Do the thing you do!

Uncle Hooi at his best © The Star

I remember the barrages of concerned pep talks from my family members when they discovered that I, at the tender age of 43, slowly started indulging in competitive distance running. In not so many words, they were obviously trying to tell me that I would just drop dead by the roadside to be found by passersby as if I were just roadkill.

Another old friend, obviously overweight and looking much like Peter Griffin of the 'Family Guy' fame was even generous enough to offer free anaesthetic services as and when I need a knee replacement. 

As a last resort, my family went ahead and gave me a 'stress test - CT angio' combo as a birthday present on my 50th birthday. When the cardiologists gave a clean bill of health after silently cursing under his breath for wasting his precious time from his more deserving patients, they essentially gave up and let Nature take its course. 

This must have been what Fauja Singh must have gone through when he took up serious running at the age of 89. I can imagine how people would have mocked him. How people can be cruel with their words... 

"Living on borrowed times, and he is asking for trouble!"

"What is he doing? Should be playing with his grandchildren."

"He should be making peace with his Maker, not running around like a young bloke"

Uncle Hooi (pic above) is a regular feature at the place my friends and I frequently run on Sunday mornings. Starting his solo run as early as 5 in the morning, without fail, at a steady pace, he would cover a distance of 20km effortlessly at his springy age of 82. He must have been ridiculed behind his back for missing all those late Saturday banters and parties that last till the wee hours of Saturday night- Sunday morning. He must have been labelled as a party pooper for precisely the same reasons.

Fauja Singh, 107, Turbaned Tornado
Photo courtesy santabanta.com.

Others mean well and say things that they think would make change for the better. They feel that it is their God-sent duty to do so. At the end of the day, everybody has to use their God-given faculties to decide what is best for them. When we falter or make a wrong decision (immaterial whether it is in accordance to their advice), they have nothing to offer but sympathy, maybe crocodile tear and perhaps, words of comfort that God works in mysterious ways.

Some enjoy the attention of being sick and like to immerse in the sympathetic display by the loved ones. Others use their disability, perceived disability or faked ailments to garner a soft spot. And a few convince others that they are indeed sick to give their two cents' worth advice, to sell their products, to gaslight them down or just to have a conversation going. For them life is so mundane, they need to irritate someone.


https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

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Lanna hospitality at your service!

Muang Thai Chiang Mai Half Marathon 2016
18th December 2016

"Sir, you are representing Malaysia?" she (or ze), the volunteer at the registration counter asked with her heavily Thai-accented English. Till then it did not strike me. Wow, I am at an international participant attended by representatives from 53 countries, and three of us were there to hold our national flag!
She handed me a racing bib with my name proudly printed against my multi-hued country flag.

The Start

I would like to believe I am holding the good name of my country on my shoulders and it is my responsibility to make my motherland proud. It just gives a lame justification to motivate me to try harder. That is all. Nobody gives two hoots, actually. There is no 'the other' that I need to satisfy, to compete with or to set an example for. It is all in my mind. But then, it feels good, though.

In keeping with the sombre state of affairs in accordance to the recent demise of the much-beloved monarch, the festivities were held in a much low key setting. Even the running attire was printed in mellowed monochrome - black and white. Lacing the roads at intervals were long black and white long ribbons to set the tone. Hospitality, the smile and the humble Thai salutations of 'Sawadee' and 'Kho Khun Kha' were still abundant. Hey, life has to go on. One cannot live on fresh air and sympathy alone!

Right on the dot, at 5 am, the half marathon runners were flagged off without much unnecessary bantering and needless speeches by VIPs. Even though the temperature was recorded as a cooling 17 degrees C, it did feel so comfortable, though. As I cruised along the first kilometre, I noticed that I was sweating again like a pig (yeah, pigs do not sweat!). Even though the temperature was moderate, the humidity was surprisingly high at 85%, slighter better that the one day before, 100%! The air was almost still. The morning was young or rather the night was way late as it was still very dark. Sunrise in Chiangmai on that day was almost 7 am. In the still of Chiangmai streets, almost seamlessly in well-coordinated fashion, runners, mostly amateur fun-loving ones, moved along the streets.

