I see ‘em!

Full Marathon!

I would like to share an anecdote that I’ve been telling Reng, that the first person to ever run a marathon fell dead when he completed it, so if we avoid that fate we can kinda give ourselves a pat on the back. But I guess the poor dude had to run at zero moments notice and was probably having a nice morning coffee when he was told to run to Athens from the small town of Marathon to tell the news that the Persians had been miraculously defeated in the Battle of Marathon. Unfortunate fellow. Couldn’t they have just sent an sms?

Anyways, this monster-marathon, which I think I can regard as one of those to-do-before-I-die things, is still no joke, and this account will be a km by km detail of what happened. (perhaps abit of glorified fictionalizing, like the Marathon legend itself, though for the record,  the guy did actually die)

So it was Yi Zhou, Mak Yong Xi, Hong Keng, Jimmy, Reng and I who found ourselves there at race day, sheepishly applying Vaseline as the marathon instructions said ‘in your inner thighs, under-arms, and even the nipples.’ oh wellz, I’m not one to argue with authority.

Having applied enough to attain a shimmering glow, I was pumped up and ready, having done some rudimentary stretching, copying the rather pro-looking , also shimmering fellows around me. We bustled to the starting line. 9 thousand people running the full marathon! It was no surprise that we didn’t get a glimpse of the starters. It was probably a good 5 minutes before we were shuffling to the start line ourselves.

0km - Started somewhere near the padang, too crowded to see beyond the armpits, spiked hair and stilt-walkers (kidding) to notice where I was. I just want to get to the startline. I was thinking, imagine if we were to shuffle all the way to the finishing line. It was rather weird, seeing all these people invade Shenton Way, swarming through the road, the city totally car-less, without traffic. We were like a buzzing zombie horde.

100m - realizing this was my chance to be actually ahead of those competing to be eventual winners, I sprinted the first 100m to get ahead of them to take this shot. Haha, no la, this is last year’s pic. Just to spice things up.

1km - still pretty much shuffling, trying not to trip up over people. Trying to get used to the idea of being on the road and the traffic light turning red. A road full of traffic lights yet without cars, bizarre sight, even weirder when you’re the one on the road. Wanted to yell ‘STOP!’ at each red light but wisely decided not to.

2km - the novelty of the situation soon began to wear away with the shuffling gone. We actually began to start running with space opening up. Though bending down to tie one’s laces would still easily take out 20 odd runners in a front-to-end collision. Marina Bay MRT station passes us.

3km - Building up a sweat, while the scenery changes from office high-rise to the trees of marina south. Not much consolation since this is the first time we see the km sign. 3km! Only!? Working up a sweat adn trying to go faster. Reng quotes eloquently from the booklet ’start conservatively’.

4km - a vague hint of brightness in the horizon gently hints that we should go faster. The fact that the Kenyans leading the race pass us in the opposite direction having reached the end of Marina South and are heading towards East Coast is a not-so-gentle hint that they are kicking our ass. You Reng and I celebrate our 3rd cup of 100+ by going to the loo. The queue is ridiculously long, so we run into the jungle foliage sheepishly, only to find other guys concentrating into the wee distance.

5km - Starting to reach some truly bizarre never seen before part of Marina Bay. Ran a bit far ahead of Reng, he shouts ‘Mark’, I apologize with ‘Sorry’. Yea, we will get through this together.

6km - Reaching this place called Marina Marina (it’s like calling the new terminal ‘Budget Terminal’) anyway realized that the place does defy description, it becoming more beautiful (and secluded) (on normal days) as the sun began to rise.

7km - When are we gonna reach the U-tun point to head back towards the City? We seem to be running for ages. I suggest to Reng that we stop to admire the sunrise, as he is often found doing in Hall. No response. Another casual remark that maybe we can catch the sunrise at East Coast is replied by some breathless mumble. Guess it wasn’t too funny. Doubt that the Kenyans are even at East Coast yet. Estimated time now, 6.45am. Darn!

