42

in the days and weeks leading up to my first full marathon, i was admittedly nervous. this had to mean something. it had to mean that i was prepared, mentally and physically. i even injured my hip two weeks before and only worked in 10km runs (at most) during the weekend. and i had to run it alone.

i woke up at 3.30 last sunday morning. in under 25 minutes flat i had brushed my teeth, drunk my coffee, gotten dressed, slapped on sunscreen, wondered where i would chafe and realized i didn’t have vaseline on me, prepared a packet of salt for emergency purposes, strapped on my pouch, wore my shoes and was out the door. i had a Rose apple for breakfast and a half bottle of Pocari sweat.

and then before i knew it, three billion people around me began to run. i had my iPod on for the entire race. i fell in with the 5:15 pacers naturally, and then i stopped for a toilet break at the 10k mark, and then they were gone. i soon found them again at the park, but by the time 24k rolled around, my knees had begun to complain. loudly. and it was at this point i began to thank the founders of Deep Heat. i didn’t care how much analgesic i slapped on to my appendages, but i did because it reacted with sweat and it burned like hell for a good 2 or 3 km so much so that i didn’t even feel the joint pain anymore. at one point i think i felt a little insane, somewhere around 33km. this was where the most analgesic-slapping went on. not just me, everyone else, too. all the sub-sixers.

31-36 was a hellish path. i’d never walked so slow in my life. everything burned, and i lacked human companionship despite the 3 billion people around me. everyone seem ensconced in their own pain and completely unwilling to chit chat. is it just tired marathoners, or the people here in general that don’t like to talk? or was it me? i didn’t care, so i texted my friends who were waiting near the finish something like “KMN”. the pain had begun searing through my back, my quads, my adductors. i was ready to collapse.

If you can’t run, walk. if you can’t walk, crawl. But no matter what, do whatever you have to do to keep moving forward.

two minutes later, i read – blurrily – “GO BOO GO. WE R WAITING 4 U”. so i did. when i began to move up Benjamin Sheares bridge the pain had gone. i didn’t know then if it really had disappeared or if i was just too tired to feel it.

so i ran. and i ran til the finish, where i found my mother and father and friends waiting for me, happily. and then i was done.

honestly, my marathon should have been just that. i should have just run and run ’til the finish, ’til i was done.

but it’s not that easy.

which is why i’m doing it again in six months.

Good enough never is.

oh, and watch for chafing at the groin and underarm area. and if you’re a guy, you might want to slap on vaseline on your nipples. a lot of vaseline.

what i think about when i run

i ran outside this afternoon. i usually run in the evening if i go outside. otherwise, it’s the artificial chill of the gym for me. city brat.

the weather was nice. it wasn’t sunny, neither did it rain. i felt a few drops on my face at one point, but i ignored it and continued.

i had adele’s “turning tables” looping in my head for a good 20 minutes. i felt like a weird machine. if you haven’t heard it, you should – here. it brings me back to a dark place in my life that i have come to peace with. it’s almost like reading or every time i stopped thinking about work or what other people were doing on saturday afternoons. i only met two runners along the way. they were both male. and by “met”, i mean noticed them as they zipped past me. they didn’t notice me. oftentimes, i hate this city for its lack of soul. where does that line lie between not smiling at anyone and stopping to help a severely injured toddler on the road? city brats.

i ran along the main road. the crowd was paved with random people, mostly people waiting for the bus who just look at me like i’m some sort of, well, abnormal person. one fat kid stopped to point at me and said something in vietnamese. or it could’ve been chinese. i don’t know, i’m such a bad asian.

i ran for about four kilometers before i started to feel thirsty. i’d forgotten about the perils of running outdoors in the sun. slap me already. so  i decided to run up the forested hill aka mount faber. bad mistake. i plodded up and plodded back down.

after that i spent the rest of the five or so kilometers thinking about water. obsession can be a terrible thing, especially when you’re dehydrated. no matter which path your mind meanders, all thoughts lead back to good ol’ H2O.

i would worry about humanity and its eventual end later.

hulk training for long distance

today i channeled my anxiety into my legs: i ran too far and too fast in the rain.

i imagine this is what the hulk would’ve done, too, assuming rage was substituted with anxiety in this instance.