Basically, the town is built around a canal with an almost rectangular lattice of road networks. We ran in the form of two quadrangular loops, extending to the airport and back. The Thais must be very hardworking people as they were already busy on the road at 5 o'clock on a Sunday morning. It could not be Saturday night revellers who partied through the evening as they seem quiet. The only boisterous crowd appear to be gweilos in taxis. Despite the inconveniences by the race, in the form of traffic congestion and long waiting times at junctions, the Thais took it in their usual docile fashion - quiet and patient. They know they have to play dance monkey to appear inviting to foreigners. That is their bread and butter or rather tom-yam and mango glutinous rice pudding! Like their Indo and Malayan counterparts who found pleasure in horns blasting, they stayed silent.

Paradoxically, as the race progressed, the ambience became more comfortable. With the rise in temperature, the humidity must have decreased, and it became more pleasant to just cruise along. One sees the culture and civilisation of a country by looking at the ordinary folks. What better way to observe this then to weave through the streets amongst the denizens of Chiang Mai. It was a common sight to see Buddhist holy men, with their bowls chanting sacred texts to kneeling people for some exchange of alms, I presume.

Without any untoward incidences, the race ended at where it started. What puzzled me afterwards was the seemingly seamless flow of events at the finishing line. After crossing the timing belt, runners are given the usual complimentary drinks and medals, together with a print out of their run timings! Nothing is going to stop them from issuing laminated finishers' certificates in the very near future! The post run galore continued with coconut drinks and signature foot massage for the sore feet and legs. A well-organised race to showcase the superb hospitality of the Lanna folks.

Lanna hospitality at your service!

Same clown, new costume, same act?

Mizuno Sayonara 2

I have been very lethargic of late. Body started aching most of the time. Inertia was the prevalent pace of my life. The bed was inviting and the treadmill was taking a back seat. Everyday, there was a convenient reason  to postpone exercise for yet another day - work requirement, family commitment, general fear of burning out, convincing the body to slow down as the body was no more spring chicken as the inner demons kept on pounding.

I had to rejuvenate. I had to push that body. So, when the chips are down, the morale is rockbottom and life has no meaning, what do you do? Rebranding, of course.
Even though the subject is the same with the same squeaky joints and aged musculature, new zest had to be infused. The panacea of all miseries - capitalistic consumerism. I got myself a new pair of running shoes. Instead of the same design of running shoes, I decided to go for a slightly different one from the same familiar brand.

What I did is nothing earth-shattering! Businesses do it all the time.
The spanking alluringly striking pair of Mizuno shoes is not going infuse new energy into the lethargic mass of protoplasm but at least what it can do is somehow influence the spirit deep from the hippocampus and limbic system - A new pair to a new purpose and new targets!
Big departmental stores do it all the time. When the sales are down, when there is no purpose to shop or when the general public realise of the impending hard times ahead and decide to tighten their belts, the capitalistic businessmen attempt to lure them back to their premises. The same old products of last season are repackaged under the guise of 'Megasales'. The prices are purposely inflated to appear to slash it down again for an apparent bargain! And the helpless customers with herd mentality scramble down in droves so as not to miss out in that 'once in a lifetime crazy bargain'!

The manufacturers are also guilty of the same. Shoe manufacturers keep on churning their old design again and again under different names under the guise of improving product with the knowledge of new technology. Science obviously is not advancing so rapidly that it is possible to churn a revolutionary pair of trainers come every season!
It is all a mirage and we are all falling flat for it!

Are we there yet?

From the outset, things were not going as planned. With a bout of diarrhea and loss of precious electrolytes, I experienced stiffness and soreness over the knees and feet. On the race day, the newly replaced Garmin GPS watch went kaput on me and the music pod went on strike. So it was me left to fend for myself. For pacing, it was left to me to run pacing to feel and for auditory stimulation I was made to listen to my body!
Even though the organisers boast of 60,000 participant in this inaugural race in the new Penang Bridge, the starting line had only a thin crowd waiting to be flagged off at 4am. The runners were released in batches all the way from 1.30am to 8am depending on the length of the races and their gender.
Whilst waiting at the starting line, an old friend from KL appeared from nowhere. After the initial cursory, he complained that there was not such of eye candy for him to lay his eyes on. I told him that he was in the wrong category, the veterans. That itself was his motivation to spring forward from the starting line to catch up with the younger category who was flagged off an hour earlier!

pre-run carbo loading.

