The fastest debut in history, a London Marathon course record, and a new world record in Chicago — they were quick-fire achievements, but hardly what you might call low-hanging fruit. A consequence of this dramatic changing of the guard in the men's marathon was that recognition didn't come immediately. The marathon community needed time to comprehend what was happening. Perhaps it wasn't prepared — caught off-guard. Perhaps there was an awkwardness to how Kelvin took apart the existing record with the incumbent — Eliud Kipchoge — still competing. This enigmatic character was tearing up the rule book and doing marathons his own way. A career in marathon running doesn't happen like this, so they said. You earn your stripes by rising through the ranks.

Not Kelvin.

Kelvin was destined to keep rising after Chicago — it was written. It seems crazy to think that what he achieved in just a few races was merely the start. Cruelly, Kelvin will never to get to show us how high his peak could have been — that's the eternal agony of 'What if?' It'll be forever unknown. Barriers that previously felt unbreakable seemed fragile with Kelvin bearing down on them. Sub-2 in a race? From the outside looking in it seemed like only a matter of time. Bashir Abdi — third behind Kelvin at Chicago — agrees that the fastest times were yet to come. "I don't hesitate that he is the man who was able to run under two hours. When he ran the world record in Chicago last year, the weather was not perfect, the conditions were not perfect, and still he ran a new world record. And I remember, in Chicago, the pace makers were not even able to help him as far as 30km."

Benson Kipruto — twice a winner of the Chicago Marathon and second to Kelvin in 2023 — describes Kelvin's excitement after the race. His confidence was on the rise, but there was a sense that he didn't want to get drawn into hyperbole. "Kiptum was happy — jovial. He was telling me that he wanted to run fast, but he didn't know how fast." In spite of his status, it's an important insight that Kelvin took nothing for granted, telling Kipruto that should he be selected for the Olympics, simply, "he would be ready."

Kelvin lived and trained near Eldoret, Kenya's fifth largest city that sits more than 2,000 metres above sea level. While the altitude and moderate climate have helped to establish the area as a popular training destination for the world's best distance runners, traffic accidents are common. According to the World Health Organization, crashes on the road are a top-five cause of death for Kenyans between the ages of 5 and 70. Elite runners are not immune from the dangers, with Kelvin adding to a long list of athletes who have been killed or badly injured in car crashes.

Kipruto could see that there was a conviction about the way Kelvin saw his career unfolding that stood him apart. "Despite not having much experience at the longer distance, he was someone who was determined to achieve something. He was a strong-minded guy." Kelvin quickly established a formula for running marathons. A method that he executed to perfection in each of his three wins. Marathons have tended to be won by a slow turning of the screw. A chess match — some back-and-forth and a ratcheting-up of the pace that would see victory going to the last man standing. At Valencia Kelvin brought home the win with a clean negative split — early signs that he was capable of holding something back when the field was already putting each other under pressure.

Explosivity is not generally a prerequisite trait for running long distances, but it was in London — with the world watching — that Kelvin gave a true masterclass. As the lead group passed out of Canary Wharf and began the long east-to-west run to the finish, he kicked. Not a small dig to test his opponents, but a visible strike and noticeable acceleration. The gap grew quickly with each second as the rest floundered, unable to stay on Kelvin's shoulder. He ran from kilometre 30 to 35 in just 13:49. The damage was done but he didn't hold back, following up with 14:01 for the next 5k. A sub-28-minute 10k after 30 kilometres of racing and an overall negative split that would deliver a back half of 59:45. To put that pace into perspective, Kelvin ran the second half of London just 13 seconds slower than Mo Farah's British record for a standalone half marathon.

Let's forget about the running for a second.

