It was still dark when I arrived at the assembly area. The dim sky was swiftly scattering as morning light crept unyielding. Low, dark clouds were moving away to the west. It was neither hot nor cold and the wind blowing was soft. Runners were doing their pre-race rituals stretching, jumping, jogging. A considerable number were just registering for the event. It was a welcome bustle.
I found my college buddies, JI, NH and GH and we chatted idly. The race was late yet no one was complaining. The atmosphere was happy and undemanding. It looked like that participants left the competitive and eager cap back at their home and came only with pure fun in their pockets. There was even a comic instance when the start/finish arch collapsed. It was met by jests and laughter. Perhaps the overcast cloud helped in preventing the sun from increasing temperature and boiling tempers.
JI, the strongest among us planned to run at a ground-pounding 4.5 minutes per kilometer. I was planning around 5.5 minutes per kilometer while my two other friends planned at a much slower pace. In the corral, we positioned ourselves somewhere at the front of the pack. “Phak!”, the starting gun blared. I lost JI at the starting scuffle. I forced myself to zigzag around entangled bodies. The space eased upon entering Ayala-Alabang Village. JI was nowhere in sight, he flew. Around 50 meters ahead, in front of scores of runners, I saw the Bald Runner (BR) trotting like an Arabian horse. Hmmm, time to challenge myself. Without much deliberation, I decided impulsively to mark BR and follow his pace until the finish. Can I do it? Probably, I did eat double extra rice the night before. That should help! I was definitely insane; perhaps blood was draining out my brain this early stage of the race.
Past the first kilometer, I checked my pace. 4 minutes 40 seconds per kilometer. Wow, this was way above my usual speed. When I raised my head from looking at my watch, BR was suddenly gone. That fast? I was fervently searching when I saw him again on a turn from the main street. Still a good distance away but that shape of a man was unmistakable. I resolved to never let my quarry out of my sight again. I was already breathing through both nose and mouth at this point. Slowly, BR overtook runners. I also made some negotiating maneuvers to keep pace. Approaching the 3rd kilometer, there were only four runners between us. I maintained my distance from him of around 30 meters like a hound hot on a trail.
Fifth kilometer passed and I was still maintaining distance and only two runners separated us. I congratulated myself silently for getting this far. I usually was appreciative of my surroundings during runs; the trees, the birds, the sky, the wind, the people. Not this time. My eyes were locked on BR observing his every move. I tried to imitate his posture, body and limbs angles. I kept cadence with his feet and arm swings. When he checked his watch, I also checked mine. When he swooped for water, I also took my ration. He does this one in one smooth motion: pick, upend, gulp and throw. I choked trying to do that. More practice, I guess. I was learning on-the-job. I remembered reading about Japanese medieval times: Student-warriors wander from dojo to dojo asking the master of each for lessons through sparring. No lecture, no demonstration. Just straight duel. At this point, I empathize with these learners. This was better than reading self-teach articles. Oh wait, I just also remembered that it was not uncommon for these student-warriors to come out maimed, gutted or halved. Uuuugh! Not this time. Perish that thought!
Approaching the eighth kilometer, traffic was getting tight as runners from 5K and 3K converge with the 10K. I was itching to check my watch to gauge the distance and pace. But BR had not checked his. The watch was beckoning, look at me, look at me, look at me…This should have been a simple will effort but I was perplexed at the strained control I was exerting. Look at me, look at me, look at me. I was praying that BR look at his so that I would be released from this unexpected misery. This had occupied the back of my mind until midway between the 8th and 9th kilometer, where a very steep hill loomed before us. Almost all runners were walking up. It was a disconcerting sight. BR did not break his pace battling the incline. I followed, head down, eyes almost closed. This was only the second time that BR was not at my sights. I labored one excruciating step after another. No stopping. No walking. Up. Up. Ahhh finally, it was a great relief topping the hill. It was all downhill after that.
I kicked my pace and closed the gap between me and BR. The sight of the finish line and the prospect of completing the race below 50 minutes seemed to feed more energy to my legs. I ran faster. I was able to overtake another 10K runner in front of the ATC entrance with my nostrils flaring and heart pounding madly. I crossed the line 48.5 minutes with arms raised, fist in a tight clench.
I was delighted with the result. I was less than ten meters from BR and only one 10K runner between us. After I’ve cooled down, I tried to look for BR to express my gratitude but I failed to locate him.
BR: thanks for the teaching you inadvertently shared. Looking forward to the next lesson.
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