Marathon

The marathon was marked in kilometers (42.195 total) so I’ll break it down into five kilometer sections and give a brief recap.

Kilometers 0-5: I shuffle along in a dense pack of runners, the sidewalks and pedestrian bridges are also packed with onlookers. The streets are fairly narrow and the sun is still low so we are in the shade and it's pretty cold. Kilometers 6-10: I start to break a sweat and get more room to open up my stride. We run under a raised six-lane road for a while so there is still no need for sunglasses. Every once in a while there is a group of older Chinese women in colorful outfits banging drums and symbols, chanting “jia you… yun dong yuan… jia you…” (let’s go, runners, let’s go…) Kilometers 11-15: we run down long stretches of road heading south, the runners thin out and it starts to feel more like a long-distance race. Kilometers 16-20: the longest race I’ve ever run is 15k, so I’m in new territory by now, and I start to feel a little tight and sore in my butt and calves. Kilometers 21-25: I cross the half way point around 1:50 hours, chat with several runners in my vicinity - a Canadian living in Vietnam, a Korean living in China, and a local Chinese guy.

Kilometers 26-30: I start to feel some pain in my knees from the pounding and my legs are stiffer and harder to move. I close my eyes halfway and settle in behind other runners, just watching their feet and following behind, not thinking about much. We go up and over some six-lane highway overpasses which are the only “hills” on the route. The runners get two full lanes and a long line of cars and trucks are squeezed into one lane and are backed up for long stretches. I see an exasperated man in a suit get out of a taxi, pay, and start walking. Others are sitting in their stalled cars with the doors open, smoking and watching us jog by. Kilometers 31-35: I thought I’d have plenty of time to think during the race, to let my mind run through all the things I’ve done in the past year and a half, think about next year, about my family, etc. but my brain partially shuts down and all I can concentrate on is the next kilometer marker. I strain my neck to look for the big white signs with large red numbers that mark each kilometer. Anything red and white grabs my attention. I don’t do much thinking other than repeating to myself over and over “Where’s 33… just find 33… 33…” There are few people along this section of the run, other than a few bored volunteers with water and first aid kits. We run by lots of factories and make frequent turns, zigzagging north towards the finish area outside a sports stadium.

Kilometers 36-40: Just over four hours into the race and still miles from the finish, I’m walking on and off and I resign myself to the fact that I won’t finish in under four hours. My shirt is hardly even damp from sweat, my back and neck are fine, despite my worries that I’d get a lot of back pain from bad posture. In fact, my entire upper body is feeling great but from the waist down I’m in intense pain. I can barely move my legs. I get a spray of icy-hot from a volunteer on my legs, scarf down a banana, sip a sports drink, all to no avail. I simply can’t move my legs. I shuffle and walk a lot while rubbing down my thighs and butt with my hands, trying to get some flexibility and movement out of my legs. It’s a strange feeling.

The kilometer 40 marker gives me a boost of energy and I’m able to shuffle-jog the last 2 kilometers, cross the finish line (all that was going through my head was “finish… finish… finish”). I immediately head into a large public bathroom in the sports complex, which is full of sweaty half naked men bathing in the sinks and I almost vomit from the stench. I urinate for the first time since the start but never really felt dehydrated due to sweating so little. I get a small medal, a certificate with my time, and a bag of little goodies, including a small bottle of Kikkoman soy sauce.

I had little trouble walking later that day and had sore legs for the two following days. The quick recovery made me realize that I could have and should have pushed myself harder at the end. Looking back, it was more my mind telling me that my legs wouldn’t move if I only mustered more will power. I’ve got to do another one next year.