Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon 2009

I love Singapore. This is a momentous occasion for me, sort of like a gay guy coming out of the closet and I will say it again: I lurve Singapore. Was there last weekend with some friends for the Singapore Marathon 2009 and I loved it! Oh yes, did I mention that I love Singapore? Well, I do. And this is why:

THE RACE PACK COLLECTION

On the day before the run, we drove to the Expo Convention and Exhibition Centre to collect our race packs. There were tons of cars but it was a gloriously huge parking lot, so no frustrating fruitless rounds were required.

No waiting or lining up either; we walked right up to the row of counters. Young girls (school kids, they looked like) were manning the booth. They were professional, cheery, fast and even wished us a good run the next day. Being Malaysian and therefore, used to bad service, I was a little taken aback.

This is so different from the KL Marathon when we had a horrendous time circling the area at Dataran Merdeka hoping for a parking spot to magically appear. It didn’t appear of course, simply because there were no spots. We had to dump the car in some god-forsaken corner, pray a truck wouldn’t ram into it, make a mad dash to the collection booth, put up with the grumpy staff who shoved our race packs at us and dash back to the car.

THE FLAG-OFF TIME

Flag-off was at 8.30am, so we woke up at 6am, were at the MRT station by 6.45am, reached Raffles City station by 7am.

We had arrived way too early cos we were supposed to meet two other friends over there at 7.30am, so we had some time to kill.

The flag-off time for the KL Marathon was 7am, which meant we dragged ourselves out of bed at 4.30am, drove to Dataran and got there by 6am, spent the next hour lining up in front of the few lousy portable toilets, then made a mad dash for the starting line at 7am. I think flagging off at a decent 8.30am is a much better idea.

THE STARTING LINE

We were all gathered near the starting line at about 8am. The emcee was great and did a fab job getting everyone up and in the mood.

Pic by Susan Ng

He cracked a bunch of jokes and led the runners through a silly dance routine before the horn finally sounded at 8.30am.

I can’t even remember the emcee for the KL Marathon – he (or she) was that forgettable. The Penang Bridge Marathon emcee I can remember however, but for all the wrong reasons. She didn’t talk to us; she talked at us. She was like a matronly schoolteacher admonishing a bunch of silly kids (that was obviously us).  She added nothing to the atmosphere; just tossed out instruction after instruction. It was quite a turn-off really.

THE RUNNERS

There were 50,000 runners (hoo yah). Men and women were separated into different categories and had different start times.

The moment the horn sounded, everyone started running. Damn semangat. Nobody seemed to be slowing down but that was normal right? The crowd would probably start to thin out (and slow down) by the fourth or fifth km – or so I thought. But no wor.

Pic by Susan Ng

And what was more, most were running throughout the entire route. Even the ones who did slow down only slowed down for a few moments before picking up the pace again. These people were doing this for real – don’t play-play! I was impressed!

You have to understand where I’m coming from. As far as my experiences with Malaysian marathons went, some runners are already walking within the first few hundred metres. And as the kms go by, the crowd thins out and more runners start to do the half-run, half-walk thing (including yours truly). So in Singapore, I was impressed … and of course, stressed. Had to work harder to keep up, otherwise no face!

THE WATER STATIONS

There was so much water here, the only risk runners could possibly suffer from was being over-hydrated. There were water stations and at times, 100PLUS stations, every 2K or so.

I found myself giving the last water station a miss cos I was so well-hydrated. That has never happened before, at least not with Malaysian running events. I have never understood why our organisers are so kiam-siap with water. Aren’t these things sponsored? It’s inhumane (not to mention kinda dumb) to expect people to run in such hot weather and offer only one or two water stations along a 10K route.

THE FANFARE

There were so many people stationed along the route – school kids who played cheerleaders for the day, the first aid folks, supporters, volunteers and at one point, even a band.

Pic by Susan Ng

And these people weren’t window dressing either. They were really cheering us on, encouraging us to step it up. It was real motivation not to slack off (no face leh) … there’s hardly any fanfare here in Malaysia. The handful of people stationed along the route is usually either busy yakking with one another or simply looking utterly bored, swatting mosquitoes by the roadside. They make you want to ram into them with your running shoe, then give them paper cuts with your bib.

THE LAST 2K

While I was more than sufficiently hydrated through the entire 10K thanks to the many water stations, there was a downside to this. Because I was used to having water stations pop up every 3K or so, after having passed three water stations at the Singapore Marathon, I was under the impression that I had already done over 9K.

