Timex Run: The Greater Happiness

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.

Mizuno Infinity Run: Pitiless Eyes

“Just run slowly.  Be careful!” I was cautioning my wife.

She was running 5K after almost 3 months of being sidelined by an ankle injury incurred during the Condura Run.  She just smiled and said she would.  But her eyes seemed insincere.  There was mischief lurking, I know.  Thin slits, black and round like dark, deep pools of eternity; I can lose myself staring into those eyes.  I have looked and drowned into those enchanting pits too many times to know.  But I had to hurry away before I could further push my point.  We arrived late and the 15K runners were about to be released after the short rah-rah of the lady senator.  I ran to the corral worried.

The heavens reflected my feelings.  There was a mixture of high thin cirrus clouds bordered by pale blue sky and some threatening low gray cumulonimbus; an unsure contest between fair and wet.  I was unsure and torn between running a good 15K and running bandit by her side to ensure her wellness.  The race started yet I was distracted and irresolute.  I could still turn around.  Over two kilometers I ran slowly; my mind in disarray pursued by thoughts of her impish eyes.  She would be reckless!  I forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand.  Sigh!

I was on top of the Kalayaan Bridge when Coach Rio with a tall, fair, silver-haired guy overtook me.  That’s one of the Ayalas- Fernando.  They were pacing between 5-5.5 km/min at that point.  Focus.  If I followed them, that would take me around 1 hour and 20-25minutes to finish.  Not bad, I thought, so I kept at their back.

Wait a sec, what was my objective again?  Oh, it’s 1 hour 18minutes.  Okay, I would just run a little faster on the return route.

Buendia was like a snake of runners.  Vehicles were honking loudly, impatiently as they were barred by traffic aides and policemen from crossing.  On the fifth kilometer, a friend, JM, paced with me.  We talked about our other friends whom we missed running.  Then he asked about my wife’s injury.  I told him, she was quite recovered and was running the 5K.  The haunting eyes returned and filled my mind.

Days before the race, I remembered her musing on running a sub-30 which I ardently countered.  I even told her to just maintain a 7.5-8 min/km pace.  But those eyes before our parting betrayed her intent.  Stubborn woman!

Whoa, where’s Rio and Fernando? They were a tiny speck far away.  The realization jerked me out of my reverie.  I checked my pace and was surprised that I had slowed considerably.  JM was still with me and telling a story about his previous run.  I upped my speed as we made the U-turn at Bautista.  I was running sub-5min/km determined to catch up with Rio and Fernando.  JM fell back when we reached Ayala Avenue.

Buendia was still the realm of the runners to the dismay of motorist.  I noticed sun rays diffracting from building tops.  So, the fair weather has truly prevailed.  The return route has an inclining gradient and more effort has to be exerted to maintain my pace.  Finally, I was at the backs of Rio and Fernando after passing Makati Avenue.  I checked my time.  Ooooh, I would marginally miss my target.  I decided to speed up and pass the pair.

As I climb the Kalayaan Bridge, the sun has fully shown its magnificent face.  During the Botak Paa-Tibayan, it was a tormentor.  This time, it was like a spectator watching the folly of mortals.  The sun kept on the sidelines while the runners battle with the Bridge.  Short steps, fast arm swings as I chew my way up the Bridge.  Three kilometers to go, I was reminded of my wife’s Condura travail.  It was at this point where she started to limp all the way to the finish line because of a damaged ankle.

Those eyes told me she will attempt to be fast disregarding caution.  When she put her mind on something, she was hard as cold-hammered iron.  I hope she heeded my advice.  But those eyes…

Rio and Fernando passed me at the turn to Rizal Drive.  Darn it, Natutulog sa kangkungan! I ran after the pair… again.  And again, I passed them crossing 5th Avenue.  I let the pursuing eyes hound me to the finish.  But I did not allow it from distracting me further.  At the last stretch, I was looking left and right on the on-lookers for the owner of those intruding eyes to no avail.

I crossed the finish line 1:19:36 on my Garmin.  I missed my objective by more than a minute.

Finally, I saw her happily waving at me at the sides.  She seemed alright.  She said her time was 30 minutes 9 seconds.  I knew it! I bit back a sharp remark that hanged at the edge of my tongue; after all, nothing untoward happened.  She was quite annoyed being seconds away from her aim.  I let myself be drawn into those eyes.  It was like looking to a predator whose quarry has escaped but knew that it would surely fall very soon.

