Lately, I've been feeling kinda demotivated and put off by this whole multisport malarky. Could be that I'm jaded already, having been doing this without much significant improvement since 2006. It doesn't help that I've not had a single good race this year. Not a one.
So in hopes of turning my season around, I thought I'd sort out my race calendar. Hopefully, this will give me something to aim for and help motivate me to get off my ass and start training. So without further ado, here goes:
May 16: New Balance 15k
Jun 27: KL Marathon
Jul 11: Siemens 10k Run
Jul 24: Malakoff University Duathlon Series Round 1
Jul 25: PD International Triathlon
Jul 30: Malakoff University Duathlon Series Round 2
Aug 7: Malakoff University Duathlon Series Round 3
Nov 14: Powerman Malaysia
Dec 5: Ironman Western Australia
Also, I've found a new running group who put the fun back into training. They've had me set up an account at dailymile and I'm enjoying the banter that goes on after we've all posted our workout for the day.
Dailymile also helps keep me going as I can't stand to see an empty day on the calendar!
So there it is, my race calendar for the rest of the year. Will I be motivated enough to go through with it? Will I finally have a good race this year? Find out...
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
Dee En Eff
A DNF is always hard to swallow. Especially when it's your A-race, the one you've been gearing up for all year long. Making that decision to quit, to DNF, to retire wasn't an easy one. What made the decision tougher was the fact that for the first time, my parents and my boys were in Langkawi to watch me race. I didn't want to disappoint them, having dragged them all the way here just to watch me fail.
But looking back, I suppose quitting and having them disappointed was a better alternative than having them worry about me while I lay in hospital had I chose to go on. Yes, it may sound dramatic, but it certainly looked like it was heading that way.
Here's the story:
The swim was a killer. Even before the swim, I was feeling a little gassy in the tummy. I put it down to nerves, but little did I know how much of a big part this little problem would play later on in the race.
At the gun, I was swimming briskly. There were swimmers all around me and after the first 50 metres or so, I got into a rhythm. I felt my strokes were long and smooth, and I was gliding well. Being surrounded by other swimmers gave me this false sense of confidence, that my pace was good.
At the 1600m mark, I looked at my watch. 1h04m! WTF! I usually hit the turnaround at 50-55 minutes. Now I'm at 1h04m and I still have 300m to go. Not good.
Hit the turnaround at 1h10m and started wondering if I was going to make cutoff. It looked marginal. My strokes were now shorter but the push was stronger. Breathing was getting laboured. Short and abrupt inhaling and exhaling. Currents kept pushing me away from the bouys, so it was a bit of a struggle just to get back on track. While I felt I was swimming in a straight line, the currents were actually making us swim at a 45 degree angle away from the swim lane.
Finally made it back in 2h01m. The last time I swam this badly was my first IM, back when I didn't know how to swim. I was completely winded by the time I got out that I was barely able to walk to the change tent.
By now I was feeling bloated. But because of the seawater taste in my mouth, I just downed any liquid I could find. Water, Gatorade and even Coke became victims of my thirst. That would prove fatal later on.
Spent more than 10 minutes in the change tent. Most of it trying to get my arm coolers on. Grabbed my bike and saw my dad, yelling words of encouragement. But I couldn't really hear what he was saying, my mind was just a blur. Mounted the bike and went about 100m before I saw my boys. Stopped to get a hug and kiss from them and moved on, being very careful not to push too hard.
Started on my nutrition plan. Took a bite out of my EFS bar and then it happened. All the liquids I ingested in the change tent was starting to rise. AS I chewed on my bar, trying to swallow it, the liquids started coming out the other way. Puke number one, while I still had the bar in my mouth!
I later lost count how many times I threw up but it's safe to say I decorated the road to the Padang Lalang roundabout with my sick. At 20k I decided to stop a while and just get rid of it all. Spent 20 minutes puking my guts out till I was sure there were no more liquids in my tummy. This worked last year when I had the same problem and I was able to continue after that.
This time, however, it wasn't to be. Any time i took a sip from my bottles, whether i twas Gatorade or water, it all just came out again. By now a couple of other problems were starting to creep in: I started getting chills and every time I stopped pedaling, I started to fall asleep. Not good.
