the former Stephen Cherono, who changed his nationality last year to Qatar in a controversial decision that has privately embittered many in Kenya, although his decision has rarely been chastised in public. After running a world-leading time early last track season representing Kenya, Shaheen later won the world championship 3k steeplechase representing Qatar. He still lives most of the year in Kenya.
Shaheen moves into the lead and forces a torrid pace, with Cheruiyot in pursuit. But a chase pack of four captures them again, and by 8k it’s Kipchoge who’s pushing the tempo. Shaheen drops out. Kipchoge breaks everyone by 10k and runs the final loop solo to win by 7 seconds in 35:19.
Out of the chute, Kipchoge is mobbed by friends, fans and reporters, and he gives a breathless yet animated interview in Swahili for both TV and radio. My Swahili is rough, but in response to a question, I’m pretty sure I hear him say, “I don’t know. I’ve never raced 12,000 meters before.” I’m pushed out of the mob and can’t hear anymore. In The Nation the next day, Kipchoge is quoted as saying, “The race was like a glimpse of hell. At one time I did not know whether or not I would pull this one off.”

Kenyan National XC Champs - Post-race

Iten Training Camp - Part 1
(T&FN correspondent Kirk Reynolds visited Kenya and submitted observations from time to time. The second major stop on Reynolds' trip was Iten, a hotbed for distance runners. We are presenting Reynolds’ Iten observations in three installments.)
A detour to Western Kenya (Iten observations 1)
I’m in Kenya on a spring term sabbatical from my job at a small U.S. college, and I have traveled to Kenya for two reasons.
First, I wanted to watch the Kenya National Cross Country Championships. I saw the team picked, and I’m hoping to travel to their national camp and then watch the team race in the 2004 World Cross Country Championships in Brussels in March.
My second purpose for traveling here is to examine physical activity levels in Kenyan youth. I packed 28 pedometers with me to Kenya to put on school children to see how far they walk in a day, and I have traveled to Iten, a small town in Western Kenya, to do so, since this area is the source of the vast majority of Kenya’s elite runners. It is 30-plus kilometers uphill from Eldoret.
There are many anecdotal stories about Kenyan kids traveling miles (or kilometers, rather) to and from school, but I haven’t yet found any published studies examining overall walking rates for school children in Kenya. I aim to put pedometers on children for a day to see how far in distance they travel, and how many steps they take in a 24-hour period. I’ll compare it to U.S. children when I return home.
Iten is a running hotbed. I am staying at one of the many running camps here, and have quickly felt at ease with the hosts and the others in camp, who include a handful of Kenyan men and women, plus a Dutch contingent of about eight. The last three mornings I’ve gotten up to run with someone, and there are dozens of other runners on the roads, in a multi-directional parade of sweatsuits and running shoes. In conversation, you identify yourself as staying at a particular camp. “I’m staying at Saucony.” Or, “You’re over at Fila?” Plus there are many, many other runners who are living or training in the area outside of a camp.
The area is unbelievably gorgeous. The altitude is about 8000 feet, and the land is primarily agricultural owing to the rich, fertile soil found here. The region is the most densely populated of Kenya.
In early morning when the sun rises, the land is exceedingly beautiful, and the running is magical. It’s easy to get off the single paved road between Eldoret and Iten, which becomes a busier thoroughfare during the day. You simply turn off onto one of the numerous, much-less-traveled dirt side roads and head through the shambas, or family plots, greeting the residents as they begin their day. Uniformed school-children heading to class stare at me, the mzungu, and practice their English (“How are you? How are you?”), until you think you’ve smiled, waved and said, “Hello, fine” back to each kid in town three times.
The climate and running ambiance is reminiscent of Hawaii, if you were to run on the richly-colored dirt roads of the sugar cane or pineapple farms. The main differences? Here in Iten, there are many people walking, there’s no Pacific Ocean and you’re at 8000 feet. And you’re in Africa. Otherwise, the air feels the same—crisp, clean, invigorating—and the same types of birds are singing their morning songs.
The previous two days I ran (in the most liberal sense of the word) about 35 minutes each time. At 6am it’s still pitch dark, but the daylight practically switches on since Kenya is on the equator, and by 6:20 there is ample light to see the roads.
One morning I ran with a woman in the camp from Gambia via Holland (a long story, to be sure), and she promised she was going “easy, easy” for a short run. It turned out to be a 50 minute loop that started downhill and I knew I was in trouble. After 30 minutes the route turned uphill, and with one last ‘where is he?’ look over her shoulder, she had dropped me. So I just slowed down and enjoyed the view. Plodding along, I was passed by many Kenyans running much more easily but also much quicker than I. I’m sure they were enjoying the view, too.
I have taken this most recent morning off. Instead, I walked up to the main road to see the day’s procession of athletes. In 15 minutes, I count 32 Kenyans out for a morning training run, either solo or in small groups. In a Kenya team jacket, marathon ace Joyce Chepchumba led a large group of women down the dirt road toward Kipsoen Secondary School.
My once-a-day training pales in comparison to the common training scheme here of three workouts a day. The first session is a dawn run, which for Kenyans is often a quickly-paced road run because that’s when you’re fresh from a good night’s sleep. The second workout at around 10am can be a quality track session, or strength workout, or core stability or drill workout. The third session around 4pm is an easy-paced run on the roads for 60-90 minutes to finish the day off. On Sunday, a long morning run begins in the dark at 5am and lasts 2-3 hours, and may mean only one workout that day. So that’s six days times three workouts, plus one day of only one workout: 19 workouts a week. Back at home, I’m not training for anything other than general health, keeping up with my wife and kid, and getting our dog some exercise. It takes me over three weeks to reach that same number, and we’re not even going to discuss quality.
Beyond training, there’s eating and sleeping. And that’s your day.
Kenyans do also talk a lot with each other, whether in person on the street, or on the phone. Kenya has a booming cell phone industry. It’s much simpler to put up a cell tower to cover a wide area than it would be to run land lines to each home. Kenya boasts two competing companies, and it is expensive to call from one company to a user at the other. In fact, it’s cheaper to have a cell phone from each company than it is to call between companies. Thus, a Kenyan will often have two phones tucked away. Calling Friend A on Company 1? Use this phone, and so on.
Kenyans also take great care in staying dressed up and looking snazzy, despite the widespread dirt, dust and grime that pervade the streets. Brightly colored fabrics stand out in the sun. On the streets I see suits, ties, dresses, and shiny shoes.
Walking from camp to the town of Iten with a local one day, I’m laughing hysterically. He greets this person or that person and after we walk away, gives their marathon time to me. That guy is a 2:08; this man is a 2:09. The man who just drove by in the small white Nissan pickup? 2:06. The amount of success is overwhelming.