She was all smiles and delight but her eyes bore one of those secretive grins.  It made me nervous.

Postscript:
We had the pleasure of meeting and chatting with friendly people after the race:
Mhel (runner45) – looking forward to running with you neighbor.
Vener (run unltd.) and his lovely wife Christy- thanks for the inspiring words.

Mhel also introduced us in passing to some Takbo.ph mainstays: Jinoe, Sam, Doc Roy and Doc Topher.  I hope you guys remember amidst the left and right greetings, hustle and bustle.  Perhaps, a more deliberate moment next chance.  Thanks all.

Botak Paa-Tibayan: Sun Flare

“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.

The Happy Run: A New Warrior

“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.

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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.

PSE Bull Run: A day to celebrate

The usual festive scent of racing drifted in the air.  The waning dawn and cool winter temperature added to the feeling of anticipation.  It was the first race of the year and attendance was overwhelming.  The assembly area was packed with runners.  There were odd participants: contingencies from the Army and battalions of school boys and girls. The loudspeaker emitted the voice of a trying announcer while preparations were underway to start the race.  Signs and streamers of sponsors littered the venue.  I’ve recruited my wife to join and she was running the 3K event.  It was her first ever race but she was calm.  I could sense a feeling of wonder from her.  Perhaps wondering why and how a thousand bodies find pleasure and enjoyment in tiring themselves to death.  I hoped she would eventually be my willing and able lifetime running buddy.  Observing her discretely, I thought I will have my wishes.  My careful plans and moves were coming to sweet fruition.

I was listed in the 10K event with boss RM and colleague RC.  The three of us ran at the Runnex 25th Executive Classic a month before.  It was a story of exploits for me.  After over a decade and a half of absence, I finished just minutes over the hour mark ahead of my well-trained and well-equipped companions.  Somehow, that story has helped persuade other officemates to join the sport; BA and CT will be running their first race.  Together with OO, they were participants to the 5K event.  They were late, as expected.  RM had their race packs and was worried for them like a mother hen looking for missing chicks.  RC also had not arrived.  He probably lost his way again as in the previous race then would suddenly emerge at the head of the pack.  Hmmm, an eyebrow rising trend…

The 10K runners were called to their places.  I left my wife to the 3K assembly area and gave her my best wishes.  RC remained at the 5K area waiting impatiently.  I positioned myself in the middle of the thickening corral while the announcer exasperatedly tried to entertain the anxiously waiting racers.  JI greeted me as he walked towards the front of the dense pack.  He’s my old running chum during college years.  He cheered me at the Runnex and helped me prepare for this race.  I also saw NH, another college-days comrade.  He was at the Yakult 10 miler while JI and I were at the Runnex.  We gaily greeted each other and promised to talk after the race.  He was also moving forward.  By ethics, runners going strong were positioned at the front.  People were now shoulder-to-shoulder like cows herded inside a holding pen.  Fresh air seemed to be sucked down replaced by deep summer heat shimmering in the stillness.  The smell from hundreds of stomach permeated.  The announcer continued to irritate the ear.  Impatience and annoyance filled the atmosphere, a bad combination.

Finally, the minute countdown to start was announced with the arrival of a lady senator-runner.  That cheered the mob, oh, I mean the crowd.  I switched my Sony-Ericsson W800i to lap timer mode and held it tightly.  My pre-race ritual began involuntarily.  Bile started to rise threatening to empty my stomach.  Heart menacingly pounded the chest shaking the whole body.  Teary eyes almost bursting dam of water.  I wanted to snarl!

It was not the familiar “Pak!” of the gun that was heard but a “Clang! Clang!” of a bell that opened the floodgates that poured out people running finally out of the claustrophobic confines.  I commenced at a slow to moderate pace.  Many overtook me like a mad dash pursued by unseen horror.  After the stoplight, a number of male runners took advantage of a wall behind some trees and relieved themselves of their swelling bladders.  “Traitors!”

At the first kilometer point, I checked my phone-turned-stopwatch and it counted 6.5minutes.  Good pace!  I was going for a negative split to achieve my personal goal.  I came abreast a runner pushing the stroller of his disabled son.  I gave the boy a smile as I passed.  “Kudos to you, man!” I quietly murmured.

