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To
understand just how powerful an incentive money can be for Kenyan
runners, consider this juxtaposition: Last December 8, I paid for
dinner for three at Iten's Amani Cafe, one of the pricier restaurants
in the 3,000-person Kenyan town where scores of world-class runners
train. Our party had an omelet with fries, two orders of chicken stew,
six samosas, two teas, and a large Coke. For this I paid 460 Kenyan
shillings, or roughly $6 in American currency. On the first weekend
in June, Christopher Cheboiboch, who lives in Iten for most of the
year, won the Rock 'n' Roll Marathon in San Diego. His victory earned
him $20,000 and a new automobile.
There
are, of course, many countries besides Kenya where $20,000 can change
someone's life; if all it took were financial incentives to create
running powerhouses, the internet would be full of speculation about
why Bangladesh's marathoners are so good. But in the positive-feedback
cycle of Kenyan running where hard training at altitude builds
on genetics, culture, and tradition, and where others' success spurs
on each new crop of aspiring runners monetary motivation
is a key ingredient. Especially since open professionalism came
to road racing, young Kenyans have seen their neighbors train hard
for a few years, go overseas for a few months, and return able to
purchase farms, buildings, and other investments. Cheboiboch, for
example, owns Iten's sole gas station and has built a private primary
school a few kilometers away. In a small town where everyone literally
knows everyone else's business, and among people who mostly grow
up with neither running water nor electricity, and where most of
the kids you see when you're running are barefoot, it's hard to
overstate the lure of money. After all, if the running doesn't pan
out after a few years, it's not as if you've done irreparable damage
to your career. The maize farms will always be there.
As an American, it's kind of funny to think of distance runners
as financial drivers, but that's how it is in the Western Highlands
arc of Iten, Kaptagat, and Eldoret, the 200,000-person city that
sits between the two training meccas. For starters, money from running
has affected the area's traditional way of making a living, farming.
Jay Bawcom, an American who helped create the Kaptagat-based Chepkero
A.C., says, "The influx of running-generated capital in the
Kalenjin community has led to an upswing in mechanized farming in
the area. Many runners have used their earnings to buy tractors
and combine harvesters, allowing many local farmers to shift from
drought-sensitive corn to more resistant wheat."
Most
of the businesses started in Iten over the past few years are either
owned by or cater to runners. Housing options have also increased
for runners with a little money from overseas races newish
apartments just off of one of the main training roads count among
their renters former Chicago Marathon champion Joyce Chepchumba
and 7:28 3,000m runner James Kwalia. Lornah Kiplagat and her husband,
Pieter Langerhorst, have built a New Mexico-style house in Iten
along the Rift Valley escarpment.
Over
in Kaptagat, training camps with new, modern buildings owned by
foreign athletic management companies sit behind locked gates. Just
outside of Eldoret, a gated community's occupants include world
steeplechase world record holder Saif Saaeed Sheehan (formerly Stephen
Cherono); former Boston Marathon champion Moses Tanui; former steeplechase
and 5,000m world record holder Moses Kiptanui; and 3,000m world
record holder Daniel Komen. In Eldoret proper, it doesn't take much
poking around to learn which residents of that gated community own
which office buildings. (Moses Kiptanui owns the city's newest supermarket.)
And when traveling between, say, Iten and Eldoret, when crammed
with 20 others into a van spewing exhaust, it's no doubt quite easy
to spot the famous runners in their SUVs and to think, "If
they can do it, so can I."
Fool's Gold?
Sport history is full of tales of athletes undone by sudden, unimaginable
wealth, and Kenyan runners are no more immune to this possibility
than, say, American boxers. According to Colm O'Connell, who has
coached in Kenya for more than 25 years, five-time world cross country
champion John Ngugi and 1992 Olympic 800m silver medalist Nixon
Kiprotich are just two former world-class Kenyans living in poverty,
owing to their inability to manage their money.
Less drastic but still cautionary is the story of someone like Daniel
Komen. "Daniel is someone who quickly came into money and did
not know what to do with it," says O'Connell. "He had
to have a fleet of cars and the best suits from London. His wedding,
there were 3,000 guests, with choirs from Tanzania. He had to have
the biggest house in Eldoret if someone built one bigger,
he'd build another one." Langerhorst told me that he had recently
seen Komen, who stated, "You are building a new house."
"Yes," Langerhorst replied. "How many bedrooms?"
Komen asked. "Two," said Langerhorst. "I thought
you were building a house!" Komen exclaimed. "I have 10
bedrooms!" Langerhorst replied, "But you only have two
kids." One day O'Connell returned from Eldoret and told me,
"I saw Daniel. He was nattily dressed, as always, but one can
start to see the cracks." I mentioned that Komen had rabbited
the Chicago Marathon that fall. "Now why would he do that five
years after retirement if he didn't need the money?" O'Connell
asked.
As coach Renato Canova noted in this
MensRacing.com interview, another problem presented by money
is that it can distract runners from reaching their potential. O'Connell
cites 1,500m runner Cornelius Chirchir as someone with "fabulous
talent" who has never achieved what he might have. "Cornelius
sees that he train for a while, win a few races in Europe, get a
lot of money," says O'Connell. "Then he would spend it
lavishly, fall out of training. When his money is used up, then
he sees he needs to win again, and starts training." Canova
and Langerhorst both speak of runners who win money in marathons,
start businesses in Kenya, and either stop training or try to train
before and after spending all day tending to their investments.
There are more immediate dangers to becoming a suddenly-rich runner.
According to Langerhorst, soon after an unknown runner won last
fall's Nairobi Marathon, "Five or six guys turned up at his
place with AK-47s saying, 'We need your prize earnings.' He was
able to explain he didn't' have the money yet, and they went away."
Others haven't been as lucky former Boston Marathon winner Lameck
Aguta was nearly beaten to death by bandits, and former Chicago
Marathon champion Ondoro Osoro has been attacked twice, including
being shot in the neck.
After a race in Kaptagat one day, Langerhorst introduced me to a
young man who had trained with Lornah Kiplagat for two months in
Switzerland. The runner told Langerhorst that he had recently won
20,000 shillings for taking third in a marathon in Uganda. "This
is fantastic," Langerhorst said with a broad grin. "When
we met him, he had nothing. He didn't have clothes to train in."
Then Langerhorst turned to the runner and said, "Be smart with
your money. Put it in a bank."
(Posted
June 16, 2005)
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All
it takes is a victory in a major marathon and a Kenyan runner
who plays his or her cards right could be set for life.
(Photo by Alison Wade/New York Road Runners)
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Pieter
Langerhorst checks progress on the construction of his and
Lornah Kiplagat's new house in Iten, Kenya, in
December of 2004.
(Photo by Scott Douglas)
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