I decided to stop at the 40k aid station to shower so I can get the sleepiness out. Another 20 minutes spent. But then the chills kept getting worse. Continued towards Bukit Malut, shivering and sleepy. A nice ice cold Coke would probably help wake me up and get rid of the gassy feeling.
Saw Bandit as I apporached Malut and asked him to buy me a bottle of Coke. Shortly after, saw Mac taking pictures of riders going up the hill and stopped. I needed to take a nap!
I laid down and took a nap while waiting for Bandit to return with the Coke. Right there on the grass in the hot sun! The Coke came and I downed it. I felt the burp coming and I let it out. Unfortunately, it came out with all the Coke too. All over my white tri top.
It was at this point I contemplated a DNF. I had heard over the SMS grapevine that Ishsal had called it quits and that there was no more water on the bike course. Do I really want to continue? The foremost thought in my head was that I didn't want to let my parents and boys down. They came all the way to watch me finish. I wanted them to be proud of me. I couldn't possibly let them down with a DNF.
Bandit suggested I take an easy spin through Malut towards Kuah and see how. I took off my arm coolers (which were giving me the chills) and changed my aero helmet for a normal ventilated one (thanks Mac, for lugging my spare helmet around and switching the helmet stickers) and continued. I felt better slightly and was able to hold a good pace. Started passing some riders (probably unlapping myself). But the puking continued.
Then I reached the dreaded Bukit Hantu. I started climbing it but midway, I felt a big one coming. Stopped and let it out. Continued riding up the hill, but was now feeling quite woozy. I think dehydration and lack of nutrition was setting in. I was wobbly at the top, so I decided to ride on to the next aid station and try to eat. I was scheduled for a bar anyway.
I got to the next station and tried to get off the bike. But cramps started to set in. Bandit was there and passed me some water and ice, made me sit down by the side of the road and gave my leg a massage. I tried to drink the water but I coudn't even swallow, I was dribbling like an idiot. I looked at the time and decided I wasn't going to make the intermediate cutoff and it would have been foolish to try. I told Bandit to call Mac to pick me up. I had no choice but to let my parents and kids down.
I passed out while waiting for Mac to arrive. Apparently, the temperature had hit 46 degrees at that point! Senn came by after I woke up, needing a new watch, hers had run out of batteries. Bandit passed her his and she passed a message through him that she loved me. That was comforting.
Mac arrived shortly after and I got my phone out and called my Dad. With tears in my eyes, I had to tell him I couldn't go on and that I was sorry I dragged them all the way to Langkawi just to let them down. My dad comforted me and told me it was ok. Shafeeq, my eldest, called me soon after to find out what happened. He said he wasn't disappointed and that made me feel better.
Surprisingly, I wasn't too disappointed with this DNF as I was with my first. I guess already having two finishes under my belt meant that I could let this one go. I knew that if I couldn't keep anything down, I was going to end up with a massive bonk and severely dehydrated. It was a risk not worth taking. Better to call it quits and live to fight another day. I think my parents were glad I pulled out. Only Shaqeel was a bit disappointed. I thin he really wanted to cross that line with me. And really, that was the only thing that made me sad: not being able to run across the line with my boys.
I did some research the next day and it turns out that I swallowed too much air during the swim. If you don't exhale completely before inhaling, the excess air that you take goes to your stomach, causing bloatedness and subsequently vomiting. The tough swim made things worse. I have to learn to breathe properly before tackling my next Ironman.
Speaking of which, I don't have to wait a whole year till the next one. I've signed up and paid for Ironman Western Australia in December. I'll be looking to redeem myself then. Hopefully I can coax my parents and kids into going for that one so they can finally see me finish.
As for Langkawi, I'll be back next year. But as a supporter. This was a decision I made even before the start of this year's race so this DNF had nothing to do with it.
Langkawi this year was truly a race of attrition. Of the 538 registered, a whopping 116 did not finish. Nine of those didn't even make the start! It really was a tough day out there. Congratulations to the 422 finishers, especially the first timers. You survived on a day many did not.
