ITEN, Kenya: Thousands of feet above the Great Rift Valley that runs through East Africa, the small city of Iten, Kenya, calls itself the Home of Champions. It has long produced and attracted world-class running talent, its high altitude and red dirt roads a training ground for thousands.
The town also has a far less laudatory reputation. It is a well-documented center of a doping crisis that shows little sign of being tamed.
Runners come here for access to competition, coaching talent and the benefit of training in thin air, all to try to earn riches from running. Many Kenyans who try to join the elite endure cramped and dirty living conditions, little food and separation from their families in service of their ambitions.
In a region where the average annual income is the equivalent of little more than $2,000 and the competition so intense, the potentially life-changing lure of banned substances, referred to locally as “the medicine,” is obvious. A few thousand dollars in prize money or participation in a single overseas race can be the difference between runners and their families eating three meals a day and scratching around for the next bite.
They calculate that doping is worth the risks not only of getting caught, but also of damaging their health and, in some cases, even dying.
In that environment, the doping industry has flourished, with pharmacies in the region’s health care hub city of Eldoret said to serve as a conduit for performance-enhancing substances. The crisis pulls together extreme poverty, moneymaking opportunity, corruption and a region overflowing with running talent that makes getting an edge harder than just about anywhere.
“This economic reality means the high-risk situation is always going to be impossible to completely eradicate,” said Brett Clothier, the head of global track and field’s unit responsible for anti-doping efforts.
Many runners and coaches suspect that their rivals dope, and they point to the roster of athletes barred from international competitive racing. Kenya, which has a smaller population than 25 other countries, has the most names on the list.
Some of Kenya’s most prominent runners have been caught doping and barred from competition. The women’s marathon world-record holder, Ruth Chepngetich, who is from the Rift Valley, was suspended this month after testing positive for a prohibited substance. Her agent did not respond to a request for comment.
International officials have made headway. Kenyans are now among the most-tested athletes anywhere, Clothier said, adding that as widespread as the doping is, it was far worse just a few years ago.
Yet, global anti-doping bodies suspect that policing efforts may be touching only the edges of a cheating epidemic. Officials in Kenya responsible for tackling doping have been caught taking bribes. Some have been arrested.
The scale of the problem prompted track and field’s governing body to threaten to ban Kenya from global competition unless its government committed to spending $25 million to fight doping, a staggering amount in the anti-doping world.
“We have to teach them a different way of seeing things: that using illegitimate means of doing well is not going to help them in the long run; it damages their health, and they might not be successful,” said Barnabas Korir, an executive committee member of Kenya’s athletics federation who also sits on a multiagency anti-doping body.
“It’s a matter of changing the whole attitude.”
Runners Everywhere
Before dawn on any given day, runners kick up the red earth along the main road to Iten or other training routes. At the busiest times, it can seem that more people are running than walking alongside the road.
The best are on teams of their own. Their up-and-coming athletes sleep, eat and train in camps. The most promising compete in races locally and regionally, and if they succeed, teams send them abroad to earn prize money or sponsorships.
Thousands of other athletes exist on the periphery of this structure, outside the teams. On a Tuesday this year, one of them, Daniel Rotich, 24, was at Kipchoge Keino Stadium, named for one of Kenya’s most revered runners. It’s a ramshackle building that is a magnet for runners looking to improve.
Rotich arrived before first light, waiting for a coach who would ultimately not show. With a young child and another on the way, Rotich convinced his wife that he should try running because he had shown promise in school.
He had maize and beans to last another few weeks, enough time, he hoped, to improve his pace and attract the attention of a camp that would provide housing and food in return for a share of any earnings. His wife sent him the equivalent of a dollar every second day, he said, and he slept on a thin blue mat in a room with a mud floor that a friend let him use.
“It’s hard, but we have to survive until you make it,” he said after running 10 drills of 1,000 meters each. “It might take two years or six months.”
His story is typical. “You’ll never find anybody running for health,” Toby Tanser, a former runner who has written books on Kenyan running, said one morning above the cheers of children emanating from a field day nearby.
Though many runners here convince themselves that they can rise above the pack, Tanser said, “the sad reality is that around 95% of runners training in Iten are never going to have a career.”
A Better Life
To beat the competition and earn life-changing income, which could mean as little as $5,000 or $10,000 a year, doping is an attractive proposition.
Over the past decade, Alfred, an athlete who acknowledged using banned drugs, achieved success in modest races. The income, he said, allowed him to provide a home for his immediate family and his mother, who had been living in the mud-and-thatch house where he was raised.
