Let's Get Out There For A Run!

Every year, I hear of friends who wanted to attempt their first Marathon. Some didn't make it to even registering for the event. Some others managed to register but didn't follow through with the training, and Did-Not-Start. The braver ones trained perhaps not enough, attempted the distance and completed, albeit painfully. Fewer trained enough and finished the race, and in my words, respectfully.

I do not profess to be an expert in marathoning, I am still learning but I believe there are some things that I can share.

First, I'll assume you have impulsively registered yourself for the event, and for whatever the crazy reason. And I am certain you immediately regret that you registered. But wait, it is really not that bad...


I always remind myself that the Marathon is not to be tackled as a whole. It is a multi-part journey, made up of lesser distances. It can be 4 times 10km, 8 times 5km, or 16 times 2.5km.

"Wow, that is still a lot", you might think. "I cannot imagine myself running 2.5km 16 times continuously!!"

That's the point that I want to make. DO NOT think of the 16 times! Instead, just think of the 2.5km. Take each 2.5km covered as an achievement. This applies for your Marathon training as well.

If you are comfortable with just running 2.5km, start there. Make doubly sure you are really comfortable with 2.5km by (1) not stopping at all, (2) going faster, (3) doing it more frequently.

Then increase the distance covered, by 500m, by 1km, by 1.5km. Little by little, as you feel comfortable. Your first target is to hit 5km, and to finish it comfortably. (Refer to my definition of comfortable above.) Repeat similarly to get yourself from 5km to 10km. To me, to be able to run a 10km comfortably is a major milestone in Marathon training.

If you ask me if there is a timeline for you to get to the 10km milestone, my answer is, contrary to most marathon training plans that you can find, no. My belief is that if you are just trying to pick up running, pulling yourself out of the house on a nice weekend morning, OR forcing yourself to do a run after day's work at the office is already so difficult, there is no reason to further pressure yourself to follow a plan or meet a timeline just to run.

As I've experienced, the journey to the 10km is critical. You *really* got to enjoy your runs. You got to get into the thinking that you are letting yourself down when you miss a run. And all these while, DO NOT think about the 42.195km, just focus on the 2.5km, 5km, or 10km that you will be running today, tomorrow or the day after.

Back in 2007 when I first started training, I can hardly run 1km continuously. Friends will tell you that I was never the athletic type and in fact I hated running. It is thus that I strongly believe in making sure you enjoy putting on your shoes and going out there for a run. To feel your heart pounding, to hear your breathing, to just enjoy putting one foot ahead of another.

Aldric's Gold Coast Airport Marathon 2011

Aldric recounts his GCM experiences...

Yit Koon has written his story with parts of me mentioned in his well-scripted prose. Now it is perhaps time for me to complete the story with my perspective…

Prior to the Gold Coast Marathon, I have had a superb running year (the year hasn’t ended though). I broke 3 of my PB’s in different racing categories – 21.1km, 25km and 42.195km – and felt like I have sufficient reserves in my tank to do more. After performing a spectacular run in Sundown Marathon (May 28^th) by slashing more than 34 minutes from my previous Full Marathon record, I was ‘ready’ for another 42.195km challenge in a month. I was on top form. Or so I thought. Well, at least that was the wave I rode into Gold Coast.

After one month of hasty tapering and mileage ramp-up, I managed to convince myself during the flight Down Under that I was ready. Don’t overtrain. Don’t overexert. You are ready. You are good to go. Just relax. The advices I have for myself were good in retrospect. I was however, plagued by mental milkshakes. My mind couldn’t focus; it was like I had foreseen an imminent disaster. Indeed.

Race day – 6:30am

Race day was nothing too spectacular. In fact it was freezing. I was jumping up and down pre-race in my desperate attempt to warm-up. I could hear the voice from my head “Feeble Attempt, bloke”. I gave up. I was freezing and I needed a way to thaw my stiff legs. I gave in to my coffee craving and shared one cup with Yit Koon. It was heartwarming. But I still couldn’t warm up. I was panicking. Why am I not sweating yet?