Iten Training Camp - 2
(T&FN correspondent Kirk Reynolds is visited Kenya and submitted observations from time to time. The second major stop on Reynolds' trip was Iten, a hotbed for distance runners. We are presenting Reynolds’ Iten observations in three installments.)
Iten observations 2
There’s no secret to Kenyan running success. It’s hard work. Many others have listed what might be considered foundational variables that could give Kenyans a jump start on their running: being born and living at altitude, which boosts red cell counts and blood oxygen; abundant walking as kids, either to school, to fetch water or firewood, or with family cattle, and often without shoes, developing foot and leg strength; an ancestral history among certain tribes of cattle raiding involving miles and miles of foot travel out of the area; a high pain threshold attributed to circumcision rites; a diet high in both carbohydrates and protein, comprised of fresh, non-processed food; etc.
While this edges close to the precarious subject of a genetic advantage, I’m certain that these, and other reasons, all contribute—in a non-causal way—to running success. But you still have to train—and train with a single-minded fervor rare in today’s American society, where being simply passable at many things is supposed to demonstrate much-desired diversity. Many Iten- and Eldoret-area Kenyans run with a sole-minded, self-defining passion. And many Kenyans from tribes outside of this area are moving here to train, as well.
The Kalenjin people are one of three primary subgroups of the Nilotic tribes, an ethno-linguistic group in Kenya’s Western Highlands and Rift Valley area. They have produced, by far, the bulk of the country’s distance running success—both in road racing, and on the track, and for both men and women. Composed of people from tribes such as the Keiyo, Kipsigi, Marakwet, Nandi, Pokot, Sabaot, Terik and Tugen, the Kalenjin comprise about one-tenth of Kenya’s total population of 31 million people.
Kenyan running expert John Manners calculated in 1997 that the Kalenjin had earned about 75% of Kenya’s distance running awards in cross country, road racing and track and field. Here are Manners’ numbers (from www.Kenyarunners.com) on Kalenjin success through 1996: 43.6% of the top-10 positions from 1992-1996 in the five men’s distance events from 800m – 10,000m, 38% of the top-10 all-time list positions in those events, 34% of all Olympic and World Championships medals in those events from 1988-1996, 50% of all men’s medals in the World Cross Country Championships from 1988-1996. In sum, Manners estimates that out of all honors up for grabs worldwide in men’s distance running, Kalenjin men have won 40% of them.
In their book “Kenyan Running,” authors John Bale and Joe Sang make the point that the nation-state of Kenya is simply a politically-imposed boundary. The Kenyan national uniform that Kalenjin runners wear in international competition accentuates differences between nations (i.e. Kenya’s medal count at the Olympics), while at the same time it minimizes differences between various tribes by promoting national unity through success (i.e., again, Kenya’s medal count at the Olympics).
So what makes Kenyans, and Kalenjin in particular, run so well? A quick analogy using the well-known food pyramid comes to mind. We all know the structure: a bottom underpinning of bread, cereal, rice, pasta, then a middle level of veggies and fruits, then a higher level of dairy, meat, poultry, fish, beans, and eggs, all topped by a small portion of oils, fats and sweets that one is supposed to “use sparingly.” Each area of the pyramid has a suggested number of servings per day for healthy living.
Now picture a running pyramid to maximize your running success. Your best running will come from sampling significantly from all the areas in the pyramid. On the bottom of the running pyramid you have the foundational variables listed above—the breads and cereals, if you will—of altitude, walking, ancestral history, pain threshold, etc. In the middle you might put self-care: sleeping a lot, and eating healthy, non-processed foods. And the top of the pyramid—the dessert of running—is hard work, but instead of “use sparingly,” it is recommended that a runner “use abundantly” from this top level.
Kenyans can, and do, sample heartily from all levels.
One could argue that the general Kalenjin population possesses the bottom- and middle-level traits. Stretching the argument further, you could say that most any Kalenjin could become a decent runner by adding the top layer of hard work. Indeed, Berkeley anthropologist Vincent Sarich has statistically estimated that the average Kalenjin could outrun 90% of the rest of the human race.
You could also argue that the general U.S. population possesses very little from any of the levels of the running pyramid. Stretching the argument further, you could say that most national-class U.S. runners possess traits from the top levels—many runners work hard and take care of their bodies through rest and nutrition—but are missing the foundation. The food pyramid analogy eventually breaks down because a runner simply can’t opt to take something from the bottom level; that is, a U.S. runner can’t go back and be reborn at 8000’ altitude, or choose an ancestral history of cattle raiding.
I’m not saying it is a lost cause for any U.S. runner to catch up with the Kenyans, but it would seem to take an inordinate amount of the running pyramid’s middle and top layers to even the playing field. U.S. instances do exist to prove it is possible (see Deena Drossin, Bob Kennedy).

Iten Training Camp-3
(T&FN correspondent Kirk Reynolds is visited Kenya and submitted observations from time to time. The second major stop on Reynolds' trip was Iten, a hotbed for distance runners. We are presenting Reynolds’ Iten observations in three installments.)

