“That was a late start!” exclaimed JI.
We were at the parking lot in front of ROX when we heard the starting gun for the 42K runners. Then the announcer declared that the 10K and 21K events would begin at the same time more than an hour later. We were listed in the 21K and we were aghast.
“These people are not yet ready to organize a full-marathon.” JI remarked.
“Most of them will finish around 10am or later” I added.
It was still dark and the assembly area was uncomfortably quiet and gloomy. There were plenty of waiting runners but there was less festiveness in the air. As light quickly chased the darkness away, low dark clouds covering the sky were revealed.
“It’s going to rain” my wife said.
“That would be nice” I replied.
I was looking forward to my first race in the rain. It should be cool and delightful as long as it’s not an all-out downpour. Starting late might not be that bad after all, I thought.
Our race had started and gone yet not a droplet had fallen. At the 2nd kilometer, Kalayaan Bridge, I looked up to check on the sky waiting for the imminent drizzle but the rain clouds were thinning. The mighty Sun seemed to wrestle control of the celestial stage and slowly, no, swiftly, its rays began to reach the grounds. I knew then what was coming and prepared myself to the onslaught of the Sun.
I began fast hoping to outrun the full blast of the heat. But who can outrun a determined opponent? I felt like a child with sooty face and runny nose playing hide and seek with my elders.
“Where are you? Come out, come out wherever you are.” the Sun would say as I streak under a shade. “Ahhh, there you are!” it would call out when I ran out of cover as if my naughty mischief would escape its notice.
The heat was sucking me dry. It was a killer. The rations I took from the water station, I upend on my head instead of drinking. The cool rivulets running down my neck was most welcome respite. The last three kilometers was the most difficult. Almost no shade in sight and the Sun was at its fiercest.
“Oh no, you won’t finish easily!” the Sun seemed to mock.
It started with the return climb on the Kalayaan Bridge. Mouth gaping and nostrils flaring, sweat rolled down my eyes and my strength began to fade as if leached out with the sweat. The fountain of water from a truck was godsend, however brief, but it would be the last relief. After the bridge, I can see the long, long, upward, hot stretch like a road in the middle of the desert going nowhere. With strength almost gone, all I had was courage. I wanted to cry but tears would be too dear a loss.
Most runners were walking or trying to run. Myself, I made a semblance of a run. The heat was utterly maddening. Somewhere approaching Market Market, my side vision blurred. White spots appeared and I was breathing heavily. All faces I saw became Yogi Bear or Barney the Dinosaur; the high temperature has already robbed me of my wits! Just a little more, I egged myself dryly.
I crossed the finish line almost to a walk. I timed 1 hour 55 minutes, surprisingly topping my Greenfield City Run record by 2 minutes.
But the heat had taken its toll. I was puffing unevenly and I was on fire. I quickly sat under a shade and poured cold water on my head. I was immovable for about 20 minutes before my breathing calmed and temperature eased. I lounge a little more resting to my content. My friends found me sprawled on a pavement under the shadow of a streetlamp like a decaying carcass.
The Sun glared, smiled and laugh reminding mortals that summer was not yet done.