8km - Reached the first U-turn, which means we are to run back to the City, then to East Coast, before running back to the City again. Optimistically, I say ‘One more U-turn to go!’. We make sure our efforts at reaching this point are not in vain by hitting the red carpet, tapping our ChampionChips as we go. Did it drop our of my shoe? No? Good.

9km - See 2 Kenyans as we U-turn. Slower than us? Their hands are bound together by some cloth-cord. I was thinking that it was such a nice gesture of friendship or solidarity or something. (Turns out, upon reading Life! that one of them is blind… I was flabbergasted…)

10km - Phew it’s even tiring typing this. Yes 1/4 done! Didn’t want to tell Reng. He said not to count the distance. He looks wistfully at the horizon. Yes we are damn shag.

11km - Pretty sucky covering distance that we’ve covered before. A sulky look hangs over our face. It is helped by seeing those that haven’t reached the U-turn yet. Haha, slowpokes! Ops, bad karma.

12km - Leaving Marina Bay. Great cause of joy, downing our upteenth cup of 100plus. People are beginning to get delirious, some thinking its water and pouring it over their heads. Yes, true.

13km - Running through Shenton Way again, feeling quite high, felt like exclaiming ‘Yerfwhoo!’ in the midst of the ghostly empty place, other than the ants around us. But wisely I didn’t do it.

14km - Reng tiring, we walk run quite a bit. I need the breather too. We use lamposts to stretch. Many people join us in stopping the lamposts from falling. Tiring stuff. First twinge of cramps on left calve. Minor cramp comes just at the moment when I shouted ‘We’re Crazy!’ when I saw a middle aged man’s t-shirt with the words ‘Must be crazy!’ Hope the cramp doesn’t come back…

15km - Ran across the bridge of Marina Bay, feeling woozy delirious. Some hot (or was I hallucinating) cheerleader shouted at me, ‘well done (Mark)! (could have sworn there was a ‘Mark!’ back there). Felt really pumped up and sprinted all the way for the next 20 meters…

16km - we are in a pathetic state feeling quite tired. The hallucinations continue as I see a Japanese ’samurai’ in straw-woven hat and farmer costume over-taking me. I was to realize later in reading the next day’s papers that he was no illusion as that 75! year old man kicked our ass. The shame… where’s the katana for harikiri?

17km - Running along the Kalang basin, crazy stuff. Luckily the weather’s mighty fine. First sign that there might be a God taking pity on us. A legion of deluded idiots running around for nothing.

18km - Running on Nicoll Highway. Collapse? Better not? I’ve run too far!

People running the half-marathon turning around and U-turn at this point. These fellows with the yellow tags sure spoil it for us. Make us feel like turning around to. Was thinking of doing the joke of shouting to the road marshaller ‘har?! we are in FULL marathon!? I though we signed up for Half-marathon!?’ and looking at our number tag at this U-turn point. But too shag to laugh. Joke abandoned.

19km - Not much recollection here - we’re both silent, none of our usual talks about mathematical paradoxes and metaphysical mumbo-jumbo. Reng looks tired and he says go ahead if I have to. I try to mutter some heroic stuff ’starship-troopers-leave no-man-behind-speech’ amidst my breathlessness. Almost concussed at the effort.

20km - We’re not looking too good here. Reng asks me if I feel cold, is he joking/hallucinating? Thinking it might be serious, we decide to take it easy, go slower, stopping for drinks. It’s no joke, not even a cold one.

21km - Reng and I come to a complete stop outside East Coast under the great roar of the ECP highway. He looks faint and complains about being cold. Shoots, sounds serious. Oh no, cannot give up now. Alarmed when I realize he has goosebumps all over his hands. Oh no, to fail halfway! no… think he almosts faints when he bends forward to stretch, his eyes closing. We wait. He says that he almost fell asleep there. I take it that ‘asleep’ = faint/collapse. Better rest more. We bump into Timothy (he’s running too!). His great efforts to cheer us on get Reng back on his feet obligingly. I cheers! Tim a cup of 100 plus before asking him to go ahead. Reng doesn’t look too good.