If the organisers thought that by staggering the release of runners, the congestion would be averted, they were totally wrong. The slower inexperienced runners were all over the place after we had crossed about the 7km mark. They hogging the road, walking in fours across the road practically blocking the road. Some made sudden unannounced 'pit-stops' at their whims and fancies in the middle of path. Many wasted calories were spent on everting clashes with haphazard movements of fellow runners. Perhaps, the instruction manual of the run should also include a little education on running etiquette. Just like how, by default, escalator uses in developed countries stand on the right side to keep the left side free for users who are in a hurry.
Sometimes nonsensical remarks can annoy you. Even as early as 3km into the overzealous cheerleaders would scream "You are almost there' when you have hardly started!
Along the way, I put on my philosophy cap...
That was a time in man's history not very far in our past when the Orientals left technological and engineering feats to the Western civilisation. They had an innate opinion that they were not up to the mark of Western giants when it came to technological wizardry. Over time, with available opportunities, the Orientals have come up to stand shoulder to shoulder at the same playing industrial fields. Just like that, some time ago, many (at least I did) thought that participation in an endurance running race like the Half or Full Marathon was no child's play. Obviously, the taboo seem to have been broken. Many participants, who do not fit my bill of a well prepared runner or with the correct predisposition, were taking the plunge. But, of course, they have to start somewhere. I shudder to think (hopefully I am wrong) that that was the reason for 4 speeding ambulances that interrupted the flow of our run on that humid and still morning!
The three musketeers in our running group completed with decent times. SK came out top of the trio, as usual with a sub-2hr feat. RS did his PB at 2'13" and yours truly at 2'17".
The lay out after the finishing line was much to be desired. The dimly lit grounds with soggy slippery mud devoid of markings to exit the grounds was not type of reception we were expecting after our adrenaline rush.
Slowly we wriggled back to our ordinary lives to do what ordinary do come Monday morning with the memories of an unwinding weekend.

P.S. Another member of the running gang attained the status shared by 1% of the world population - to complete a Full Marathon. RvS completed his inaugural first FM in 5'15".

Conquest of a concrete jungle

SCKLM 2014
It all started like a dream within dream scene from 'Inception'. At one moment, I got up thinking that it was time to go, only to realise that it was only 1am. I had planned to arise at 0310hrs to get ready with my regalia to face the 2014 Standard Chartered Kuala Lumpur Full Marathon 42.195km challenge. I went back to sleep. In the next moment, I was shocked to realise that it was daytime and the sun was high. "What happened? Oh, even my buddy, who is to face his first FM must have slept through it all - he did not even call.", I asked myself. "Am I dreaming or is it for real?".
I pinched myself to realise that it was real. I told myself, "Well, it is okay. There will always be another day, another run."
Then at a different level of consciousness, I checked my watch again. It was 1.30am! I had not missed my alarm after all. With that type of interrupted slumber, Raj and I got ready for over Sunday morning challenge. Raj was soon to be inducted to the exclusive club which comprise 1% of the world population, one who had completed a full marathon.
The run started dot by the stroke of 4.30am at the iconic Dataran Merdeka clock tower which had witnessed many an important event in Malaysia and also graced many P. Ramlee movies. This time around, the trail took a different route altogether, covering mostly the eastern part of the city and its symbol of modernisation - the giant elevated highways of AKLEH and DUKE.
Almost 5,000 hardcore runners started at a time when the city was enveloped by thick haze. The powers that be made us believe that the API levels were low but our simple visual inspection proved otherwise.
It seems to be the curse of SCKLM. Last year they had to postpone the run in June for haze. This time around, they thought they were smart to schedule it in October but the haze caught up with them!
From Dataran Merdeka, the convoy of runners went along towards KLCC. The perception that I had was that perhaps KL should also be labelled as the city that never sleeps, like New York, as even at time, the roads were swarming with vehicles and people.
Along Jalan Ampang, in front of Zouk, a whiff of beer filled the air. Pretty lasses were lining the road. I thought to myself, "Wow, the organisers have even organised cheer leaders to cheer us up!" I hit myself on my head when I realised that they were jaywalking moths with their potential one night stands. Were they just finishing their duties for the day, or were they starting?
Through Jalan Ampang, we finally reached AKLEH. At the 10km mark, suddenly I saw many people walking around without shoes. I thought some woe had befell them. What a pity, so many of them. Then it struck me. They were only fulfilling their divinely duties as I heard the call for suboh prayers. Duty calls!
The rest of the run was just visions of concrete structures of erection of modernity in the concrete jungle of KL. Perhaps they should renamed the run 'Run in the Concrete Jungle' like Ali-Foreman's 'Rumble in the Jungle'!
Even though the sun was kind as it decided not to show its face all throughout the morning, the temperature and humidity was still high, bogging down the mood and zest to run.
Anyway, we weathered through.
Raj finally finished his run after fighting his inner demons with his undying zest to complete the challenge and join the privileged club!
A good outing though which ended with a spread of the coveted banana leaf rice in an over glorified Indian restaurant in Bangsar. Maybe, I have been pampered with loved laced food by so many people elsewhere or the post run euphoria numbed the taste bud or perhaps I was expecting too much after hearing too many going gaga about their spread, I thought it was just so so!