That was before I saw the sign, which said another 2KM – %$#@$#$#@!!!

… and then, this sign – %$#@%!!!

THE FINISH LINE

Despite my cussing, the last 1K before the finish line was really a lot of fun. There were so many supporters and cheerleaders along the way you couldn’t help but be boosted by their really loud enthusiasm. So there we were, running running running … 800m … 600m … 400m … the cheering got louder and louder and I heard strains of Bryan Adams’ Summer of ’69. It was such a rush as everybody picked up the pace and gunned for the big finish. It was great

THE MEDAL COLLECTION

The moment we finished, we were herded down a designated path. I had no idea where we were going, so I just walked along. Within a few short minutes, I found myself inside a massive tent, the Finisher’s Medal placed in my hand and a warm “Congratulations” from a volunteer. Talk about efficient.

Pic by Susan Ng

At a Malaysian running event, not only is there no fanfare at the finish line, once you are done, it isn’t immediately clear where you’re supposed to go. Case in point: after finishing the KL Marathon, we were pretty much left to figure out for ourselves where to go. We asked around and were told to queue up to collect our medals. We spent the next 30 to 45 minutes queuing and the last 5 minutes shoving our way through to the collection counter (the crowd was merciless) to claim our hard-won piece of metal.

THE TOILETS

On the way out to the MRT station, I caught sight of rows and rows and rows of portable loos.

And rows and rows and rows … they looked exquisite.

If my remarks disturb you, again you must understand where I’m coming from. I come from a country of deplorable public toilets. So this beautiful row of toilets, to me, is nothing short of exquisite. Sublime. Divine. And look ma, no queues!

THE MCDONALD’S

As is customary after every run, we stuff our faces with the unhealthiest food we could find. Delicious.

And the McCafé Oreo cookie cake slice wasn’t too bad either.

THE END

So in conclusion, I love Singapore. Oh wait. Did I already mention that before?

Iosodunnowai

I have a condition. It’s called Iosodunnowai*. It’s a condition that results from three things: a distorted sense of your own capabilities; susceptibility to the influences of the environment; and a general absence of brain activity at the time of decision-making. Put these three together with an activity that you would – under normal circumstances – never ever dream of undertaking in a gazillion years, and there you have it: Iosodunnowai.

I realised this last weekend when my Penang Marathon pack arrived. As I sifted through the contents of the courier bag, it hit me that the 21K I’d so enthusiastically (some say psychotically) signed up for months ago, is now just one week away! As in 7 days!! As in 168 hours!!! As in 10,080 minutes!!! As in … well, you get the picture.

I must’ve been drunk or something when I signed up back in May. No, wait. I wasn’t drunk. I was just over-confident and seduced by my friend’s enthusiasm (“Come la!! You’ve done so many 10K runs, don’t you want to aim higher? Don’t you have any goals? Any ambition?? Don’t tell me you’re going to remain a 10K runner all your life??!!”). Also, my brain wasn’t functioning particularly well that day.

So yeah, I’ve suffered from bouts of anxiety over the past few months whenever I entertained thoughts of my impending doom (usually when I decide to go eat thosai and drink Milo at the mamak instead of going for my run) but it was different back when it was several months away. Now that it’s THIS WEEKEND, I’m experiencing the true extent of Iosodunnowai.

“You signed up for the 21K?? Why are you doing this to yourself la???”

“Iosodunnowai.”

“You psychotic or what?”

“Iosodunnowai.”

“Have you been training?”

“No. I spent the last few weeks eating donuts and sleeping till 10am.”

“My god!! Some more now you’re going to attempt the 21K??!!”

“Like I said, Iosodunnowai.”

The realisation that one suffers from Iosodunnowai is usually followed by a feeble attempt to extricate oneself from the infernally dumb decision one has made. Which is what I’ve been trying to do these past couple of days. The way I see it, I have three choices:

1. Avoid all association with the event. By not wearing my bib and bright orange running vest, people will assume I’m a phantom runner and will not laugh at me if I wind up last.
2. Wear the running vest but conveniently forget my bib. That way, race officials won’t be able to tell which category I’m supposed to be in and will therefore, not stop me when I sneak into the 10K Fun Run route.
3. Stay at home.

