The onset of dawn was marked by the sound of thunderous drums booming out of tall speakers. A call to arms! The sound reverberated and seemed to thump every warrior’s chest. Hearts throbbed and pumped more blood to the menacing beat of the rhythm. Then the dancers in green and white rushed forward in an energetic fashion. Feet stomping, thigh slapping, biceps flexing and complex gyration gracefully weaved in an intricate lace of choreography. In the climax of the ritual, the dancers waved flags in the dark cold morning proud to lift the runner’s spirit and confidence.
The colors have been raised. The Milo Marathon finalists, cream of the crop, the elite few prepared themselves for the send-off. After they were ceremoniously released, they ran to the battlefield like seasoned warriors eager to defeat fiend and foe in a bloodlust.
As a spectator on the sides, I thought it was a delight to be sent off with a war dance. Milo has made the innovation and once again proven itself to be a premier running event in the country.
I was itching and gnashing my teeth to join the marathoners in their melee. But this was not my arena, not yet. My first engagement was just around the corner and I couldn’t wait.
I was listed in the 10K event. I thought I would treat this as a tempo training run. I had few of such in my program mostly consisting of mid and long runs. The 10k route was straight and fast. But it was a great path framed by an old church, a hero’s monument, historical buildings and the grandeur of the sea.
The gun was fired by the good city mayor and hundreds, or maybe thousands of runners and walkers, crossed the timing mat. The race used a timing chip, a technology sweeping the running events and gaining much popularity. I ran throughout the race fast and evenly; the magic of the war dance still lingering in my system. Even on the bridge climbs, I was able to maintain my pace.
I finished the race in 48 minutes and still felt strong.
It was a good result that further enhanced my confidence. I thought I was ready; I hope and pray that I’m ready, for my maiden marathon. And when I’m there, at the starting line, I will remember the war dance.
The Gleeman's Tale 