Success gains meaning when it serves others and today’s trophies and finish lines are enabling others to achieve their goals
In the misty highlands of Nyahururu, childhood is measured in the rhythm of chores, the steady beat of footsteps over steep, dusty hills and the quiet victories of survival.
Isaac Macharia Wanjohi’s earliest memories are stitched together from these small acts: fetching water from distant taps, guiding the family’s few livestock and tracing rugged paths barefoot, each step necessary and instructive.
There was no audience, no applause, no medal for persistence — only life relentlessly pressing him onward. Yet in those ordinary motions, something extraordinary was being shaped.
Endurance was nurtured in the cadence of footsteps, discipline in the repetition of chores, and strength in the daily negotiation between work and hope.
As the eldest child in a sprawling family, Wanjohi inherited responsibility early. There were no manuals for managing such expectations; the household’s survival depended on his resilience. Even as a child, he learnt that each choice he made could ripple across his family’s fragile ecosystem.
“I was born on November 25, 1978, in Nyahururu, Central Kenya, and I am the firstborn in a family of 10,” he begins calmly and deliberately, beginning his story as in his office in Ngong. There the morning sun streams across shelves lined with photographs and files documenting the lives of students, athletes and communities he has helped shape for the better.
Life in his household was provisional. Education was precious but uncertain, food scarce and dreams precarious. Yet within these constraints, Wanjohi’s intellect and determination created small openings, tiny moments of possibility.
“Growing up, life was very difficult. Getting school fees was a problem, and sometimes even food was not guaranteed,” he tells the Star in an interview.
Primary school became a refuge, a rare space where effort could translate into progress. Wanjohi excelled academically, earning admission to Jomo Kenyatta High School in Nakuru — demonstrating that circumstance could be challenged through hard work. But triumph proved fleeting.
“When I joined high school after performing well in KCPE, I only stayed for two terms because my parents could not raise the school fees,” he said.
A year later, Wanjohi found another chance at Ngaindeithia Secondary School in Nyandarua. Its name — God Help Me — echoed the desperation and faith of its students. The modest, under-resourced school demanded a balance between labour and study.
“I attended school about half the time and spent the rest working on farms to raise fees and food money,” he said.
University was initially out of reach, while the wider world called. Wanjohi migrated to Nairobi in search of opportunity, but housing was unstable, jobs temporary and survival demanded vigilance.
“I came to Nairobi for greener pastures, but life there was about survival,” Wanjohi said. “I did all sorts of casual jobs just to make ends meet.”
One job — digging holes for Kenya Power’s rural electrification project — demanded both physical endurance and discipline. His diligence earned him a scholarship to Kenya Power’s training school in Ruaraka, a transformative opportunity.
“I was a casual labourer, and I gave that job everything because I knew it was my only chance,” Wanjohi said.
Commuting costs were a new challenge, solved in an unusual way: he began running to school each morning. Necessity became endurance.
“I could not afford bus fare, so I started jogging to school every morning. At first it was walking and jogging, but eventually I could run the whole distance,” he said.
These runs were more than physical conditioning, they became a framework for discipline, patience and observation. Wanjohi noticed his body’s capacity to endure over distances that had once seemed impossible.
“That is when I realised I could last long and cover long distances. That is when running started to look like a possibility,” he said.
While gaining practical training in Mechanical Engineering, Wanjohi nurtured intellectual curiosity. He later earned a Bachelor’s degree in Commerce at JKUAT and a Master’s in Entrepreneurship from the University of Nairobi — hard-won achievements symbolising the marriage of resilience, discipline, and vision.
At age 19, Wanjohi entered his first competitive race: a charity half-marathon in Kibera. Shoes from Ngara Market and no entry fee did not deter him; determination outweighed material constraints.
“One runner told me that if I finished in the top three, I could get a sponsorship to Europe,” Macharia said.
He finished third, and soon afterward competed internationally in Austria, ranking 33 in the world. Professional contracts followed, and Adidas became a long-term partner.
“I have run with Adidas for most of my career, and they believed in me early,” Macharia said.