Race day – 6:50am

After several short sprints, I went to the sub-4 pens. It was COOL. I have never seen so many people getting ready at the sub-4 pens in Singapore. Australia must be doing something right as a running nation. I scanned. There are female runners in running tops and skirts. These must be the elite runners. They looked like they can run <2:30 anytime. I made friends with an Aussie by the name of David Craig. He told me this was his virgin marathon and mentioned his hype of attempting to complete a sub-4 marathon that day. “Wrong move mate. You are biting more than you could chew”. Of course, I didn’t say that. He was nowhere to be seen after 12km.

Race day – 7:05am

I searched for the 3:30 hour pacers within the pen and my pacer would be a lanky guy with his waist at my chest level. “How am I going to match this bloke’s steps for the entire race?”. I became slightly paranoid. Even before the race started.

Race day – 7:10am Start!

The gun sounded and the race began.

As I have envisioned, running 3:30 and faster would be a ‘pack’ run for amateurs like me. This is because we can feed off the momentum from the pacers and the running pack and immediately close up the gap once it starts opening. The run started the way I thought it should.

5km split – 4:57min/km. Beautiful.

10km split – 4:54min/km. Pretty.

Then things started spiral downwards. I needed to go for a dump and I did. I lost 1:15 minutes to the toilet. I freaked out when I was back on course because my pacer’s disappeared. Shit. I started picking up and reeling runners in as if I was a fisherman. I wasn’t fatigued as sweat beads started appearing only after 8km. That must be the beauty of racing in winter – and so I thought. I was naïve, and I would pay.

15km split – 5:07min/km. Damn the toilet.

I was still on the chase. As I was approaching the 15.5km turnabout, I begin observing the track in the opposite direction. It was a pleasant observatory.

• I saw the 3 hour pacer pacing no one. Normal. But he made running looked effortless. Impressive.

• Then I saw the 3:15 pacer motivating the pack of 12 runners. Not bad. That’s a hell lot by Singaporean standards.

• Then I saw my pacer. He was 1km ahead of me. He shouted across to me and asked me to catch up. Cool. And catch up I did.

• Then I saw the 3:45 pacer group 5 minutes after the 15.5km turnabout. Wow. Stunning. It was an unbroken pack of at least 20.

• Then I saw the 4:00 pacing group. I was bamboozled. There must be at least 30 pax in that pack. Now this must be a country that takes running seriously. The reverse might be true. Singaporeans take themselves too seriously as runners.

I gulped a gel and began widening my cadence slightly. I caught up with my pacer and pack within the next 10 minutes. Good day I thought. I am going to sit in the pack and let them carry me throughout the race.

At least, that was the plan.

20km split – 4:46min/km. Back on track! Damn the toilet still.

25km split – 4:58min/km. On time, on target. Hold back, hold back. The race is starting.

Things started falling apart when we are running back to the start point. At 28km, the long bridge that I have crossed at the 3km mark seems like a mountain. As I ran towards the bridge, it broke me. “What a long climb it will be”. I decided to fall back slightly to save my legs for the kill later. I made sure the pacer’s balloons were within my line of sight.

30km split – 5:43min/km. On track taking into account my buffer from the previous 25km.

What a long bridge. Damn. It was going upwards, upwards and upwards. I could feel the impact on my tired legs. I could see my pacer so I knew I was still on track. Downed another gel. 

I broke again when I saw a second climb within the same bridge just 3 minutes after the 1^st climb. It was crap. I wanted to take a walk break at the hydration point, take in some sodium and chill out and found out to my dismay that,

1. Their sports drinks are magnesium based
2. Their spectators are fiercely encouraging

I freaked out as I read the contents of the drink. Magnesium? Why the heck is it magnesium? I am so used to 100Plus that I have always taken for granted that sodium is the thing to drink. “Take today’s race as a reminder, Aldric”.

I wanted to walk a bit longer but failed to. The Aussie crowds were overwhelming. They blew me away. They were shouting my name and extending their arms for me to slap. They pushed me and pushed me real hard. I lost my pack slightly ahead but I managed to feed on the energy from the spectators. It was spectacular. Now I know why Ryan Hall loved running by the side.

I bit the bullet, conquered the bridge and I paced up to return to my pack.

The fun began at 34km. My quads started cramping. It started with my left quad. No problem. I started leaning on my right more. My right quads started complaining. Uh-oh. Then I felt busted. My pacer and the pack abandoned me.

Maybe, I have abandoned them.

35km split – 6:24min/km. Petrified, but still pushing.

