Before the raceYou switch back and forth between fear of somehow having a disastrous race to delusional thoughts of possibly coming in at a position that gets you a medal.
On the morning itself, you wake up at 6 am, on a Sunday morning no less, regretting, thinking what have you gotten yourself into, and whether the gods will have mercy on your unfit physique and let rain fall on the 11 KM of soft grass and tarred road.
You grab a can of Red Bull, a Milo, anything that advertisers claim helps increase your energy level, and illogically prays that these are magic potions which serves to replace weeks and months of actual training.
Flag off
You look at the runner on your right. You look at the runner in front of you. You don't bother to even look at the runner to your left, because you know the odds are that he, as well as the rest, look more in shape that you have ever been in your life. You turn up the volume of Chester Bennington's screams from your handphone, hoping to drown out the thought of the titanic task in front of you. As you cross the sensor located at the starting line, grunting as you try to avoid knocking into the runners around you, you give yourself one last pat on the back, thinking "well, I'll just try not to come in last".
After 3 KM
So far, so good. You are not running as fast as you can. Your pacing is still bearable. You are still breathing through your mouth, which you have been told is a no no, but heck it, you've need a lot of oxygen, and your nostrils aren't as large as the hole you call your mouth. You still have the energy to check out the runners of the fairer sex. Hey, ladies in short running shorts, can you really fault a hot blooded male for checking them out?
After 5 KM
WHAT?! Just past the half way point? AND you have been walking for the past 1 KM. You kick yourself for signing up for this. And did that elderly man just sprint past you? And he is barefooted! How is that possible?
After 7 KM
Your running vest is dry now, since you have been walking more than running.
Suddenly you hear a race marshal shouting out encouragement, "4 more KM to go ONLY". You think of all the 4 KM that you did in the gym on the treadmill within 30 minutes. There is a glimmer of hope yet, that you may end the race strongly. You start to run again, sprinting even, at times.
What you do not know is that running 4 KM at the beginning is different from running 4 KM at the end. You realise that soon enough when you stop, panting for breath, just meters away within earshot of the marshal who continues with her words of encouragement.
Last 2 KM
"Up, down, up, down". The undulating roads of the final lap. You chant this, as if in a trance, with your left leg stepping forward when it's "up" and your right, when it's "down". At this point, it is "girls, what girls?". You don't even care that you are making moaning sounds that places the other runners in discomfort.
Last 1 KM
You feel a sharp pain in your right knee. Your left toe have developed blisters that you can feel through the thick socks that you bought just the day before. There is a gravel in your shoe. You can't tell which shoe though, since your feet is practically numb. You start hobbling a little, afraid you might sprain your knee and you can't even finish the race. You are so close now. Just one more hill, one more incline, and the finish line will be within sight.
By now, you see people in the opposite direction with medals already walking (some running still, b**tards) back to their car. A marshal with a balloon shaped like a sausage with some message you no longer are able to read stands by the roadside. You hit the balloon with your right palm for good luck.
Crossing the finish line
You walk past the finish line. You don't celebrate. Yet. You just want to find a place to sit. Grab a drink. Maybe some food. But mostly, you just want to sit.
You reflect on what you just did. Not bad, eh? You start to forget how difficult it was. You only remember the times when you started to walk instead of run. The times when you could have ran a little faster. Maybe next time if you push yourself harder, a medal may be yours?
Guess what people say is true. You probably will not regret the things you did, but the things that you didn't do.
