MUSINGS DURING A MARATHON by Chan Yeow Despite a wife’s exhortations: “Do not kill yourself…We can still meet for breakfast if you do not finish…”, this intrepid anaesthetist dared the ultimate endurance test, the marathon…by walking it…and triumphed!

2355 :

I see a familiar face in the distance. It is Meng. We chat a little. He is also a fellow anaesthetist. He says he is waiting for a surgeon friend. There are five power bars in his hand. I did not dare to tell him about my nutrition plan – pork floss sandwiches and dried mangoes… We wish each other a good marathon. I grab a last cup of isotonic drink.

MN:

There is a loud cheer from the crowd. I cannot hear the gun or the whistle. We move forward in an amorphous mass, like a huge amoeba. Thousands strong. Many break into a slow jog. The pace picks up as we near and cross the start line. There is an electrifying sensation in the air.

0005:

I must be mad. At this time, Genevieve (my wife) and Dominic (my two year old son) must be sound asleep. My thoughts went back to the past hour. Dominic had been very amused with my outfit – a white tank-top (I do not usually wear singlets), with the race tag pinned to the front. I tucked him into bed and sang him a little tune, before kissing him goodnight. Genevieve gave me a last exhortation:” Take care of yourself. Do not kill yourself. There are many more marathons in future. We can still meet for breakfast if you do not finish…” I had dismissed that with a “Nobody dies while walking…”

Is it selfishness on my part? What right do I have to be up here, at midnight, on a little lane in Changi, when I should be sleeping with my family? Is it right for me to “burn” the whole Sunday the following day, which should be their time, nursing my post-marathon corpus?

0030:

By now, all the hares are far away. I must be amongst the last five persons or so. Yes, because I am walking. Am I kidding? No. I am walking the Adidas Sundown Marathon. Walking a marathon is not fashionable in Singapore (at least, nobody here voluntarily walks). However, it is big in the USA. In any case, many of the runners will end up walking against their will. I know. I have seen that last year.

Walking is safer. You do not need so much training. You are less likely to die of heat-stroke or a heart attack. You can train by just being a good pedestrian, reducing your carbon footprint, and scoffing at the road-tax, ERPs, and sky-rocketing fuel prices. I often walk the four kilometers home from my work place. It takes me forty minutes, a little longer than if I take the MRT, but I do not need to go out to exercise again. The evening belongs to my son. On Sundays, I wake up earlier than my family to do my long walk of the week.

We men in our thirties need to take care of our bodies. What right do we have to get a stroke or a heart attack at forty? What right do we have to lose our feet or our kidneys to diabetes at fifty? At the wedding altar, I had pledged myself body and soul to Genevieve. I have to look after myself for her, and for Dominic. The key is to prevent metabolic syndrome – the quartet of high blood pressure, high lipids, insulin resistance, and the hallmark central obesity. And the solution is within everyone’s reach. Accumulated physical activity for thirty to sixty minutes every day. Simple.

0045:

“Hey Chan Yeow!” I look back. It is John, my dentist friend, and Brendan, his running mate. They are also taking the tortoise approach. We will overtake some hares yet. We proceeded together for a good two kilometers. We caught up with each other’s recent developments. He is newly married.

“Are you going for Mass tomorrow morning?” John is a Catholic, as I also am. I told him that I have already attended the evening Mass on Saturday night, as I did not want to miss the highlight of my week because of physical exhaustion. It is easy to make endurance sport one’s religion. There is a whole system to it…the bible is “Runner’s World”. The regimen - daily mileage, strict diet… Heaven – breaking our PR (personal record)…Hell – hitting the wall…All this, sustained by the emotional experience we call the “runner’s high. We get very self-righteous, and judge the flabby smokers…However, such “religion” is illusory, and it is important to know this.

One day, I will be too old to race. I may develop arthritis. I may be wheel-chair bound. Will my medals be able to love me and care for me? One day I will lie on my death-bed. Will I be glad that I have loved my wife and son or will I be glad that I have walked several thousand miles? Despite all my aerobic training, one day I will experience that final breathlessness… St Paul bemoaned those “whose God is their belly”. I have to make sure “my God is not my racing shorts”. It is good to have a sport, an activity to challenge myself, something to add spice to my life, to keep me on a healthy lifestyle. However, I need to remember who my true God is, who are my real family members, and what are my real duties.

0150:

East Coast Park. It looks so serene and beautiful at night. The lights from the ships moored neatly in the southern anchorage. I remember my National Service days, sailing in from the South China Sea. Whenever I see these lights, my heart swells and I whisper, “It is worth it. This is why we go through all the puking and sleeplessness on the high seas”.

There are many families still up enjoying the peace, dangling their fishing lines, cooking up a storm at their barbeque pits. They cheer us on. This is why I enjoy marathons. One gets to see the nice side of human nature. Everyone is kind to a marathoner (though they must wonder if we are insane)

0230 – 0400:

The miles go by. Drink to drink. I am steadily eating up the dried fruit, and have moved on to the sandwiches. This time, I am careful to incorporate a bit more salt, and a bit more protein, into my race-day nutrition plan. Hopefully it will prevent the soreness and weakness that comes from my body breaking down its own muscle.

0500:

Bedok Reservoir Park. More nice people. The food station. Volunteers hand out steaming hot coffee, buns and bananas. We accept gratefully, before soldiering on into the darkness. I am amazed that there is so much beauty in Singapore. We have been racing along the beach, and are now headed north along the park connectors joinng East Coast Park to Bedok Reservoir Park, Pasir Ris Park and Changi Beach. Someday, I must bring Dominic here.

0555:

Lightning and thunder. We are advised to seek shelter. What a waste. No more PR… Oh well, I have no right to court death by lightning strike. Maybe next year…

0620:

The rain is lighter. We move on. I am a little tired, and have lost the earlier momentum, but still feel reasonable. I reflect on what we have accomplished so far. We have shown that we are able to deny our bodies the sleep they clamour for. We have shown that we can overcome that constant instinctive voice that tells us to STOP. We can put one foot in front of the other even though every muscle and sinew is aching or burning. Man is not a merely a creature of instinct, but has a will. I am able to control my mind and my body. May I also know how to harness this newly discovered self-control to serve my loved ones in my work and my family activities. May I also learn how to say “No” to myself in other situations.

0733:

I cross the line. Almost an anticlimax. I grab a hundred-plus, a banana, my finisher tee-shirt and medal, and slump into a chair overlooking the sea front. The rising sun has cast brilliant shades of red and gold onto the entire seascape. I chat with an old friend - an officer from my NS days. My wife SMSes me. They are on the way. We are going to the airport for breakfast. Sun, sea, friends, family…Life is good. Thank God for all this.

(P.S. Walking 30 to 45 min is generally safe, but to walk a marathon, one should first clear it with one’s family physician, and embark on a training programme lasting at least eighteen weeks or so, on a foundation of thirty minutes daily walking for some months.)

Chan Yeow is an anaesthetist and ICU physician and the proud father of a three year old boy.