Sticking to the training plan was difficult. I had 5 months, which should have been more than enough, but work and other commitments kept me from running as often as I should have. I did my best to get up in the wee hours of as many Sunday mornings as possible and drive to UP for my long runs, but especially when I started hitting 25K, it was a challenge to not give in to the temptation of just walking instead of running, and every new mile brought with it new aches and pains. It came to a point where I was wearing an ankle brace and considering just slathering petroleum jelly everywhere before each run.
With a few weeks to go to marathon day I finally enlisted the help of Coach Roel Ano and his assistant Mark to force me to do my intervals and my final long run. We took an easy pace through UP, and Mark never ran out of stories to tell, taking my mind off the heaviness in my legs. I felt great when I finally hit 30K on my Garmin, and wasn't even sore the next day.
In the final week I took extra steps to prepare for the run, including not wearing high heels to work and resting as much as I could. As for my diet, everyone who has ever seen me eat knows I eat like a bird, so carbo-loading actually took some effort. It's funny how when you actually NEED to eat more, it becomes difficult; and when you shouldn't be eating so much you feel like bingeing. And so there I was, with happy feet, carbo-loaded and with 30K under my belt. And while I had hoped to make it to 35K before the marathon, I felt 30K would be enough. After all, what was another 12K, right? But as it turned out, "just another 12K" was not easy.
December 5: Marathon Day, Singapore
On race day I woke up extra early and had a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast. I had laid out all my gear the night before so I was out the door by 4am. I wanted to make sure I was at the starting line early enough so I could take my time warming up.
The organizers of the race forgot one essential thing, which was to place a lot of portalets by the starting line. In fact, there wasn't a single one, and a lot of runners had to go to the nearby hotels and wait in long queues. So that was strike one. Strike two was the starting pens. I thought that was a great idea, since you would be starting with people who had a similar target pace, but at some point people just stopped following the system and I found myself alongside runners with different target times.
As we were counting down to 5am the butterflies that had taken residence in my tummy for the last few days finally started to disappear. At the gun, people shot off as if they were in a hundred meter dash. With everyone racing ahead, I had to consciously slow down to stick to my planned pace. I hated that everyone was overtaking me, but I knew that if I let myself get carried away with their excitement I'd be limping by the halfway mark.
I was fine for the first half of the race. Every now and then I'd hear people talking in Filipino and I missed how races were done back home, where we'd have fitness instructors to lead us through a warmup, a lot of pep talk and laughter, and sometimes even fireworks at the starting line. As opposed to the "cheering stations" in Singapore where young girls who were obviously tired from standing in the heat seemed to be barking scripted orders at you ("Keep going!", "All the way!"), back home we had entire cheering squads and bands playing. Shouts of encouragement were accompanied by big smiles, and even the runners themselves would clap and hoot and help keep everyone's spirits up.
There were some aches and pains but by 30K I was still within my target pace. At 32K though, a shin splint started in my left leg, and later on I felt both calves begin to tighten, forcing me into a walk-run. I don't think I hit "the Wall" because my energy level was fine; it was my legs that were deteriorating by the minute. At 36K, I was mentally kicking myself for not being able to run the last few miles. I wanted nothing more than to go faster so I could finally get out of the searing sun and have breakfast. But my shin screamed everytime I tried speeding up and I was so afraid of getting cramps and not finishing at all, that I decided not to push it. With runners all around me dropping out and nursing cramps, my objective was simply to cross the finish line in one piece.
I forced myself to run the last couple of kilometers. Almost there! I picked up the pace and ignored the pain in my legs, gave high fives to a row of kids cheering by the sidelines, and was down to the final stretch when I heard someone shout my name. I turned to see Dex and the kids waving at me, and the last 100 meters were so much easier.
I finished at 6:14, 44 minutes slower than I had hoped, but I was proud to finally be a marathon finisher, something that less than 1% of the global population can lay claim to. Woohoo!
Recovery, Sort Of
In Manila, when you finish a run there are usually a lot of restos or booths nearby where you can have breakfast, or you can just hop into your car and drive to the nearest Pancake House. I forgot that away from home, there was some walking to be done to get to the closest cafe, and the queues for taxis were so long that we decided to take the MRT back to our friends' place instead.
After showering I fell into the sleep of the exhausted. Zero consciousness. I was supposed to meet a friend that afternoon but had to cancel it because there was no way I could drag myself outside the door. And so I did nothing but eat and sleep, eat and sleep. And I loved that I could eat anything and for once not care about my calorie intake.
I spent the entire next day on my feet at Universal Studios. Note to self: never schedule any sightseeing the day after a marathon. Was sore again by the time we were ready to board the last flight home, but was happy to sleep in my own bed that night.
1 comments:
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