Running a Marathon or Are You Insane?

Jason, Robert Raymer and JustinI just completed my first marathon;yes, that’s 42.195km, or 26 miles, 385 yards.  I won’t tell you my age (other than I’m one of the latter baby boomer from the US) nor my time, which isn’t all that impressive.  I did beat the seven-hour cut-off time for the in­augural Kuching Marathon (located in Malaysia, in the state of Sarawak, on the island of Borneo). 
“You came all the way from America to run here?” several people asked me, impressed.

“No, I live in Kuching.  I’m a writer.” 
 They seemed less impressed.
  My wife wasn’t impressed either.  In fact when I announced that I was running a marathon, she flat out told me, “You’re insane!”
For me, the insanity began when I saw this guy around my age approaching and I could tell right away, even at a distance, that he was fit.  He wasn’t muscular, but he had this presence about him, and I thought, OK, that’s my goal for 2014, to get fit.  I thought if I could get myself into shape then maybe in two years I could run a marathon. Then I heard a radio announcement about the Kuching Marathon, Googled it that evening only to realize it was the final day to enter, so I impulsively signed up.  I figured, OK, I still had four months, plenty of time to get fit.  
Not that I’m all that out of shape; last year I did compete in my son’s primary school jogathon and even won third place among adults.  Prior to that, my last competition was 30 years ago in a pair of 5K fun runs at a company picnic back in America.

When I told my older brother Bill that I was running a marathon he thankfully didn’t laugh at me.  Having run in marathons himself back in the 90’s as did my other brother Terry, who also ran in triathlons and Ironman competitions, he did send me some articles on how to run a marathon, so that got me thinking and training a little.  Very little.   I did run to my wife’s village Quop, which took me forty minutes from where I live, and ran twice more, there and back, for 1 hour and twenty minutes without stopping.  In my mind I planned a series of longer runs, but, well that didn’t pan out since my knees were throbbing and who wants to run a marathon on throbbing knees?

The marathon was slated to start at 4 am (it’s the tropics).  I thought that was pretty insane time to start a marathon until they pushed the starting time back to 3 am and we had to be there by 2 am, which meant I had to wake up at 1am.  I was starting to wonder if my wife was right: Am I truly insane?
I was glad she convinced me to check into a hotel so I could walk to the race since we live 11 miles away (she doesn’t trust me driving at night without sleep).  The day before the race, I went to sleep at 4 pm, but my two boys woke me up at 6 pm, and then I twisted my own arm to join them for a pizza.  I was back to bed by 8 pm, but didn’t fall asleep until around 11pm, just in time for the alarm that went off at 1am.
I took a quick shower to wake up, ate some granola bars for breakfast, and applied generous doses of Vaseline on any part of my body that came in contact with my clothes to avoid chafing, especially those safety pins attached to my number A1-0445; I even put plaster across my nip­ples after seeing a photo of a marathoner whose nipples were bleeding from the chafing.  Who needs that?
Before leaving, I put on my sweatband and a hat and slipped out of the hotel room only to bump into another guy dressed like me, also running in the marathon.  I was glad I wasn’t the only fool staying at that hotel.


After some monkey-see, monkey-do stretching, I made my way to the starting line in the middle of the pack.  The front is reserved for the Kenyans, those competing with the Kenyans, and those taking selfies with the Kenyans.  (The Kenyans swept the first three places in both the men’s and women’s marathon and half half marathon.  The winning time: 2hr 22min 9sec.  In fact Kenyans took 8 out of 9 top spots; the other went to an Ethiopian and a Malaysian took tenth!)
  Altogether there were four races 5K, 10K, 21K, and 42K (plus veteran categories for those of us above 45), with a total of 5,500 runners from 30 countries.  Thankfully the starting times were staggered:  The race finally started for those in front.  For us in the mid­dle we still had a ways to go before we got to the start.  I was impressed by two things:  how far ahead those Kenyans were as they curved around Padang Merdeka and by all the people lining the street to cheer us on.  Did I mention it was 3am?  Don’t these people sleep?
Once we got out of town, people gathered along the street in front of their homes to watch us run by.  Some made a party of it, banging on drums, chanting and holding out their hands for us to slap.  Being a Westerner and wearing a blue headband and silly hat made me stand out.  
“Good Morning,” the children would say to me in English and I’d reply in Malay, “Selamat pagi!”  But was it morning?  Hell no, it was 3:30 am!  I should be in bed!
Then there were long stretches when there was no houses, no people.  So I noted the road kill, includ­ing a scorpion and a couple of snakes, hoping I wouldn’t join them.  In marathons people do occasionally die, usual­ly of a heart attack as did Pheidippides, the legendary messenger who ran to Athens after the Greek victory over the Persians at the Battle of Marathon (which accounts for its odd dis­tance).
A 54-year-old runner from Brunei did die that morning after fainting a half hour into his run, not the marathon but surprisingly the 5K fun run . . . . Always make sure you’re fit and healthy; if in doubt, consult a doctor before your race, even if it’s chasing your grand­ kids around the dining table.  Those miles do add up.
Some runners ran in groups, some ran with blink­ing reflector lights on their backs or the back of their shoes.  Others ran barefoot.  Some carried special backpacks containing special fluids with a special hose that could reach their mouth.  Others wore specialized fanny packs for their drinks and energy gels.  Many ran with head­phones and a few Mickey Mouse ears.  This one guy sang as he ran.  I was im­pressed with both his voice and his repertoire and was so disappointed when he ran out of range.
Many brought their phones and cameras and took plenty of  photos of their com­pan­ions and new-found friends and some selfies, too; they would pose at every pose-able local from Slow Down signs to scenic bridges with middle-of-the night fishermen.  One lone fisher­man with four poles was eyeing us as possible bait. 
   
