Let’s start at the end. Because if we start at the beginning, it will be about me — on the ground with bleeding knees. But that is another story for a Sunday forthcoming.
After an exhilarating 21K race across the breathtaking Cebu-Cordova Link Expressway last Sunday, I crossed the finish line especially jubilant at the 2026 Cebu Marathon.
After crossing the finish line, I looked around. I saw no staff or medals. I thought that perhaps the medals were being handed out at a farther distance from the finish line to avoid congestion. So, I walked further. But still, I saw nothing and no one.
Finally, I asked one of the runners milling about where the medals were and that’s when she told me that she “heard” they would be handed out at seven o’ clock. My mouth fell open. It wasn’t even six yet.
If I was bummed at the prospect of waiting more than an hour for the clock to strike seven, imagine how some of the 42K runners who started running at 12 midnight and finished at three, four or five in the morning, felt?
The faster you ran last Sunday, the greater the punishment that awaited you at the finish line. Because the earlier you finished, the longer you’d have to wait for the medal to be released at seven. And that’s not counting the queuing time.
If there were roughly 3,000 42K runners and more than 5,000 21K runners, how long would it take to distribute the medals? I was tortured just thinking about it.
For lack of anything better to do, I decided to pick up my post-race meal. It was then when I noticed the presence of a number of police officers. Why were they here, I wondered? To police the post-race meal distribution? That seemed a bit extra.
I would later find out what they were there for.
To ask runners from different parts of the country and the world (47 countries as touted) who have scheduled flights to catch after the race, to wait hours to collect their medals is hugely unprofessional for a race that aligns itself with other international races due to its newly-minted AIMS certification.
It is the kind of logistical failure that is unforgivably unacceptable and shamelessly parochial.
“I’ve been doing this for 50 years and this is the worst race I’ve joined. There is no sense of organization. No instructions where to queue. No ropes to organize the queues. It’s a no-brainer. Obviously, the organizers are not runners.”
I did not try to correct the frustrated American runner beside me during the chaotic distribution of medals. He was right. A no-brainer. No communication. No coordination. No organization. Basic failures.
I was too embarrassed to tell him that the race organizer was, in fact, a group called the Cebu Executive Runners Club (CERC), so, obviously, they were runners, or at least, at some point in time, they were.
Contrary to what the president of CERC allegedly said which was recorded and posted on social media, the chaos was not caused by the runners’ lack of discipline.
Everyone was clueless where the queues started and ended. But there was no pushing or cutting in line. This, despite the fact that we felt like typhoon victims, crammed into this chaotic space filled with the smells of blood, sweat and tears, waiting for “ayuda” (assistance).
Runners from Cebu, myself included, were busy appeasing vexed runners from different parts of the country, apologizing to them profusely and assuring them that not all races in Cebu ended like this. Just this one, actually. And perennially.
Some might wonder why many are up in arms about the no-show medals at the finish line. Seems like a small thing. Not really.
Find out why next Sunday.