About being reborn

The Marathon has always allowed me to gaze a little bit deeper of my inner self. It takes courage to sign up for this massive run in the first place. But to complete it demands the highest levels of personal character and conviction.

After the race, it became a little clearer about how I see myself now.




My preparations for this race was nothing short of poor. I've certainly learnt a few lessons from my past marathon experiences and one of those was that there was an absolute need to set aside more time in the 3-4 months leading up to the event for runs, up to 4 - 5 times weekly.

But the demands of work and family left me with little appetite and time to run. During good weeks I could afford to run twice a week. In October, I managed a 2-hour run which I felt really comfortable about, and I was very pleased with my progress then.

Unfortunately, the month of November was cluttered with work committments, camps, and other matters which took up plenty of my time.

In the blink of an eye, the marathon weekend hit me, and I berated myself for being unable to fulfil my training requirements.


I tried to compensate by carbo-loading 5-6 days in advance, consuming extra portions of rice and noodles. I even managed to get 7 hours of sleep prior to race day.


When I got up at 3.30am wash up and have breakfast, I told God that I will need His grace and strength to see me through.



After breakfast, my friends and I shared a taxi and headed to the Esplanade Bridge. There was a mass of people, mostly decked in the ubiquitous Adidas race singlets that was given away in the race pack.



The first 12 kilometres brought me through the silent streets of Shenton Way, left into ECP, into the monotonous roads of Marina South, back into the CBD, and past Esplanade Bridge. I felt fantastic and I was enjoying every step I took.



The next 12 kilometres took me past the Esplanade, past Marina Square, past the Singapore Flyer, into Nicoll Highway, Mountbatten Road, and into my favourite jogging ground - East Coast Park.

At the 21km mark, I glanced at my watch: 2hr 22 mins. I was well pleased with that timing (it was faster than my AHM timing!) so I kept going. Physically, though I was feeling slightly worn-out, I still felt good.

At the 24km mark, near the old chalet area, my right calf began to tighten. In my mind, I commanded my calf to be strong. I still wanted to go strong at Bedok Jetty, the U-turn point.

And so I did, though my calf tightened in protest twice more. I pulled over by the side to do a calf stretch. It did wonders, for I was able to resume continuous running.


At the 30km mark (long after the U-turn, then back past the Mac's), my legs grinded to a stop. Stretching no longer became effective. Any attempts to run was met with cramps that caused me to be painfully immobile.



But I could walk. On my clock, I had just hit over 3 hours. I had another 12 kilometres to go. I told myself I was going to finish what I had started.




Kilometre after kilometre went past. I mumbled, scolded, reprimanded, cajoled, crooned and ordered my body not to yield, not to slow down. At the 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39km marks, I was swinging my arms madly, forcing my legs to follow in tandem, as I tried to do the quickest walk I could manage at that time.

The last 3 km was the most arduous. Honestly the strength to walk ebbed away. The last part of this race was my slowest. My target timing of 5hrs 30 mins became out of reach. But I still persevered. I could see the Esplanade and I knew that the end was near.



Once I caught sight of the greens of the Padang, I knew I only had a few hundred metres to the Finish Line. I tried to run!


But there was no grandstand finish for me. Haha. Down the final stretch, under the wretchedly hot sun, I hobbled the best I could and crossed the line at 5:39 on my stop watch. I clenched my fist in victory.

It was my personal best timing.









During the race, I saw a message on a blank tag that a runner had pinned on her back. It read, "Winners don't quit and quitters don't win."

I said to myself, "Aye, that's talking to me," when I was battling against my muscles that were paralysed with cramps.




This race is no piece of cake, and I ain't gonna say that it is. During the run, you will need to resist the temptation to walk; you will need to stick closely to your set goals; you'll need to cope with the weather; and you'll need to battle against your body.


But the most important thing that you need to overcome is yourself, really.

During those insurmountable moments, when I stared into the depths of the abyss of self-doubt and failure, I did not yield. Rather than achieve the same performance as previous years, I made the choice to push hard and surpass any of my previous timings.





Once I reached home, I took a shower and quickly hit the bed, for I was completely drained. Thank God for my lovely wife, who got me dinner. I was so famished but I was in no condition to prepare dinner for myself.


Yea well, the aches and soreness will be gone in a matter of days. I would think that I do not wish to put myself through such torture ever again, but there's something about the marathon that has got an allure to it, that will entice me to sign up for it again, next year.

Maybe it's the allure of that sense of accomplishment.

Maybe next time, I want to better my personal best.

With more training, I know I can do it.