Iten observations 3
The other night a handful of us from the camp went to a nearby place for dinner called Kerio View. It overlooks the edge of the Rift Valley in a stunning manner. It sits on the edge of a steep rim, and you look down on an incredible view thousands of feet to the Rift floor. One striking fact about the view was the obvious lack of electrical power. In a whipping, breezy dusk, as the sun was heading down, you could see a multitude of farms and mud-hut houses with cattle enclosures on the valley floor all the way across to the other side where the valley heads back up to Kabernet, Paul Tergat’s hometown. The sun quickly dropped behind us, and everything quickly got darker and darker, and then it was night and there were no lights. None. Way off in the distance, surrounded by a pitch black sky and earth, you could see barely see a tiny patch of lights in Kabernet on the far rim, but everywhere else you knew that thousands of people were living without power and the accompanying lights, tv, fridges, stereos, etc.
The Kamariny Stadium track about two kilometers outside Iten, like Kerio View, is also right on the edge of the Rift Valley. The track is one of only three in the greater Eldoret area, and rumor has it that it’s longer than 400m. A Dutch marathoner with a GPS watch clocks it today at 403m, leading to a reasonable guess that it’s an old British-built 440y oval.
The stadium is wooden and ancient, a steeple pit sits in the grass at the north end, and three warped wooden SC barriers sit on the homestretch. On the infield, two worn trails in the grass criss-cross each other from runners working the diagonals. At 10am, a crowd of Kenyan men and women train on the oval, not caring if it’s 400m or 440y. I count over 40 bodies on the track or infield, not including some sheep that wander onto the grass to graze. A trio of men rips off 1000m repeats at about 66 seconds a lap. With the cross country season over, more and more will be visiting the track for their workouts.
As I watch at the track, a couple of Kenyan lads come up to me after their workout and ask if I am a manager. After explaining no, I’m visiting here for other reasons, they insist on giving me their names and email addresses so that when I return to the U.S. I can get them in touch with either a manager/agent, or a coach who will give them a scholarship. That seems to be a common wish for many, and I’m wondering how many runners in the area are training with the hope of ‘making it,’ versus those who are training because they’ve already won races, or run fast times, and are on a sponsored shoe squad.
There is in Kenya a culture of everyone giving running a try of some sort. It seems that everyone has at least attempted to run, whether as a youth or as an adult. Down at the Kamariny Stadium track, school children will fall in behind some runner doing a workout. It might be a six-year old who does 30m repeats before falling off the pace and waiting for the adult to come around the track to join in again for 30m more, and repeating this ten times. Or it’s the youth who watches a group of obviously talented, sponsored runners go through their track workout and leave, before cautiously stepping barefoot on the track to try out some 200m strides.
In the U.S., I often hear stories that good male or female distance runners have been lost to soccer, or that male sprinters, throwers or jumpers are lost to football. Not so with Kenyan distance running. Everyone has given it a try, and the country’s depth is ample evidence that the best are indeed there.
If there is a downside to all this success, it’s that not everyone can win World Cross, or Olympic gold, or win the Boston marathon. Many Kenyan running hopefuls in the Iten area have met, seen, or heard about the fair number of successful, rich runners—men and women—who return home with wealth from running that will support them for the rest of their lives in Kenya. Everyone wants that, but everyone won’t get it. Often, Europe and U.S. road races now put a cap on the number of Kenyans who get elite entry into a road race or marathon, the result of an injudicious notion that too many Kenyans in a race would hurt the event. If there’s prize money for the top 10, then maybe 12 Kenyans are now invited, leaving many, many other country-men and –women scrambling to find entry into a competition to earn some money.
Last year Athletics Kenya tried to implement a registration process to account for all Kenyan athletes competing abroad. Often, AK officials would first learn of an athlete’s success in a smaller international road race only by reading about it in the newspaper. Only 400 athletes complied with AK’s request, with many declining to register after finding out there was a fee. In a November 2003 article in the East African Standard, AK General Secretary David Okeyo estimated that there were up to 2000 professional Kenyan runners, both in Kenya and abroad, but AK’s small staff of only five was too small to account for athletes’ whereabouts at all times. There are many more trying to join the ranks of Kenya’s professional runners.
Athletics Kenya, and the country itself, have also been hit recently with runners changing nationalities – ‘defections,’ as the nation’s papers term it. The most notable example is Saif Saaeed Shaheen, the former Stephen Cherono, who won the Worlds steeplechase for Qatar in 2003 after representing Kenya earlier in the year. Stories allege that Shaheen is being paid a monthly sum for life, plus Qatar will build a track complex either in Eldoret or near Iten. Leonard Mucheru and Abel Cheruiyot are hoping to represent Bahrain. The February 26, 2004 issue of the East African Standard had a story explaining that both Nicholas Kemboi (#2 10k time in 2003 of 26:30.03 behind Geb) and James Kwalia (bronze medalist in the World Youth Champs 3k in 2001) have also applied for citizenship in Qatar after getting a better offer there than from Bahrain.
Kenyans who change nationality will admittedly have an easier time making their new nation’s international teams, but the loss to Kenya is bitter pill for the nation to swallow.