22km - With a bit more weekend cheer from the camping crowds at East Coast, Reng seems to get better, chomping on a banana helps; we take no chances eating and drinking at each stop. The glutton that he is, he seems to become better.

23km - We’re halfway through and this is the furthest we both have ever run. Incredible!

(picture of me dying, just to break the monotony of this long long story)

24km - My left calve begins to act up big time, giving me a power cramp. I cannot go on and must stop to stretch. Serious thoughts of giving up cross my mind. The pain is crazy. Each step feels like a loose pendulum of hot iron swinging at the back of my calve.

25km - My compensating extra step in using my right leg to run proves disastrous as my right leg begins to cramp. Hideously tiring running while trying to keep muscle taut. The pain in my soles disappear as they are nothing compared to the agony in my calves. Serious thoughts of giving up. Feel like crying. Don’t want to complete the race walking also. I don’t want to be like the other people walking and laughing… no… this is not the way to race.

26km - Reng gets abusive towards some road-marshaller who tells us ‘the turn is just around the bend’. No bend in sight! The bend proves to be another 2km ahead. Seriously dying, Reng stops to help me stretch my calve on countless occasions. I tell him to go ahead but expect him to refuse. Sheesh…

27km - We finally reach East Coast Lagoon, the turning point must be here! Reng is an angel to accomodate my impusive runs and walks. It is entirely by my pace now. When I can run I do just that bit trying to stave off the cramps. Each step is agony. Then the U-turn is in sight! I mutter some desperate remark that no more repeated routes from now on. It was a single stretch to the end now! Inner left thigh feeling twitches of cramp as I transfered the burden of cramped calves to it. Strangely enough you can run and put different emphasis of stress on different muscles. Was thinking if thigh cramped I was finished, because I don’t think I could recover from that. I barely even know how to stretch it. It would be ambulance stuff I imagine.

28km - The medics start to run out of Deep Heat lotion. I become (irrationally) pissed as it could seriously help. It is a professional race; how can such vital supplies run out? Luckily some good hearted people (beach-going supporters) actually brought some of their own, giving a drop to the many beggar-runners that sought aid. Thank you!

29km - We have come to 3 complete stops, Reng helping me with some stretches. The pain is crazy. Great it starts to rain. My mind is a mess. We take our second PowerBar. Again I have no energy to even open it. Reng by some crazy mad-ass attempt opens it with his teeth. This makes for high drama. The thing tastes hideous, like melted Mars bars melted and stuffed full of salt. However, it takes it placebo effect. If it’s there it must have its use. Throat feels like a vise after eating/slurping it. Water!

30km - We begin to drift in and out of people who are either walking or shuffling at some ghoulish pace. Determined to run, I made some crazy effort to ovetake 20 people before cramping and walking it off. They then overtake us again before we repeat the whole thing. Reng is very accomodating to go by my pace. Thanks brother.

31km - We chat about our strategy for the next 10km. I say that after 32km there’s no turning back. First time the doubts of giving up since the cramping began begin to go away. We can do it!

32km - damn, still not out of East Coast. Still raining lightly. More nubile cheerleaders in the rain. Joy. We didn’t sprint for joy, but walked slowly this time, haha.

33km - Still not out of East Coast, the agony! The horror! Rain continues, we see the woman who tied the tire to her waist to promote eco-awareness. She looked quite tired and someone else also partially helped encouraged her. But still R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

A few residents drinking champagne and having a picnic by the roadside while laughing/cheering at us. I couldn’t muster the strength to spit at their general direction. Ha! Breathe my carbon dioxide picnickers!

34km - Out of East Coast! The final stretch. Cue Rocky Soundtrack.

