Review — My First Marathon Experience
I Ran the Lagos City Marathon, I Don’t Recommend It
1. The Genesis of a Foolish Decision
Ever since my friend Ekeoma introduced me to running in 2020, I had been eyeing the Lagos City Marathon. But each year, I chickened out because I knew I wasn’t ready. You don’t just wake up and run 42km, abi? You prepare. But in November, something possessed me. Maybe it was midlife crisis, maybe it was foolishness — I decided to give it a shot.
I began practicing. My runs became intentional, and my gym visits regular. I was strengthening my core, building leg muscles, and feeling like Usain Bolt’s long-lost cousin. I was ready, or so I thought. By the last one month, I had done 10km, 15km, 20km, and just when I thought I would do the 25km in the last week, my legs from the legwork I did that week had not healed. I ended up doing only 11km. But no worries, I told myself.
2. Weather and Terrain
The weather was good, and the track was mostly downhill except for three or four slightly elevated stretches. It was much easier than what I’m used to during my own runs.
3. The Route
We started at Western Avenue, in front of the National Stadium Surulere, opposite Teslim Balogun Stadium, and finished at Eko Atlantic City, Victoria Island. The route took us through Fadeyi, Gbagada, Third Mainland Bridge, Ikoyi, and Lekki.
4. The Marathon of Poor Planning
The Lagos City Marathon is sponsored by Access Bank, Africa’s largest bank by customer base. It was the 10th edition, and it was free to participate. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, everything.
Flag-off was at 6:30 am, all runners were to be there at 5:30am, and the cut-off was at 12:30 pm. I got an email to collect my kit and went on Monday to pick it up. Trust me na as someone who is never to go late to events, I left the house around 4:30 and I was there before at around 10 minutes to 5:30. In hindsight, the fact that there was no orientation for first-timers should have been a red flag. Even as a project manager who has handled multinational projects, I should have foreseen this disaster. I mean, orientation is important na! At least, tell us what to expect, what to bring, and especially, what to wear.
Speaking of wearing…
5. Wardrobe Malfunction
For a marathon, you don’t wear trousers of any kind. I didn’t know that. I wore my black sports (with two red stripes by the side) trousers. What was I thinking? Light shorts are best. Even better, men should wear tights to keep the groin in place if you don’t want to feel that part of your legs on fire afterward. Very important.
And why did I carry all that baggage? I borrowed a pouch from a family member who just finished NYSC. Inside it, I stuffed my phone, cash, and a 30,000mAh power bank because, apparently, I was preparing for the apocalypse, not a marathon. That power bank was HEAVY. To add to my suffering, I also carried the nylon backpack they gave us, filled with my water bottle, ID, face cap, and face towel, all useless.
At two points, I got so tired I begged the officials to hold my pouch for me. They refused, and they were right to do so. I ended up shifting the pouch from my front to my side, and now I feel like that part of my waist is dislocated. Imagine pounding one side of your waist with a 1.5kg metal for 42km. My people, it was not funny. By the way, as the screenshot shows, I think the marathon is 46km, not 42.
6. The Necklace Earpiece Tragedy
I planned to complete my current book, “The Beginning of Infinity” during the race. It was a good distraction until I poured water on my head at intervals, and my necklace earpiece got drenched. It packed up three-quarters of the way through. It was a big disappointment because the narration was a much-needed distraction from the madness I was enduring.
7. Distance Markers and Water Woes
For a race of this nature, there should be clear kilometer markers. For the first 9km, I didn’t see any. Then suddenly, 10km appeared on the ground. The markings continued sporadically, sometimes on the ground, other times by the road divider. Consistency would have helped. Again, an orientation would have been useful to explain this.
The water stands were a different story. At first, they had cold bottled water and soft drinks for all. But by 15km to go, exactly when you needed them, the drinks were warm. At some stands, there was no water at all — thanks to bystanders and even the cleaning crew who helped themselves. I quickly adapted by taking two bottles at each stand, even though it was inconvenient to run with them.
No electrolyte-laden drinks were available. If you gulped down water and 7Up like I did, you were in for a rough time afterward. Headaches, loss of appetite, and legs that felt like lead. To make matters worse, I had aches in my inner mouth due to incessant mouth-breathing.
