The Marathon Mishap By Davis Owomugisha

The Marathon Mishap

It was an exciting day in Kabale town as I prepared to run in the big marathon. The morning air was fresh, and the streets were buzzing with excitement. I looked around at the other runners, but I didn’t recognize any of them. Still, I felt confident. I knew today was my day to win.

The starting gun fired, and we were off! I took the lead almost immediately. The crowd cheered as we raced through the streets, and I felt a surge of energy. As we ran, we reached Nyakijumba, where I noticed three other runners close behind me. Now, we were four in front, and I could feel the competition heating up.

Determined to stay ahead, I increased my speed. Then, I spotted three boys on the roadside, looking tired and sweaty. At first, I thought they were runners who had given up, but then I recognized one of them—it was Datsun, a member of our church choir. I called out to him, "Have you seen any other runners?"

"Only three are ahead of you," he shouted back. With that, I pushed myself even harder and soon caught up with the leading trio. My legs were flying, and before long, I was back in the lead. The wind whipped past me, and I felt unstoppable.

As I reached Kyanamira trading centre, I decided to remove my jacket. I saw a boy named Kateete, who was from my village, standing nearby. He wasn’t part of the marathon, just minding his own business. "Kateete, hold this for me!" I yelled, tossing him my jacket. He caught it and nodded, probably wondering what was going on.

I kept running, feeling lighter and faster without the jacket. But as I reached the Sub County, something felt wrong. There were no signs, no cheering crowds, no other runners. I had taken a wrong turn! Panic set in, but I quickly turned around and headed back, taking the Nyakatare road this time.

Running along the Nyakatare route, I passed by our local church and noticed people inside, deep in prayer. The place was muddy, and I had to be careful not to slip. Out of habit, I made the sign of the cross and continued running. All the prayerful people saw me and probably thought I was crazy for running through the mud. I could almost hear them whispering, “Is he running to meet God faster?”

As I ran, I saw other runners on the Rwababa road—the right road. I darted through a small feeder road and suddenly found myself at my grandmother’s house. I had grown up here, and everything felt familiar. I stopped to ask the people at home, "Have any runners passed by?"

"No, no one has come this way," they said. Relieved, I thought I was still in the lead, but I was actually lost. I continued running, feeling confident but completely off track. I reached Rwababa Church of Uganda, and reality hit me—I was lost again. I asked someone for directions, and they told me I had taken another wrong route.

Desperate to get back on track, I took another shortcut, but this time, I ended up in a fenced farm. There was no way through! Frustrated, I turned back and headed to the main road, hoping to catch a glimpse of the other runners. I could see them in the distance, racing towards the finish line.

Exhausted and defeated, I realized my chances of winning were gone. I kept running, hoping to at least finish the race. Suddenly, I woke up, gasping for breath. It was all a dream!

I lay in bed, laughing at my marathon mishap. It had felt so real, but now it was just a funny story to tell. I may not have won the race, but I had certainly had an adventure—even if it was only in my dreams.

Just then, I remembered tossing my jacket to Kateete. I couldn't help but laugh harder. Imagine him still standing there in my dream, holding that jacket and waiting for me to come back. I made a mental note to tell him about it at church on Sunday. Maybe he would find it as funny as I did—or maybe he would think I was just as crazy as the people in the church did!