Ekiden Stories No.1: From Iten to Tokyo

It’s a drizzly Wednesday afternoon in the suburbs of Tokyo. I’m standing on the third floor of a compact apartment block, just across from Kinuta Park — one of the few expansive green spaces in Japan’s capital and a favorite training ground for local university and pro running teams, owing to its continuous loops and varied terrain.

The location is no coincidence. Access to this kind of ground is essential to the two men I’m about to meet.

After two hesitant doorbell presses, I jab a third time. A snatch of startled Swahili floats through the window; confirmation that I’m in the right place. A moment later, the door swings open to reveal a tall, wiry figure: Festus, yawning, still heavy with fatigue from the morning’s track session, dressed head-to-toe in royal blue running team kit. 

Rubbing the afternoon nap from his eyes, he waves me inside the apartment he shares with fellow Kenyan runner Joseph. The space is neat, functional, stripped down to the essentials. The living room consists of a two-seater sofa, a rug, and a lone golf ball. It feels almost monastic — a life pared down to training, rest, and recovery.

The physical realities of the space, however, convey much more than minimalist simplicity. They offer a first glimpse into the fierce focus, sacrifice, and stories I’m about to hear. 

Adapting to a New Running Life

Cheruiyot Festus Kiprono and Mumo Joseph Mutwanthei have been in Japan for just a month. They’ve come to run as part of MABP Maverick, a newly formed corporate Ekiden team with serious ambitions. They punched their ticket to join the team by performing well in a fierce 8K time trial in Kenya, organized by the team’s management in summer 2024.

The team is made up of ten runners: eight Japanese athletes and the two Kenyans. While they live separately, they train together most days and spend long stretches of time as a unit, essential in a sport like Ekiden, where individual effort is only part of the equation. Ekiden is a relay, where runners hand off a cloth sash called a tasuki from one stage to the next. In Japan, it’s not simply a race; it’s a deeply rooted tradition built on selflessness, responsibility, and trust.

I’ve watched countless Ekiden races over the years, always admiring the Kenyan athletes who compete on Japanese teams. But I’ve often wondered what it’s really like — not only to race, but to step into that culture. And with professional running such a coveted dream in Kenya, what does it mean to realize that dream in a place like Japan, with its unfamiliar rhythms, quiet structure, and often cryptic traditions?

This is where our conversation begins. 

Adapting to a new climate is one of many challenges.

First Impressions, Quiet Realities

Having lived in Japan for many years as a foreigner myself, I know how disorienting it can be. And I came from the UK, a country that, on the surface at least, shares certain cultural threads.

For Joseph and Festus, the cultural leap has been far greater. In addition to adapting to the climate, the language, and the food, they’ve also had to grapple with small, everyday challenges. “It took us a while to work out how to use the kettle,” Joseph tells me with a laugh.

But far more jarring than electrical appliances or language has been how people interact, or don’t.

“In Japan, you find everybody is very busy concentrating on his own things. Even when someone is walking, they are so focused — maybe on their phone — that you feel you cannot disturb them.” In contrast, he explains, “In Kenya, people just wake in the morning and go to the market even if they have nothing to buy or sell. They just walk up and down, talking, making noise.”

Even when we don’t understand each other’s language, we still enjoy being together.

Despite the unfamiliar quietude and structure of Japanese life, the team has become an anchor.

“We have enjoyed being together with the Japanese team because they have very open hearts,” Festus tells me. They always want to know if there is anything disturbing us. They ask, they care.” Though the language barrier makes communication slow, it hasn’t stopped connections from forming. “Even when we don’t understand each other’s language, we still enjoy being together. We smile, we laugh. They try English, we try to help. We feel that spirit, that family feeling.”

The team has become an anchor for Joseph and Festus.

Through the Lens of Ekiden

Joseph and Festus told me that in Kenya, the Japanese running scene isn’t widely understood — not the training methods, not the domestic races. But there is one clear exception: Ekiden. “When people talk about running in Japan,” Joseph said, “they talk about Ekiden. It’s how they try to understand what Japanese running is.” For many Kenyan athletes, it’s the frame through which the entire system is viewed, not just as a race, but as a symbol of how Japan runs.

Now, one month in, Joseph and Festus are seeing it from the inside. “Ekiden is not about one runner,” Joseph explained. “You have to understand who is strong for each distance.” That sense of shared responsibility, of running for more than just yourself, is something they’ve quickly come to appreciate.

What they clearly bring to MABP Maverick, beyond raw ability, is a sensitivity to team rhythm and a genuine respect for working together. “We enjoy training together,” Festus said. “When you know each other, you know how to run together. That’s the most important thing.”

Early Lives, Hard Roads

I’d read that many elite Kenyan runners come from rural, often poor communities, but I wasn’t sure how true that was, or what those circumstances actually looked like.  It turns out it was absolutely the case for Joseph and Festus. But they shared their stories with no sense of drama or tragedy. Just calm, steady honesty, as if they were plainly describing how life works.

You just accept life. If there is food, you eat. If not, you wait.