8. The Cough from Hell
The night before the marathon, I suddenly developed a terrible cough. It was as if one of my kids had sent me a “Daddy, don’t go” spell. I couldn’t sleep well. Surprisingly, during the race, I didn’t cough once. But immediately after the race, every cough felt like someone was stabbing my chest. Maybe I should have stayed in bed that day.
9. Mistake Plastered All Over Me
I don’t know why I collected the pain relief plaster. I won’t mention the brand, but if you know, you know. I put the plasters on my inner thighs, and one kilometer later, I started feeling soreness that made me walk like I was learning to use my legs. At several points, I couldn’t run because of the pain. Lesson learned: Don’t believe everything you see on TV.
10. The Unexpected Encouragement
Around the 8km mark, I heard my name. It was my friend Temidayo (don’t know why she is not tagging) on the sideline, cheering me on. Without thinking, I blew her a kiss — a reflex of gratitude. It was the boost I needed.
As someone who tries to encourage others, I found myself reaching out with knuckles to runners who were walking. They seemed to appreciate it and got moving again. At one point, a guy I knuckled held my hand, asking to run alongside me. Oga, don’t draw me back na, I thought. We ran together for about 2km before he let go. I never heard from him again.
At another point, one of those I had encouraged caught up with me when I started walking and offered his knuckle in return. One good turn deserves another, abi?
11. Humbled by a Kid
At one point, a kid no older than ten ran past me. I am unable to believe we started at the same spot. He must have joined midway.
12. The Endless Third Mainland
Third Mainland was another kettle of fish altogether. It felt like it would never end. I’ve been told that the bridge is 10km long, but it felt like 20km. Every stride seemed to echo, “Are we there yet?”
13. Friendly Rivalry or Witchcraft?
While running, I met a guy who told me he had run the Lagos Marathon five times. I was impressed. If he could do it six times and I was matching his pace, I wasn’t doing badly. We had a friendly rivalry going. I would catch up with him, overtake him, and then he would overtake me again.
But then, around the 27km mark, I saw him in one of the BRT buses meant for those who had given up. Ah! My morale dropped to zero. But then I remembered my three daughters at home. I wasn’t about to let them down. Especially not my little ‘Nike, who always asks, “Daddy (not often’ Honey’), you’re going for exercise to run?” I had to finish, if not for me, then for her. I had left the girls at home, all ill. So, this cannot be a waste of time. By the time I got one, one of them has been admitted to the hospital and I still had to limp to see her.
14. Traffic Chaos and Near Misses
Lagos State Government announced road closures from 5 am to 1 pm. By 10 am, we were fighting with cars. Intersections were chaotic. At one point, I was nearly run over by a danfo bus. That was the closest I’ve come to meeting my maker.
15. Cheerleaders and the Nigerian Factor
At intervals, water stands were manned by enthusiastic volunteers who doubled as cheerleaders. Many bystanders also joined in, cheering, taking videos, and snapping photos. I did more peace signs than I can remember. Thank you, guys.
16. I Met Affi The Superstar
I saw the controversial Affiong Williams, popularly known as Affi the Superstar on Twitter, who runs a company called ReelFruit. She’s a fellow lover of Sowell, so it was nice to meet her on the run. I had seen her with her running crew at the starting point and decided to leave her alone. But she breezed passed me, I had to catch up with her for a snapshot. This is her 10th consecutive marathon! Talk of consistency. She finished this one at 6min/km or so. Superstar Affi!
17. A Quest for Snacks
I saw an egg seller and felt the urge to buy. I dismissed the thought, only to regret it moments later, eagerly scanning the crowd for another vendor. Then, I saw an eggroll seller and felt the same urge. Once again, I dismissed it. But by the time I spotted a puff-puff seller during the last 15km, all restraint was gone. I beckoned him over and bought two pieces. For a man who evades greasy food like the plague, I was disappointed in myself. But some guys nearby offered consolation, “Oga, eat o. This race na die. We don chop buns too.” Is this about misery loving company? I couldn’t care less.
18. Almost Lost My Way
I almost mistook the 10km finish point for the 42km finish line. When I saw people with medals coming towards me, I panicked. One guy told me I missed my way. I turned back, ran a 1km in the opposite direction before realizing he was wrong. I cursed under my breath and turned back. What a waste of energy.