Doping was the only route he saw to a better life, said Alfred, who agreed to be interviewed on the condition his last name not be used.
Getting access to banned substances is straightforward, according to anti-doping officials and athletes. Pharmacies line the streets of Eldoret, a city of about a half million and the region’s principal commercial hub, about a 30-minute drive from Iten. Runners can procure just about anything they need to boost performance. For those who can’t pay, some pharmacists or doctors will strike deals for a percentage of future earnings, athletes and anti-doping officials said. Pharmacists in and around Iten and Eldoret declined to be interviewed.
“If any dodgy doctor or pharmacist says, ‘Try this,’ people just do it,” said Clothier, the anti-doping official.
The authorities’ crackdown also took aim at drug suppliers. In May, an Indian national was arrested in Iten carrying prohibited drugs, including human growth hormones.
Efforts such as presentations about the risks of doping have backfired, said Joseph Cheromei, a well-regarded local coach known for his hard line against doping. The presentations from anti-doping officials, Cheromei added, instead outlined for runners which substances would increase their speed.
Scrambling to Avoid Capture
Blanket testing is the latest tool that officials have devised to catch cheats in Iten.
One morning in November, officials descended on a track where scores of athletes were training, locking the gates behind them. Pandemonium ensued, according to Ben Kipchirchir, a Kenyan runner.
Kipchirchir said he witnessed athletes clamber over walls and vault fences to escape. “They were running this way and that,” he said, smiling ruefully.
Often, Kenyans and others taking drugs show little regard for the physical risks, such as dangerously elevated heart rates, kidney and liver disease, and even death.
In the fall of 2024, at the same Iten track, a 20-year-old man trying out for an American college scholarship collapsed and died after a 3,000-meter trial, news reports said.
He is one of many young Kenyan athletes to die while running, according to news reports about their deaths. The causes of death have been hard for athletics officials to determine because they have been unable to get access to autopsy results.
“If someone drops dead like that, an athlete who is fit, a young one, there has to be a reason,” said Korir, the Kenyan official. “It can’t be someone just drops dead.”
Kipchirchir’s goal to go pro gets harder with each day, as younger rivals join the scramble to get ahead.
Wearily, he watches them speed up, ultimately — thanks to “the medicine,” he said — blitzing past him in the race to change their lives.
“It’s not fair,” he said.
The town also has a far less laudatory reputation. It is a well-documented center of a doping crisis that shows little sign of being tamed.
Runners come here for access to competition, coaching talent and the benefit of training in thin air, all to try to earn riches from running. Many Kenyans who try to join the elite endure cramped and dirty living conditions, little food and separation from their families in service of their ambitions.
In a region where the average annual income is the equivalent of little more than $2,000 and the competition so intense, the potentially life-changing lure of banned substances, referred to locally as “the medicine,” is obvious. A few thousand dollars in prize money or participation in a single overseas race can be the difference between runners and their families eating three meals a day and scratching around for the next bite.
They calculate that doping is worth the risks not only of getting caught, but also of damaging their health and, in some cases, even dying.
In that environment, the doping industry has flourished, with pharmacies in the region’s health care hub city of Eldoret said to serve as a conduit for performance-enhancing substances. The crisis pulls together extreme poverty, moneymaking opportunity, corruption and a region overflowing with running talent that makes getting an edge harder than just about anywhere.
“This economic reality means the high-risk situation is always going to be impossible to completely eradicate,” said Brett Clothier, the head of global track and field’s unit responsible for anti-doping efforts.
Many runners and coaches suspect that their rivals dope, and they point to the roster of athletes barred from international competitive racing. Kenya, which has a smaller population than 25 other countries, has the most names on the list.
Some of Kenya’s most prominent runners have been caught doping and barred from competition. The women’s marathon world-record holder, Ruth Chepngetich, who is from the Rift Valley, was suspended this month after testing positive for a prohibited substance. Her agent did not respond to a request for comment.
International officials have made headway. Kenyans are now among the most-tested athletes anywhere, Clothier said, adding that as widespread as the doping is, it was far worse just a few years ago.
Yet, global anti-doping bodies suspect that policing efforts may be touching only the edges of a cheating epidemic. Officials in Kenya responsible for tackling doping have been caught taking bribes. Some have been arrested.
The scale of the problem prompted track and field’s governing body to threaten to ban Kenya from global competition unless its government committed to spending $25 million to fight doping, a staggering amount in the anti-doping world.
