Marathon Running and Sex in Jenny’s city.

Anything goes in the marathon, any thing by jove. Outlandish fashion statements, time off the run for giggly activity,  lengthy  phonic correspondence and àssitance by robust boda boda.  In no place can we find so diverse an amalgamation of inventive and nostorious Ugandans.

Marathon running is something I know not a little  about. Some 52 rains  ago having come across some  chaps in an endeavour to register  for a marathon race at an inter  House  competition I was introduced  to the sport. The sport is the simplest requiring  merely a stout  heart and sprighty limbs.

Having been put down as a morale booster, and therefore  ineligible for points, imagine the consternation on the team selector when the morale booster came trotting to the finishing  line way ahead of the main pack. Through a dusty terrain and tropical forest we run with agility, verve and determination.

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Recent endeavours has seen marathons take place  in the city. And so on 23rd a sea of humanity gravitated at the Kololo airstrip  for the MTN marathon.  Marathoners of all shapes and sizes gathered to do the run for 5 KMs, 10 Kms 21 KMs or 42 KMs.  In the strictest sense only the last one qualifies to be a marathon… but not one really  cares.

In the build up yo the race all is joy and gaiety. ..simple and diverting  banter is exchanged in an atmosphere of grand camaraderie. As the race starts this banter reduces  to a trickle as the road takes toll on the earnest joggers. Panting, and hissing  become official lang de preference. And sweat mills around  the various contours  of rotund mountains of flesh pointing  to the times spent gorging  the starchy ones.

The choice of wear varies for Marathoners  to marathoner. For the men jeans and even Kanzu are not unheard of. Ordinary  shoes will feature and perhaps  breath their last  to the folly of its misguided proprietor.

Ladies are more creative.  Having witnessed no fewer than 6 busuuti cladded women I can ask for  no more. The Hijab too with all its attendant additions  colored our paths. When at the Lugogo Bypass  we saw silver and grey flashing body tights more suited for dancing competitions of spontaneity.

Friendships are tested in the last kilometere. Regretting the folly of having taken the body away from its custom silence reigns in the mass of humanity trodding to the finishing line. No wise cracks, drenched  in sweat and bitting the teeth the troops move with singular pursuit to bring an end to the self imposed pain and torturous sourjourn.

Aye, and apart from the two who suspiciously  disappeared  behind some gate around Tullow Oil sex did not raise its head.

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