No Team Training Camp Visit
I’m in Nairobi, and not at the Kenyan national cross country team training camp near Embu, on the slopes of Mt. Kenya, about two hours north of the capital city. I’ve flown halfway around the world, but I can’t get up the road to see the team camp.
It’s closed. Athletics Kenya doesn’t want any distractions as the six teams prepare for the 2004 World Cross Country Championships in Brussels on March 20-21. I’ve tried. Lord, I’ve tried. I’ve made repeated visits to the AK headquarters to plead my case that all I want to do is observe, take some photos, and talk to a few people about how good the Kenyan team camp system is. No dice.
I entertain a rash notion of just heading up there and trying to talk my way in, but I’m reminded of something I read a few days ago.
In the February 27 edition of the East African Standard, there is a small article that has Athletics Kenya officials warning an Italian agent against intruding on the camp—with threats of deportation if he doesn’t comply. With my wife and daughter traveling in Kenya with me, I don’t want to be deported and leave them here without me.
In my visits to see AK General Secretary David Okeyo, he says he has also refused a BBC filming crew access to the camp. There will be no exception made for me.
Okeyo says that I can, however, phone head coach Patrick Sang, the 1992 Olympics steeplechase silver medalist, once I’ve phoned team manager Michael Rotich to say that I will be calling Coach Sang. The squad is training at Kigari Teachers’ College, and just last Sunday cut their numbers from nearly 60 athletes to 36. Each team (men’s 4k, 12k, junior, and women’s 4k, 8, and junior) can enter six athletes in the world meet, but 8-10 were sent to camp for each team to make the training tougher. In a new twist this year, AK has named a separate coach for each team, and all coaches work under Head Coach Sang. Peter Mathu coaches the men’s 12k squad, James Kibet the men’s 4k squad, Peninah Talam the women’s 8k squad, and Joseph Chelimo the women’s 8k squad, and Thomas Mukhwana and Andrew Nabugwesa head the junior men and women.
Considering my previous posts, I suppose I must offer readers a comparison between phone interviews in the U.S. and Kenya. There’s no difference. You call, someone talks, you try to get some good quotes and information. It’s just not as good as visiting in person and getting more atmosphere.
The team travels to Brussels late on March 17, arriving in Europe on the morning of March 18. Races are on March 21 and 22.
Before the phone interviews, I was able to speak to some people in person in Nairobi at Riadha House, the Athletics Kenya headquarters.
Mike Kosgei, National Coach of Kenya
I have had made the acquaintance of Mike Kosgei, the AK national coach since 1985, while waiting to see Okeyo. Kosgei started the concept of a Kenyan national team camp in the mid-80s, and is happy to talk about anything and everything related to running—in Kenya and the world. Kosgei was left off of the coaching staff for this year’s team, but isn’t bitter about it. He wishes the team well. While the national team trains two hours away, the national coach sits in his office in the AK headquarters in Nairobi. I ask him about the origin of the national team camp.
“It started in 1985, when I picked the cross country team for Lisbon. What happened was Kenya used to invite athletes (who were based in) America, and from all over the place. I remember Musyoki was supposed to run in Lisbon, but he came to Madrid and could not make the connection, so he missed the team. He could not run. So I saw a problem.
“The Ethiopians beat us (in 1985) because they came together as a team. So I said, ‘I have to train the team together.’ There is no need for somebody to finish number one, number 50, and 100. That cannot make a team. So they have to be together. That means they have to have almost equal strength. Also, I saw that cross country runners need to assist each other when they are running—not to leave someone behind, you know. I think (the team camp concept) was successful. We went to Neuchatel, Switzerland (for the 1986 World XC Champs), and started the race. The Kenyans who were there knew the Ethiopians. In fact, the Ethiopian (Abebe Mekonnen) came and passed (5-time World XC Champ John) Ngugi with about a kilometer to go. I saw Ngugi, and I yelled to Ngugi. Later, Ngugi said he had a sideache. When he heard my voice, he said the sideache went away and he won the race—because we had been together in camp. He knows that is the voice of the coach, and when the coach is yelling like that, he is saying, ‘go.’
“That is how the athletes build together. It is a strange thing to call someone from Eldoret, another one from Nakuru, and then you meet at the airport and you say you are going to the championship. That is cheating.”
Kirk Reynolds: That’s the American way.
“Yeah, the Americans must change. If you want to get something, you have to sacrifice. If you rally together, it keeps the understanding of the athletes. If three athletes are going to later run the 10,000m together, and they have been training together, they know who is strong at what point, and who is doing what at what point. So when you tell a runner, ‘you take the lead for the first 2k,’ he knows, ‘Yes, I know. I can assist.’ What is the need for you to be behind? If you cannot lead at the end, and you are going to remain, why don’t you do something to assist the team!?!
“Those are the negotiations I do with the team. The Kenyans call it a Memorandum of Understanding. When we were running the 10,000m in Canada (Edmonton’s 2001 World Track Championships), with Paul Kosgei and (John Cheruiyot) Korir, and Charles Kamathi, Korir had carried the first 5k, and the next 5k was Paul Kosgei. Kamathi had to remain and wait for Geb because I knew he (Geb) was going to kick at 600m, 500m, or 400m. So Kamathi was there. Geb did not kick at 600m, and I told Paul Kosgei, who was doing the last 5k, if he’s not going to kick at 600m, then you kick at 500m, so that he will think you are trying to win. And Kamathi was to stay close, 4 meters, until 200m, then go! He was there all the time, but watching! So, why are we doing that? Because Kamathi was the national champion. You give the national champion the opportunity, okay?”
Final Edmonton 10k results courtesy of Sieg Lindstrom, Track & Field News:
1. 27:53.25 Charles Kamathi (Ken), Closing splits: 13.1, 26.4, 55.6, 2:01.9, 3:08.2, 4:13.2. Halves: 14:15.6/13:37.7.
2. 27:53.97 Assefa Mezegebu (Eth)
3. 27:54.41 Haile Gebrselassie (Eth)
4. 27:55.24 Yibeltal Admassu (Eth)
5. 27:56.07 Fabián Roncero (Spa)
6. 27:56.58 José Rios (Spa)
7. 27:57.56 Paul Kosgei (Ken)
8. 27:58.06 John Cheruiyot Korir (Ken)
KR: So is the goal a Kenyan jersey first, or a particular individual?
“At the end of the day, it’s going to be an individual—but being assisted. There is no need for the three Kenyans to fight, and have all of them losing. It is better to assist one to win, than losing—all of them.
“So that is the logic behind it. To harmonize, to understand each other, make the athletes to love each other. That is what I’m telling you about a Memorandum of Understanding. Kenyans have been running as a team. Long distance running is psychological, it’s torturing. It’s not like the 100m, where (smacks the desk) you go, and you need only your lane. In distances, you need your friends. Which is why, when you see something like this, you say, ‘Aah, that is the Kenyan way!’
“This long distance running country of Kenya, like Morocco, like America, like Finland, where there used to be great runners, you know, they have their tradition. Like Brazil, they have a good tradition of football (soccer), yes? So this is what we have to maintain. When people say they have to have tactics like the Kenyans, I don’t think it comes overnight.”
KR: So how do you foster that during the four weeks of the team camp?
“That is what develops your team. You stay for one month together, so you learn. You are together when you are doing the workouts, when you are eating, when you are together. Every workout you do is focused. And we learn, ‘Okay, it is you and you and you.’ And then we sit as a team and discuss the players, ‘Okay, you and you are going to be the car—you are guarding him.’ And we don’t want this known until after the finish line. So we tell them, ‘You sit as the passenger, you sit as the driver,’ but when the passenger says, ‘Okay! It is me now!’ Then he’s still fresh, and the game starts.”
KR: On the track, in the Olympics or Worlds, you get three per event. In cross country you get six. Any difference in tactics?
“In cross country you have four to score, so you have two to lose.”
KR: Thanks, Coach.
David Okeyo, General Secretary of Athletics Kenya
After David Okeyo has given his final denial for me to visit, I ask him about the Kenyan team camp from his perspective.
“Putting them in the camp lets them know one another. They live like brothers and sisters. With our selection, you may get people from the Western part of Kenya who have never been to Nairobi before. Another one may come from Coast Province, another one from Nyanza Province. And you bring them together in the camp. There they learn one another, know one another, they become friends. That makes them come together as a team, and that’s actually the main purpose for having this camp. There is no way you can do it differently. If you want them to win, you must train as a team. It’s just like football.”
KR: We don’t do it this way in the U.S.
The U.S. is very large. One state is just as big as Kenya! I think they are trying. I must say America is doing very well. In the last cross country (world championships), I think the women got third. It was fantastic.