Special shout out to Senn who finally had an incident-free race and Emma for finally getting her Kona slot. And a big big thank you to Bandit and Aileen for fussing over me like I was a prissy little princess and to Mac for taking care of me pre and post race. You guys rock!
But looking back, I suppose quitting and having them disappointed was a better alternative than having them worry about me while I lay in hospital had I chose to go on. Yes, it may sound dramatic, but it certainly looked like it was heading that way.
Here's the story:
The swim was a killer. Even before the swim, I was feeling a little gassy in the tummy. I put it down to nerves, but little did I know how much of a big part this little problem would play later on in the race.
At the gun, I was swimming briskly. There were swimmers all around me and after the first 50 metres or so, I got into a rhythm. I felt my strokes were long and smooth, and I was gliding well. Being surrounded by other swimmers gave me this false sense of confidence, that my pace was good.
At the 1600m mark, I looked at my watch. 1h04m! WTF! I usually hit the turnaround at 50-55 minutes. Now I'm at 1h04m and I still have 300m to go. Not good.
Hit the turnaround at 1h10m and started wondering if I was going to make cutoff. It looked marginal. My strokes were now shorter but the push was stronger. Breathing was getting laboured. Short and abrupt inhaling and exhaling. Currents kept pushing me away from the bouys, so it was a bit of a struggle just to get back on track. While I felt I was swimming in a straight line, the currents were actually making us swim at a 45 degree angle away from the swim lane.
Finally made it back in 2h01m. The last time I swam this badly was my first IM, back when I didn't know how to swim. I was completely winded by the time I got out that I was barely able to walk to the change tent.
By now I was feeling bloated. But because of the seawater taste in my mouth, I just downed any liquid I could find. Water, Gatorade and even Coke became victims of my thirst. That would prove fatal later on.
Spent more than 10 minutes in the change tent. Most of it trying to get my arm coolers on. Grabbed my bike and saw my dad, yelling words of encouragement. But I couldn't really hear what he was saying, my mind was just a blur. Mounted the bike and went about 100m before I saw my boys. Stopped to get a hug and kiss from them and moved on, being very careful not to push too hard.
Started on my nutrition plan. Took a bite out of my EFS bar and then it happened. All the liquids I ingested in the change tent was starting to rise. AS I chewed on my bar, trying to swallow it, the liquids started coming out the other way. Puke number one, while I still had the bar in my mouth!
I later lost count how many times I threw up but it's safe to say I decorated the road to the Padang Lalang roundabout with my sick. At 20k I decided to stop a while and just get rid of it all. Spent 20 minutes puking my guts out till I was sure there were no more liquids in my tummy. This worked last year when I had the same problem and I was able to continue after that.
This time, however, it wasn't to be. Any time i took a sip from my bottles, whether i twas Gatorade or water, it all just came out again. By now a couple of other problems were starting to creep in: I started getting chills and every time I stopped pedaling, I started to fall asleep. Not good.
I decided to stop at the 40k aid station to shower so I can get the sleepiness out. Another 20 minutes spent. But then the chills kept getting worse. Continued towards Bukit Malut, shivering and sleepy. A nice ice cold Coke would probably help wake me up and get rid of the gassy feeling.
Saw Bandit as I apporached Malut and asked him to buy me a bottle of Coke. Shortly after, saw Mac taking pictures of riders going up the hill and stopped. I needed to take a nap!
I laid down and took a nap while waiting for Bandit to return with the Coke. Right there on the grass in the hot sun! The Coke came and I downed it. I felt the burp coming and I let it out. Unfortunately, it came out with all the Coke too. All over my white tri top.
It was at this point I contemplated a DNF. I had heard over the SMS grapevine that Ishsal had called it quits and that there was no more water on the bike course. Do I really want to continue? The foremost thought in my head was that I didn't want to let my parents and boys down. They came all the way to watch me finish. I wanted them to be proud of me. I couldn't possibly let them down with a DNF.
