Muturi Knows All About Taking Different Paths

They are the side effect of a sports culture gone goofy, these kids who turn pro too soon.

Harold Miner and Mark Sanford. Rashaan Salaam and Phillip Bobo. Sam Adams. Donyell Marshall.

Some busts, some just late bloomers.

And then there’s Patrick Muturi, who turned pro early - too early, it was suggested to him more than once - yet stayed in school. In Pullman, no less.

On Sunday, he comes to Spokane to run in his first Bloomsday amid a bubbling debate over the merits of financially rewarding Kenya’s superb distance runners for their increasing domination of road racing. Fortunately, he is a happy refutation of virtually all the sorry arguments against.

In fact, a suggestion: next Junior Bloomsday, don’t bother bringing in a Warren Moon as the celebrity starter. Bring in Patrick Muturi instead.

The kids may not know who he is, but you’ll feel better about what he is.

“A very committed person, a tough kid, a talented runner,” said Li Li, who coaches distance runners at Washington State University - and Muturi, as well. “When he came to me, he was struggling so bad but his values were so solid that it made me think I had to give him a helping hand.”

Muturi struggles would appear to be over.

In 1997 - an absolutely amazing year of marathon running - Muturi ranked among the world’s top 25 off his 2:08:59 clocking in the Chicago Marathon. This year started out just as strong, with a second-place finish at the prestigious San Blas Half-Marathon in Puerto Rico.

“I remember my coach in Kenya saying the sky should be the limit,” Muturi said. “In the long run, you may never reach the sky, but you’ll never be on the ground.”

Indeed, Muturi is the best Kenyan Cougar you’ve never heard of.

Following the long tradition of his countrymen who have run for WSU, Muturi showed up on campus in 1993, became an All-American in cross country and track - and then renounced his scholarship.

In the summer after that first year, Muturi ran the City of San Francisco Marathon - and won. After some agonizing, he accepted the prize money, forfeiting his college eligibility.

He didn’t take the money and run, he ran and took the money.

“I thought I had the talent to be with the top runners in the world, but I couldn’t do it with a track scholarship under the restrictions of the NCAA,” he said.

“Sometimes in life, you have a choice to make. It was very difficult - and nobody around me seemed to approve of my position. But I trust in God, and trusting in this decision has brought me closer to God.”

What he didn’t renounce was his education. Muturi remained enrolled at WSU - as a full-time student to maintain his visa - and tried to balance his studies with a running career that had to earn him enough to pay the hefty tab of an international student’s tuition. Even patriots who grump about foreign runners cashing and dashing should see that Muturi accounted for some considerable economic impact.

In any case, his plan worked. For about a year.

“Those I was competing against didn’t have to worry about school,” he said. “I had to sleep less, train more and I was all by myself. I had no coach, no planned training, no racing schedule. I’d run a 2:12 or 2:13 marathon. I’d pick up a paper and see runners I’d competed against run 2:09 or 2:10 in their next marathon, and I’d be running 2:15.”

Last spring, he approached Li.

“He was really in bad shape - from every angle,” Li said.

Li not only plotted more consistent workouts, he helped Muturi establish residency in the States so he could lessen his class load - though he remains on pace to finish requirements for a degree in international business this summer. And when there is no one to do mileage with, Li paces Muturi on a bicycle.

“I cannot begin to thank God enough for providing coach Li,” Muturi said. “I would be lost without him.”

If the quick turnaround in Chicago was a surprise to Li, it wasn’t to Muturi.

“I’ve always felt I have a call - I told my parents I have a call to be the best runner in the world,” he said.

His mother, Teresia Mbaire, wasn’t initially convinced. She once stopped Muturi from running “because I was consumed by it.” His father, Muturi Karanja, was merely indifferent; farming and supporting seven children in the little town of Kiamba were more pressing preoccupations.

But the Kenyan distance legacy has an irresistible pull. In Muturi’s case, it pulled him to Pullman - and anchors him there.

It is not the most accessible headquarters for an international career, but conventional Muturi is not.

His avowed running role model, for instance, is not one of the hordes of sensational Kenyans, but American Bob Kennedy, whose dogged pursuit of excellence has led him to train with and challenge himself against Kenya’s best when other Americans won’t.

“Being fast is not enough,” he said. “Giving your best is a victory in itself. Having something to come home and tell God, that is what counts.”

And the pull of Pullman?

“I stayed here because I have so many friends - friends who don’t see me as a professional runner, but one of their own,” he said. “I love Pullman, I love WSU, I love being associated with this area. I’m glad I’m finally in a position to run Bloomsday. I’ve wanted to do it before.

“This is a good place. This is my world.”