“I can do the 5K!” my wife said with full conviction as we readied ourselves for the evening jog. Her face was stern and I would pity even an army if it tried to bar her way. It was just a day and a couple of nights before Happy Run. She was running her first 5K and only her second race. I was proud of her confidence but a little bit uneasy. She had not logged any kilometer since her 3K stint at the Bull Run. I forced to convince myself that tonight’s laps should be enough preparation.
The night was clear and full of stars. Cold wind flapped my loose sleeveless jersey like a battered banner. “I will not break a sweat with this chill” I complained. I should have worn a long-sleeved sweatshirt. Sigh. My colleagues, BA, CT and FD were already doing their warm-ups. “I thought you’re running the 15K” CT asked me. “No, I’m running with my wife throughout the race. She might get lost, you know” I replied smiling. “I hardly prepared for the 15K anyway” I added. We had the road to ourselves, no vehicles, no other human and no dogs. The air was fresh and the scenery was green. We had a good 6K trot.
Race day. We were early on the race site. The lights of the surrounding buildings defined a romantic city skyline. The stage across the street was being prepared. Early joggers glanced curiously at the construction as they passed by. Only a few cars dotted the parking lot. As I was putting on my shoes, a man brought out packages from an adjacent white SUV. “That’s Drew!” my wife whispered excitedly. One of the lure of this race was the sure attendance of celebrities. “You want me to grab him and take his photos with you” I tested. She was nodding like a dupe. Ah, the woman has no shame! Now, where would Iza be?
We went around the area trying to feel and be one with the surrounding. Runners were starting to arrive. Warm ups, idle chats, loitering and all the familiar hustle and bustle of the event slowly building up in an increasing crescendo. It’s great to be in a race! For the first time, I glimpsed on Coach Rio. He was busy organizing the occasion like a maestro of an orchestra. Smooth, smooth, smooth! We met BA, CT and FD; they were not late, thank heavens! Good, good, good! We just remained at the side of the corral and enjoyed as the program unfolded. Drew and Bianca were hosting. Nice, nice, nice! As usual, the festive atmosphere was on everyone, a spirit of camaraderie, an undemanding expression of human solidarity.
The 15K runners had gone with the wind. The 5K participants were being herded in the holding pen. This time, I felt no adrenaline rush, no increasing nervousness, just calm and stillness. This was not my race, no record to beat, no capability to prove. This was my wife’s race. And I will be there beside her all the way. If only I could bring a camera to record her every step, I would have done it. I could hear her taking deep breaths. She seemed to be unruffled like stockpiling ki, the energy flow that drives the life-process. Our friends were beside us, jumping, skipping, twisting left and right, anticipating…
The starting signal resounded like gongs calling soldiers to arms. We were met by a dancing golden dragon at the first turn. No, this was not the foe but an ally laying the mysterious weapon, luck, to the brave warriors. “Boom! Boom! Boom!” the dragon danced to the beat of the drum. I let my dear wife dictate the pace. I was at her side a step behind resembling a side guard watching for flankers. At the first kilometer, I checked my Sony Ericsson W800i functioning as a timer for pace. “8.5 minutes, we’re a bit slow” I advised her carefully. We passed black ati-atihan dancers. They shouted and performed shooing motions like scaring undesired spirits. “Hala Bira!” they cried cleansing the warrior-runners of unwanted evil. Like getting more power from the ritual, my wife began increasing her speed. She was like a general commanding the charge. We dodged left and right passing fellow combatants trying to reach the enemy line first. She did not stop for water and continued to push on. I thought of cautioning her but her uncompromising expression held my silence. The turning point for the 5K provided a chance to respite.
Coming out of the turn, her pace slowed. The timer read 17.5 minutes. I observed her condition. She was sweating copiously. Her breathing was fast but steady. Her form has not yet sagged. Slowly she was increasing pace again like following a suddenly sure trail of scattered adversary. Between the third and fourth kilometer, she was already breathing heavily, mouth gaping and nostrils flaring. She looked like she had defeated a worthy opponent in a protracted duel. Yet the battle has not been won. Her pace slowed and steadied. Huh, hah, I can hear her panting. Wush, wush her shoes were crying louder. Past the fourth kilometer, the downward slope offered relief to strained muscles. Her pace increased again. The enemy flag was within sight and like bloodlust consuming the fighter, we ran for our dear life. The dragon still danced tirelessly as we passed the last turn, this time in celebration. A victory dance befitting the honor of triumphant warriors. We passed the finish line together at 32 minutes. At last, the new warrior smiled.
————————-
Epilogue
The Happy Race lived to its name. Like in everybody’s mouth, it was truly happy and well organized. We stayed longer after the race enjoying the revelry. My wife got the chance to take her picture with Drew, only he’s in the far background. She got to pose with Paolo and Suzy. Our colleagues, BA, CT and FD were eyeing Iya but she left hurriedly, probably sensing dark deeds closely lingering about.
We were newbies to these events. Like children we were happily playing on a new playground. Running gave us the opportunity to be young and vigorous. And I hope we remain as such, a short window of precious moment setting aside the dismal woes of the adult.