“Sports need competition. If the first runner is 20m away from the other runners, you just don’t enjoy the race. But if the bunch is just working together at the end, you are enjoying the race.”
From Okeyo, I get phone numbers for the manager and head coach at the national team camp and give them a call. Standing near manager Michael Rotich is two-time world 4k champ Edith Masai, who took third in the national championships nearly one month ago in Nairobi. She’ll face Paula Radcliffe, among other notables, in just over a week. She agrees to a short interview.
Edith Masai, two-time World 4k Champion
“The camp is not bad. It’s very nice! I’m training very well here in Kigari. We have new coaches, and we are seeing improvements. Of course now we are not going to say anything (about team tactics or team goals)! Sometimes we are training together, and sometimes it’s 8k alone and 4k alone, and junior women alone. The food is very nice, the weather is very nice. I think it is high altitude here.
KR: How much do you think about being a runner on the well-known Kenyan team, or being a two-time defending world champ?
“No, there is no pressure here.”
KR: At the national meet, David Okeyo said he wanted Kenya to win all six team title, plus all six individual titles.
“So maybe we hope so. Maybe we can get all gold medals, but I’m not sure. So maybe we put it in God’s prayers. We are human beings, so you never know. In Brussels there is a lot of mud, so you never know. We are supporting the men, and sometimes the men are supporting the ladies, so we have good morale there.”
KR: You’re a two-time world champ, but took third at Nationals. How was that race?
“Now I am training very well. I’m doing a lot of speed work, but at that time I didn’t have speed work. Now, here, it is very nice.”
Patrick Sang, 2004 Kenyan National Cross Country Team Head Coach
I connect with Patrick Sang, the head coach of the 2004 Kenyan National Cross Country Team, on his cell phone just after dinner at the team camp.
KR: How is the camp going?
“The training is going on very well. This is the fourth week, and up to last Sunday we had almost 60 athletes, and now we are 36 athletes in total. So we are finalizing our preparations for World Cross.
“On a normal day we get up at 6 o’clock. We meet at a common point—usually at the gate of the place we are staying—and each category (4k, 12k, junior men, 4k, 8k, junior women) would leave with their coach. We have six coaches plus me, and every category has a different training program. But on the days when we do serious training, we do two workouts: one at 6 o’clock, and one at 9 o’clock. So that is a standard training program.
KR: Tell me about the accommodations at Kigari Teachers’ College.
“The college is on (in session) at the moment. They have facilitated some rooms that are usually used by people who are visiting. We have a special dining place three times a day for our people, and we have meals separate from everybody else. We have meals, actually, that are a diet that is suitable for athletes active in sport.
“When you talk about it being a college setting, it sounds like we are living like students. But actually we are living well. Each athlete has his or her own cube, or room. It’s a decent place to stay.”
KR: Do groups ever get to train together? For example, do the women’s 4k and 8k groups ever run together?
“When they are doing specific training programs for that particular event, they are always separate. But when they are going for recovery runs, or easy runs, they go together. But not the juniors. The same with men, 4k and 12k. When we go to the specific event, each group does their own specific training program. The 4k is more speed-oriented than the 12k men or 8k women. And the juniors, of course, are in between, and the age element is there, also.”
KR: Who made the decisions on who made the actual team of six to travel to Brussels?
“It was actually a consultation among the coaches. Every day we were there, each coach would assess their own category and give a report on a daily basis. And, of course, coming into the camp, we had the history of every athlete, what they had done before, and what they did at Nationals (in early February). Coming to the camp had a lot of bearing as to who makes the top six, but it’s not actually just what they do at the camp.
KR: Two women who didn’t place at Nationals were named to the team. Why?
“(Grady Chemweno, Jr. Women’s 6k) could not compete at the Nationals because she had some problems at home. I think she lost a family member. But going by the history, she was the material we were looking for to have a good team to go and represent the country. That’s why she was brought into the camp. (8k team member Fridah) Domongole had an ailment at Nationals, so she didn’t do very well. But going by what she had done before was the consideration to bring her to the camp.”
KR: And for the men it was pretty much the top six at Nationals, except for Moses Kigen (6th in the 4k, but not picked to the final team).
“Moses Kigen was training very well, but unfortunately he had a small back problem. And considering the fact that he was going to run the four kilometer distance, that’s not conducive to his back. That’s why he was kept off the team. All the people who came here came on the strength of their own. They’re real good athletes in their own right. What they had done before really made them to be considered for camp. Nothing really changed from what you saw at the Nationals.”
KR: What are the goals for Brussels?
“Of course, God willing, we would like to win all the titles. You know, when you go to a competition, you have other countries also coming with goals to win everything. But our goal, since we have a history of doing very well before, is to maintain that history. Besides the team titles, we would like to come back with a couple—if not all—the individual titles. That is the ultimate goal for going to the World Championships.”
KR: How has coaching been for you in your first national role?
“Actually, it’s not really been tough for me because I’ve coached some top athletes before taking this assignment. So I have the experience in coaching, but handling the several coaches under me has been a different challenge, especially with all these people coming from different backgrounds. We have coaches from prisons, from the military, and from schools. But it’s a good experience for me. The fact that I’m the youngest of all of them—and being their leader—seeing them give me the respect makes my work easier. They are well-trained coaches. They’ve gone through the normal training programs we have here in the country for long distance coaching. That’s why we could assign each category with confidence. And they’ve done a good job.”
KR: I’m coming from the U.S., and now I’m seeing the Kenyan system of having a camp for four weeks compared to the U.S., where there is no camp for runners to run and train together.
“Our system works well because, geographically, it’s not possible to have people train in different points and have people monitor them. In America, most of the athletes have individual coaches, so that’s how they can manage to be apart from a team and train individually. Here in Kenya, we don’t have so many athletes having individual coaches. So having specialized coaching here in a camp really helps polish that athlete so that they can do better. Of course, in the process, you field a good team spirit because—even though you work as a team—you encourage the individual to shine. You enhance the chance for an individual title, but at the same time you bring the level of everybody to a higher level. That’s also the advantage for having people train together for a certain period of time.
“In our country, if you look at the juniors for example, if everybody was training in different areas, bringing them together at the last minute would be a complete nightmare. It’s also ideal because when you are dealing with juniors, documents (like visas and passports) are easily obtained in developed countries like America. Sometimes it’s a little bit of a complication here. When you have them all together, it’s easier for one person to run up and down to get documentations for these people. Besides the team spirit, we also have the logistical problems that you can easily overcome (in the U.S.).
“And most of these people come from disadvantaged backgrounds, especially when they are coming for the first time to the national team. When new juniors come, you have adequate medical attention, officials, doctors, what have you. And the diet, of course, is proper. So those are additional advantages of being a part of an organization.”
KR: Good luck in Brussels. I’ll see you there.
“Thank you. Root for us.”
World Cross Country Championships – Schedule
Saturday, March 20, 2004
W Junior 6k
M Senior 4k
W Senior 8k
Sunday, March 21, 2004
M Junior 8k
W Senior 4k
M Senior 12k
Kenya’s team for the 2004 World Cross Country Championships:
Men’s 4k squad: Abraham Chebii, John Kibowen, Kiplimo Muneria, Boniface Songok, Isaac Songok, Eliud Kirui.
Men’s 12k squad: Eliud Kipchoge, John Korir, Wilberforce Talel, Richard Limo, Simon Kiprop, Charles Kamathi.
Men’s Junior 8k squad: Barnabas Kosgei, Hosea Macharinyang, Ronald Kipchumba, Ernest Meli, Moses Masai, George Kirwa.
Women’s 4k squad: Beatrice Jepchumba, Jane Gakunyi, Edith Masai, Peninah Jepchumba, Isabella Ochichi, Vivian Cheruiyot.
Women’s 8k squad: Alice Timbilil, Sally Barsosio, Irene Kwambai, Eunice Jepkorir, Jane Ngotho, Fridah Domongole.
Women’s Junior 6k squad: Chemutai Rionotukei, Jebichi Yator, Emmy Chepkurui, Zeddy Cheboi, Nelly Jepkurui, Grady Chemweno.