Bandit suggested I take an easy spin through Malut towards Kuah and see how. I took off my arm coolers (which were giving me the chills) and changed my aero helmet for a normal ventilated one (thanks Mac, for lugging my spare helmet around and switching the helmet stickers) and continued. I felt better slightly and was able to hold a good pace. Started passing some riders (probably unlapping myself). But the puking continued.
Then I reached the dreaded Bukit Hantu. I started climbing it but midway, I felt a big one coming. Stopped and let it out. Continued riding up the hill, but was now feeling quite woozy. I think dehydration and lack of nutrition was setting in. I was wobbly at the top, so I decided to ride on to the next aid station and try to eat. I was scheduled for a bar anyway.
I got to the next station and tried to get off the bike. But cramps started to set in. Bandit was there and passed me some water and ice, made me sit down by the side of the road and gave my leg a massage. I tried to drink the water but I coudn't even swallow, I was dribbling like an idiot. I looked at the time and decided I wasn't going to make the intermediate cutoff and it would have been foolish to try. I told Bandit to call Mac to pick me up. I had no choice but to let my parents and kids down.
I passed out while waiting for Mac to arrive. Apparently, the temperature had hit 46 degrees at that point! Senn came by after I woke up, needing a new watch, hers had run out of batteries. Bandit passed her his and she passed a message through him that she loved me. That was comforting.
Mac arrived shortly after and I got my phone out and called my Dad. With tears in my eyes, I had to tell him I couldn't go on and that I was sorry I dragged them all the way to Langkawi just to let them down. My dad comforted me and told me it was ok. Shafeeq, my eldest, called me soon after to find out what happened. He said he wasn't disappointed and that made me feel better.
Surprisingly, I wasn't too disappointed with this DNF as I was with my first. I guess already having two finishes under my belt meant that I could let this one go. I knew that if I couldn't keep anything down, I was going to end up with a massive bonk and severely dehydrated. It was a risk not worth taking. Better to call it quits and live to fight another day. I think my parents were glad I pulled out. Only Shaqeel was a bit disappointed. I thin he really wanted to cross that line with me. And really, that was the only thing that made me sad: not being able to run across the line with my boys.
I did some research the next day and it turns out that I swallowed too much air during the swim. If you don't exhale completely before inhaling, the excess air that you take goes to your stomach, causing bloatedness and subsequently vomiting. The tough swim made things worse. I have to learn to breathe properly before tackling my next Ironman.
Speaking of which, I don't have to wait a whole year till the next one. I've signed up and paid for Ironman Western Australia in December. I'll be looking to redeem myself then. Hopefully I can coax my parents and kids into going for that one so they can finally see me finish.
As for Langkawi, I'll be back next year. But as a supporter. This was a decision I made even before the start of this year's race so this DNF had nothing to do with it.
Langkawi this year was truly a race of attrition. Of the 538 registered, a whopping 116 did not finish. Nine of those didn't even make the start! It really was a tough day out there. Congratulations to the 422 finishers, especially the first timers. You survived on a day many did not.
Special shout out to Senn who finally had an incident-free race and Emma for finally getting her Kona slot. And a big big thank you to Bandit and Aileen for fussing over me like I was a prissy little princess and to Mac for taking care of me pre and post race. You guys rock!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
4 days to go...
Tomorrow I leave for Langkawi.
The bike has been packed up and sent to Langkawi. Most of my race gear is in the bag. Just a few things more to pack.
The training is done... well, not really but there's not much I can do about it now. Let's just hope that what is done is enough. I do feel stronger than last year, I've spent more time in the pool (even got a coach!), the cycling legs feel strong, the running legs are feeling ok.
But there's still a nagging doubt in the back of my head. Come race day, I'll need to try and shove this doubt out of my mind and send it away somewhere. Just gotta remember to think positively and have happy thoughts (how you're going to have happy thoughts while suffering in 40 degree heat is another matter altogether!)
On the plus side, this year, for the first time, my kids will be coming to cheer me on, so that is definitely motivation for me to finish. Hopefully, the rule about bringing your family down the chute to the finish line is not enforced here so I can cross the line with them.