The only real options are the first two. I can’t stay home simply because there are three people out there who have also signed up for the run and will kill me once they get back from Penang. So you see, I’m in a rather tight spot.

I think I’ll wear pink.

……………………………………………………………………..……………………………………..

* Iosodunnowai is known in English as “I also don’t know why”. It’s a common response Malaysians give when they’re asked why they’re doing something incredibly stupid/suicidal and is usually delivered with a shrug and grimace.

Standard Chartered KL Marathon 2009

Ah, yesterday was a milestone event: my maiden marathon! Okay okay, technically, it wasn’t a marathon cos I signed up for the 10K, so I’ll call it my maiden 10K run. But then again, some parts of the route did coincide with those running the full 42K, so I’ll call it my Maiden 10K Marathon. There you go.

Got to Dataran Merdeka at 6pm (newbies ma, so excited la). Being typical girls, our first stop was the portable loo. The line was long and there was no flush so you can imagine what a grand welcome that was.

I didn’t bring anything with me cos I didn’t want to have to line up like crazy to collect my stuff after the run (little did I know that I’d have to do that whether I deposited stuff or not).

It was 6-something in the morning and still dark, so we spent a few minutes camwhoring. This is an important pre-run activity; it’s my duty as a Maiden 10K Marathoner.

You might be wondering why I’m being anti-Reebok by wearing Nike. First of all, I like Nike apparel. Second of all, I’d read some well-meaning article which said that wearing the official marathon tee is a dead newbie giveaway. Of course I didn’t want people to think I was a newbie *shudder*, so I decided to wear my own baju. Mana tahu when I went there, almost everyone was wearing the official tee. I was misguided. To make myself feel better, I wore the tee out to the dim sum restaurant for breakfast after the run and for the rest of the day – haha.

Everyone began lining up and I found a spot somewhere in the middle of the pack. That same well-meaning article also said to stay towards the back if you plan to tortoise your way through the run. Don’t go up front cos you’ll just annoy people who are like, real runners and are running to win (unlike me who’s running to not pass out).

Soon, it was 7am. The brass band started playing and balloons were released into the deep purple sky – yup, all five of them … or maybe there were six or seven, who knows. All I know is, if you’re going to release helium balloons at a big event like the KL Marathon, for pete’s sake, get more than six!! But I had no time to dwell on this tragedy as the run had started.

It was a great sight – the road was overflowing with people who looked like a huge army of tiny ants from afar. A sea of heads bobbing up and down, a mixture of dark-haired heads and colourful caps. One side of the road was closed to traffic for us; all the cars were on the other side. Almost felt an air of superiority waft over me. Look at us, busting our butts here. We’re so healthy and so fit. And look at you drivers in your air-cond cars, wolfing down your morning sandwich, pudgy elbows rested on your swollen belly, warm asses practically moulded into the car seat. Hah.

3km … ah, the first water stop came up. That same well-meaning article I’d read advised me to be courteous – line up, get your water and sincerely thank the volunteers. But that was not to be. Everybody simply charged up to the wooden tables and started grabbing paper cups and shoving them into the volunteers’ faces. Pour here! Pour here! The poor volunteers were working out of fear – we did look rather crazed and dehydrated. They cincai poured the water all over the place and I swear more water ended up on the road than in our cups.

5km … the run was pretty smooth. Everyone was chugging along nicely and nothing terribly exciting happened. But since you’re reading my blog, I feel I owe it to you to say something interesting, so here it is: I saw a lady with a rainbow-coloured wig, some scrawny dude in an ill-fitting spidey suit and a couple of Malay tudung-clad girls along the way, huddled together by the roadside. I think they were supposed to be cheerleaders (and I use the word ‘cheerleaders’ very loosely).

7km … I find it funny that some people say it’s surreal to be running on the same road you’re used to driving on. They say things look different when you’re on foot, compared to when you’re in the car. I don’t know about that. Everything looks the same to me, except much much s-l-o-w-e-r.

8km … somewhere between the second and third water stations, I began to get a little sluggish. This was when thoughts of the Penang Marathon crept in – thoughts like omg, what possessed you to sign up for the half-marathon, you siau or what, you won’t make it, 10K also like this, 21K sure die, blah blah blah. Just as I was about to entertain the thought of ffk-ing the Penang Marathon, it dawned on me that hey, we were nearing Dataran Merdeka! I let out a silent whoop-dee-do. Yay! So fast going to reach already; faster than I’d expected! But instead of turning right to Dataran, we were  directed left to Sogo and Pertama Complex, which meant we had to make one rather big loop before getting back to the Finish line. Tiny groan.

