My First Half Marathon

Last year in 2006, I decided that I wanted to run twenty-one kilometers for my twenty-first birthday. It didn’t happen. I dilly-dallied, flip-floped and before I knew it, it was my twenty-second. I didn’t run last year’s Standard Chartered because it clashed with my exam papers. I missed out on the PJ Half-Marathon because I didn’t know how to sign up, and I skipped out on the Penang Bridge Marathon because I overtrained and contracted ITBS.

In the middle of my ITBS, I just signed up for this year’s Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon. I’ll get over my weak knees, I just need a goal. I’ll structured my modules and exams around the run. With the internet and friends, my knees will get better. In retrospect, it half-worked.

So I did run a half-marathon in the end. I did it in 2 hours, 23 minutes, just a sliver above the average. I was planning for a worse-case scenario where my ITB became unbearable after my training distance, forcing me to walk the remaining distance and finishing in 3 hours. I knew at my pace I won’t be finishing close to 2 hours, so 2:30 was the target. Finishing 7 minutes early was a surprise to me, I don’t know how I did it but I did it anyway. (2:23 is by the chip, not by the gun, and I place 2500th, so it’s not all that much of a concern yet.)

I started out strong in the semester. My ITBS meant that I could only run 2km, maybe 3km, at a go. Then the pain in the knees became worse. Walking meant that the pain subsided, but running immediately after would make it hurt again. So I ran as much as I could, slowly building up to five kilometres. That took 3-4 weeks.

Then depression and essays hit me. It always does in the middle of the semester. I just wanted to stay in my room and not do anything. Of course I went to classes and everything, but there wasn’t the drive to go out running. ITBS made it worse, it made me feel completely impotent that I couldn’t run any substantial distance at all.

Eventually, I finished my essays, got off my chair, went for one of those running clinics the marathon organizers were putting up, and I was running again. Problem was, it was already 2-3 weeks to the marathon. So I put myself on a hard running plan. The dude at the clinic said that there’s no real need to taper the distance if my mileage wasn’t greater than 50km a week, so what the heck. My mileage hasn’t reach 20km a week in a long time.

So I did a few things differently. I stopped running my usual hilly route, and worked on a flatter 1km circuit which actually looks like a crescent from a bird’s-eye view. Since my right knee was working up, I ran the circuit clockwise instead of counter-clockwise. I tried running with a smoother gait, cushioning my running bounce to ease the impact on my knees (at the expense of my calves muscles). And lo, I ran my first >5km round in a long, long time.

That was the beginning of my crash course. I made sure I got lots of water during the day and ate lots of protein and carbos. My run schedule was every other day, I didn’t want to push my knees too far just prior to the half-marathon. The next day though, I told myself I’d run further than my 6km. I did 8km. I made sure I stopped every 3km to get a drink of water, to get myself used to drinking in the middle of a run (I don’t usually drink because of the short distances I’ve been running before).

The week just before the half-marathon, I was running 11km. Compared to the piss-poor 2-3km I was doing, this was really great stuff. However, I know I can run only about 50% more than my usual training distance, which makes my effective top-performance distance only about 16km. It should have been 14-16km runs by now, had I started training earlier. But it was too late for regrets. I was going for a half-marathon with as much preparation as I have now.

On another note, REPC (Race Entry Pack Collection) was interesting. It was held over the weekend just before the marathon. I got a duffel bag, the race shirt (which I was completely undecided whether to wear during the race or not), a pack of spaghetti, lots of advertising, my race bib, and a ChampionChip. It’s this little thing that you will have to tie to your shoe with your shoelaces, and they’ll track your timing with it. They’re also organising bus trips from stadiums all across Singapore, so I picked up a ticket. That would save a lot on taxi fare to the city and a headache of finding my way there.

I finished my evening paper on Saturday. I went back, cooked 200grams of spaghetti and downed it all. Then I went to sleep, and got up at 3.30am. I didn’t bother to take a shower, I was going to stink it up anyway. I grabbed some cereal and milk for breakfast, and quickly got a short cab to Clementi Stadium. I didn’t know what to wear, so I went in a t-shirt and trackbottoms with my race gear underneath. To my surprise, everybody else was in their gear and ready to run. Damn, I felt pretty out of place.

The bus dropped us off a few streets away from the starting point. You could see the runners streaming down the sidewalks making their way to the baggage deposit. The line for baggage deposit snaked a long, long way but it didn’t take too long. Waiting, I saw JC students, polytechnic students and some secondary school students getting ready. There was the occasional cheer. By the time I got to the end of the queue, the marathon runners had already flagged off at 5.15am. I took my time to stretch, grab a drink, and mentally prepare myself for the next 21km.

Five minutes to six I walked to Esplanade Bridge. Many half-marathon runners were already gathering. They set up speakers at fifty meter intervals along the whole span of the bridge, and an emcee was doing his job trying to rile up the crowd. I think he was irritating. People didn’t seem to be speaking much. When he asked for a cheer, it was usually weak. The only time when the crowd did manage something substantial was when the pack of Kenyans at the fore of the full marathon race passed us by. They were friggin’ sprinting the whole 42 clicks.

Flagoff grew closer, and the crowd slowly inched forward until we were packed close. A short bang, and then, nothing. Then the people moved forward a bit. We walked. It was a brisk walk to the starting line, and I was off.

It was silent. Nobody was talking or panting yet. I heard only footfalls, which slowly turned into an unnoticeable white noise. I told myself, run conservatively, this will take forever. I looked at the other runners, and they filled up the entire street with the quiet walls of skyscrapers herding us forward. I don’t know how many people there were ahead of me, but at the top of a rise, the entire street was filled to the very ends of vision. Some people overtook and ran faster, others quickly became winded. I just moved on.

I saw the first kilometer sign. Seven minutes on the spot by my watch. That should be my average time, so everything was good. Just keep on running. This is a cinch.

At seven kilometers. Still going strong. I’ve done this before. Drinks help.

Eleven kilometers. We’re done with the Marina loop. Coming back into streets of Central. Irritating band members. This old dude was doing a good pace, better than me. Trying to keep up with him, but keep on falling back because of the knee. It is starting to hurt, so I’m beginning to walk quite a bit. The sun was shining on all of us now.

Fourteen kilometers. Feeling like crap. At least half the half-marathon was done. There were bananas at the last drinks station, but I don’t eat during a run. People are starting to apply deep heat at the stations.

Fifteen kilometers. Ran across the Merdeka bridge. Stupid bugger sitting on the rails looking at us.

Sixteen kilometers. The second u-turn! There’s not long left before the race was over! I quickened my pace, recognised a few runners of my pace on the run back. Then I walked, and ran harder. And walked. And ran harder. Stupid knee.

Eighteen kilometers. My knee was really taking it hard. I saw people queueing for some deep heat, I got some and smeared it all around my knees. I think it helped deaden the pain.

Nineteen and a half kilometers. I saw a sign that said, Marathon – 41km. There was only a kilometer and a half to go? Time to move fast and finish. Long strides for the win.

Twenty kilometers. I was fooled. Had to walk a bit across the esplanade bridge. Walked across the fullerton bridge. Then I saw it. THe last stretch. Made my final dash. 2:23.

As a result, I couldn’t walk properly for 3 days. My knees and ankles were hurting from walking, and I discovered later in the day that I had a giant blister on my left sole and I was generally pooped out. I slept for 14 hours that night.

Next target: 2 hour half-marathon. There’s still the PJ half and the Penang Bridge marathon. Whoopie. I get to flog myself to death again.