On Jan. 24, Sanspo Chiba Marine Marathon 2016 took place in Makuhari, Chiba.
I ran half marathon.
I finished at 1:43:54 (Net: 1:42:30).
I didn't renew my personal best, but I was happy with the result nonetheless.
Here is how the day started and ended.
In the morning I got up at 6:15.
I had breakfast consisting of an apple, an iyokan orange, and a clove of fermented black garlic.
I caught the 7:14 train to get to Makuharihongo at 7:40 where I changed to a shuttle bus
that took me to the event venue--QVC Marine Field.
At the Marine's baseball stadium I joined three runners also joining the race.
Two hours to the start I took in a small cake of sweet red bean paste to fuel myself,
and started doing stretching.
An hour to the start a friend of mine from my high school days joined us,
who lived nearby.
A half an hour to the start he and I went outside the stadium to warm up.
The starting area was already getting crowded.
One group of runners after another passed by me and my friend
who were warming up with jumping jacks, high knees, and other workouts to elevate heart rates.
Fifteen minutes to the start we headed for the starting area.
Runners are alphabetically divided into different groups,
depending on their best time from past races.
And a starting section is assigned to each runner accordingly.
I was in Section I, and my friend in P.
As we parted, we wished each other to have a good race.
While waiting for the ceremonial bang to signal the start,
I closed my eyes meditatively, and turned my upper body right and left to relax.
In no time I heard a remote bang (my section was way far from the very front
where guest runners and top athletes lined up), and the race had begun.
The first 5 K was fairly slow due to congestion typical of a big race.
Shortly after the 7 K mark, there was the first aid station.
I grabbed a cup of water and finished it in a few sips.
Then I grabbed another and poured it all over my head,
and spread the falling drops over my arms.
This helped release the increasing heat in my body.
When I passed the 10 K mark, my watch said 50 minutes something.
Exactly as I planned!
After all I was successfully able to make up for the loss caused by the initial congestion.
I kept the even pace until the second aid station at the 12 K mark.
This was part of my strategy for the race: Be patient and keep a comfortable pace until 12 K.
At the second aid station, I did exactly like I had done in the first one--drink some water, and pour some over my head.
Between the 12 and 13 K mark, Sydney Olympic Gold Medalist Ms. Naoko Takahashi was giving a high five to passing runners.
I gave mine to her, saying, "Thanks, Q-chan (that's her nickname in Japan) "as I ran past her.
At 13 K, the race took a left into a park.
The trees there created shades, which kept the body temperature from going too high.
At 16 K mark the last aid station awaited.
I was planning to do the same as I had done in the last two.
But I made a small mistake because I didn't know one big difference
of the last aid station from the other two.
It served a sports drink in addition to water.
As I approached the aid station I could see two rows lines of tables,
one on the left of the road, another on the right.
Without knowing their difference, I ran straight to the left line of tables,
and grabbed a cup and sipped.
It wasn't water! "I can't throw this over my head! My hair would get all sticky and sh*t!"
I cried in my mind.
No choice.
There was no way I could turn back to the aid station just to get water.
I was already 10～20 M past the aid station.
Going back meant wasting time.
It wasn't worth it.
So I moved on.
I looked on the positive side of the mistake.
After all I was able to fuel myself with sports drink.
It's a good thing, isn't it?
At the 16.5 mark, I took two quick left turns,
and once again found myself outside the park area.
With less than 5 K remaining, I picked up speed
toward the 18 K point where the biggest challenge awaited--the Mihama Ohashi Bridge
which forces runners to go over the altitude difference of 10 meters over the distance of a little less than 1 K.
Winds blew stronger as I started climbing the bridge.
Runners started gasping, twisting their faces with pain.
But I had my power all stored up until this moment.
I overtook one runner after another, ignoring the incessant winds blowing against me.
But when I finally reached the top of the bridge,
the side winds were so strong
that I was almost blown off the bridge!
Once past the peak of the height,
it was all downhill.
The landmark across from QVC Marine Field was insight.
I missed the 19 K mark sign because I was running
with my eyes half closed.
But soon a sign was visible that said 2 K remaining.
Larger crowds of cheers were on both sides of the street,
more on the side runners were running of course.
The course took a final left away from the main road
into the driveway leading to the parking lot next to the stadium.
I found myself running with all the other runners through the walls of cheerers on both side of the driveway.
A distant announcement was heard from inside the stadium,
encouraging runners to make a last spurt.
As I ran the last 1 K, I tried to remember all the hard training that I had done for the race,
especially that 1 K interval training that almost made me puke at times.
But somehow no other 1 K seemed as long as this particular one.
I almost suspected the 21 K mark sign was in the wrong place,
and the actual remaining distance was much longer.
But all this inner talk was soon forgotten when I finally reached the gate into the stadium,
and went through it, and found myself inside, surrounded in the sea of green artificial lawn, which by that way was so soft that it comforted the tired legs beaten up by the millions of strong steps.
I gave myself one final push and crossed the finish line.
A endorphin rush engulfed me, making everything look kind of whitish.
The endlessness of the blue sky felt emphasized.
And the air felt like all oxygen, it's entirely for me alone.
The race was over.
I went to pick up my official record, already thinking about the full marathon
that's coming one week's time.