Every athlete needs normality. Kipruto recalls some of the conversations between them on the flight home after the marathon world record was set. "We talked about life after the race. He told me he was going to take a break." Like all of us, Kelvin wanted to start creating a better life for his family. Benson continued, "We were exchanging ideas. He was planning to buy a plot in town, in Eldoret. And I told him that I had the same idea. He was telling me that he wanted to build a house. I told him that maybe one time I will come to your house, to visit each other. And that's what we were planning." In spite of his relative inexperience on the world stage, according to Kipruto, "He spoke like someone who understood life."

There's a poignancy to this that transcends sporting achievement. Selfishly, we're sad for ourselves — that we now won't see what we expected Kelvin to achieve. Perhaps that the sport of running has lost greatness. We're all guilty of dehumanizing the individual, reducing them down to the coldness of numbers and performances. Kelvin showed us what he was capable of as a runner. That's the bit we know. He was the fastest — ratified. But he came and went so quickly that we didn't get the chance to know the person behind the performances. To a degree, beyond a small group, he remains an enigma. Besides a few brief media appearances, he didn't get to present himself away from the road and to show his unique personality that we could all relate to. Every athlete has a sense of humour, they have dreams, they have moments of insecurity, they get nervous. These are the qualities that add up to the wholeness of being human and not simply 'an athlete'. We won't see Kelvin's personality grow. We won't get to know him on a deeper level. This is the loss that matters. Influence is not limited to times ran.

Perhaps the strongest reflection of character is not how one behaves when winning or losing, but the selflessness of how they support the performances of those around them. Especially when events don't necessarily go to plan. Kelvin's good friend, training partner, and fellow marathon runner, Daniel Do Nascimento, experienced this quality firsthand. "We met on the track and instantly became a great team — like Batman and Robin. For months we trained hard, pushing ourselves to the limit, determined to show the world what we were capable of achieving. Our hard work paid off when I broke the record for the fastest mile in the NYC Marathon. However, my success was short-lived as I collapsed at km 33." Kelvin, who wasn't racing, called immediately to check on his friend and congratulate Daniel on his new record. Adding that, "he was inspired to do the same thing in the Valencia Marathon. Everyone knows what happened next."

There is a consistent theme emerging about Kelvin — his warmth and positivity. Nascimento describes a down-to-earth person who always made effort with others, no matter the occasion. "Kelvin had an incredible presence. Whenever he arrived, he greeted everyone present...he had a way of motivating and inspiring those around him when he spoke. Despite his many talents, he was always humble and respectful towards everyone."

Kelvin had a gift for elevating those around him, using his status to motivate his friends and training partners to come on the journey with him. The reality was that Kelvin would ultimately blaze a trail that nobody else was capable of, but that didn't matter. He was devoid of condescension — purely authentic. Nascimento fondly recalls one of their last conversations "The day before he passed away, during our Saturday training session, he had told me that I would break the 2-hour barrier with him. We had a good laugh about it! Kelvin's ultimate dream was to become an Olympic Champion."

"He was always so relaxed — somehow — while we were so stressed about the race. He was a very funny guy. Always with a big smile and always joking about what he was doing. He never talked about the race or about a race plan", recounts Bashir Abdi. Stories from those behind the scenes — his fellow runners — who shared the race emotions and experienced the intimate touch points help to shape a more rounded picture of the person the rest of us didn't get to see. We see the nerves on the start line, the euphoria at the finish, and the scripted media appearances. We make a judgement based on fractions of a life. Abdi was one of those fortunate to be a part of Kelvin's scenes between the scenes. "I remember one time at our table, we were having breakfast and then he just came down to sit with us and he gave a big high-five to everyone at the table. And when he stood up to get his food I remember everyone saying 'Wow, this guy's so friendly.'"

We were there with him in Chicago. And like the rest of the world we watched in awe when the record fell in such dramatic fashion. We stood and applauded in disbelief. What had we just seen? The leg speed and the effortless pace — a style unlike anything else to grace the distance. Now we bow in shock of a different sort. The worst kind. The tragedy of a father, son, husband, and friend gone too soon — with so much road left to run.