I just rolled off my bicycle, leaned it on the wall. I was sweating like a Christmas he-goat and enjoying every minute of it. My legs ache guess I am not getting younger but that was the reason why I preferred riding bicycles to jogging. Sport enthusiasts in their hundreds were all over the place jogging, riding bicycles like me, off course you wouldn’t count out the aerobic activities which were in full swing a stone throw from where I was.
Coming to stadium – National stadium on Saturday has become a hobby I can’t let go. I sat on one of the rectangular metal bars which serve as a conduit leading spectators into the stadium arena itself and also double as gym tool for amateur athletes like me who try to work out a two or three pack depending on the contour of your belly.
I wasn’t in for the sports today. Riding the bicycle has taken its toll already. I had this thought buzzing in my head as soon as I rode into Marshall Roundabout via Adelabu Street. Mind you this is my area - a route I know like the back of my hand. I just felt something different today.
I muttered to myself, bless God no one around me heard what I said… “Living in Lagos is a crazy deal”. From Ikorodu via Mile 12 all the way to Lagos Island either through 3rd Mainland Bridge or Funsho Williams Avenue. From the furthest end of Ajegunle via Oshodi to the Island, from Badagry through Mile 2 and Orile thousands of workers hit the road every day heading to work. We are so focused on heading to work, beating the traffic jam, leaving home quite early in the morning and getting into our office before the gridlock grinds everything to a halt.
Yet we forget something so simple, common and crucial. Couple of days ago I went to see a friend at Anthony’s. On getting to Barrack’s bus stop, it dawned on me that for a while, I haven’t seen this place. Barrack bus stop of all place - my kick off point when I was at Unilag, close to Ojuelegba market. Can’t believe it! I have been shuttling to Costain via Bode Thomas, Eric Moore Street and for once, it never occurred to me that Barracks existed. The hustle and bustle of Lagos can knock off other geographical locations within your area off your mental map. You may realize after two weeks that you haven’t said hi to your friend downstairs, of course in the same compound.
I rep Lasgidi, the land of the great and correct hustlers. Some people say the stress got them packing; I say the stress made me fall in love with Lagos. Haven’t figured out what it’s going to look like living in Abuja or Port Harcourt.
Forgot I was meant to be riding my bike. I am so tired. Today looks a bit different. Just need a bottle of Teem and do away with all this thinking stuff.
Home and breakfast beckons.