Personal struggle leads to philanthropy
Even as he succeeded on the track, Wanjohi never forgot the gaps, the needs, the lack of support he experienced. Reflecting on his own education, he often wondered how far mentorship might have carried him.
“My journey through education was tough. I would have been grateful for someone to hold my hand. I was not fortunate to get people who could support me,” Macharia said.
The problem of lack of support became a guiding principle. He recalls walking home after being sent away from school for unpaid fees, a journey of humility and prayer.
“When I was in Jomo Kenyatta High School in Nakuru and my parents moved to Nyahururu, I walked after I was sent and didn’t have bus fare,” he said.
“I’m a very religious person. That’s when I prayed to God that one day I would help underprivileged children,” he said.
Years later, that prayer became action. The land he bought in Ngong became the foundation for Kenswed Secondary School.
One moment crystallised his vision. Among the athletes he had supported, a young woman — lost in the shuffle of a large group — moved to Europe and married a foreigner. Her family recounted Wanjohi’s quiet guidance, which had shaped her path when options were scarce. When they visited Ngong to thank him, he redirected their admiration.
“The best appreciation is not gifts or praise, but helping me amplify the work I do,” he said.
What began with small acts of generosity — sending school fees to cousins and friends — needed scaling. Wanjohi combined his land, personal funds, and the support of collaborators to create an institution that made it possible for opportunity to ripple outward.
Kenswed Secondary School was born. Forty-six students and nine teachers grew into a thriving community of more than 340 students and 86 staff, fully sponsoring education including fees, uniforms, food and accommodation.
“I started with high school, but realised not everyone would go to university. So we started university scholarships, vocational training and entrepreneurship programmes to equip young people with skills,” Wanjohi explained.
The vocational arm teaches trades from pastry-baking and hairdressing to computer programming, while the entrepreneurship initiative funds small businesses through the Scientific and Technical Advisory Panel (STAP) Programme. At least 12 ventures have been launched, providing employment and financial independence.
Wanjohi’s vision extends beyond education. Inspired by his own mother and the vulnerabilities of girls in his community, he established a nonprofit maternity clinic in Ngong for teen mothers. It soon evolved into a free outpatient centre offering free subsidised care.
Recognising that early motherhood should not halt education, he launched the Girls Empowerment Programme. Young mothers could leave their babies in a safe home during school hours, with nannies providing care, and the girls returning to nurse them at lunchtime before resuming classes. The programme extended beyond Kenswed to other schools, ensuring education continued despite motherhood.
A number of girls supported by the programme went on to university.
“Most of us condemn young mothers after they give birth,” Wanjohi said, “but they are still productive in society if they are supported.” The youngest mothers he assisted were aged 14 or 15 from communities where teen pregnancy and early marriage are problems.
During the Covid-19 pandemic, when there was no school to keep young people engaged, Wanjohi established a maternity clinic to help young girls safely navigate pregnancy. The clinic is an expression of gratitude to his own mother.
Today, Kenswed and the maternity clinic — part of the broader CANCER Organisation — serve the entire community from Kibiko, two kilometres from Ngong town.
They reflect Wanjohi’s philosophy that opportunity and care must be accessible, comprehensive and transformative.
Kenswed’s rigorous selection process ensures deserving students are supported: applications, interviews and home visits identify those most in need. Athletic talent is also nurtured, with a number of students becoming professional athletes abroad, particularly in Japan.
“My greatest joy is not my medals or my races,” Macharia said. “It is seeing young people succeed.”
Through Wanjohi’s life, Kenyan athletics is not merely about speed or strategy, but endurance, resilience and responsibility. From Nyahururu to Nairobi, Salzburg to Ngong, his journey demonstrates a truth: talent paired with perseverance can transcend circumstance, and success gains meaning when it serves others.
Although he is no longer a competitive runner, he still rises before dawn, not only to train but to smooth the paths for others.
For Wanjohi, the ultimate finish line is not clocks or medals, but the laughter of students in Kenswed classrooms, the confidence of young athletes and the possibilities of young mothers. The finish line is combining hard work and faith to change a life narrative, especially one that begins in struggle.
