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June 27, 2008. Friday

It's been nearly a month since Sundown, but the post-84km running blues still exist. I have only run about six or seven times since the race, mostly 5ks and the longest being 10k. I decided I needed to give me legs a break after all that battering. I've never done this before, not run for more than three days in a row. I'm excited to find out how it feels to come back fresh. Well, hopefully fresh, that is. Cos I've still been swimming, cycling, and doing loads of the elliptical trainer in the office gym. I crank up the resistance, select the hill programme and bang out the highest cadence as my legs can move at as possible. Built up from five minute intervals to 10, 15, 20 and yesterday I did a 45min whack. Tis quite good actually. I can monitor my heartrate by gripping the handlebars and my legs do feel like it's getting a good workout. But I wonder how that translates to the running motion.

But I will find out next Sunday, when I run the Gold Coast Marathon. :-)

No PB expected, just a whole load of fun and soaking up the sun, sand, sea and scenery. Surfers' Paradise, here I come!! Haven't been back there since I was there with the parents when I was 12. We used to have a house there -- the upside-down house my dad built on a plot of land he bought -- but we've sold it off already for the money. Anyway I'll be putting up at the Holiday Inn there, a couple of hundred metres from the beach, so I'm not complaining. Thanks to Tourism Queensland for the trip!

Right, I wonder how it will feel running 42km after having raced an 84. I remember how I used to have jitters before a 42. But after a training run takes me to the 50k mark... that really puts in perspective a 42k race. Still, the pace will be much faster and uh, it's a race. But for Gold Coast I'm just treating it as a 42k holiday stroll by the sea....

Leave the panting to October's Nike Women's Marathon. ;-)

 

June 22, 2008. Sunday

As you may have read, I've come away pretty much empty handed from winning the Sundown Marathon three weeks ago. Yeah, big hoohah and all, he said she said they said we said... no, no, no, I say, you say,... whatever. At the end of the day, the rules didn't say, and that's a fact. The next time you want to offer a business deal as a prize, state the conditions clearly so.

Wait. Rewind. Let me say that I never did complain about the prize, or rather, the non-prize. I was pretty much fine with letting it slide. Had lunch with J, heard her pitch, felt extremely flattered but knew who I was going to stick with. No problem. Till a colleague told the bosses and they found it juicier than a piece of Morton's meat. So, story ran, photoshoot and all. Unfortunately, no one will ever know, from the article, that I didn't want to make a fuss of it in the first place.

Anyway, what's done is done. Articles were well-written and fair. Everyone had a chance to say whatever they wanted to. I've made my decision. I'm not settling for second best . A holiday? I didn't win a holiday. I won a trip to Berlin to run the Berlin Marathon, which registration has already closed for. You could call it a priceless prize. But I won't push it. Thank you, but no thanks.

In all fairness, the $3,000 worth of products was not mine, but they offered it, so I took and I gave away to the Special Olympics. The football team has been playing with boots kept from falling apart by masking tape. They need it much more than I, my colleagues or my mom does. Hope you like the new kicks, guys.

And then comes Nike. A trip to run the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco in October, as a mark of support and recognition of my win. Bloody hell, sponsors don't come better than this. They didn't have to do anything, but they did something. A huge thing. From the bottom of my heart, thank you to the swoosh.

Am I sore I came up with an "empty" victory at the Sundown? Not one bit. And not because I still get a schweet trip to SF, my favourite city in the whole world.

But, because I did win, and in the words of George and Ira Gershwin, "They can't take that away from me."

 

June 10, 2008. Tuesday

Phew. It's been a pretty great coupla weeks. Last weekend was spent in Bali, the previous one was spent running 84km and the previous one was spent racing the Bintan Tri. Loads of beaches and sunsets and sunrises... Loads of achy breaky legs and sweat and tears and adrenaline highs. Yeah, it's been a great ride, baby.

Just got back from an easy 30km spin. Been pretty active since the Sundown Ultra, boogie boarding (and trying to surf), playing tennis, going to the gym a bit and running on the beach in Bali. But I think my body's not ready for the full on craziness of training seriously again so I'm just gonna do whatever I feel like doing. Yaye for golf lessons tonight!

Here are some snapshots from the past coupla weeks gone by:

Anyway, I've got loads to say but no time to say it, but here's the first version of my story that eventually got edited and was in last Saturday's paper. Hope you like it.

*********************** TO HELL AND BACK *************************

NINE hours is more than enough sleep one needs in a day. You could fly to Sydney within that time, or watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

I ran 84km in just about that time. And, my gosh, it felt like I went to hell and back, and finally ended in what felt like heaven.

As I descended back to earth again after five minutes of finish line fame for winning the adidas Sundown Ultramarathon early Sunday morning, I realized it was a victory years in the making.

It wasn’t just five months of focused hard work.