19. Where is the Finish Line, Biko?
The finish line was at Eko Atlantic. As I entered the gate, I breathed a sigh of relief. Only for them to tell me the end point was still 2km away. What sort of wickedness is this? I kept asking people, and they kept saying, “Just keep going.”
20. The Competitive Edge
As someone who is competitive, all my hurdles and discomfort were nerve-wracking. So, I adopted a strategy. Before I stopped to walk, I’d overtake three people. Then, it became two people. Eventually, just one. It gave me something to focus on, breaking down the race into manageable targets.
By the time I saw the finish line from a distance, I was determined to overtake at least four people before crossing it. To my delight, I overtook six, many of them tired and resigned to walking by then. It was a small victory, but it felt monumental.
21. “Medal don finish”. LOL
I eventually arrived at 11:28 am, only to hear a most heartbreaking news- “Medal don finish.”
How can medal finish? Didn’t they count the number of people who registered? And to make it worse, those who took the bus and the 10km runners all got medals. My people, I almost cried.
22. A Moment of Great Unkindness
After realizing my medal dreams had been shattered, I went looking for water. Guess what? There was none. Tired and exhausted, I needed a place to sit. Everywhere I could lay my head was in chaos. There was even a tent where bags were being shared and you could imagine who terribly disorganized it was. I found a tent with some officials and went to rest. Suddenly, one plumpy, bearded man started shouting,
“What are you doing here? Are you crazy? Get out of here!”
Ah ah, uncle! I just finished running a marathon. I wasn’t invading the White House. Even when a young lady vouched for me, this man insisted I was pretending. “Iro lon pa! Eni tokan domi sori!” (He’s lying. He just poured water on himself.)
If I had strength, I would have laughed. But at that point, I just wanted to faint.
Perhaps there is some context to his reaction but it was a most cold reaction. Here I was wearing my green vest with my marathon number clearly displayed. I looked in pain. Yet this man could not display kindness. Of course, I have been a recipient of great unkindness in the past (although human kindness continues to surprise me; when we’re going home, I witnessed a driver give a free ride to a runner who pleaded he didn’t have money to pay), but this was one of the most embarrassing. Even if I had not participated in the marathon, I do not know what justified the screaming and nastiness. At the end, someone mentioned I needed to go to the clinic. Of course, I didn’t need a clinic; I only needed to rest my sore back and legs, but I welcomed any opportunity to leave that place. Thankfully, one of the male staff came to me, lifted me up, and pointed to another tent which acts as a makeshift clinic. There, I recovered. Got ointment from a fellow runner and received temporary relief after some 30 minutes of rest.
23. Road Closures in Theory, Chaos in Practice
The Lagos State Government had announced an eight-hour road closure and traffic diversion from 5 am to 1 pm. But by 10 am, we were already fighting with cars, and intersections were a nightmare. At one point around the 29km mark, I didn’t care anymore. “Hit me if you want,” I thought. Thankfully, no one took on my death wish. Yes, I repeated this. It was that painful.
24. The Unending Journey Home
After crossing the finish line, the ordeal was far from over. We had to walk about 30 minutes to get to the gate where Uber and local buses were available. Why provisions couldn’t be made to have the stand closer to the exit is beyond me. How do you make dehydrated runners walk another 30 minutes just to get a vehicle home? It felt incompetent at best and callous at worst.
25. Would I Do It Again?
No. Never. Not even if they promise me gold bars at the finish line. I came, I saw, and I suffered.
Would I recommend it? Not if you want to live long. But if you must, please:
- Don’t wear trousers sport or not.
- Don’t carry a heavy power bank.
- Don’t use pain relief plaster on your thighs.
- Don’t expect medals to be available.
- And most importantly, prepare your mind for drama.
The Lagos City Marathon taught me many things, but the most important lesson is this: sometimes, just stay at home.
- — -
Would I ever run a marathon again? Maybe. But definitely not in Lagos. If you need me, I’ll be somewhere massaging my waist and rethinking my life choices.
If you’re still planning to run, may the gods of running be with you. You’ll need all the help you can get.
