Women's Winner of 5KMThe three of us arrive at the zoo for a 5km race. The race consists of about 500 runners and we know most of them. Today the elite runners from Indonesia will be competing for some good cash and prizes the likes of plane tickets to Singapore and Bali. You also get a nice wicking T-shirt for entering the race. Our other running partner, Barb, is in charge of the overall scoring of the race and she has been up until 0300. She looks stressed. We wave hello and leave her. We warm up and try to get a good sweat going. It’s time to line up at the start.
The announcer gives us no warning. He suddenly raises the starting gun as if trying to target a small bird among a flock and fires. Bang! The crowd disperses in a wild frenzy as the slow runners in the front make it difficult for the faster ones to get by. People trip and fall, touch and bump, hop and push, until the pack thins out. I am feeling pretty good as I jet out. I pass some friends and shout their names. A 5km race is fast and pretty much an all out sprint. I feel someone close behind me breathing intensely. He sounds like he is hyperventilating. I speed up to lose him. I get annoyed when I feel someone is breathing down my neck. The breathing continues.
As it turns out the heavy breather is a good friend of mine. He is tailing me and using me as his pacer. He and I both ran the Singapore marathon together in December. When I passed out in Singapore after crossing the finish line I actually requested his help. Since he too had passed out the year before running the same marathon I knew that he could at least let Vanessa know I would be ok as the ambulance rushed me off in a delirious and vomitus state hooked up to an IV. He and I are always neck and neck on runs. I beat him the last time. I know he wants bragging rights. One thing I might add is that he is also 51 years old. He is currently training for the Comrades race in South Africa - A grueling run of 90 Km with a cut off time of 12 hours.
As we both run stride for stride my lungs start to fill heavy and my breathing becomes labored. His breathing is also throwing me off. I realize I am starting to hit my wall. I pass a 15 year old girl who is a fasty and student at my school. It feels good to pass her but I wonder if I can keep it up. I beat her last week but can I pull another repeat. At 2.5 km I start to fade and she swiftly passes me. I can still see the back of my friends head a bit ahead as sweat drips down my nose. My lungs aren’t processing the air fast enough to catch up. My legs begin to sense the need for more oxygen. I fight to keep them turning over at a respectable pace. I run up to another high school student from my school and encourage him onward. “Let’s go,” I mumble. He gradually moves ahead of me. I begin to question myself. Maybe it’s because I have a terminal illness. Maybe I need to make an appointment for an MRI. Why are these people passing me? Am I sick? Is it age? A combination of the two? A sign on the side of the path states there is 1 km left until the finish. This last bit will be a cruel incline that will make me wish I were back in my Momma’s womb. I battle the burn in my chest and legs as I play cat and mouse with the high school student. I overtake him and then he gets ahead of me. There is one last prominence leading to the finish line. The student makes his move and I encourage him to sprint on. My fuel gauge teeters on empty - a few fumes remain. With 15 yards remaining in the race I notice the student’s breathing is labored and he struggling to maintain the sprint. I rally some energy to kick it in. I am the cat and I he is the mouse. I eat the mouse before the finish line.
The 15 year old girl is at the finish line and about to faint. There is blood running from her knee. As I watch the blood ooze from her wound I recognize that not only did she fall on the course but she still managed to get back up and kick my slow sorry ass. I like this girl. She wants to cry but I remind her that she should be smiling because she is done. She fights back the tears trying to catch her breath. As I walk her to the aid station I realize that I have been outrun by a 15 year old girl and 51 year old man. I am just glad the lions didn’t get out today because I would have been eaten alive.
Barb, Andy and Rob later ask me how I could let a 51 year old beat me.