Kenya's History at World XC Championships
To say that Kenya has had extraordinarily colossal success at the IAAF World Cross Country Championships would still be understating it. The East African nation has thoroughly dominated the entire world for nearly two decades.

The International Cross Country Championships were given official IAAF World Championship status in 1973. As a team, Kenya’s men’s squad first made a mark with its third place in 1981, finishing behind Ethiopia and the U.S (with Craig Virgin winning his second straight individual title). Finishes of 4th, 3rd, 4th, and 2nd the next four years paved the way to the Kenya’s first world title in 1986.

Since then, no other country has won the men’s 12k team title. None. Kenya has won a remarkable 18 straight men’s world crowns—often in dominating fashion. The lead pack of the race often looks like a blanket of Kenyan jerseys gliding in unison over hill and dale.

Individually, three Kenyans have won 12 individual crowns since 1973. John Ngugi won five titles between 1986 and 1992, William Sigei won twice in 1993 and 1994, and marathon WR-holder Paul Tergat won five straight between 1995 and 1999.

In 1998, the IAAF decided to split the fields and offer a short (4k) course along with the traditional long (12k) course races, with the idea that more world-renowned middle distance runners would enter and bring prestige and media coverage to the event. Splitting the field hasn’t dampened the triumphs of the Kenyan men—it has, in fact, only allowed the nation more opportunity to dominate. Kenya has won all six short course team titles since the race’s inception—twice with a perfect team score. Kenyan runners have won four of six individual short course crowns.

In addition, in the men’s junior races since 1988, Kenya has won every team title except one (Ethiopia triumphed in 1998, with Kenya a scant 4 points behind).

If the Kenyan men, inarguably, have had the most success at the World XC meet, then the Kenyan women, arguably, have also had more success than all other nations.

Kenya’s women’s team first appears in the world results at fifth place in 1987, and Kenya’s first long course (8k) women’s title came in 1991. Since then, Kenya has won seven of 13 world team titles, plus four additional runner-up finishes. Ethiopia has five titles and seven runner-ups, but has had more recent success. Hellen Chepngeno’s 1994 crown is Kenya’s sole individual title in the long race.

In the women’s short course (4k) history, Kenya earned three straight team 3rds starting in 1998, then took second in both 2001 and 2002, and won the nation’s first short course team title last year. Individually, Jackline Maranga won in 1999 and Edith Masai has won the last two years.

In the women’s junior team races, Kenya has won 10 of 15 titles since the race’s inception in 1989, plus four runner-ups and a single third.

In 1994, Kenyans won all four senior individual titles. In 1995, Kenya won all four team titles in the men’s and women’s senior and junior races. In an overall accounting of team and individual titles since 1990, an amazing success story emerges: 68 team titles and 68 individual titles have been up for grabs, and—astonishingly—Kenya has won 49 team and 27 individual crowns.