35km - Getting quite tired of seeing the usual bunch overtake us. Reng mentions that we actually look quite absurd, me rushing past them for like 200 meters before lying on the pavement for him to stretch my calves. The same crowd crawl past us. Amongst them - the nonchalent girl in blue listening to her Gwen Stefani while walking along (we later pushed to permanently beat her cos the rabid Reng said he can’t stand her), miscellaneous punks wearing army marathon singlets, some middle-aged trudgers, and 3 of my friends from NIE PE that were happily walking! and chatting (had to die die beat them la).

36km - not much recollection here. reached a new level of pain/consciousness.

37km - woke from trance. discovered race hasn’t ended. pushed the 200 meter run - 100 meter walk off cramp pattern to hit the ‘usual crowd’ with combos of 300 meter run and 50 meter walks. Began to ovetake people, seeing new ’sceneries’ of joggers. Finally, we are overtaking ah-peks (haikz what pitiful standards I’ve reached)

38km - Ran through this strange apparatus that sprayed me with mist. Felt charged up… for the next 4 steps. Then back to calf cramps. For some strange reason Reng bypassed it. Beginning to see the Kallang Basin again (quite beautiful with the midday sunshine beginning to sparkle off it) some lone fishermen looked at us pathetically (us being pathetic). The sad 100 meter bursts continued.

39km - Some crazy batter about sprinting the remaining distance begins. 3 kilometers! Our brains have turned into mush. I can barely run 200 meters. I’m still trying to run all I can despite looking like a miserable idiot. If I overtake 10 people with my run, and only 9 overtake me while I stretch at the lamppost, each cycle we’ll overtake 1 person! As usual, Reng is very encouraging and seems pumped up for it. He must be delirious too…

40km - trying to summon up some crazed effort to continue, know that we will finish any how but dun want to let Reng lau kui (malu) by having to be seen walking with me. Walking is for wimps! Crowds are appearing. Maybe we can reach our target. I wanted to finish by noon, which is exactly at 12pm!

41km - can we do it? Took off my specs, given up trying to dry it, totally spotched by rain, sweat, dirt, Powerbar residue and swipes of DeepHeat. Mr Photographer must be able to get a good picture with my eyes. Turns out taking out my specs and having it on present me the same dazed vision. Body sensors switching off one by one.

42km - Reached the 42km mark, 200 meters of agony awaits. I cannot fail Reng, this last 200 meters is chocked full of people cheering us on. NOBODY walks here.

42.05km - we begin running, it is a straight path to the finish. Cheers are deafening. Everything suddenly becomes bright. Some DJ’s voice is booming over the mike. Lots of inflated Standard Chartered balloons begin to bump at us from the cheering supporters by the sidelines. Stop hitting us! It is really all a haze.

42.1km - Excruciating pain, hyperventilating, trying not to look at the waves of people cheering us on and the ballons. Focus on the finishing ‘gate’. The sky… freedom! Reng is shouting ‘you better not walk now!’ Never heard him so pumped up before.

42.15km - My calves are going hysterical, nerves feel like detaching themselves to save my body from more trauma. I can only hear my breathing.

42.195km - Staring at the sky, I see the race timer - 6 hrs 7 mins. Minus the few (7mins?) minutes we took to get to the start line. And the red carpet to clock in the chip is still 4 steps away…

42.2km - WE DID IT!

(here’s a pic of a grimacing me in not too good shape at the end. calve cramps! If you’re wondering why my fingers are like that, I would say that the pain was so excruciating that these finger gestures were really involuntary)

Thank you dear reader for following us this far. Goodness, writing this is a marathon in itself! You have read about 4000 words (3000 + 1 picture [a picture tells a thousand words]) in this entry. So imagine that each word you read = 10 meters. Yea, do give it a go! If you like pain. Thanky ou to all the people who have encouraged us. My family and understanding girlfriend, Adeline! haha!

Last person I’d like to thank is Reng. Brothers and close pals throughout for these 12 years, I think this marathon says it all. Thanks bro.

Reng (left, 6838)

& me (right, 6601)