We run for our suppers!

Energizer Night Run 2014

Kuala Lumpur

Ambil selfie dulu! Pre-Run

We just signed for the jest of it. The distance was about the same as our weekly Sunday morning runs and we avoided all the stresses and the preparations doing it. We did not have have leave our homes 2 hours before the event, crack our brains of where to park our vehicles, the waiting, listening to all the public service announcements and meaningless VIP speeches of self glorification. 20 minutes after leaving our homes and we would be on road with our hearts pumping and minds awoken by the adrenaline filled juices. In 2 hours, we would have completed the run and would be seated at our favourite thosai joint indulging in sinless food.
Then why sign up for this 15,000 strong night run at all? Especially after a long day's work and enduring the whole day's humid conditions our tropical humid city. It was all as a prelude and excuse of meeting up for a post run night out!
After the last Energizer fiasco in Sepang two years previously, we were expecting much. With such a big turnout and the  venue being right in the smack of the city and narrow roads, logistics was not going to be easy.
The wait at Dataran Merdeka which seem like eternity finally came to an end at 8pm, so we thought. No, they were still with their upbeat music with their DJ with the mike obviously too close for comfort to his gap was still ranting motivational grunts to get the crowd spirited. Then just when you thought it was over - a speech, a never ending one where the speaker got the Mayor's name wrong! Then the fireworks where everyone had to strain their neck to watch. Then the horn blew. A good 3 minutes elapsed before we could pass the starting mat. After what seem like eternity, the crowd came to a standstill trying to traverse a tunnel. "A tunnel again?" screamed a runner who was almost at standstill after being caught in a near stampede situation in the Sepang F1 circuit tunnel!
It took almost 3km along Jalan Kuching for the crowd to ease. The geniuses amongst the runners decided to look cool by annoyingly placing their headlamps on the arms and backs posing a great annoyance as it irritantly flashed in a stroboscopic manner on others. Luckily none of them had stroboscopic light induced seizures!
The roads were less crowded as we headed towards Bukit Tunku at Jalan Duta. Thanks to the organisers who thought that closing half of the narrow road and using another quarter to distribute drink added to the obstacle. And some of the novice runners who thought that it was their birthright to stop at will in the middle of the road and show public display of their affection by hanging on to the hand of their loved for life did not make it easier on the knees which had to endure the frequent change of force, speed and direction of forces ponded upon them.
There was not a single moment in the run that I felt that visibility was an issue. With adequate street lighting, nobody needed to grope in the dark. That is why none of my friends in the running group donned any.
The long ordeal came to an end back at Dataran Merdeka. After cooling down, we were headed for our late supper, the highlight of the day.
Lesson of the day: No more of this short hype-filled glorified night runs!