To all those participating this year, good luck and all the best. Stay safe and enjoy the race. To all friends who's taking the effort to fly up and lend us support, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support is greatly appreciated.
See you all in Langkawi!
The bike has been packed up and sent to Langkawi. Most of my race gear is in the bag. Just a few things more to pack.
The training is done... well, not really but there's not much I can do about it now. Let's just hope that what is done is enough. I do feel stronger than last year, I've spent more time in the pool (even got a coach!), the cycling legs feel strong, the running legs are feeling ok.
But there's still a nagging doubt in the back of my head. Come race day, I'll need to try and shove this doubt out of my mind and send it away somewhere. Just gotta remember to think positively and have happy thoughts (how you're going to have happy thoughts while suffering in 40 degree heat is another matter altogether!)
On the plus side, this year, for the first time, my kids will be coming to cheer me on, so that is definitely motivation for me to finish. Hopefully, the rule about bringing your family down the chute to the finish line is not enforced here so I can cross the line with them.
To all those participating this year, good luck and all the best. Stay safe and enjoy the race. To all friends who's taking the effort to fly up and lend us support, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support is greatly appreciated.
See you all in Langkawi!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
The Longest Half
That's the best way to describe my Putrajaya Night Marathon.
I only ran the half but it was probably the longest half I've ever run.
I pretty much konked out at kilometre 4 when I stopped at the water station to get a drink. Suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. My lungs were burning and I just couldn't seem to get any air into them. My head was spinning, and I felt ready to pass out. I was ready to quit.
Then Mac came along. He yelled, "C'mon Arif! Move it! Just walk!"
And so I did. Till about kilometre 7.5 where I saw Senn giving encouragement to other runners. Was she a sight for sore eyes! Sat with her for a good 10 minutes, contemplating giving up. It was quite a sight: she yelling encouragement to the other runners, me next to her half dead, with my head in my hands.
After puking my guts out, I decided to just continue. Slowly. And so I set off to finish the next 13.5 kilometres. It was going to be a long night.
But it was like Senn breathed new life into me. I was actually able to run! I couldn't hold the pace I was doing earlier but at least I was running again. Lungs were still burning but it was more manageable than before.
Soon I was passing people who passed me earlier. I still couldn't run all the way though, still had to walk a bit up those nasty hills.
At the top of the last hill, there was Senn again. Abu was with her this time and they looked like they were having a picnic. I stopped and joined them. After a few gulps of water and some grapes, Abu and I set off to finish the last 6 kilometres. We were keeping a steady pace and talking about aero helmets and aerobars for Langkawi. Of course, I wasn't able to keep up with Abu's pace, so I guess he must have ended up talking to himself!
Finally got down to the Boulevard. But the race wasn't over yet. The organisers, who thought we hadn't suffered enough, gave us a little detour round the back of the Palace of Justice. So close, yet so far away! Never mind, just keep on going.
Finally there it was: the finish line. I crossed it, grabbed my post-race goodies and found a spot to just collapse and lay down. That finish was like coming back from the dead. Literally. I don't know how I did it, from a near-collapse at kilometre 4 to a finish 17 kilometres later. It must have been the angel on a pink bike named Tortue that helped breathe life back into me. Thanks babe.
It's now three times in a row that I haven't been able to put together a decent long run. I've either had to cut short the run, or suffer some kind of ailment. With Ironman looming just a little over two weeks away, this is worrying. Some people tell me I'm fatigued, but how can I be fatigued when I took the whole of last week off (see previous post)? So if I can't put a decent stand-alone 20-30k run together, what hope do I have of putting a full marathon together after a 180 kilometre bike? I suspect this year's target of having to run the entire marathon will be scrapped.
I'm worried...
I only ran the half but it was probably the longest half I've ever run.
I pretty much konked out at kilometre 4 when I stopped at the water station to get a drink. Suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. My lungs were burning and I just couldn't seem to get any air into them. My head was spinning, and I felt ready to pass out. I was ready to quit.
Then Mac came along. He yelled, "C'mon Arif! Move it! Just walk!"