“We have to teach them a different way of seeing things: that using illegitimate means of doing well is not going to help them in the long run; it damages their health, and they might not be successful,” said Barnabas Korir, an executive committee member of Kenya’s athletics federation who also sits on a multiagency anti-doping body.
“It’s a matter of changing the whole attitude.”
Runners Everywhere
Before dawn on any given day, runners kick up the red earth along the main road to Iten or other training routes. At the busiest times, it can seem that more people are running than walking alongside the road.
The best are on teams of their own. Their up-and-coming athletes sleep, eat and train in camps. The most promising compete in races locally and regionally, and if they succeed, teams send them abroad to earn prize money or sponsorships.
Thousands of other athletes exist on the periphery of this structure, outside the teams. On a Tuesday this year, one of them, Daniel Rotich, 24, was at Kipchoge Keino Stadium, named for one of Kenya’s most revered runners. It’s a ramshackle building that is a magnet for runners looking to improve.
Rotich arrived before first light, waiting for a coach who would ultimately not show. With a young child and another on the way, Rotich convinced his wife that he should try running because he had shown promise in school.
He had maize and beans to last another few weeks, enough time, he hoped, to improve his pace and attract the attention of a camp that would provide housing and food in return for a share of any earnings. His wife sent him the equivalent of a dollar every second day, he said, and he slept on a thin blue mat in a room with a mud floor that a friend let him use.
“It’s hard, but we have to survive until you make it,” he said after running 10 drills of 1,000 meters each. “It might take two years or six months.”
His story is typical. “You’ll never find anybody running for health,” Toby Tanser, a former runner who has written books on Kenyan running, said one morning above the cheers of children emanating from a field day nearby.
Though many runners here convince themselves that they can rise above the pack, Tanser said, “the sad reality is that around 95% of runners training in Iten are never going to have a career.”
A Better Life
To beat the competition and earn life-changing income, which could mean as little as $5,000 or $10,000 a year, doping is an attractive proposition.
Over the past decade, Alfred, an athlete who acknowledged using banned drugs, achieved success in modest races. The income, he said, allowed him to provide a home for his immediate family and his mother, who had been living in the mud-and-thatch house where he was raised.
Doping was the only route he saw to a better life, said Alfred, who agreed to be interviewed on the condition his last name not be used.
Getting access to banned substances is straightforward, according to anti-doping officials and athletes. Pharmacies line the streets of Eldoret, a city of about a half million and the region’s principal commercial hub, about a 30-minute drive from Iten. Runners can procure just about anything they need to boost performance. For those who can’t pay, some pharmacists or doctors will strike deals for a percentage of future earnings, athletes and anti-doping officials said. Pharmacists in and around Iten and Eldoret declined to be interviewed.
“If any dodgy doctor or pharmacist says, ‘Try this,’ people just do it,” said Clothier, the anti-doping official.
The authorities’ crackdown also took aim at drug suppliers. In May, an Indian national was arrested in Iten carrying prohibited drugs, including human growth hormones.
Efforts such as presentations about the risks of doping have backfired, said Joseph Cheromei, a well-regarded local coach known for his hard line against doping. The presentations from anti-doping officials, Cheromei added, instead outlined for runners which substances would increase their speed.
Scrambling to Avoid Capture
Blanket testing is the latest tool that officials have devised to catch cheats in Iten.
One morning in November, officials descended on a track where scores of athletes were training, locking the gates behind them. Pandemonium ensued, according to Ben Kipchirchir, a Kenyan runner.
Kipchirchir said he witnessed athletes clamber over walls and vault fences to escape. “They were running this way and that,” he said, smiling ruefully.
Often, Kenyans and others taking drugs show little regard for the physical risks, such as dangerously elevated heart rates, kidney and liver disease, and even death.
In the fall of 2024, at the same Iten track, a 20-year-old man trying out for an American college scholarship collapsed and died after a 3,000-meter trial, news reports said.
He is one of many young Kenyan athletes to die while running, according to news reports about their deaths. The causes of death have been hard for athletics officials to determine because they have been unable to get access to autopsy results.
“If someone drops dead like that, an athlete who is fit, a young one, there has to be a reason,” said Korir, the Kenyan official. “It can’t be someone just drops dead.”
Kipchirchir’s goal to go pro gets harder with each day, as younger rivals join the scramble to get ahead.
Wearily, he watches them speed up, ultimately — thanks to “the medicine,” he said — blitzing past him in the race to change their lives.
“It’s not fair,” he said.