Kenya at the 2004 World Cross Country Championships
DAY ONE
After coming in with high expectations, after all the preparations at a 4-week high-altitude camp in Kenya, and after all the history of success at previous World Cross meets, the first day of the 2004 World Cross Country Championships in Brussels, Belgium is a disaster for Kenya. Three races are scheduled, with opportunities to chase three team titles and three individual titles. Kenya wins nothing.
The day is cold, blustery and rainy, and the course becomes a slippery mess as the day’s races progress, but any explanation that uses the weather as an excuse for Kenya’s demise is flattened by the steamrolling success of Ethiopia, Kenya’s east African neighbor. Ethiopia’s success today is, well, Kenyan-esque, with individual sweeps and dominatingly low team scores.
The world cross course is a 2000m counter-clockwise triangular circuit that keeps steering the runners near the finish section where the majority of spectators line the fence. When the runners are out of sight, a commandingly huge TV screen on the trailer of a truck gives spectators, both commoners with hoods and VIPs under a bleacher cover, a live view. National teams gather in a large team tent behind the starting area that would rest in the shadow of the Atomium if the sun was out.
Inside the tent, metal cage walls separate all the nations alphabetically, and teams sit in their area on chairs or on the floor. The whole environment has a cattle effect to it, including the dank, musty smell of mud and restlessness. Sitting on chairs, the Kenyan squad seems somewhat ill at ease. The junior women are out warming up. The men’s 4k squad sits over in one corner under their nation’s flag hung on the cage wall. In another corner the women’s 8k squad sits, many with eyes closed. The coaching staff of seven comes and goes.
The Kenyan women’s 6k junior team is the first to appear on the starting line for the day’s opening race. The starting area is quite different from the one in Nairobi. Instead of a line in the grass with a banner over it, this starting area has a huge scaffolding with bars that separate the teams into separate boxes on the starting line—almost like a horse race.
The Kenyan juniors sport spiked shoes that look a bit too new. I wonder how much practice the squad has had in their new racers, and I remember many going barefoot in the national race in Nairobi. Can you adjust to shoes in 4 weeks? Will they help? Would going barefoot on a muddy course be better? Two starting boxes over, the Ethiopians look taller and more mature. On the start lists, the Ethiopians have three born in ’85, one in ’86, and one in ’87. The Kenyans are younger, with one born in ’86, two in ’87, and three in ’88. The two teams plus one Chinese runner make up the entire front pack for two loops before an Ethiopian quartet forces the pace and the Kenyans lose contact and fade. Ethiopia defeats Kenya for the second straight year by scoring a perfect 10 points on a 1-2-3-4 finish. Meselech Melkamu of Ethiopia wins in 20:48. The perfect score is the second in that event’s history; Kenya also scored 10 in 1993. Led by national champ Chemutai Rionotukei (5th place, 21:04), Kenya runners finish 5-6-9-16 to score 36 points ahead of bronze-winning Japan (67).
Next is the men’s 4k race, and the rain begins to fall harder and horizontally as the gun fires. Kenya’s Eliud Kirui leads after one 2k circuit, with two-time 4k/12k winner Kenenisa Bekele of Ethiopia close. The awards are presented for the women’s junior race, and suddenly the Ethiopian national anthem is blaring on the loudspeakers. Inspired, Bekele makes a dominating surge to clear himself of the mud-stomping front group and wins with surprising ease in 11:31. Other than Kirui, who was the sixth and final qualifier out of Nationals, no other Kenyans make an appearance up front—unless you count the Qatar team. Abdullah Ahmad Hassan (formerly Albert Chepkirui) and Saif Saaeed Shaheen (formerly Stephen Cherono) finish 4th and 5th. Kirui (6th) is the first Kenyan to finish, marking the first time Kenya has been shut out of any individual medal in the men’s 4k short race. Ethiopia goes 1-2-3-11 to sweep the individual medals and win the team title with 17 points. Qatar goes 4-5-8-22 for second, while Kenya—after winning all six of the short course team titles since the race began in 1998—takes third with 52 points. Kenya places 6-7-19-21 with Kirui, Isaac Songok, Abraham Chebii (a pre-race favorite, but never a factor here), and Kiplimo Muneria. Two-time short course individual champ John Kibowen (1998 and 2000) is the last Kenyan in 32nd place.
“The Kenyans were not as strong as we expected,” says winner Bekele. “We thought they would come up with new tactics, but they were not so strong as we expected.”
Resting on the fence lining the course, my wife visits with an Ethiopian fan next to her. He clucks as the Qatar team is awarded silver medals and says that Ethiopians have more pride in their country than a desire for money, and that no Ethiopian athlete would ever jump ship to wear another nation’s jersey. I would imagine the same thing could have been said about Kenyan athletes some 15-20 years ago. Will Ethiopia, with its burgeoning success, be able to produce the massive depth that Kenya has produced? It is this depth, I think, that has sparked Kenyan athletes to agree to swap nations. A former Kenyan has a much easier time making his or her new nation’s teams (for Olympics, World Championships, or World Cross teams), plus there is often a lump sum and/or a monthly paycheck.
By now the Brussels course is trashed, and each lap the runners pick a wider, outside route on the corners in order to stay on grass out of the mud. The women’s 8k race begins, and this one looks promising for Kenya. For the first two loops, Kenya has four in the top group, while Ethiopia has only two. Others include Kenyan-born Lornah Kiplagat (now running for Netherlands), plus Australia’s Benita Johnson. Past the halfway mark, the Kenyans group begins to fall back, and an Ethiopian moves from the second pack to the front. Now the question is whether the four Kenyans can stay enough places ahead of Ethiopia’s fourth runner to get a team win. On the final loop Johnson moves strongly to the lead, and the Ethiopians look human for the first time all day. Johnson wins by 12 seconds in 27:17. Ethiopia’s Werknesh Kidane, one of the pre-race favorites, takes third behind teammate Ejegayehu Dibaba as Ethiopia goes 2-3-5-16. Ethiopia’s 26 points is just enough to edge Kenya, which places its top four 4-7-9-10 for 30 points. Ethiopia’s win is the third in a row in this race. Kenyan national champion Alice Timbilili’s fourth place in 27:36 leads the Kenyans, followed by Eunice Jepkorir, who was fifth at nationals.

The three races on this first day have a common theme for Kenya. Each squad got out well and looked good through the halfway point (although the men’s 4k group looked the weakest), but couldn’t keep the group together when the race reached decisive points. Packs trickled apart. No team tactics seemed evident.
“The course was just too slippery today,” says Kenyan men’s team captain John Kibowen. “I couldn’t respond to the attack of the Ethiopians. There were in very good shape today. There was no tactical plan in the Kenyan team. You just have to run as hard as you can, that’s all. We cannot be satisfied with the team result, but what can you do about it? Sports is all about winning and losing. And when you lose, you just have to accept it.”
I see Kenyan Head Coach Patrick Sang on the sidewalk near the team tent. He is exceedingly polite, but doesn’t want to speak about the day’s races. “I’m not really comfortable talking about anything that happened today,” he says. “I’m still thinking. Can we talk tomorrow? I don’t know what to say. I need to talk to the team. When I hear from them, I’ll have something to say.”
DAY TWO
The second day begins with some success for Kenya, although Ethiopia’s success from yesterday also continues. In the men’s junior 8k race, Ethiopia’s Meba Tadesse battles back and forth with Uganda’s Boniface Kiprop before winning in 24:01. But Kenya packs four in the top 7 (3-4-6-7) to score 20 points and win its first team title in four tries of this 2004 meet. Ernest Meli, only 4th at the nationals after falling but now 3rd in the world, leads the team, followed closely by national champ Barnabas Kosgei, Hosea Macharinyang and Ronald Kipchumba. By winning its sixth junior men’s title in a row (and 16 of the last 17), Kenya’s athletes get to hear their country’s national anthem, and it brings smiles to the entire squad’s faces. With 25 points (1-5-9-10), Ethiopia tallies a close second—and first runner-up spot after three team wins on Day 1—but gains its third individual title in four tries.
Although it’s quite chilly, the sun peeks in and out of clouds that speed across the northern European sky. There is no rain, which is a vast improvement on yesterday. More spectators press up against the fences lining the race course, which is less slippery today but still soft, slow and mucky.
The next race is the women’s 4k, where Kenya’s Edith Masai is the two-time defending world champion. Kenya so far has been shut out of any individual world titles this meet. How will Masai respond? She immediately answers questions about her mindset by jumping to the lead and controlling the race through the first of two loops. She’s joined at the front by teammates Peninah Jepchumba and Isabella Ochichi, plus the three Ethiopians who led their team to the 8k win yesterday (Tirunesh Dibaba, Teyba Erkesso, and Werknesh Kidane). Masai presses on, and late in the race it’s just her and the Ethiopian trio in a closely-spaced single file line. Masai rounds the final bend, eyes the finish line and sprints to a two-second win over Dibaba, last year’s junior world champ. Finally, an individual win for Kenya! It is a win Masai promised two weeks ago, despite finishing just third in the national championships. The team race is close: Ethiopia 19 (2-3-4-10), Kenya 21 (1-5-7-8), as the two teams reverse last year’s team finish.

