It was cold and dark when I started my pre-race run around BHS. There were plenty of people coming out of a joint. Their day has just ended when mine was just about to begin. A number of them wore black; tight pants, short skirts, netted leggings, leather jackets. Most faces were powdered and painted heavily. Their smell was burnt cigarette. As I passed them, some of them looked at me in askance and one of them even looked at her timepiece. Time flies. While they obviously had a groovy night, it was the runners’ time to party.
It was just past 4AM and preparations for the race were in a fast tempo. Technicians were testing lights and sounds, constructors erecting part of the stage, policemen directing traffic. My plan was to run 11K at marathon goal pace before racing 21K to complete the week’s mileage. I was behind schedule on my training program and Singapore Marathon was fast approaching.
The chilly wind made it difficult to maintain pace. My skin was damp where it should have been sweating profusely. And knees, squeaking like rusty wheels, seemed unable to reach optimum fluidity. Just over 3rd kilometer, people near the assembly area have swelled and work activities quickened in an increasing crescendo. The late frolickers have gone replaced by eager runners. 7th Avenue had become a street gym filled with runners stretching and warming up. The speakers began to crackle and the host started to chatter. That was a sign that the race was about to start and I was still far from target. Time flies.
Another 3 kilometers, the 21K participants were already gathered and the warm-up dance underway. I was breathing heavily. Sweat finally trickled down my neck and back despite the still cold dawn. I was afraid I exerted more effort than planned and not leaving enough for the race. But the festivities were reaching fever pitch that I could not help but get carried away.
I barely completed 8 kilometers when the race was about to begin. I rushed to my parked car and got my bib and timing chip. With hands shaking, I grabbed the hydration belt and cap. I was crossing the street to the corral when the gun fired. I charged to the starting mat and weaved behind the pack. Having thoroughly warmed up, I was running hard.
The course took us to the familiar route of 26th Street, Rizal Drive, to Kalayaan flyover. At the top of the Bridge, the sky was still dark and small lights dotted the cityscape like tiny twinkling stars. The chill has lessened to a welcome cool breeze. I was pacing way above the planned marathon goal pace, so I admonished myself to slow down lest I ran out of juice. I found myself following a foreign woman with hair of spun gold and eyes the color of clear morning sky.
At the foot of Kalayaan Bridge, we met the lead runner, a Kenyan running easily with two more Kenyans and a local (Alley Quisay) hot on his trail. Since QCIM, these Kenyans have been topping the local races and it seemed that they would be a main fixture. This could be both good and bad for the local sport.
The first of the water stations appeared and it was a sight to behold. Long tables with hundreds of cups grouped alternately with water and 100Plus. Wow, this should make BR proud. Runners passed easily without queuing or crowding.
After the U-turn at the 5th kilometer area, the woman I was following stepped up the speed. I decided to follow her lead but ready to fall back anytime I sense pain or fatigue. We reached the Kalayaan Bridge and climbed it without breaking stride. As we cleared the Bridge, light was already spreading across the cloudless sky. The sun has not shown its face but I knew it would be shining through.
As we entered Lawton Ave, we met for the second time the lead 21K runner. This time he was alone. There were no trailers in sight with 3 kilometers left and he was still running with effortless ease. It would be another kilometer before we met the next pack, Alley Quisay leading two Kenyans. Alley was giving all his best. His face was a little contorted and there was an edge on his intent eyes. He looked like he was ready to chew rocks!
The sun was at its full glare when we loped down Bayani Road and to the Heritage Park. The Park was a welcome rendezvous like a meeting of old friends. The Park was a habitat for numerous species of bird. During the RUNew event, I remembered numerous sighting. As before, Zebra Doves and Fork-Tailed Swifts were abundant. There were also Brown Shrikes and Pied Trillers, if I identified it correctly. While marveling on the birds and the well-manicured lawns, I lost my golden-haired pacer. Muscle fatigue has caught up down my legs and I slowed down.
I maintained an easy pace negotiating the Bayani Road uphills and the remaining kilometers nursing my leg pains. The short detour at the Old Lawton Road round the entrance of the American Cemetery and Trion Towers was a refreshing diversion.
On the last turn, the sun was high on my back casting long shadows in front of me. I chased my shadow until I crossed the line clocking 1:51:49, a new PR. Unplanned and unexpected but delighted nonetheless.
The conduct of the race was pristine from start to end. Even the overused route was made interesting. It was exciting to experience how runners were treated like kings and queens. But the greater excitement was the Pacquiao-Cotto fight after the race. No other event can grind the country to a halt suspending it in time and space. I even heard in the grapevine that Father Sinnoit was released by the bandits because the latter wanted to focus in viewing the bout. Such was the unifying power of Pacquiao. I wonder if running could ever be a unifying force for the country. That would be a greater happiness.
