2024 Half-marathon
I participated in the Hong Kong Marathon 2024, running the half-marathon on January 21, 2024. I wrote down this entry the day after the race so that when one day I couldn't run, I could relive this memory.
- Before going to bed at around 9 P.M. the previous night, I set multiple alarms — three on my phone at 4:25, 4:30, and 4:35, and one on my watch at 4:45. Unsurprisingly, I woke up as soon as the first alarm went off. Undoubtedly, alarm clock is only invented for people to do things that they don't like at all.
- After a quick trip to the bathroom, I started my first battle - preparing breakfast. My mind was twisting and turning on the right kind and amount of food to have before the match (Yes I was so inexperienced).In that process I lost count of how many slices of bread I had (At least one, probably), so I ate another half slice just to be safe - by my calculation I would at least have had 1.5 but at most 2.5 slices with this approach. During that whole time an intense search on pre-match meal was ongoing and finally I reckoned to stay hydrated while having something with high energy, so I dissolved a honey packet into water as my energy drink - to confirm its effects I actually went to check the color of my pee to ensure it was clear. In the chaos I also made another change to eat an egg instead of the usual whey protein shake. With all the mess dusted, I was finally full at 5:15.
- Sat down, perplexed, I applied Kinesio tape to my insteps to address some discomfort I had been feeling. Lay down, nervous, I tried to catch a bit more sleep, but the effort was futile. The race was already running through my mind. So I washed my hair, put on my running gears and left - only to got back home twice, one to apply Vaseline, another to grab my earphones.
- The train journey was a convergence of lives — regular passengers and athletes, all part of the city’s pulsing, interconnected web. A short 20 minutes ride later I joined the flow of athletes to alight at Tsim Sha Tsui and my body was giving me a signal - go pee you nervous idiots! It was around 6:40 and people were queuing in the toilets of the metro station. I guess those were idiots too.
- On my way to the Cultural Centre, many athletes were warming up or changing clothes or sitting on the floor contemplating. I took of my necklace, stored my baggage, soothed my urge to pee for a bit, and joined the stream towards the starting point. The tension between thirst and the need to pee persisted, a paradoxical dance. After a quick bathroom break, I tightened my shoelaces and moved towards the starting area, the Peninsula Hotel looming like a silent guardian. Warm-up exercises were hurried, a prelude to the main event. Security checks passed, I found myself closer to the starting line than anticipated, the pacers’ flags within sight.
- Guess what I was thinking when I was waiting at the starting line - whether to listen to podcast or not. I read from Dopamine Nation that it's best to avoid spiking dopamine before the actual hard effort, but it was mundane to wait for another 30 minutes. But then the MCs pulled me back to reality as they started to talk around 5 minutes before 7:50, the planned starting time.
- The only thing I remembered was that they announced there would be three groups of pacers (1:50, 2:00 and 2:10). My aim was clear: start slow, catch up to the 2:00 pacers, a strategy mirrored from last year during the 10km run. At the gun's sound, I joined the flow towards the setting line. The phone was ready to play my top songs 2023 from Spotify, the Garmin watch tuned to use the most accurate GPS, only the earphones were not yet ready - I was absorbing all the tumbling sounds and allowing those cheers to sink in.
- As the starting line was crossed, I pressed start on my watch, tapped Play in my earphones, switched to noise-cancelling mode, and officially started my run. Every run is a run by myself.
- The first three kilometres were a blur, my pace steady at 5:35/km. I had never felt this comfort during training. It was silky smooth. The goal of a sub-2-hour finish seemed within reach.
- Uphill towards the Mei Foo, the next four kilometres tested my resolve. Despite running 10 seconds faster the my goal pace of 5'45, the 2-hour pacers remained elusive. Loads started to build up at my legs but the struggle was shared by a fellow runner - the stranger was taking video of himself but as he ran ahead he cheered me at the back, pierced the solitude of my focus.
- I picked myself up and finally at the 7km water station, I spotted the 2:00 pacers; they were running at the opposite lanes after the turning point. At that time I reckoned there was a 2 to 3 minutes gap, with me catching up probably 10 seconds per kilometer - I was gonna get those guys!
- A long stretch of downhill run started after the turning point, which helped me to relieve a bit. I debated taking my gel at 7.5km as planned, waited until 10km, and consumed it before entering the Western Harbour Crossing.
- The entrance of the tunnel was a long, oppressive corridor. Despite going downhill, my legs were becoming heavier and my mind numbing. All of a sudden, cheers exploded, creating waves of echoes within the tunnel and woke me up. I switched off the noise-cancelling mode and let those noises ring my ears. My only thought at the time was: Finally I have the chance to run across the Victoria Harbour!
- The tunnel was long. congested with thick, stuffy air. "Here it comes", I thought, when the uphill slope emerged - the famous long slope to Hong Kong Island. I increased my cadence to maintain a reasonable speed. I could see the road turning right, with sunlight shining into the darkness. I thought I had seen light, but I didn't know it was the beginning of the oblivion. No one told me the worst was yet to come.
- The course continued uphill and soon I was on the elevated highway. It became a roller coaster: up, down, up, down - extremely tiring the body and the mind. I looked at the speed map after the race and it showed that most runners experienced a steady drop in speed from there. My left thigh tightened and my mind was a bit mushy. Was I closer to the finishing line than when I started? Definitely. What was in front of me? I had no idea. My mind wandered and I was just a machine; my arms and legs moved without thinking. By that time I was probably 7-8 minutes faster than my conservative game plan (aka 2:10:00). I was trying to maintain my speed, hoping to have a 1 minute margin by the time I finished the race.
- As I went near the central piers, the supporting crowd emerged. Most of them kept cheering for their friends - or they treated all runners as friends - and some of them made a banner with plastic, with the words "Tap for power up" on it. It beckoned, and I complied. I was wrong about the importance of rapport; I thought it was for the mentally weak. I ran close to that banner, tapped on it, smiled, and kept running.
- The final stretch was a battle of will, my legs heavy, my mind urging forward. I kept checking on my watch to see whether I could meet the 2-hour mark but I couldn't process the maths in my burdened brain. All my willpower was spent keeping a smiling face; I read from somewhere that the facial expression could affect the body. I had to keep smiling to relieve the soreness of my muscles. It seemed to work as I accelerated with power out of nowhere.I was going for the 2-hour goal.
- The last 100 meters stretched infinitely. I was exhausted and time escaped me swiftly - I saw the watch showing 1:59:45. With only seconds left, I ran like Forrest Gump. Pushed, pushed, pushed, and stopped my watch the moment I crossed the line. It was 2:00:00 sharp.
