The Parable of the Tortoise and the Hare

The tortoise or the hare--guess which one I was? As my dad likes to joke, "I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count." I don't know my actual time; I didn't actually see the clock at the finish because I was so focused on that big banner that said "FINISH," but Stephen said it was around 5:18 or so, give or take. (Update: Official posted time was 5:15!) That ain't fast. In fact, that's over twice as long as the person who probably won it. Slow and steady may not have won the race, but I finished and that was all I had hoped to do.

It's called the Philippine Marathon for the Pasig River, but I've now dubbed it the "Diesel Fume Marathon." Not that I have anything to compare it to, but our new friend and my new marathon-buddy Tan (yes, I have marathon buddies now) said it was a pretty grueling one. First, the traffic in Manila is unmanageable, though god-bless-'em they tried their best. When we came to a busy intersection, they got the cars, buses, jeepneys, and semi-trucks to reluctantly, sort-of stop so we could run through. It was easy at 4 in the morning (yes, it began at that lovely hour, something which I will get to soon), but at 9 when I was finishing, it took on a vague Frogger-esque quality. Fortunately, some race official on his bike thought it would be bad if anything happened to the stupid foreign woman, so he rode alongside me and buffered traffic away from me for about half the race. We pulled into the finish and he gave me a high-five. I think we bonded. I wanted to stick around to find him again and thank him, but my legs felt very differently and just wanted to leave this masochistic festival and go home.

Originally when I said the course was designed to follow the Pasig River, everyone thought that was a riot. (The Pasig River has the reputation of Lake Erie about the time that lovely body of water caught on fire.) The Pasig sections of the race, though, were often the most enjoyable because at least they were somewhat scenic. Unfortunately, the course just did not show the city at its best. It no longer includes Intramuros, for example, which is far more interesting than PowerPlant Mall, Fort Bonifacio, or just plain Manila traffic. It wasn't much of an environmentally-conscious event either, despite being organized by the Clean and Green Foundation in an attempt to bring attention to the cause of river clean-up. Most of the time, for example, the water stations had no trash bins so everyone just threw their cups or baggies on the ground. The irony felt about as painful as my sore knees.

I did see a whole slice of life that ranged from the ultra-rich apartments and houses of Fort Bonafacio to homeless living under a bridge. What was most interesting, though, were the many layers of middle-class and working-class neighborhoods in between these two extremes. What can I say, I'm a teacher, I notice these things.

And it was the earliest in the morning I've ever run. To avoid the hot parts of the day, it began at 4 a.m., and we were supposed to be at the starting point at a river park at 3 a.m. (In the end, though, they did not really start the check-in until 3:30, and then we had to listen to speeches and watch a local group perform interpretive dance to the national anthem. Gotta have a snappy number to get us all running our best!)

Thanks to Stephen who made sure I got a few hours sleep and got to the river park on time (and took the pictures at the top of this post); thanks to Jess Vaughan who traveled all the way into town on her three-day weekend to see me finish (Note: she actually came twice because I wasn't clear that the race was on Sunday, not Saturday--it takes a true friend to return a second time); and thanks to Tan (my new marathon buddy, remember?) who took care of me before and after the race, making sure my first marathon was a memorable one. He runs about 20 or more of these a year, so I cannot vouch for his sanity, but his kindness was appreciated. Thanks to all those folks who called, emailed, or texted me today--I'm really touched that people remembered.

Things to do to prove that reaching 36 isn't going to be that bad:
7. Run a marathon. Check!