THE DUM50 organizers were doing a good job, but the lack of road marshals and signs in some street crossings taxed my patience. You had to slow down and ask which direction the other runners went. That is if you were lucky to see anyone on the streets at 1 a.m.! This happened several times during the race and really messed up momentum.
After all those power walking and slowing down to ask for directions, a runner from Bacolod named Apil finally caught up with me. His presence improved my mood as there were now two of us asking strangers on the streets.
I checked Strava to see our progress and learned it was less than four kilometers to the finish line. I told Apil to continue running as the pain on my quads was becoming unbearable. I needed some stretching to relax the muscles and I thought seventh place was not bad.
I kept moving forward until I reached Robinsons on my way to the Boulevard. But I didn’t know how to get there. This was my first time in Dumaguete! There were a lot of street crossings but no race marshals anywhere. So it was back to asking people again if they saw another crazy runner like me. Some gave me the look that said I was the only crazy runner they saw. It scared me.
A runner from Tacloban named Romeo caught up with me. I was relieved to see him, especially the way he asked people around. He was shouting at everyone on the streets asking for directions. I was happily tagging along with him. But I could tell from his face that he was suffering from fatigue more than me. But I told him we could share seventh place and finish the race together. When he stopped to power walk, I did the same.
We reached the Boulevard area and a marshal there told us there was another marshall ahead where we should make our last crucial turn. However, there was no marshall, and we lost precious time at this point. Two more runners caught up with us but I was not happy to see them. Finally, someone gave us the correct direction to Quezon Park and once I got certain where to go, I sprinted like crazy with only one kilometer left. I was sorry to leave my Waray running buddy, but I wanted to secure seventh place for us. But there was another strong runner right behind me who was thinking the same thing. He kept up with my pace, but I floored the gas a little bit.
Just before the finish line, there was a metal pipe barrier at the entrance to the park. I leapt over it and the runner just inches behind me did the same but then I heard a huge thud and saw the shocked reactions of the race organizers who rushed to help him as his other foot got caught in the barrier.
I asked if he was okay but though his right knee was bleeding, he was laughing. I laughed too.
The race director told me I got ninth place in 5:47:39. Apparently two other runners that I didn’t see throughout the race were ahead of me. But I couldn’t blame them. The last part of the course was pretty chaotic.
There’s a different level of high one only experiences after all the pain and suffering running beyond a marathon. Some people seek it in alcohol or drugs, but the drawback is catastrophic. In running it’s drugs in reverse sans the scary drawback (Neuroscience studies, I read them).
Suffer first and get all the potent chemical neurological rewards that running triggers in the brain. It’s a sweet brief glimpse of Nirvana at the finish line.
(The author, a third year law student, studied Philosophy at San Carlos Seminary College and started running just a year ago. This was his first ultramarathon.)