Joseph is the only son in a family of four. His parents were farmers, working hard but earning very little. “Sometimes you have to go to school after sleeping without eating anything,” he told me. “Maybe your parents went out to find food and they didn’t get anything. Or if they did, when they came home, it’s already late — maybe 10:00, 11:00 at night. You’re asleep. You go to school the next morning with nothing in your stomach.”

Over time, he developed a quiet resilience. “Growing up, you learn not to complain,” he adds stoically. “You just accept life. If there is food, you eat. If not, you wait.”

Shoes were a luxury. “Even now, if you go to my home area, you’ll find kids just walking barefoot. It’s normal.” Joseph managed to finish high school, but not without long interruptions. “Sometimes I had to leave school because of fees. I found small jobs just to pay for school. I told my parents, 'I see the situation. Maybe I can’t continue.’ But I tried. I managed to finish.”

Festus’s childhood was equally unsettled. He is the second eldest of eight children and spent his early years living with his grandmother, later moving between relatives and schools. “I was not capable of getting more marks,” he said with a soft laugh, brushing off the pressure of academic expectation. 

During the pandemic, when schools and racing shut down, he stopped running altogether. “I went home and just rested. I did farming, some digging. My mother said, ‘Just relax. It will be okay.’ So I waited.”

Neither of them paints their past as heroic. They just kept going. "In Kenya, we have a lot of challenges,” Joseph said. “But it’s our country. We don’t complain. We just put in more effort.”

Jospeh and Festus at work. Choosing running as a career requires maximum commitment.

Choose Life, Choose Running  

From the outside, it’s easy to admire Kenyan runners. What’s harder to see is just how high the stakes are for those trying to make it.

“There are so many runners,” Joseph told me. “Every day, new people come into the sport. So many trying, but not many chances.” In races back home, fields can swell to hundreds. “You go to a 10K,” Festus said, “and maybe 600 runners are there. But only a few get noticed. Only a few get support.”

Even for those with talent, the path is rarely straightforward. Joseph explained that for most aspiring athletes, there are only two attainable routes to a steady income: getting signed by a sponsor or being recruited into a military or police team. “But those jobs,” he said, “they’re not easy to get. You have to pay. You have to know someone. And if you don’t have money or connections, you’re just running and hoping.”

If you want to run, you can’t work. And if you want to work, you can’t train.

The broader reality is harsh. In Kenya, many people work long hours — often in construction or farming — for little pay and no security. “Sometimes you work for weeks or even months,” Festus tells me, “and you don’t get any salary. Maybe the boss says, ‘Come back tomorrow.’ But tomorrow he is gone.”

That kind of instability gives these athletes a drive beyond that associated with competitive sport. Running becomes a way out requiring total commitment. “In Kenya, if you want to be a runner, you have to choose,” Joseph said. “There’s no company that will let you come in late because you were training. If you want to run, you can’t work. And if you want to work, you can’t train.”

I asked how they stay motivated, surrounded by hundreds of other fast, hungry athletes all chasing the same thing. “You need to keep your hope,” Festus said. “You have to believe you will become the best one day.” Joseph nodded. “I run because I feel it inside. Even if I lose a race, I just say to myself, tomorrow is another day to try. That’s the only way.”

Thank you both for the inspiring conversation.

No Mystery, Just Mileage

Now that the door has opened, Joseph and Festus are determined to take full advantage of it. “It’s our time,” Joseph said. “If you have a dream to build a house, to buy land, to change your life, now is the time to work for it.” 

However, this opportunity comes with the weight of expectation. “Being a Kenyan runner means something,” Joseph told me. “We are professionals now. We have to live up to that, to show we belong here, to show we are one of them.” By “them,” he meant not just the other athletes in Japan, but every elite runner in the world who carries the Kenyan name.

You just think: did I prepare enough? If you didn’t, there is no magic. Only training can help you.

Just before I left, I asked what they thought about in the final part of a race — around 8K into a 10K — that moment when the legs are leaden and the finish feels crushingly distant. I’ve got a race coming up myself, and I was quietly hoping they might share something, a trick, an inspiring adage, a mindset, anything that might help when things get really tough. I half-expected them to mention family, or childhood, or the journey that brought them here.

But they both looked at me, calm, unbothered, and almost simultaneously said, “Mileage.”

Joseph explains. "When you suffer at 8K, it’s because you didn’t do enough mileage. If your muscles are strong from mileage, you can push through. If not, the race is over. Mileage is the most important thing. At 8K, you don’t think about food or winning. You just think: did I prepare enough? If you didn’t, there is no magic. Only training can help you." Festus adds, "Your legs will tell you the truth. If you are tired at 8K, it's because of what you did or did not do in training."

This wisdom has stayed with me. And maybe that’s what this story is about, not hardship or talent, but the quiet discipline of showing up, again and again, until the door opens.

Pulling on my shoes at the entrance, ready to head out into the rain, Festus calls out: “Come back again.” 

I will. 

I am fascinated to see where this journey leads. 

To be continued… 

Want to stay in the loop?

• Follow Joseph and Festus's journey, alongside the rest of the team, on the official MABP Maverick Instagram account: https://www.instagram.com/mabpmaverick/

• Watch the time trial that the MABP Maverick team held in Kenya. The whole 85-minute documentary is fascinating, but the time trial section starts from around 33 minutes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52cjty1Gu34&t=2362s