MARATHON #1

By: Butch Tansengco

Race day: The 32nd National Milo Marathon Metro Manila Elimination Race - I was promptly in bed at around 8:00 p.m. of the eve of the race, but the anxiety of running my first marathon prevailed over me and it took me another two hours or so of channel flicking and tossing and turning before I finally dozed off. Nevertheless, I beat two cellphones (three, including my wife’s) with their respective alarm settings set to go off at 2:00 a.m. and was up and about by 1:30 a.m. to go about my pre-race ritual, courtesy of a handful of running books purchased during the course of my two-month preparation and countless back-issues of Runner’s World:

- light breakfast (at least two hours before the start) consisting of a peanut butter sandwich, a cup of milk and cereals and a cup of fruit cocktail: check

- applying petroleum jelly to areas that are prone to being chafed: check (or so I thought)

- gear (singlet, race bib, shorts, socks, shoes, heart rate monitor, chest strap, foot pod, shades, cap): check

- sunblock: check!

My wife, Lora (who was going to run the 10K), and I left our Makati home a little past three and were parked in front of The Manila Hotel some fifteen minutes later to meet up with Coach Rio dela Cruz and his assistant, Coach John (a South East Asian Games gold medallist and record holder), who were kind enough to volunteer to be my support team during the marathon. I constantly ribbed Coach Rio that his main incentive was to see me finish (hopefully within the prescribed five-hour cut-off for the event) or his coaching career would be over! Of course, this was all done in jest as Coach Rio had reluctantly agreed to my foolhardy request in late May to get me marathon-ready in two months.

Amidst intermittent downpours, the starting gun was fired at 4:21am (the time that registered on my Polar when I hit the start button) and the runners were off. I was fortunate to have my biking buddy, Jun Santos, to run alongside most of the race. Jun and I belong to a group of mountain bikers that have done some serious multiday rides including Baguio-Nueva Ecija via Bokod, Benguet Province; Banawe-Sagada; and Banawe-Isabela via Mayaoyao, Ifugao Province, to name a few. I have been an avid cyclist (mountain and road) for over ten years and have thrown in short runs to complement my fitness routine.

Coach Rio and I agreed to target a sub-five hour marathon by first running a relatively easy 6:50 minute/kilometer clip for the first five to ten kilometers and pick-up from there in the later stages. My personal agenda was to run an even pace, targeting 34 minutes or less for each five-kilometer split. At this pace, I knew that I would come in at around 4:47, well within the five-hour cut-off for the event. As the race progressed over the first few kilometers, I realized that most of the pack had gone ahead of us. With only the ambulance with blue and red flashing lights behind us, I was already very tempted to pick-up the pace and try to catch up with the larger group ahead. Constant glances at my Polar, however, confirmed that I was running my planned pace. This was further confirmed by Coach John who occasionally came up alongside me to remind me to maintain my pace at times when he felt that I was speeding up (he was riding a bike equipped with a cyclocomputer). Thus, despite the foreboding blue and red flashing lights of the ambulance behind me, I held back and maintained my pace. Incidentally, if asked what single strategy worked for me, I would definitely single out setting a target pace and sticking to it throughout the race!

Fast forward to kilometer 30: We were on that uphill stretch of road between Libingan ng mga Bayani and Lawton Avenue when Coach Rio’s phone rang (Coach Rio had earlier taken over “bike patrol” duty from Coach John). The moment he said “Hi, Doc!” I instantly knew it was my wife calling (my wife is an ob-gyn). Several thoughts raced through my mind: Was she calling to ask where along the course should she send the driver to pick me up? Or, worse, which hospital I was taken to? As it turns out, she had just completed her 10K run and wanted to find out if she had time to go home for a quick shower. Of course there was time! Just as well, she was able to rouse our nine-year old daughter, Annika, to join her to meet me at the Quirino Grandstand finish. She was even able to take photos of us on the way back to Rizal Park. My daughter’s chants of “Go, Daddy!” from inside the vehicle was an added bonus that certainly helped in the remaining kilometers along Roxas Boulevard.

Around kilometer 35: Coach Rio asked if anything was hurting. In addition to the underside of my left foot, which had been bothering me in the last weeks of my training, I told him that my right underarm was already raw from rubbing against the seam of my drenched Milo jersey (I knew I forgot to apply petroleum jelly somewhere!). Coach Rio disappeared, came back a few minutes later and handed me a clear substance from one of the first aid vehicles. Without thinking (I was beyond thinking at that point), I smothered it under my right upper arm and instantly let out a scream. The new excruciating sensation certainly took my mind away from whatever aches and pains I had at that time! Anyway, all’s well as Coach Rio claimed that our pace actually increased a notch from that point.

With less than five kilometers remaining, Coach Rio egged me on to pick-up my pace some more, picking out targets in front of me to catch (e.g., the guy in orange, the tall white guy). I glanced at my Polar, saw that I was already running a sub-6:00 minute/kilometer clip, and just stared at him blankly. Nonetheless, I eventually caught up with “the guy in orange” and “the tall white guy” and finally crossed the finish line with an unofficial time of 4:41.17. The finisher’s certificate, medal and loot bag followed shortly and then it sank in: mission accomplished! As we exchanged notes at the finish, my friend Jun and I agreed that the level of difficulty of this experience was way above our most challenging bike ride so far.

Through this article, I wish to pay tribute and express my gratitude to Coaches Rio and John for taking on the challenge of helping me prepare for and complete my first marathon (given a very short time fuse!) as well as to my wife and daughter for putting up with me in the two months leading to the marathon and understanding (or at least merely ignoring) my occasional weird behaviour and crankiness. My special thanks to Annika for understanding why Daddy was asleep unusually early most evenings and out training for the greater part of most weekends over the last two months. At the same time, my sincerest apologies to Annika for the anxiety I caused her as she waited for me in our hotel room in Kuala Lumpur one Saturday in early July as I completed my scheduled long run for the day.

For comments, you may also email the author at JTansengco93@gsb.columbia.edu