Sing for one's supper
Work for one's pay or reward, as in entertaining visiting scientists is part of the job; you know I have to sing for my supper. This metaphoric term alludes to wandering minstrels who performed in taverns and were paid with a meal. First recorded in 1609, it gained currency with the familiar nursery rhyme, "Little Tommy Tucker, sings for his supper" (c. 1744).

What drives you?

Of late, I have across people who have indulged in some activities which would frowned upon. Nobody in the sane mind would ever, even in their wildest dream, consider some of things that these people would do. The more you interact with these people, the more you will realise that they have a tale to tell, and a sad one too!
One guy was happily married to university sweetheart till she was diagnosed with the big C. Her health deteriorated as quickly as the news sinked in into the family. Even before the family could come in terms with her impending demise, she left Mother Earth. The guy, devastated with the whole turn of events, was a flicker away from being engulfed by the black dog. He did what most sane people do in situations like this. He ran. Like Forrest Gump he ran and he ran like he had never ran before. At the age of 50, he completed his first marathon and there was no stopping him. The euphoria  of the post run high appears to be the only thing that conserved his sanity. The addictive endorphin just kept him pushing his distance. Recently, I heard that he completed the gruelling 100km Hong Kong Ultra Marathon in 29h30m! He kept his feet on the ground and did not leave his future to the stars!
Yet another person went through another earth shattering moment in her live. A full grown adult son took his own life! If the trauma of losing a love one alone is not enough, the worse was narrating the whole event again and again to well meaning friends and relatives. The worse was the self appointed creative rumour mongers who spun spiced up stories on the turn of events. Not only these people were doing a disservice, they do not realise that news gets around and reaches the unintended recipients, like herself! The pain was simply too much! Like something God-sent, she was introduced to a Guru.
All the various brain waves that she was exposed to through various sessions of meditation and self realisation helped to rewire her dendrites. She is now standing tall and calm in the sea of uncertainty. The Guru was her anchor when her going was rough.
Naysayers will always ridicule and highlight negativities of people's various indulgences. They are quick with their so called 'credible information from the horse's mouth' but they should walk a mile in the sufferer's shoe to feel the pain.

It is in genes - running!

Born To Run 

Christopher McDougall (2009)
(A hidden tribe, super athletes and the greatest race the world has never seen)
Just finished reading a book (a non-fiction) about an elusive Indian tribe, a great foot race and a bunch of mad runners who do ultra marathons.

I think that this is a book that any serious runner should read it to get a better perspective on running and also on life itself!
The book starts with the author trying to track down a fabled and elusive gringo, Caballo Blanco, who had left his normal life in the US to live amongst a equally timidly elusive Tarahumara Indians in an isolated dry wasteland of canyons and desert-like terrain in Mexico in their simple way of life. The Tarahumaras are said to have been running all their life, first from the Spanish invaders and now from the drug dealers.
These Indians have tremendous ability to run extremely long distances with minimal preparations and donning simple footwear - a piece of rubber sole draped by leather strings. They do not need scientific modern training or complicated training schedules or expensive state of the art shoes. They shy away from races and treat running with respect.
The author goes on to narrate about some whacky American runners who are themselves champion athletes but who party like crazy and run equally crazy.
The running community seem to have a bone to pick with the mammoth shoes companies. Is it coincidental that the rate of running injuries seem to rise with the advent new modern cushioned shoes? The rate of injury, like plantar fasciatis, appears to increase in direct proportion to the price of the shoe. What is this with frequent need to change the footwear? Is there devious plan to boost sale? Interesting, look at the rampant upgrading of shoes annually. Only when you think you found your perfect pair of shoes, you realise that they are already out of production by the following year!