 

 

 

…incidentally, many boys in my high school physics class used to liken me to the hulk.

running: the beginning

it’s kind of hard to talk about running and exercise in general without sounding like a proper health freak who follows a high protein diet and wears a odometer everywhere he or she goes. i am no health freak and too much protein makes me gassy. i hate gas.

i want to talk about running because it has been a while since i engaged in proper long distance. recently, i have been feeling the odd and familiar urge to stretch my legs once more. i want to document my relationship with running from now on in here. from summer 2009 up until now, i have only been doing 45 minute cardio sessions or one hour group exercise sessions two to three times a week at the gym. this is all well and good, but nothing thrilling. i first began running seriously in 2008. seriously, as in i would run 8-10km every time i stepped on the treadmill. less, if i ran outdoors in the cold biting english winter wind.

some of my friends always associate me with running. however, truth be told, i can’t run that far that fast. i do not have the build of a typical long distance runner: i am short legged and heavy bottomed. in my youth, i was made to run the 1500m every year on sports days. i hated it, because i was made to do it. plus, i was fat. now, i exercise and run purely because i want to. they say that you can do whatever if you train hard enough, ultramarathons included. i suppose i haven’t trained hard enough for any sort of event in my life. i meant to run a winter marathon in 2008, but due to adverse weather conditions, the race was cancelled and so my first attempt at running 42km was never realised. i was disappointed after my 3-4 months worth of so-called training. i figured i could always do it again, but since then, i haven’t really done anything quite as intense.

“why do you run?” is a fair question. initially – and i say this unapologetically – it was because of a watershed crisis of sorts that involves two people, otherwise known as a Bad Breakup. then it just stopped being that and i stopped thinking about bad things. running evolved quite naturally into something that became part of my life and part of my routine. i was very happy to learn that i could run more than 10km without stopping under an hour. it was something i thought i could never ever do. i grew to like it very much. as difficult as it is to believe, i liked the outdoors, the sweeping feeling that i got from each stride i took during my run. it is an emancipating feeling that courses through your blood, forcing you to focus your attention like a laser beam on purely what lies ahead. there is no looking back. in a way, this is how i would like to live my life: focused on a goal without ever looking back.

“isn’t running boring?” not at all. well, i am not averse to being alone, therefore i am never bored when i am by myself. it has always been a part of me, hanging out by myself. i don’t need people to survive, just as i am sure people don’t need me around. i like running by myself. it gives me peace. moreover, it’s so easy. all you need is a pair of good running shoes and an iPod and out the door you go. most days, i like listening to metal music and/or Lady Gaga on my runs. Lady Gaga never fails me; listening to one song by her whiles away 5 minutes as i belt out (in my head, of course) the goosebump-inducing chorus of Bad Romance.

i never want to push people into doing anything they don’t want to do. i don’t want to push you, the kind person who is taking time out to read this, into running because i say it is good for you. it is and yet it isn’t, just like everything else in life. running is not for the kiasu unless you are at some sort of competitive  level. mostly, running is quite personal and individual – just as this blog is.

more next week.

booty tricks

booty feels much nicer after 5 mile run. does this mean i will be thinner and prettier and lighter in the long term if i keep this up? fuck, no. BEEN THERE, DONE THAT. i’m so not the type to lose weight when i exercise. i am genetically pre-determined to be “big boned” and “muscular”. thanks, mom and dad.

TOO MUCH BOOTY

ok so the insane exercise regime from 3rd year is back on. tomorrow, i run 10 km along the beach. i love you, Mr Elliptical and Stairmaster, but seriously though i use you 3-4 times a week, not even you can save this belly from smiling every time i sit.

if i can talk to exercise machines, it’s probably a sign i should get out more, too.