“I’m very happy today,” says Masai, a senior sergeant in the Kenyan Prisons Service who also has a bronze from 2001 to go with her three golds. “It was not an easy win. I tried to shake off the Ethiopians several times during the race, but I didn’t succeed in that goal. With 300m to go, I saw the opportunity to beat them in the sprint and I broke away.”
The final race of the 2004 meet is the men’s 12k championship. This race has been Kenya’s crown jewel—18 straight wins at the World Championships, often in dominating fashion. The last time Kenya didn’t win was 1985, when Ethiopia defeated Kenya, 129-141.
In the buildup to this meet, both Athletics Kenya officials and the Kenyan press have been touting the 12k national team as one of the country’s best-ever squads. The team boasts tremendous depth plus killer front-runners. In addition, the nation has a reputation for remarkably successful team tactics at world meets. There’s Eliud Kipchoge, the national champ and 2003 world 5000m track champion. There’s Charles Kamathi, the former 10k world track champion. The entire team has a wealth of international experience. They will all meet powerful Kenenisa Bekele of Ethiopia.
Bekele won yesterday’s 4k race, and is trying for an incredible third straight 4k/12k double at the world meet. A win in either the team category or individual category might be enough for the Kenyan team to return home to an acknowledgement that things still seem okay with the nation’s running program. A team win would be the 19th in a row. Good, good. An individual win would mean Kenya has a runner who can beat Bekele. Losses in both will be disastrous, and will likely mean months of national angst and questioning heading into the 2004 Athens Summer Olympics.

At the start things again look good for Kenya. The race is six laps, and for the first two laps through 4000m, there are six Kenyans surrounding Bekele, who has only two countrymen in his vicinity. At 6k Bekele leads a smaller front pack, and Kenya’s team result begins to look vulnerable. There are still four Kenyans and three Ethiopians, but the race is taking its toll. On the fourth lap the Ethiopians move together and suddenly there is a gap from the front green-clad trio to Kenya’s Kipchoge, who begins to lose form and is out of contention. Kenya’s third and fourth runners begin to fade, while Ethiopia’s fourth runner holds strong in the top ten. The first three Ethiopians work together until nearly 10k, when Bekele moves into the spotlight on his own. The final circuit is essentially an effortless victory lap for Bekele, who smiles for 2000m and occasionally waves to the crowd. With a 1-2-3 finish Ethiopia sweeps the race to eliminate any Kenyan man from an individual 12k medal for the first time since 1984. Kipchoge is 4th and 42 seconds in arrears, Kamathi fifth, Wilberforce Talel 10th, and John Korir 11th.
The final tally: Ethiopia 14 (1-2-3-8), Kenya 30 (4-5-10-11). Kenya’s 12k reign is over—and over decisively. During Kenya’s 18-year turn at the top, Ethiopia took second place ten times and third place five times. Ethiopia has just handed Kenya a resounding defeat, and small groups of Ethiopians—team members who raced yesterday, fans, coaches—are singing and waving flags around the course at the success of this world championship. Consider Ethiopia’s overall meet in the six races: five team titles, 4 individual titles, and three 1-2-3 individual sweeps in the women’s junior race and the men’s 4k and 12k races. This is the meet that Kenya expected to have. Hard questions are about to be asked in one East African country while wild victory celebrations happen just to the north.
In early February, at the national championships in Nairobi, I heard Athletics Kenya General Secretary David Okeyo tell the team and the seven newly-selected coaches, “If we fail, we shall blame you, the coaches.” Okeyo also said he hoped to see six team titles plus six individual titles. Kenya’s title count after the world meet? One of each. The men’s junior 8k team won, and Edith Masai won the women’s 4k.
To be fair, Kenya at this 2004 meet won one title, earned four seconds and one third. At a world championship this is a sterling showing, and for most countries this would be considered an historic success story. But this is Kenya. Compare it to 2003, where Kenya won four team titles and earned two second places. Or the year prior in 2002, where Kenya also won four team titles, plus one second and one third place. This year’s showing in cross country will be considered a failure.
Olympic medals in the distance events this coming summer may ease the sting, but Kenya has taken a hard hit. The country still possesses vast depths of distance running talent—more so than any other country—but world competitions give medals to only a small handful of individuals. For two decades, the nation of Kenya has been glorified as the standard for distance running. Now, as much as Kenya hates to admit it, Ethiopia is the distance running world’s dominant nation in world competitions.
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After all the races and awards are concluded, I see Coach Sang in the team tent, and he agrees to talk briefly. He agrees that Kenya did not perform up to expectations—particularly in the two senior men’s races.
“I guess we expected more than what we got. We expected more. Some of the categories did very well: women’s 4k, women’s juniors, women’s 8k and junior men. I think they did what they could. But the men’s 4k was a disaster.”
Kirk Reynolds: Did you talk to the 4k men after the race?
“We tried, but everyone was noncommittal about what really happened. But we are getting more information now. I think some people had some small problems here and there that they did not disclose to us.”
KR: Physical problems?
“Physical, yes. We are hearing of two cases at the moment that I’m going to confirm. We had two athletes with injuries, but they didn’t talk about it. At the last minute, when you have selected a team, I think many people don’t want to say they have an injury.”
KR: Did you talk to the 12k team yet?
“No, I haven’t talked to them yet. I’ll talk to them later. But I think, generally, they tried. Of course Bekele was in a class by himself. But we expected something close to Bekele. But, you know, you can’t beat someone like that. In the 12k we have the material to challenge the Ethiopians. I think the way they prepare is a little different from us. So I think they prepared better than us.”
KR: After having an 18-year win streak broken in the men’s 12k, what does Kenya do now?
“Next year, we go back to the drawing boards and come up with a formula to go back to where we were.”