Exhilaration

At first it was a slow run. In fact, I wouldn't even call it a run. I wouldn't even call it a brisk walk. We were all a snail pace and shoulder to shoulder against each other and walking a bit faster than normal, but that was it. And then, after the first 200 meters, we were all running.

People scrambling left and right. Kids running around really fast with their pent up energy and youthful enthusiasm, hoping to make it to the finish line before their classmates. Teenagers jogging alongside their best friends, running friends, most likely made a wager on who would finish first. More mature people starting and sticking at their own pace, on their own good time, with their own style, steady and anchored, like how most mature people their age do, and have acquired during their years - with their own opinions, strategies and styles to beat themselves and others at this game.

And me, hoping against hope that I will be able to make it through this race in one piece.

I ran the best way that I know how. Keep up pace with everyone, but still keeping myself back when seeing people who were steadily distancing the gap between me and them. I didn't push, because I knew, if I pushed myself now, I will never make it to the finish line. My voice teacher have occasionally said and stressed, in singing, it was all about breath management. I don't think he realized, that in a race like this, the same principle also applied.

I ran. We all ran. 1km, 2km, 3km. And then, the dreaded tunnel.

It was damp, claustrophobic, and the air quite dead. It took most of my stamina to get past the place, but halfway through the tunnel, I started getting cramps. Serious ones that happen when you've exerted too much effort without letting the body warm up enough to get a steady pace. The dead air didn't help. So I stopped. I didn't push. I knew if I did, it will be the end of it. I slowed down my pace and started walking carefully. Early on in the race, I've already seen a few people injured and across the pavement, with medics on alert that day attending to them. I didn't want to be one of those people. But my cramps really hurt, and it took all my effort to even just walk upright. I thought, never mind if all the people around me are still running strong while I'm one of the few people who are walking along. Even if those people walking are middle aged men, and I was a young looking youthful woman. I should be in my top shape, but irregardless, I was walking. Who cares. My cramps are killing me.

Honestly? I was scared sh*tless that THAT was the end of it. I've jogged several times to know that when the cramps hit me, it was all over. I always gave up, cooled down, and headed home. If I even attempted to run with some bit of cramp, they always get back to me full blown after a few meters. The same cramps were the ones that I was avoiding in the first place... the one thing that would stop me from finishing the race. I could always push myself if I was really tired. I could put my mind to it and ignore the fatigue, and if my knees or legs were numb, I would just ignore them and go on. I had a huge tolerance for pain in that sense, but the cramps would be the worst. It would be the thing that would signal a game over. I was already thinking of approaching someone to tell them to walk me to the next medic station so I can take a rest. Yes, things got THAT bad.

But there it was, a breeze at the end of the tunnel. A whiff of fresh air. It took me a few minutes to enjoy that, and to realize that... the cramps were suddenly gone.

That's when I flew.

Past everyone that was still remaining in the game. I was going forward, up and down the flyover, incline and decline without breaking a sweat. Or hyperventilating. There was no more thinking about breath management. In the past, I told myself constantly that the key to finishing this race is to get my rhythm right. And at that point, my rhythm was one that I would never soon forget.

It was effortless.

It might sound like I'm bragging at the moment, but I'm not. I'm just saying, it was the greatest feeling in the world. At that point, there was only one feeling. Exhilaration. You knew for some strange reason that you could conquer the world, (the race anyway) if you wanted to. The sky was starting to fill with colors, and reds, oranges and blues were starting to appear. The wind was blowing against my face. I used to think inclines were the worst, but I wasn't even thinking about it when I was jogging up. I ran past most of the people, and I still didn't feel like I was winding down.

Hahaha... but the bad part about it, is that at some time near the finish line, I did stop. I knew the finish line was near, so 2 km before the finish line, I started slowing down to look at the people around me. I took water breaks when there was one, I looked around for familiar faces, looked at the buildings, the spectators, the coordinators.. everything except the marathon.

What a slice of my personality. I finally got to the end, jogging leisurely with the appearance of looking nice and proper at the finish line. Vain? Yes. And yes, I finally crossed the finish line.

Then I had a banana, a sports drink and a few additional swags of water. And of course, a few stretches to wrap up the game.

"Click me! I did it!"

What a fantastic experience. I think I can do half marathon next year. I have one year to train now... and this time, I will do it without fear.

And when people ask me about the marathon, I say: "I did 10km, the shortest. But I'm proud to have made it in one piece... I finished it!"