Michael Okunloro | Elevate Your Style

On Tuesday, I set out for what turned out to be my fastest 5km run in history. It wasn’t planned at all, but here’s how it unfolded.

The night before, I had just discovered the magic of peanut butter and bagels. They’re the perfect match, so naturally, I eat too much. The next morning, I was up and out the door by 5 AM, ready for a half-marathon. That was the plan, at least.

About 2 kilometers in, I heard a loud noise and felt an unsettling sensation in my stomach, like something was about to drop. I didn’t want to believe it was what I thought it was, so I kept running. After all, as a runner, you don’t turn back when faced with obstacles, in it?

But soon enough, I knew I had to turn back. I felt something warm and cold trickling down my leg. I touched it, hoping it was just sweat, but the smell and the texture told me otherwise. It had the distinct scent of groundnuts and looked a bit like bran.

I looked around, no hotel, pub, or restaurant, was open at that hour. My heart started racing, so I did the only thing I could: I ran. And I ran fast. Faster than I ever had in my life. If I could sprint like that every day, Usain Bolt would be a forgotten name.

I got home in record time, just in time to make it to the loo. But by then, the situation I thought I had managed had completely unraveled. It was the watery kind, and it was a mess. It looked brownish-gold, and trust me, you don’t want the details.

Minutes later, I checked my running app, and there it was: I had just completed my fastest 5km ever. They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. 

Well, I found joy in my chaos.

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