Caballo Blanco (died 2012, aged 57)

 There is a very interesting explanation to why humans should be running, especially long distances. Simians' feet are adapted to walking with its architecture. We, on the other hand, have nuchal ligament to support our head, Archilles tendon with loads of hard springy fibres, an efficient breathing mechanism and an excellent temperature regulating system via sweating. So, it is actually humanly possible to outrun a deer. Most animals (deer, cheetah, etcetera) can only run short distances with bursts of energy, crippled with risk of exhaustion and poor thermoregulation.
Anthropologically, we outlived the Neanderthals not because of bigger brain capacity. As living conditions on Earth deteriorated with global warming, the good life for the muscular and big-built Neanderthals became challenging. They had to start hunting as the the forests became scarce. Hunting of animals where you have to tire down beasts was the only way to do it. Homo sapiens succeeded where Neanderthals failed and outlived their rivals.

Copper Canyon Trail Run

The author finally catches up with the legendary ultra marathoner, Caballo Blanco. He partakes in a gruelling 50km trail run with the locals and survives to tell his story and the soul searching journey of 'The White Horse' @ Micah True@ Michael Randall Hickman.

When I get too old to work, I’ll do what Geronimo would have done if they left him alone,” he told McDougall in “Born to Run.” “I’ll walk off into the deep canyons and find a quiet place to lie down.” Caballo Blanco.
[Geronimo was a brave Apache Indian who ran in the badlands of Arizona from US Calvary only to die as a fugitive, a nobody as a drunk.]

The Flying Sikh

Bhaag Milkha Bhaag ( भाग मिल्खा भाग, Hindi, Run Milkha Run; 2013)

What better way to stimulate nationalistic spirit than via sports? And the silver screen forms the platform to disseminate this message further. After watching this movie I came to realize that this towering Singh is indeed had an illustrious life, on and off the track. Perhaps also with a little push with the magic of Bollywood!

Hailing from the Pakistan part of Punjab, young Milkha Singh was witness to brutal killing of his parents and Sikhs during the Partition. Almost plunging into a life of pilfering and dacoit, he swayed to side of righteousness by promise of love by a young lass. 

In order of getting his life in life in order, he enrolls into the Indian Army. The lad who has been running all his life, first from the mob during Partition and then in his clandestine activities soon started running again. Only this time it was on the tract. 

The movie managed to impress upon its viewers the essence of the transformation and determination of a wayward boy to a national hero of sorts. His representation in the Olympics is spiced up with the usual masala to excite the story. It was entertaining, though.

The actor (R) and the real McCoy

In real life, in fact, his life was such. In the 1960 Rome Olympics, even when Milkha was fourth in the 400m race, he broke the then held world record (contested)!

His final race in Pakistan saw him beat his old time rival and the impressed Pakistani President christened him 'Flying Sikh' for his speed.

My son and I were keenly watching for boo-boos just for the heck of it as it was a sort of a period movie. Many of the scenes were nicely tugged into old footage to made it look authentic. One glaring mistake was supposed to have taken place in the vicinity of Melbourne stadium after his loss in the qualification races. He is walking in anger along the terrace of the stadium. We were laughing our hearts out when the flags of Malaysia (14-striped and 14-pointed star) and Singapore displayed majestically in this 1956 scene! Otherwise, it was a good film worthy of the time spent.

Joke of the day: Girl says, "So, you are relaxing?". Milkha says, "No, I am Milkha Singh!"

So you think you made it!

Perched high up on skyscraper, placed on a hill overlooking the lowlands of common people and the iconic bridge to mainland, amidst the clutter of cutlery in the continental restaurant, indulging in the high caloried diet with no guilt, sipping the freshly squeezed orange, brain immersed in endorphines, it sure feels good like a million dollars to know that you had conquered the challenges that life had to offer, albeit in our own small ways.

We made small baby steps to face the giant face of life and came out smelling not of stinking sweat but sweet smelling roses. We persevered, we fought the fight, endured the pain, ignored the heartbreaks and followed the path of least resistance. Like James Brown said, "It feels good, it feels nice". Even the unsweetened black coffee tastes sweet! And the bread as we know it has a funny foreign sounding name.

Weekend retreat!