I stopped to a walk. My quads were screaming murder. They were in dire state and they wanted instant gratification. No way I was going to DNF myself. I’m here to stay. But my mind was rebelling. “How’s that for a cold-weather race, punk? Thinking of a PB? Think again” I wasn’t able to maintain friendship with my legs and my mind that fateful day.

I hopped-slow run my way to the 39km distance marker. It was breezy and the familiar sunrays started hitting us like arrows. I loved it. Some don’t and I could tell that some runners felt the toll on their fatigued body. I felt normal and energized. And I kept placing one foot ahead of another.

The 3:45 pacing group passed me. Ouch.

40km split – 7:11min/km. Was I crawling??

The road towards 40km is an interesting one as I would realize. It turns out from a harbor to the main road which brings us back to the start point (which is now the end point). As I turned, I saw a line of spectators. Again. And this time it was on both sides of the road.

Fantastic (moans).

I bit my lips and started running my best run. I kept to the sides and cupping my hands over my ears to feed off the energy from the spectators. There wasn’t a moment I dared to let up. I allowed them to push me and push me as if their support was an invisible hand behind my back. To the hell with my body, I thought. I’m a warrior and I will make the best of my race even if I cannot supercede my previous PB set a month ago. I thought I would bust a rib. But I didn’t care anymore. I was racing for my pride and dignity as a runner.

Crossed the finishing line at 3:52:48 based on my watch. I was elated. It was a triumphant moment because I knew what I was against during the race. I was satisfied. I let go and allowed my mind and legs to breakdown.

And broke down they did. But I didn’t care. It was a spectacular performance and I know it even though I lamented to Yit Koon non-stop after the race. It was oxymoronic. I was happy within and sour in front. 

Nonetheless, I was happy that Yit Koon did a PB. This race proved 2 things at least.

1. Yit Koon is a good runner
2. The bigger guys always bury the smaller guys in the cold 
   

Take this as a reminder, bloke. 

The hype is now over for Gold Coast and it is probably time to start ramping up for Stanchart at the end of the year. At least I have more than 4 months this time. Time for more training, punk.

Gold Coast Airport Marathon 2011

Flew out to Brisbane with Aldric on Thursday night for the race. Actually, we signed up for 2 events, the 10km on Saturday and of course the full marathon on Sunday. Crazy? Sort of...

Saturday. We arrived at the race site at about 6am. It was cold and the wind certainly didn't help. We bought ourselves a cup of hot coffee. It helped, but it was still cold. Wave 1 was due to start at 7.15am, and wave 2 at 7.45am. We had originally planned for wave 2, so that we can take our time to complete within the 1:30 cut-off; wave 1's cut-off was 1hr. (yes, they impose cut-off times.) In the end, we changed our plans and decided to go for wave 1, on the reasoning that we would have an additional t-shirt at the end of the race to protect ourselves from the cold.

The atmosphere was fantastic. People lined up at the side of the route cheering the participants. Running past the residential areas, the residents were also outside supporting us. Very unllike local races.

We kept strictly to a 6min/km pace, and time-checked ourselves at almost every km marker. Also we did a taste-test of their isotonic drink - theirs tasted even more diluted than those provided in local races. Just after the halfway mark, I had confirmed that the colder temperate is helping me dissipate the heat generated by my body. At about the 7km mark, we turned to run alongside the shore. The wind was strong. Aldric complained of the cold, while I simply enjoyed the breeze.

We safely completed the 10km within the 1hr cut-off.

For the rest of the Saturday, my arch was pulsing with pain. Very worrying. Not sure what caused it. The 10km was completed at a leisurely enough pace. I was wearing my Kayanos for the 10km. And my last run prior to departure was the Sunday before. Not enough support, not likely. Not enough rest, not likely.

Perhaps due to the combination of a swim in the *cold* swimming pool, plus soaking my feet in the bath tub of cold water, the pain was finally numbed and subsided by the evening. (oh yes, we were the 2 crazy guys swimming in the gold coast winter.)

Sunday. We were all arranged to set off from the hotel at 5.15am, earlier than the day before. Race was to start at 7.10am. Oh well, we were early enough to take several group photos right in front of the start line. Then, somehow Aldric and I lost the rest of the folks. We ended up having our hot coffee to warm ourselves again.