And so I did. Till about kilometre 7.5 where I saw Senn giving encouragement to other runners. Was she a sight for sore eyes! Sat with her for a good 10 minutes, contemplating giving up. It was quite a sight: she yelling encouragement to the other runners, me next to her half dead, with my head in my hands.
After puking my guts out, I decided to just continue. Slowly. And so I set off to finish the next 13.5 kilometres. It was going to be a long night.
But it was like Senn breathed new life into me. I was actually able to run! I couldn't hold the pace I was doing earlier but at least I was running again. Lungs were still burning but it was more manageable than before.
Soon I was passing people who passed me earlier. I still couldn't run all the way though, still had to walk a bit up those nasty hills.
At the top of the last hill, there was Senn again. Abu was with her this time and they looked like they were having a picnic. I stopped and joined them. After a few gulps of water and some grapes, Abu and I set off to finish the last 6 kilometres. We were keeping a steady pace and talking about aero helmets and aerobars for Langkawi. Of course, I wasn't able to keep up with Abu's pace, so I guess he must have ended up talking to himself!
Finally got down to the Boulevard. But the race wasn't over yet. The organisers, who thought we hadn't suffered enough, gave us a little detour round the back of the Palace of Justice. So close, yet so far away! Never mind, just keep on going.
Finally there it was: the finish line. I crossed it, grabbed my post-race goodies and found a spot to just collapse and lay down. That finish was like coming back from the dead. Literally. I don't know how I did it, from a near-collapse at kilometre 4 to a finish 17 kilometres later. It must have been the angel on a pink bike named Tortue that helped breathe life back into me. Thanks babe.
It's now three times in a row that I haven't been able to put together a decent long run. I've either had to cut short the run, or suffer some kind of ailment. With Ironman looming just a little over two weeks away, this is worrying. Some people tell me I'm fatigued, but how can I be fatigued when I took the whole of last week off (see previous post)? So if I can't put a decent stand-alone 20-30k run together, what hope do I have of putting a full marathon together after a 180 kilometre bike? I suspect this year's target of having to run the entire marathon will be scrapped.
I'm worried...
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Non-Starter
This week was a total non-starter.
Monday's planned 30k run was cut short. First to 20k as I started then finally at the 6k mark, I called it quits. Nothing was working: legs, lungs, heart, mind all refused to cooperate.
The only other training I did this week was a two-hour gym session on Wednesday. That's it.
Tonight's turbo class and tomorrow's spin class will have to be called off because my son fell ill. Not that I'd have the strength to go through with it anyway.
I shudder to think what this Saturday's half marathon will be like. Hope I'm rested enough for it.
I guess the 19-hour week (including Saturday's monster 200k ride) last week is taking its toll.
Ironman Langkawi is three weeks away. This does not look good.
Monday's planned 30k run was cut short. First to 20k as I started then finally at the 6k mark, I called it quits. Nothing was working: legs, lungs, heart, mind all refused to cooperate.
The only other training I did this week was a two-hour gym session on Wednesday. That's it.
Tonight's turbo class and tomorrow's spin class will have to be called off because my son fell ill. Not that I'd have the strength to go through with it anyway.
I shudder to think what this Saturday's half marathon will be like. Hope I'm rested enough for it.
I guess the 19-hour week (including Saturday's monster 200k ride) last week is taking its toll.
Ironman Langkawi is three weeks away. This does not look good.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Bittersweet Singapore Marathon.
"Targetted 4:30. Attempted sub-4. Big mistake. Majorly cramped at km35 and finished with a 4:46. Shouldn't have been so ambitious"
That's what my facebook status and twitter said. And that pretty much sums up my Singapore Marathon.
At 5am Sunday morning, Senn and I found ourselves among the throng of runners out on Esplanade Drive. I was feeling nervous and my breakfast hadn't quite settled in yet. So here I was among the thousands of marathon runners and all I could think about where I was going to puke and will I get fined if I do it here in public.
I was also worried about hydration, as I felt I hadn't quite drank enough water in the week leading up to race day. Will I have hydrated enough to last me the 42.195km? No time to think about that now, the race is about to start.