They say they had a record of sorts, 44,000 registered to partake in this nostalgic run. Unfortunately, on the ground level, the number of participants at the half marathon did not seem to mirror that fact. Parking was a breeze relatively unlike last year and start off did not require knocking each other blind to pass the starting line.
The numbers were made up by the 10km'ers and fun runners mainly. Even the marathoners did not stand out.
After deciding to make it as a big boys' weekend out, the 4 members of the running gang drove up in the luxury of a 8-seater SUV to Penang in spirit of clean healthy fun. After reaching the destination and fulfilling filial obligations, we settled in for the night. The excitement for the day was too much for most of us to catch a single glimpse into slumberland!
Being deprived of proper sleep for more than 24 hours, we stepped into our sporting gears at 0130h to conquer the bridge once again. We could not have asked for a more conducive weather- a cool 25 degrees C and a light breeze. The only annoying thing on that morning was stench that emanated  from the stench of the decaying gooey substance sea bed of  the low tide.
The run started with a good head start with a cool zephyr and a slight drizzle to shower good blessing on the morning foot warriors. All 4 runners in the group ran at their own comfortable pace. Even though on the outward everyone appear not to be aiming high in their achievements, deep inside secretly everybody wanted to outdo their own selves. Each in their own way and strategy tried to outdo themselves and fought their inner demons.
Having their own story of agony to tell, each and everyone of the group actually outdid their previous outing. SK, I think, did his personal best of 2h5m with fainting spell and cramps afterwards; Ravin even though hampered by calf muscle cramps equaled his previous PB of 2h8m; yours truly at 2h14m, better than the past few recent HM timings though short of his PB; struggling through his abdominal cramps Raj achieved his PB of 2h16m!
Jubilant at their weekend conquest, the gang returned to their daytime jobs - sore with muscle overuse, tired but eyes wide awake with the euphoria of the achievements and adrenaline rush as well as post  run endorphins chatting boisterously and laughing all the way back to the capital city to meet another challenge - living in the real world....

http://penangmarathon.gov.my/portal/live-results/#b=RECDSTBL,R4NYFA8Z,RK6YGAW5,RHE5TKMY&v=ptrack

No pain no gain?

The jury is still out on why runners from certain part of Eastern African, especially of a certain tribe in Kenya do extremely well in middle and long distance races. People of the Kalenjin tribe who comprise 0.6% of the world population have the honour of holding more than 40% of the world honours in distances of 800m and above, all the way to marathon. Many theories have been suggested for their lion's share on these records.
The familiar reasons that have been told to us are their physique, training in high altitude, their low socio-economic status and running as their trump card to freedom, bla, bla...
Now, I heard of a new quasi-genetic explanation for their superiority - their tolerance to pain!
In 1968 Mexico City Olympics, the unforgettable heroic saga to victory of a certain athlete, Kipchoge Keino, started the flood gates of subsequent champions emerging from that side of the world. After the preliminary rounds, Kip was to partake in 3 events, namely 10,000m, 5,000m and 1500m. He collapsed during the 10,000m finals. His doctor diagnosed him to have cholecystitis (gall bladder infection) and advised him to call it quits. Kip defied doctor's orders and ran the 5,000m to win the silver medal. Again the doctor discouraged him to run another race. The gallbladder was apparently at risk of rupture, so the story goes! In spite of the stinging pain at every breath of fresh air, Kip persevered.

The 1500m finals of Mexico City Olympics turned out to be a tale of human endeavour. Jack Ryun of USA, the then world record holder for the event with his 'kick' was favoured to win. Starting as last in the first lap, Kip zoomed past everybody to, not only to beat Ryun but to break the Olympic record with his gall bladder infection. There was a 20m gap between him and Ryun.
A theory suggested for their tenacity is the ritual of the Kalenjin tribe adolescents had to go through as they came of age. This ritual is an elaborate ritual of circumcision with skewers and tying the prepuce in a bow tie fashion. The boys' face are applied with mud which dries up. During the circumcision, the boys are not allowed to grimace as evidenced by flaking of mud on their faces. Failure of this test would result in severe beating and loss of licence to find a partner, hence reproductive opportunities. They are required to run everywhere with the pain. Women are required to undergo their own circumcision rituals.
In the long run, only those with high pain threshold had been selected to continue the progeny!
The newer generation of Kalenjins, of course, do not wish to be tortured this way. Even their parents are quite happy with their offspring having the cut into adulthood with modern analgesic techniques. Does that mean that the Kenyan runners would one day eventually loose their prowess?