Sure, since December, I’ve been rising at 4.15am on many mornings to squeeze in two to four-hour runs before work, operating on about six hours of sleep a night.

I planned all my workouts. I would lengthen my longest run, which started with an hour, by half an hour each week for three weeks, then taking the fourth week easy. Each four-week cycle, I would build up to an even longer run. By my peak weak, I had built up to a 50km run.

The long run was the die-die must complete workout of the week (I ran around Tiananmen Square while in Beijing for work so I wouldn’t miss a workout!). I also had one session of intervals and one session of hills to work on speed and strength.

In between those key workouts I also biked about 150km to 200km a week, swam once, ran easy other times, and worked on my core strength about thrice a week.

Still, one cannot expect to train for five months and bang out an 84km run. It takes years of building up.

It takes thousands of hours training every tiny muscle in your body to be efficient, teaching the mind to understand every twitch and every ache and how to deal with it. It means knowing your pace like you know your family. It means conditioning the mind to shut out pain when it unsympathetically attacks.

Barely two days after the race, I was walking pretty fine. (In fact, I was boogie boarding in Bali!) A slight soreness was felt in the quadriceps, but hey, you get that even after a hard 10km sometimes.

I’m impressed with my body and how it has rebounded so well so soon after the longest run of my life.

But, I know the main reason why I got away so lightly was because of good preparation.

I was never really troubled in the race – at least not to the point that I had to walk or even stop to stretch. My breathing was always in control, never brought to a pant.

The first 28km went by like the breeze. I had taken over the lead at about 23km (or so I thought – the race marshals had not noticed the lead woman right from the gun, Yong Lai Chee, who I only overtook at about 66km). My legs felt light, my body was operating like clockwork and my mind was alert and focused.

Then, suddenly, just before hitting Bedok Reservoir, my energy level dipped. My legs began to feel heavy and my strides shortened.

My response? I smiled and waved and each volunteer I ran past. Training experience has thought me that smiling to yourself, though crazy, somehow takes away the pain.

And it worked. The lethargy slipped away, as I fell back into rhythm and stride.

With about 400m to go to the end of the first lap, I tripped and fell over a road hump at Netheravon Road. It tore a hole the size of a 50 cent coin in my compression tights and left my left knee bruised and bleeding.

I knew it I was losing focus. It was nearly 12.45am – about two hours past my bedtime – and my body was going to sleep. Thankfully, the fall woke me up.

The first lap took me about 4h 15min. And that’s when it felt like I began my journey to hell.

My rhythm had gone from a catchy swing to a haphazard bebop. My thighs felt like lead and my legs like bricks.

That’s where all my training kicked in. It’s on those lonely miles that you learn to deal with these downs, to push through and regain the up. I’ve had these feelings before, so I knew how to deal with them.

Take That’s Never Forget. Five times over. (And I’m not abashed to admit they’re my favourite boy band.)

At 47km, Gary Barlow and gang woke me up, helped me fall back into rhythm and caused me to belt out Never Forget down Changi Coast Road.

By 54km, I was back from hell. Breathing, check. Legs, check. Flow, check.

Then, at 66km, the run turned into a race. I had just caught up with Yong on the Siglap Park Connector. She followed me like a shadow for about 1km and I couldn’t shake her off.

I decided to test the water. I slowed down, and she wouldn’t overtake me. I sped up, then slowed again, and again she just kept behind my shoulder. So, I kept a slow pace, conserving my energy and calculating a kill.

Break now or later? The answer presented itself in front of me at 67km, the narrowest, most undulating section of the course.

It was carnage at the aid station. A throng of marathoners I had caught up with was blocking the path, all fighting for water like vultures to a carcass.

I knew Yong was not carrying any water with her and probably had to stop. So I grabbed a Power Gel and with the quick feet of a salsa meister I danced through the crowd. My arms pumped as I attacked the hills, trying to put as much as distance as possible between me and my rival.

About 1km later, I looked back and I lost her.

From there, my strategy was just to keep my legs flowing naturally and my running form relaxed yet controlled.

“Be with me God,” I prayed. “Keep my legs moving.”

I have a history of blowing up and messing up races towards the end, so I was careful not to do it again this time.

As The Frames’ Falling Slowly blasted through my iPod Shuffle, I passed the 80km mark.

“It’s not over till it’s over,” I repeated to myself. “God, be with me.”

82km. Falling Slowly was still on (I decided put the song on repeat till I reached the finish line). I ask the bike escort how far away the second lady was.

“Way behind,” she said.

I still refused to think of the finish line, preferring to focus on keeping my running form perfect.

83km, 84km… I was running very strong. I was nearly home.

As the bright lights of the finish chute greeted me, I stowed my iPod away in my waist pack. I spread my arms out like a soaring eagle, hi-fiving the cheering supporters as I sprinted zig-zaggedly down the chute.

With my arms raised, I passed the finish line.

I won – and I still can’t believe it.