Soon after, we made our way to the start pens. Aldric parked himself in one of the sub-4 pens, while I proceeded to between the 4:15 and 4:30 markers. The 4:15 pacers carried yellow balloons, the 4:30 black balloons. The plan was to overtake the 4:15 pacers at some point, and made sure I would be in front of them for the rest of the way.

After all the training, it is already an achievement to be there at the race start; the race is just a formality - a nice reminder from one of the elites at the Carbo-Loading lunch on Saturday.

It starts.

START-10km. I overtook the yellow balloons 2km into the race. Nicely on pace and built up a 1:30min buffer. The weather was cooling and good, my body is dissipating the heat it generates. Ran past someone with "Ironman: If you have to ask why, you will never understand." printed on the back. Cool. I want one too.

10-20km. I started to choose people to pace. First it was a bunch of ladies dressed in bright red, easy to spot. I think they are from some running club. Then I spotted a man, perhaps in his late forties or fifties. His top was printed with some super-duper ultra of 1000+km that I believed he did. Respect. Paced him for a few kms right up until the U-turn point, then I pushed forward. I knew I just had to just maintain the buffer, which had increased to 3mins.

20-30km. The distance markers were pretty small and hard to spot actually. I managed to spot the "Halfway" marker, and time-checked. It was a low 2-hr. Was that a PB???! Well, although I had already been doing such times during training, (unofficially) breaking it during a Full just seemed too crazy. Ok, let's concentrate on the bigger picture. I was still on pace and all I had to do now was to ensure I maintained the buffer. Started to pace a Japanese. He looked fast, and I knew I need the speed to keep pace. Barely 1km, I lost him at a hydration station.

Passing Surfer's Paradise, there was a stretch where there were no shade and the sun was just beating down. Reminds me of Singapore's tropical climate. I *really* appreciated the cool weather here during the race.

30-40km. Returning back to the start point for the final 12km, I knew I'm slowing down. The buffer was now down to 2mins. Took a glance backwards, and I could see the yellow balloons nearer now. Alright, ignore the balloons and focus on what I needed to do, because the bridge is coming up. It sapped much energy from me. The start point was just ahead, and the Japanese drummers were still there. I tried to absorb some sound energy from them. Then, another up-slope. A climb up to the 10km start point. I thought I would walk. "But how can I walk with all the supporters lining both sides of the road cheering everyone on??!!" Following a fellow runner just ahead of me, I started hi-fiving the people along the barricade. It was a miracle. I found myself at the top of the slope without knowing I climbed it.

The yellow balloons had caught up with me. I tried to keep to their pace, only successful for just 1km. The rest of the route traces the 10km that we did the day before. Good, because it helped me to visualise the route. What didn't help was the cramps that is developing in my quads at the 33km mark. What went wrong? Why the cramps? My hopes of meeting my target were slowly dimmed as the yellow balloons disappears in front.

Many thoughts ran through my mind. To walk most of the way and not even bettering StanChart's time was one of them. I remembered a guy on the centre divider giving out beers! A part of me wanted one and hell with the rest of the race. Again, the spectators helped. Be it the hi-fives or just the words of encouragement, even if they were not for me but for others, all these helped heaps to take my mind off the pain and suffering. Subsequently, the negative thoughts went away.

Just before the 40km mark, I remembered doing mental sums that if I could complete this last 3kms under 20mins, the timing would still not be too far off my original target. It is not easy to describe the situation at this stage: I was running as much as I can, and also walking a little here and there to relieve the cramps. I would have to rely on my final acceleration at about the 41km mark. Realistically, I know the last burst is not enough to make up for the difference, but it is always a nice way to deceive yourself so as to push further and to go faster. No matter what happened, I'll not allow the black balloons to come anywhere near me.

40-FINISH. The supporters at the final 1-2kms were just fantastic and atmosphere electric. Lots of people lining the final stretch cheering and providing the much needed support. I would certainly remember this as my first race being able to enjoy my final burst from both the speed and the cheers!


Yes, I did not hit my target completion time. Yes, I was hit by cramps. But yes I achieved 2 PBs on Sunday. And also yes a pat on the back for a nicely executed first 30kms. They say the marathon doesn't really starts until the 30km; it's so true. It is bittersweet; sweeter than it is bitter, I think. Thank you Gold Coast for all your support.

And the 2 crazy guys went swimming again... on Sunday and Monday!