With hardly any traffic, we had the roads to ourselves.  Just had to avoid running into other run­ners like those who ran four abreast carrying on a lively conversation.  If I found myself getting hemmed in or stuck behind the same runner I knew it was time to pass.  Running marathons, I dis­covered was a lot like playing leapfrog.  I kept passing people, then they would pass me and this would go on for hours, and I’d say, “You again!”
Pretty soon you made friends for life, like Mohan Marathon from Singapore, who ran in the New York Marathon twice and the Honolulu marathon countless times.  Bald-headed and in his fifties, he made every­one laugh and kept calling me, Mr. Pennsylvania, and would introduce me to others and tell them to make sure they finished ahead of me!  When another runner had leg cramps he stayed with her to make sure she got some help, and kept helping her throughout the marathon and made sure that she got her t-shirt and medal, a true gentleman.

Most runners, by the way, are cheer­ful people; less than cheerful people don’t wake up at 3am to run marathons!  They also encourage you any way they can to keep you moving toward your goal of completing your marathon.  Others are road warriors, best to stay out of their way if don’t want tread marks up your back.  A guy running in front of me was talking to another runner about a recent 84K race.  Who in their right mind would run two marathons back to back, but then I saw this guy with 100K t-shirt, which I found either encouraging or discouraging.  Are runners truly in­sane?  I’m not even talking about Triathletes and Ironman competitors, let alone those who run 250K across the desert!

One runner I kept bumping into had a helpful slogan on the back that said, “Never Quit.”  Another, “Run Till You Drop!” Before I did drop, I had to stop now and then to have my legs massaged.  One time I had sit off the side of the road to relieve discomfort to my left foot.  I removed my shoe but was afraid to remove the sock to see what was going on, afraid of what I would find and then use that as an excuse not to finish.  (I did tape my toes to minimize any blistering, not that it helped.)  Next time, I know, get better shoes.
In the days leading up to the marathon, I kept giving myself reasons why I shouldn’t go through with it, like lack of adequate preparation, lack of sleep, potential knee injuries that would require surgery, falling and injuring myself (I had a nasty fall in January that gave me a black eye), or even something fatal like a heart attack.  Who was I fooling?  I figured the odds were so stacked against me, and that didn’t include those Kenyans!  But then I thought, well that line of think­ing isn’t exactly helping me. 
  My whole reason for taking part in the first place was to get in shape.  In the back of my mind, I’ve always wanted to run a marathon, but then that’s like a lot people wanting to be an author; they just don’t want to write the damnbook!  Who in the right mind wants to run 42km at 3am in the tropics?  But I figured the only way I would ever run a marathon is by run­ning a marathon.  No guts, no glory!  Then I realized, once I actually showed up my odds were 50-50!  Either I fin­ished the race or I didn’t.
  Having a 50% chance at anything in life are pretty good odds.  Then if you back that up with a valid reason (wanting to impress and prove to my wife that I’m not always insane), some sheer deter­mination or stubbornness (“I paid for this so I’m finishing it!”), and a self-motivating mantra to help your­self get past the pain and that proverbial wall (they said it was proverbial not real!), those odds start to shift in your favor.
Around the half way mark, in the middle of nowhere, like a mirage, all these people popped up playing tambourines, singing and dancing.  Or maybe it really was a mirage . . . .  By the time the call to prayer came at 5:20 am, followed by the sun rising 6:38 am, I was still hang­ing in there, though at times walking and sightseeing more than running since my legs were killing me and I felt really, really pooped out.
“Hey, are you a tourist!” another runner called out to me, as I was enjoying the view from a bridge just as the sun was coming up.  Oh, yeah, the marathon!  Lack of training, I realized too late,  is the consummate marathon killer.  Either you put the miles in or you didn’t.  But then I noticed how some runners walked really fast by pump­ing their elbows.  By walking at a brisk pace you don’t fall too far behind before you get your second, third, or fif­teenth wind. 
  Then you play games with yourself, I’ll start running after the water station until the next road kill.  Basically you do what you have to do to keep going.  At the 34KM mark they gave us a banana for breakfast!  Along the way I tried energy jells, Red Bull, isotonic drinks, granola bars, dried fruit, and gummy bears, some of which I carried in a fanny pack.  80% of the stuff I carried I didn’t eat, except for the gummy bears.  I also carried my own bottle and that gave me the flexibility to drink or sip when I wanted to and would refill it at the various stations, every three kilometers.  Glad I did!
The whole final third of the marathon, when you felt like your legs dropped off a few kilo­meters back, I kept pushing myself, staying focused.  I also relied on my past experience of completing the Big Loop Trail at Bako National Park with my son Zaini when he was 16 and climbing Longs Peak to the summit with brother Bill in Colorado when I was 22.
My writing mantra for the year going into the mara­thon was “Believe and Do!”  But during the actual running it became “Suck it up!”  By 7am the traffic came, and it got worse once we got back into town.  We now had to avoid cars at inter­sections, at round-a-bouts, and when double-parked!  Aware there was a mara­thon going on (signs were everywhere and helpful policemen, too), most drivers were courteous (or curious) and gave us a chance to live.  Others, well, we were fair game.