And off we go. I started well enough, running at just below 6min/km easily. As usual, I started towards the back, so was weaving myself through the traffic. At this point, I still had my 4:30 target in mind.
By the first km, I had caught up with the 5:15 pacer. So I was looking good. 3km later, I caught the 5:00 pacer. I kept on running, trying to look for the 4:30 pacer. I started thinking there was no way I was going to catch him because if he was running towards a 4:30 finish and so was I, we'd be running at the same speed. I must have been about 5 minutes behind him (that's how long it took me to get to the start line) and at the same pace, he'd be impossible to catch. So I eased up, just a bit.
At about the 9km mark, I saw him: the 4:30 pacer. I eased up and ran with them for a while. 4:30 was the target and if I stick with them, I'll surely get it.
Then I got restless. I started thinking, "If I caught up with them this easily, surely, if I put in more effort, I'd be able to reel in the 4:15 guy and even the 4:00 guy."
Marathon tip: this kind of thinking is delusional and dangerous!
So off I went, hunting down the 4:15 guy. I picked up the speed a bit and finished the first 10k in 57 minutes. Hit the East Coast Park. Kept on running. And running. And running. Still no sign of the 4:15 guy.
Got to the turnaround. Still couldn't see him. Downed a PowerGel and kept on going. Hit 20k in about 1:55.
The return trip through the East Coast Park was a bit mind numbing. By this time, I can star feeling the lactic acid build-up in my legs. By km25, I was beginning to think whether the sub-4 was possible. I said to myself, keep going till 30km then decide. At km28, I started feeling the onslaught of cramps. Downed a salt tablet and it went away.
I hit 30k and the time on my Garmin said 2:57. If I put in a bit more effort, the sub-4 was possible. But my legs were already shot. At this point, I gave up on that and just wanted to get back to the finish line, hopefully in under 4:30.
35km. Bang. The cramps hit. It was everywhere. Both calves, the thighs,even the inner thigh on my right leg. I seriously thought my balls were cramping! Had to start walking and downed yet another salt tablet. By now I was stopping at every medic asking for the ointment or spray. 4:30 was gone.
Km36 was the longest kilometre ever. Every time I looked at my watch, it said 36.something km. And I looked at my watch at least 10 times! I also noticed the distance on my watch, and the distance markers were off by about 600m. My watch would read 36km, then 600m later I'd see the distance marker. That was mental torture. At this rate, going under 5 hours seemed impossible.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I hit 37km on my watch. By now the legs were feeling better. So I started running again. But every time I get into some kind of rhythm, the cramp would come back. So that's what it was like for the next five kilometres. Run a bit, cramp, walk. Run a bit, cramp, walk.
At 38km, the 4:45 pacer passed me. Now it was just a matter of survival. The 5:00 pacer couldn't have been that far behind.
At 4 hours 30 minutes, my target time, I had just passed the F1 pit buildings and still had 2km to go. Maybe, just maybe, if i suck it up and start running I might just be able to go under my PB of 4:52.
I started running again. It was like a second wind. It was a pedestrian pace but at least I wasn't walking. Crossed the Esplanade bridge. Turned right on to Anderson bridge. Now feeling in awe that I'm running on part of the F1 circuit. Turned the corner and there it was: the long straight leading to the finish line. No way was I stopping now.
The clock at the line read 4:50. My watch said 4:46. A new PB either way. Happy about that but disappointed that I missed my target and that I hadn't managed to run all the way. A bittersweet race.
Lesson to learn here is to not be greedy. I think I could have gotten the 4:30 had I not spent a whole lot of effort between km9 and 30 chasing the sub-4. But then it was one of those things that you have to try or you'll never know. In the end, I didn't get anything: no sub-4, no 4:30.
I guess I can console myself with the PB.
And the fact that I had run in one of the best organised races ever. Really well organised. From the race pack pick-up, to the expo, to the route markers, the excellent volunteers and marshals, the enthusiastic supporters all around the course, the adequate aid (drinks and medic) stations, the beautiful medal and finisher t-shirt, etc. It was a wonderful experience. Kudos to the organisers and everyone involved. Just to be able to experience such a well organised event was worth all the pain and suffering.
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