So, no pain no gain. Of course they would be aches and they would be pains, only the ones who persevere will live to see the finishing line....
Ref: WYNC's Radiolab, Shorts: Cut and Run

What maketh a human?

So it is yet another run, my personal competitive run #35 since I took the plunge into my first run in 2009. This time around it is the Adidas King of the Road 16.8km run, third time running. As  I was running along the mammoth monolithic man-made structures amidst the mixed affluent and the not so affluent part of the suburbia, I realized that nothing about the race had changed. The wannabe runners with their 'gaya muthusamy' way of branded dressing and gizmos filled to the brim, heart monitors, sweat head band, logo flashing florescent compression suits, Gel Kinsei (the Bentley of the running shoes) etcetera, etcetera. Even the loud mouthed hooligans with nonsensical hurls and catcalls at the the 15km mark were there this time around. Only this time around, they had gotten their stereophonic bass beating high trebled high fidelity systems to complement their rowdy act!

Also in saree

So there was nothing new, it was just same old, same old... And as I was running and thinking what to write about the run, it came to me. Why not write about the dressing of some of the participants, I asked myself?

In saree

Some dress to flaunt, some want to flaunt but cannot due to certain social and cultural restrictions. Some flaunt anyway (because they can and they want to) whilst others modify their dressing to flaunt the law to be acceptable and to cover the restricted taboo zones.
Like they say, sarees are worn by people like Mother Theresa and sarees are worn by sex workers in the most remote area of India. What may the difference, the modesty versus the alluring inner desires? It is the composite act of carrying oneself and speech that complement the whole package, is it not?
So, I chuckle to myself and ask myself why all the effort to colour code, to enhance the contour and leave none to imagination and let it all go to waste? Just a thought whilst I continue the run....

Oh, those cramps!

SCKLM 2013

A few days before the event, the haze began to rear its ugly head again. It looked like the run was going to be jinxed, yet again. The question on everybody's mind was that was when the rain was going to come and was the run going to be called off yet again. It rained, alright, but everywhere else but the Klang Valley.

This time around, the enthusiasm for the run seem muffled. After being in tip top form for the previous cancelled outing, lethargy set in during the training part of the haze postponed third outing at the 42km marathon.
The eventful day finally came. The haze seem to have cleared but in its place was a scorching humid morning with not a single of a breeze. The only breeze seen in the atmosphere seem to the 'Breeze' application of Standard Chartered's mobile application! The outside temperature could easily be 30degrees Celsius. In most marathon races, the run would have been cancelled for health safety reasons. In fact, the last Boston Marathon was postponed by a day for this same reason!
A crowd of 3,000 participants partook in the 42km category (of 33,000 overall). The start at 4.30am was slow with crowding of runners in the first 2kms. My run progressed smoothly. I managed to clear 10km mark by about 1'8". The heat continued radiating. 21km was covered by about 2'22". As I was cruising along the 25km mark, the first twitch manifested at the left little toe. I thought that it would just disappear, just like all those little twitches that come and go. Then a funny sensation showed  up at the adductor group muscles of the left thigh. Then I knew it. The jeva vu of Putrajaya come flooding through. Cramps!
I had to scale down my pace. Later, I had resort to walking as the cramps became more apparent. From 29km and on, it became run-walk strategy.

BFM Night School (Live)

Slowly I could see the pacer balloons passed me by...the 4:30 the 5:00 and finally 5:30!
Some how, with a little  bit of determination, I managed to pull myself through the finishing line after 5h27m14s.
It was not a rewarding run. I did not finish strong. But at least, I could go back with the comfort that I completed the task in one piece and continue life with my day time job the following day.
Anyway, there was the BFM Night School live show and the Running gang's Chinese dinner to compensate for the poor run. That would always be another race, another day, another time. To be still standing....priceless!