I must be crazy. It did sound like a good idea couple of months ago when I signed up for the Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon back in September. In the wee hours of Sunday, 7 December 2009 at the Esplanade Bridge, it was anything but when I started the 42 kilometre run with 15,000 thousand other runners. Well, at least there were 15,000 others who were just as insane as I am.
In our lifetime, there are some memories that are eternally etched in our minds. You remember them so vividly; the emotion of that very incident, like your first kiss. Well, running a marathon is quite similar, other than the fact that it felt more like the first heartbreak. And to think I could remember it so clearly in 2008, my first marathon (also the Standard Chartered marathon) was the most painful thing I’ve done in my life, why would I subject myself to such torture?
In our lifetime, there are some memories that are eternally etched in our minds. You remember them so vividly; the emotion of that very incident, like your first kiss. Well, running a marathon is quite similar, other than the fact that it felt more like the first heartbreak. And to think I could remember it so clearly in 2008, my first marathon (also the Standard Chartered marathon) was the most painful thing I’ve done in my life, why would I subject myself to such torture?
At 5.30am, when Guest-of-Honour Minister for Foreign Affairs, Mr George Yeo flagged off the full marathon, it was too late for regrets. Backing out now would be the most unmanly thing to do. “It’s only going to take 6 hours tops, so just get it over and done with it,” I told myself.
The euphoria at the starting line did help to get some adrenalin pumping, with the Black-Eyed Peas’ “Boom Boom Pow” getting the full marathoners all hyped up. As the runners took off at the starting line, it was all a familial affair - giving the neighbouring runners high-fives and masculine jabs of encouragement. We started running through Singapore’s Central Business District easily.
The euphoria at the starting line did help to get some adrenalin pumping, with the Black-Eyed Peas’ “Boom Boom Pow” getting the full marathoners all hyped up. As the runners took off at the starting line, it was all a familial affair - giving the neighbouring runners high-fives and masculine jabs of encouragement. We started running through Singapore’s Central Business District easily.
But after a mere five kilometers later, the atmosphere changed dramatically. It was dark, damp and silent. The sun hasn’t come up yet, your body’s starting to perspire despite the cool morning air, and when everybody’s pacing their breaths for the next 37 kilometres, nobody is talking. Running down Nicoll Highway, it looked like an endless straight road of misery up ahead.
Surprisingly, I kept up with the pace as we turned into Mountbatten road and towards East Coast Park. The sun starting coming up and the scenic view of a sunrise helped keep my mind off the repetitive steps of feet pounding the road. Having done several jogs around East Coast Park previously, the confidence of familiarity did wonders for me. And as we turned at the halfway mark near the National Sailing Centre, I felt fresh and was good for to go until the end.
I was terribly wrong. At the 30 kilometre mark, my feet felt like they were filled with lead. The lactic acid started to build up and I could not help but to feel that I should have been better prepared nutritionally for a moment like this. Coming out of East Coast Park and back towards Fort Road, I started to drag my feet. It was already nine in the morning and some of the residents staying around the area came out with their fanfare to encourage us.
Surprisingly, I kept up with the pace as we turned into Mountbatten road and towards East Coast Park. The sun starting coming up and the scenic view of a sunrise helped keep my mind off the repetitive steps of feet pounding the road. Having done several jogs around East Coast Park previously, the confidence of familiarity did wonders for me. And as we turned at the halfway mark near the National Sailing Centre, I felt fresh and was good for to go until the end.
I was terribly wrong. At the 30 kilometre mark, my feet felt like they were filled with lead. The lactic acid started to build up and I could not help but to feel that I should have been better prepared nutritionally for a moment like this. Coming out of East Coast Park and back towards Fort Road, I started to drag my feet. It was already nine in the morning and some of the residents staying around the area came out with their fanfare to encourage us.
If I were in their shoes, I would probably be thinking, “why subject yourself to such agony on a beautiful Sunday morning? You gotta be nuts.” Well, but that’s just me.
They were in good spirits; giving out drinks, bananas and high-fives to us. Unfortunately, at that point of time, all the strength I had was just enough to muster a smile at the supporters.
The remaining ten kilometers was just a blur. I believe that is what the professionals call “hitting the wall”, but mine was less dramatic than crawling to the finish line. I started walking and just when I thought the worst was over, came the ‘valley of death’.
I will always remember that slope down, then up Republic Avenue. It was already that late stage in the run when everyone is almost depleted, why is there such an insurmountable slope there to demoralize us? As I mentally hurled expletives at the event organizers, I grudgingly crept forward to what seemed like a climb up Everest.
They were in good spirits; giving out drinks, bananas and high-fives to us. Unfortunately, at that point of time, all the strength I had was just enough to muster a smile at the supporters.
The remaining ten kilometers was just a blur. I believe that is what the professionals call “hitting the wall”, but mine was less dramatic than crawling to the finish line. I started walking and just when I thought the worst was over, came the ‘valley of death’.
I will always remember that slope down, then up Republic Avenue. It was already that late stage in the run when everyone is almost depleted, why is there such an insurmountable slope there to demoralize us? As I mentally hurled expletives at the event organizers, I grudgingly crept forward to what seemed like a climb up Everest.
But once that was over and done with, what remained was just the sheer desire to get to the finish line. Running past Glutton’s Bay, down under the Esplanade Bridge and finally surfacing at Saint Andrew’s Road, there was total disregard for my body and the excitement of seeing the words, “FINISH” gave me the unexplainable energy to pick up my feet and make a last ditch jog towards the welcoming arms of my ‘adoring fans’. Kudos to the supporters at the finish line!
As I crossed the finish line and wobbled to the Padang, I felt such relief and an overwhelming sense of achievement. And although I questioned myself just six hours earlier, the feeling of finishing a 42 kilometre run in under six hours to me was all worth it in the end.
I could be crazy, but 2010 anyone?
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