When I got to those final two kilo­meters, on my last rubbery legs, a short, stout woman leap­frogged me and urged me on, and I thought, hell if she can do it . . . . Besides, I wasn’t about to run a full marathon and not get that t-shirt and metal!  My wife needed proof!  Do you think she would’ve taken my word for it, knowing that I was insane?  I needed the tangible proof for me, too, so years from now I could look back on that day 17 August 2014, knowing that I came to the Kuching Mara­thon, I saw all those thousands of run­ners, and I conquered the course (but not the Kenyans).  Or in non-Roman terms, I sucked it up.
Later, I planned to use the marathon experience to lord it over my kids, “Hey, if your father can run a marathon, you can at least clean up your room!”
Then I began to wonder, why do normally sane people put themselves through the pain and or­deal of running a marathon (and do it again and again)?  Do they do it for the camara­derie, for the challenge, or because they can?  Does it even matter?  Then I remembered an expression I once heard, “You never know how far you can go until you’ve gone too far.” This not only ap­plies to running and writing books, but also to all creative, business, and pro­fessional en­deavors. 
The real question you might want to ask yourself, how far can you go in your life?  You may not want to run a mara­thon, but then again, why not?  If you can run a marathon, then nothing can stop you from pur­suing your dreams.  When things go horribly wrong and you feel like giving up or quitting life for good, you just do what you had to do to complete that darn mara­thon . . . you suck it up and keep going!
Then there it was . . . the finish.  Before I knew what was happening, a pretty woman put the metal over my head, knocking off my hat in the process, and then another made sure I had the correct size t-shirt.  And it was all over except the pain . . . . You would think that the pain ends when the marathon does, but, sorry, it doesn’t.  Taking your shoes off does help. 
But you still have to make it home or to your hotel; unfortunately, the days of porters carrying you in style ended a few generations ago.  So I walked with my wife back to the hotel in my socks along with our sons Jason and Justin, with Jason proudly wearing my metal around his neck (he got first dibs).
   Then the cramps set in.  For me, that happened while I was soaking in the bathtub.  My wife had to help me out of the tub in a very painful, undignified flamingo stance. 
“Do you need me to dry you like the boys?”
“Please!” I said, and then Jason stepped on my aching, blistered toes.  “Please, watch the toes!”
I thought I would collapse asleep for at least a week, but I wasn’t all that sleepy, so we checked out of the hotel at noon and headed home with a few stops in between.  Getting in and out of car, in and out of chairs was an ordeal, but the staircase at home was pure torture.  I had to hold onto the banister and take baby steps sideways in an effort to minimize movement.  Any jerk like motion such as lift­ing a leg to the next step was excruciating painful.
When I finally did collapse, I slept wonderfully well except whenever I changed positions, then I’d feel that throbbing pain in the lower legs and toes.  But the knees were fine!  The following morning, the pain was still there, a lot of stiffness too, so I had to walk Frankenstein-style around the house.  But at the same time, I had this incredible afterglow.  I ran a marathon!  I really did!  My blue t-shirt and cool metal were proof!
Now, instead of calling me insane, my wife calls me her “marathon man”.–Borneo Expat Writer
*A fun, practical way to raise your self-esteem, list down 25-50 of your personal achievements (even if they mean nothing to anybody else except you!

**Here the link to my website, to MPH online for orders for all three of my books, including my latest, Spirit of Malaysia and for Trois autres Malaisie.