Nairobi’s traffic is a daily battle for most people, but for Francis Kiarie Ngugi, the chaos is where his story begins. Long before he became one of the country’s most promising competitive cyclists, before the races across East Africa and the obsession with perfect cadence, he was a boy weaving through neighbourhood streets on two wheels, discovering a kind of freedom nothing else could match.
Cycling is not a mainstream sport in Kenya. There are no packed stadiums, no national fanfare, no big sponsorship pipelines. It is a grind that depends on grit rather than glamour. Yet Francis kept riding. From the back roads of Nairobi to the demanding climbs of Rwanda and the high-speed circuits of the Grand Nairobi Bike Race, he learned how to suffer, how to endure, and how to come back stronger every time the sport tried to break him.
He remembers the first time he raced outside Kenya. “Every place teaches you something different,” he says. “New roads, new riders, new conditions. You realise quickly that cycling is not just a sport. It is a test of who you are.”
The wins did not come easily. Neither did the equipment. For years, Francis trained on a bike that had already lived its best life, relying on borrowed parts, worn-out tyres, and luck. But he kept going and kept showing up because, in his words, “every kilometre was part of the story.”
That story took a sharp turn in 2025 when Francis was named a Silver Winner in the Tujiamini by SportPesa Nairobi Edition, receiving KSh 100,000 to invest in his cycling career. For most athletes in Europe or the United States, a hundred thousand shillings would barely buy a single wheelset. For Francis, it was the difference between surviving and competing.
The funding is now going toward professional gear, a high-performance bike, and the kind of safety and training equipment that separates hopeful riders from serious contenders. “This support gives me the confidence to finally race at an international level with the right tools,” he says. “It is the first time I feel fully equipped to chase big stages.”
But this is not just a solo chase. Francis’s next mission is bigger. He is building a cycling club in Nairobi, a space where young riders can learn, train, and be seen. Cycling communities like these are rare in Kenya, yet they are the heartbeat of the sport in countries where cycling thrives. He wants to give the next generation what he never had, a starting line.
The vision is simple but powerful: a club that nurtures talent, encourages fitness, keeps kids off idle paths, and builds pride around a sport that demands persistence. “There are so many young people who have the passion but no access,” he explains. “If we can build a proper structure here, Kenya can compete with the world.”
He speaks with the conviction of someone who has already lived the cost of self-belief. For Francis, Tujiamini is not a slogan. It is the moment the grind finally met opportunity. “It means hope,” he says. “It means someone out there believes in my journey as much as I do.”
If the city listens closely, it can already hear it, the subtle transformation of Nairobi’s alleys and side roads into training lanes. The rise of a crew of young cyclists following the tyre tracks of a rider who refused to quit.
Francis is still pedalling toward his biggest dreams, but now he is not riding alone.