Whenever I found myself tangled in a confusing situation, not just with my long distance running online coaching business but in general life, uncertain about which step to take next, it always reminded me of that classic riddle: which came first, the chicken or the egg? For years, this question echoed in my mind as a metaphor for moments of indecision. But this past week, during my mind-opening trip to the United States, I found unexpected clarity. The answer, at least for me, became obvious: the egg came first. With a smile, I realised I could finally put that age-old debate to rest—at least in my own story.
I have a friend who is 100 per cent certain that the egg came first, and he claims to have witnessed it firsthand. The story goes like this: he once ordered an egg at a restaurant, while his wife ordered the chicken. When the plates arrived, the egg landed on the table first! Case closed—at least according to him. Never mind centuries of philosophical debate; apparently, all we needed was a good waiter.
So, it’s now official: when it comes to my online coaching, I know exactly what will come first as I help my clients use running to live more fulfilling, healthy, and joyful lives. The answer is simple—the egg. And if anyone questions it, I have a friend’s restaurant story to prove it!
For me, the egg represents that first spark—the urge to do good and make the world a better place. The chicken, on the other hand, is all the training programs I hatch to help people run happier and healthier. That’s exactly what this whole experience taught me: egg comes first, then chicken—just like inspiration comes before action. (And sometimes, both come before breakfast.)
My experience at the Boston Logan International Airport as a long distance running athlete
So, this is how the events unfolded.
After finally clearing customs at Boston Logan International Airport, I found myself facing my first real challenge on American soil: booking a bus ticket online. I tried several times, but the transaction just wouldn’t go through. As a newcomer to the country, I didn’t have a local mobile plan yet, and stepping outside the airport would mean losing access to the free Wi-Fi. I felt a bit stranded, unsure whether to stay put or venture out and risk losing touch completely.
Eventually, I decided to take a leap of faith and left the airport, heading toward the bus terminus. Buses came and went, each one a potential lifeline. Here’s a tip for anyone in a similar situation: I managed to stay connected by hopping onto the free Wi-Fi available on different buses as they pulled in. It was a small relief in an otherwise bewildering moment, and it helped me keep my bearings while I figured out my next move.
Despite everything, I started to feel a quiet sense of reassurance just by looking at the people around me. Their smiles and open demeanors made it clear that help was there if I needed it. I recognized a woman from my flight and decided to approach her. We chatted about our journey, and when I explained my trouble paying for the bus online, she laughed warmly and told me not to worry. ‘As long as you know where you’re going, you’ll be fine,’ she said, her confidence infectious. That simple interaction lifted a weight from my shoulders.
Soon, the bus arrived and people began queuing up in an orderly line, showing their boarding passes to the driver as they boarded. There was an elderly woman ahead of me who handed the driver a phone in a bit of a fluster, clearly struggling with her own travel hiccup. I couldn’t make out her words, but I distinctly heard the driver respond kindly, ‘I trust you. Just get in the bus!’ His words sparked laughter among the passengers nearby. Whether her story was as creative as a child claiming the goat ate their homework, or a genuine mix-up, it didn’t matter—compassion won the day.
When it was my turn, I nervously asked the driver if I could pay for my ticket in cash. He smiled and waved me on, reassuring me that we could sort out the payment once we reached the station. That simple gesture—his willingness to trust a stranger—felt profoundly generous in a world that can so often seem transactional and rigid.
As the bus rumbled northward toward New Hampshire, I gazed out the window at the lush, flowering spring landscape rushing by. The scenes of budding trees and green fields mirrored the sense of renewal I felt inside. I couldn’t help but reflect on how the kindness I’d just experienced was not an isolated act, but part of a larger tapestry of community spirit—one that cushions and uplifts those who find themselves in need, even far from home.
I couldn’t help but wonder how differently things might have unfolded elsewhere. In some places, the elderly woman might not have been allowed to step onto the bus without proof of payment. In my own case, I might have been turned away, told bluntly to come back only when I had a ticket in hand. But here, kindness and trust took precedence over rigid rules.
The kindness shown by the bus driver—and by the entire New England community—felt deeply rooted, the result of long-held values passed down through generations. There is a quiet strength in a community that chooses compassion, making it second nature to extend a helping hand to strangers.
Goodness, I realized, is a circle that keeps turning. There’s an old saying that when you do good for others, you’re really doing good for yourself. We all share a collective responsibility—for the children, the elderly, the visitors, and anyone in need. Perhaps the bus driver saw his own mother or grandmother in that elderly woman, trusting that somewhere, someone else would do the same for his loved ones. That’s the beauty of true community.
To wrap up my bus adventure: when we finally reached our destination, the driver didn’t even check to see if I had paid for my ticket. He simply trusted me to do the right thing. Moved by the kindness I’d received, I made a point of seeking out the reception desk, where a friendly attendant accepted my cash and handed me a receipt. That moment, simple as it was, felt like a heartfelt exchange between strangers who chose to trust one another.
I consider myself incredibly fortunate—and endlessly grateful—to have found friends across half the globe who now feel like family. To have two homes, each on opposite sides of the world, is a rare gift. It’s a blessing that fills my heart with joy every single day.
Remarkably, just 24 hours after landing in the USA, I found myself among new friends—members of the Winners Circle Running Club—as we gathered at the Marathon Sports Shop for our evening run. As a Kenyan far from home, I felt a surge of connection and nostalgia when I saw familiar faces from my own community displayed on the store walls, their images used to advertise running gear. It was a comforting reminder that, no matter where I am, home is never too far away.
The owners of the sports shop greeted me with warm familiarity, remembering me from my previous visits. Their easy smiles and genuine welcome made me feel instantly at home. Had they not recognised me, I would have happily explained that my real reason for stopping by was to soak in the gallery of photos featuring Kenyan families and neighbours. Seeing those familiar faces, even in a foreign land, brought a sense of connection and comfort that words can hardly describe.
That evening, a small but enthusiastic group of about seven runners gathered for our run. As we set out together, conversation flowed easily between us, laughter echoing down the quiet streets. Our main topic of discussion was Sabastian Sawe’s historic achievement at the 2026 London Marathon—how he’d shattered barriers and inspired runners everywhere by becoming the first man to complete a marathon in under two hours. The excitement in everyone’s voices was palpable, and I felt privileged to share in this moment of collective awe and pride.
Catching up with these passionate runners was a true gift. We swapped stories, encouraged one another, and built connections that stretched beyond miles or finish times. Each run with them feels like an invitation to become part of a community—one that celebrates individual achievements while lifting each other up. I’m already looking forward to future group runs and the upcoming road races this season, eager for more shared moments on the road and off.
Lessons to take home from the experience
Looking back, I realize that it’s not just running that has changed my life—it’s the people, the kindness, and the sense of belonging that have come with it. My journey to the US reminded me that even in unfamiliar places, humanity’s warmth can break through uncertainty and fear. Acts of trust, small gestures of compassion, and the shared joy of movement connect us across continents and cultures.
Through running, I’ve found not only friends but family in unexpected corners of the world. I’ve been given opportunities to grow, to earn a living doing what I love, and to witness the beauty of community wherever I go. These experiences have restored my faith in humanity and taught me that, no matter where we are, the simple act of reaching out to one another makes all the difference.
As I lace up my shoes for each new run, I carry with me the lessons of kindness, resilience, and connection. The road ahead is open—and I know I’ll never truly be alone on the journey.