Eliud Kipchoge

He’s the greatest marathoner in history, a national hero in Kenya, and an icon for runners around the world. But despite his fame and wealth, Eliud Kipchoge chooses to live the most basic lifestyle. Cathal Dennehy travels to the highlands of Kenya for an inside look at his training camp and to meet a champion with a quiet, complex personality EYES OF THE MASTER: Officially, Eliud Kipchoge is 36, though it’s understood he’s actually a few years older and he’s been at the top of his sport for 18 years… and counting. Photo: Bob Martin, Getty Images Two stories you need to know about Eliud Kipchoge, each painting a picture of a man who is, well, different. The first is from Vienna, October 12, 2019. Earlier that day, Kipchoge had become the first man ever to run a sub-two-hour marathon, clocking 1:59:40, a time that didn’t count as an official world record due to the use of rotating pacemakers and Kipchoge being handed his drinks from a bike (rather than picking them off a table). The INEOS 1:59 Challenge, bankrolled by British billionaire Jim Ratcliffe, gathered many of the world’s best to help pace Kipchoge to a mark many had deemed impossible. But then he did it, holding an absurd pace of 4:33 per mile or 2:50 per kilometre before sprinting, exulted, into the arms of his wife, Grace, and his coach, Patrick Sang, for an achievement that would echo in eternity. Later that night, organisers held a no-expense-spared party for those who’d been part of the project. Kipchoge was there, handing out trophies to the 41 men who’d paced him, and he then made a speech to thank those who’d worked so hard behind the scenes. Alcohol flowed through the room in torrents, and most athletes present ended up out on the town until late night turned to early morning. Kipchoge? He didn’t touch a drop of alcohol (he never drinks) and once his speech was made, the man responsible for the entire celebration quietly exited the room, going back to his hotel for an early night. He has a thing about celebrating, Kipchoge. Sees it as something sinister, something dangerous, a self-indulgent act that might derail his mindset, make him think, somewhere in his subconscious, that he has arrived, the inference being he has nowhere left to go. He’ll punch the air at the finish, alright, but try to get him into an open-top car or to attend a huge welcome-home party and you’ll get a polite but firm rejection. Which begs a question: If he can’t bask in the glow of his achievements, when is Kipchoge truly content? Maybe that’s the thing about all-time greats. Maybe they never are. Eliud Kipchoge crosses the finish line to win the men's marathon during the Tokyo 2020 Olympic Games in Sapporo. Picture: Charly Triballeau, AFP Another story, this one from the Tokyo Olympics. On Sunday, August 8, the last day of the Games, Kipchoge once again eviscerated the world’s best marathoners to retain his Olympic title, dropping an almighty hammer 19 miles into the race and coming home a whopping 80 seconds clear of his closest rival. The race was held in Sapporo, more than 800km from Tokyo, but tradition dictates that the men’s marathon medals are handed out at the Olympic closing ceremony. Kipchoge and his fellow medallists, along with their coaches, were flown to Tokyo that afternoon, then made to wait for a few hours at the airport before being driven to the stadium. Cramped in a dull room with hours to kill, the Olympic medallists did what most would do: they opened their phones, logged into wifi, and started scrolling through the river of goodwill messages. All except one. Kipchoge placed his phone in front of him and never touched it, sitting there — for hours — in contented silence. Bashir Abdi, the bronze medallist from Belgium, recalls the story in laughing disbelief, adding a line, only half-joking, that those in the sport have said many times about Kipchoge. In his 2006 essay, ‘Roger Federer as Religious Experience’, the late, great American writer David