10km … as Dataran came into view, I picked up my pace. Can’t be seen dragging my sorry butt to the finish line now, can I? That would be mortifying. Ran past the finish line and got tagged with what looked like a mozzie swatter. I did it! I’m officially a Maiden 10K Marathoner!!

The nice feeling lasted for about fifteen seconds until I saw the horrifically long line of people queuing up to collect their medals. The queue looked merciless, snaking its way from the tents at one corner of the field down to the road. I got in line and we inched our way to the tents.

Got to the tents only to see hordes of people shoving and pushing, flinging their numbers at the volunteers and the volunteers simply exchanging the numbers with medals. They were so blasé about it too (and by they, I mean the volunteers), like they were giving out soda crackers. There was no verification. No checking. No nothing. How did they know if you even ran in the marathon, much less finished it? Didn’t it matter whether you finished within the qualifying time? What if I were some evil marathon medal collector who went around collecting medals so I could lie and show off to impress unsuspecting people? What then??? What would the world come to then???

To make matters worse (or better, depending on how you look at it), I spoke to a friend of mine today who claimed that the 10K was actually a 12K. Holy moly. Apparently, her friend had one of those training watches and it calculated 12K. I was so happy – it was like discovering you’re actually two years younger than you thought. But then, I went to google map and the route calculation is 10.62km. Eeesh. So much for being two years younger.

Anyway, here we are with our medals.

All in all, I’m glad I went and finished within the qualifying time. While the event itself did fall short in some areas (not enough fanfare, not enough oomph, lousy goodie bag, disorganised bag/medal collection, etc), it was a lot of fun and definitely something I will do again … which is perfect since I’d signed up for the coming Shape Run next month

All pics by Susan Ng

Going On The Road

I don’t like running in circles. I feel all … hamster-like … plus it’s boring. But I don’t have much of a choice, really. I guess I should be grateful that I have this running track I can go to – it’s way better than doing it on my elliptical, which is much more boring even with the tube on – but it’s sheer grit that keeps me going round and round that 400m synthetic track (and I’m not even all that gritty, so you can imagine how many rounds I actually do). Can you imagine how many rounds I gotta do just to hit 10K? *Shudder with boredom*

The few times … okay okay, the one time … I ran an actual route, I was amazed at how much farther I could run without realising it. There was none of that “Omg, five more rounds??!! When will this torture ever end??!!” … or “Omg, four more rounds??!! When will this torture ever end??!!” … instead, I just kept going and before I knew it, I’d reached the end of the route. The knowledge that you’re going somewhere (anywhere!), the change in scenery with every step you take, the gradual change in surfaces – from concrete to grass to asphalt to synthetic paths – keeps you tuned into what your body is doing. You pay more attention. You’re in the present. You have to be. Otherwise you’d get run over by some crazy driver.

I drooled when I visited the site Map My Run. For a few minutes, while I was busy clicking on every link, I was thrilled to the bone. This is so great! You can map your running route anywhere in the world using Google map!! You can calculate your mileage and keep a log of your progress and everything!!!

Then something sank in: where do I live? Oh ya. In KL. Then I became depressed cos the idea of road running and the reality of road running are two very different things. Since I’d just covered the pros of road running, these here are my cons of road running in Malaysia:

1. Fear of being run over by crazy driver
2. Fear of being mauled by crazy dog
3. Fear of being kidnapped
4. Fear of being mugged (though the only thing I’ll be able to give the muggers would be my ipod)
5. Fear of excessive pollution

I sometimes see people running outside on the road and I’m filled with mixed emotions – admiration (wah, the grit, the determination! Why I’m not like that ah??!!) and a bit kesian (there are no proper paths or pavements or anything – for a country that’s encouraging us to get off our asses and lose our flab, it sure isn’t exercise-friendly!).

Until now, I’ve always run around in parks or hills … but I think I gotta kick it up a notch. For one thing, I just registered for the KL Marathon next month (the quarter marathon 10K one; not the 42K one la, you crazy or what) so I now have to spend what little time I have left ensuring that I don’t totally embarrass myself on race day. I’m in the midst of mapping out my first running route with www.mapmyrun.com … maybe I’ll give that route a shot this weekend. Out of the park and onto the road!