At the second kilometer, I took my water ration.  At that point I was searching for a pacer.  I saw a fair lady way ahead of me who seemed to have the same speed as I did.  I trotted quickly to catch up and matched her stride for stride inconspicuously.  Her black jersey and shorts further underlined her light skin and pretty face.  She wore a serious expression, a lady on a mission.  She was perspiring profusely but seemed to have an even breathing.  A perfect pacer indeed, steady stride, nice form and pleasant to look at.  What else would I have gazed at?  The scenery was not really enticing: stone houses, makeshift stores, small establishments and onlookers eyeing the lady that I was following.  I stayed with her for the next kilometers.  During that time, I started to appreciate my new ASICS Gel Bandito.  At the Runnex, I have on a NIKE basketball shoes that resulted in days of sore muscles, weeks of hurting knees and an ugly black big toenail that would probably last for months.  The ASICS was cool to the feet.   With the NIKE, my feet were like on top of a furnace.  The strike to the ground was also superior allowing easier rolling of the instep.  “It’s running shoes against basketball shoes, moron, why don’t you try to play hoops with the ASICS!” I chided myself.  One thing that I failed to discern was the advantage of a lighter weight.  The ASICS was half as heavy as the NIKE but I barely made out the difference at the thick of the run.  “Does a few ounces really make a difference?” I wondered.

Passing the fifth kilometer on the return route began the most challenging portion.  Aside from dodging cars, jeepneys and blaring motorcycles competing with the runners for road space, there was a long upward slope.  It was also time to increase my pace.  I obliged for a water stop and jogged to the foot of the slope while psyching myself of glories to gain and princess to rescue.  I could sense adrenaline rushing, and felt my face heating.  My back and arms felt icy.  As if with their own minds, my innards reacted to my dark plan.  My stomach complained of stiffness, my head paced in circles like a nervous groom and my kidneys were shouting for justice. At the base of the slope, I summoned my friend courage and started pumping more energy to my system.  I said my silent thanks and goodbyes to my pretty pacer and quicken my strides.  My thighs were straining as I battled the slope relentlessly.  I passed many runners and some dogs and cats.  At the top of the slope, my chest was pounding and my ears were throbbing.  It’s a flat path forward but another slope was on the far end.  So little time to recover and no time for water, I pushed on.

Emerging to the main street, Lawton Ave, I was almost out of breath.  I was puffing heavily through both mouth and nose.  My throat was parched.  I checked my phone cum timer; it was 20 minutes before the hour mark.  I reverted to my pre-slope-battle pace to allow myself to recover.  Upon reaching the McKinley Hill intersection, over 7 minutes had passed and I resumed my ground-eating run.  I was determined to beat the hour mark.  My aim was hindered by the increasing number of runners on the return route.  At this juncture, there was a mixture of 10K, 5K, 3K participants and fun run walkers to boot.  I was like a drunken driver crisscrossing the street in a slow traffic.  There was even an instance where I have to plough through interlinked walkers who seemed to barricade the road.

The last few hundred of meters encouraged faster pace short of sprinting.  It was a downward slope then a flat one.  I refrained to look at my phone-a-la-timer as I accepted the invitation to speed up.  I could see the corner where upon turning, the finish line would be just a few more huffs.  Faster.  I could smell success.  Just a little more.  I felt like a warrior slaying the 60 minute beast.  Go, go go! At the turn, I was met by a grim sight. Whoa! There were long lines of runners waiting to cross the line.  Chaos! I almost stopped, confused on where to go.  What the… A man directed me to the shorter 10K line.  Sigh… I reached the end of the 10K queue somewhere in the middle of the turning point and finish line.  Whew!  I stopped my timer; it read 55 min 37 seconds.  I’ve done it! But why did I get this feeling of constipation?

I saw my wife beside the official clock.  Oh, there’s the clock, I bet only a few noticed.  She was shouting 55.3 minutes with a broad smile in her radiant face.  I could tell she had a fine race and enjoying herself with the jovial atmosphere.  It took over 5 minutes before I reached the finish line.  My wife met me there.  CT and OO were also there smiling like knuckleheads.  They did not have their race number when they ran.  Both arrived late.  CT said he was just stepping out of his car when the starting bell clanged and he had to scramble wildly.  We were waiting for the whole gang to arrive.  RM and RC were still running, while BA could be roaming around.  I saw NH crossed the line later.  He was disgusted with the long queue.  Same complain can be heard from a number of lips like a bee swarm buzzing in agitation.

Even if my finish was quite anti-climactic, it was still a day of celebration.  I got my sub-1 hour finish, my wife and the boys had their first taste of a race and RC has ice-cold beers in his trunk.