I swear I never had before so many occurences of dreams that reflect my fear of not being able to wake up. It wasn’t a particularly important run for me ; just a lead-up to my Genting race and the Big One at the end of the year. Yet it will be the first time I’ll be plowing the road with my mates. A significant occasion for what it’s worth.
A reminder to myself : Never do three fitness classes the day before a race.
It wasn’t the earliest of races that I’ve done but somehow my body and my mind didn’t respond positively to the thought of waking up at 630am today. Yet another point to plant in my brain: Should have passed on the alcohol at the birthday dinner the night before.
The race venue was crazily packed. We had to park illegally somewhere along Jalan Parlimen ; if the police had decided to issue summons for whole line of cars, so be it. Even they should understand that the available valid spaces are just NOT enough to cater for 2800 people. Unless we can hang our cars from the trees.
Sir “I think I can beat yuchun” Chad and Jon “The 10k Virgin” Chew.
After making my mates wait for me as I prepared my battle gear – race bib, foot pod, shoes, heart-rate monitor blah blah blah… we kinda jogged a lil to the starting line. As we saw the multitudes of people, my god, we suddenly wondered if Malaysia had become a running-crazed nation. And they came in all forms – dark, fair, yellow, bulgingly massive, petite, young and old. I figure we’ll be walking at least for a good 5 minutes before we could actually start moving our legs at an ‘acceptable’ pace.
Eventually we got to that point. During that moment, all I can say is: Pain.
I’ll say it again, no more classes the day before. You know you’ll have problems when right from the start, your legs don’t feel fresh at all. I felt I’ll struggle to complete it within an hour, let alone 45 minutes.
After enduring the hill-laden, sun-baked roads for about 1 hour 1 minute, I was relieved to see the finish line. And all I got was this stupid medal while my mates got the freakin shoe bag.
Photo courtesy of Jamie Soon.
Yes, the world is screwed. If you want the much more useful shoebag, one has to run slower and hopefully finish at 1301st place and above. The only probable thing I could do with the medal is to throw at chad’s head to knock him out while I steal his shoebag.
After the race.
This pic shows that Chad needs to work on his photo-taking. Focus, Chad! Focus!
Never mind, we all still love you. (See? Jon knows how to focus.)
It is a historic day. J has been de-virginized while Chad and I have moved one step closer to winning our Jake’s meal. We did it all together, as a band of brothers. And managed to complete two of three goals – complete the race, partake of the inimitable Milo concoction supplied from the sponsor truck and admire pretty chicks in running gears. Sadly, three-quarters of the participants were males so you can guess which are those ones we have achieved.
Best medicine after an excruciating run: A 2-hour Javanese massage.