Success!

My thighs are slightly sore, and there is a weird tingling and numb sensation running across my feet and right arm, but I'm exhilarated. The PASSION RUN 2011 is finally over! According to my watch, I completed the 12km run in 1hr and 18 minutes - 3 minutes better than my first dry run on Monday.

Who says fat people can't run, bitches?

I was "forced" to wear the Passion Run tee, which happens to be sleeveless. And you know I NEVER wear sleeveless because I have chicken thighs for arms. And the shirt was somewhat short? It just reached the waistband of my shorts. And they were somewhat form fitting which I didn't like at all.

Mum dropped me off at East Coast Park at 3.30pm, and it was basically buzzing with so much activity. I had to wait for Z, J, Jo and G to arrive so I hung around and did some stretching and, basically observed my surroundings. And the sight of most of the runners intimidate me. I mean, damn they look professional! Strapped with high tech gizmo and bright running shoes and aviator shades and looking all cool and dark with their tan from being out in the sun too much and wearing these strange tights which I think is so uncomfortable. I felt like a kid playing dress up. What's even more intimidating, or rather awe-inspiring is that I saw this elderly Caucasian lady who looked to be about 60 and based on her bib number, she was running for the 12km Veteran's Run. And damn she has a really good figure for a 60 year old woman. I mean, she has abs, for Christ's sake. Toned and defined, and mine are brimming with fat. I'm so ashamed of myself.

The rest of the group came so we checked our bags in and went to the starting line to get for the race. I was so completly excited and my heart was pounding like mad. The run started off real slow, because people at the front were like, getting warmed up and I was so impatient. I kept cutting and dodging people and got a really slow start. It was so annoying. What's worse is that some stupid people literally elbow you to get past you. Or worse, shove you. I almost wanted to scream at this stupid man who shoved me into another poor woman. But I decided to overtake him after that to show him whio's got more balls.

The first half of the race went rather smoothly. I got bored, probably about 2km into the run, despite having my music on. But I kept at it. I attempted to pace with Jo, but he was too quick and I was all "fine I'll take this slow". I distracted myself by watching the other runners and aiming to overtake those in front of me.

Honestly, there are so many excellent runners there today. You can totally tell there are good by the way the run. They take long strident steps and look as though they're running through a field of daisies, effortlessly overtaking people and not even breathless. And there I was thinking how the hell do they even do that. I was especially distracted by the Caucasian male runners. The good ones I mean. I mean. Hello. Good looking and shirtless? With their iPods strapped to their arm? But what bothers me is that some of them came with CHINESE girlfriends and I'm like "Dammit how did they manage to get a Caucasian man?!"

I'm so jealous. I want a good looking Caucasian boyfriend/husband too! Alas, my wish, shall remain a despondent dream.

I started speeding up after crossing the halfway mark of 6km and again, distracted myself by trying to keep an eye out for J and Z. I stopped switching songs on my iPod and just kept replaying the same song "Burnin' Burnin'" over and over again, because the beat was really fast and I was able to run along to the beat which really helped me cover more distance. I was surprised I didn't feel breathless. It felt really light for me, despite the boredom that had already settled in 4km ago.

I started feeling laggy and impatient after reaching the 7km mark. I kept telling myself to keep going, because I'm not a quitter and I wanted to prove something. The beach was too crowded and the smell of barbequing meat did nothing to motivate me. But rather, the smoke almost choked me. At 10km, I was almost ready to walk a bit. It was getting too boring for me. Then I saw the 11km mark and I was like "okay, 1km more and you're done". I suspect that the organizers had rigged the markers, because I swear that last 1km felt like the longest 1km I had ever run. All I could think was "Where the fuck is the finishing line?! This should be 1km already!" And hearing the helpers at the sidelines go "You're almost there! Keep going! You're finishing!" made me what to slap their faces. My feet were developing these weird tingling sensations which I never experience before and that was started to make me worry a little.
The last 5km was probably the hardest for me to complete.

So finally at 6.56pm, I crossed the finishing line and it was probably the best feeling ever at that point. I went to collect my finisher's medal, which looks pretty nice I must say, and stumbled back to the baggage collection area to wait for the others and just zone out. I didn't even care that I was wearing a horrendous gay shirt that does nothing for my masculine shoulders. I was slumped with fatigue, but not before checking my watch to note my timing of 1hr and 18 minutes. Let's see what my dad has to say about that! Honestly, its such a thrill completing the race, because such runs really put your perserverance to the test, and the fact that I never stopped at all - except to grab the free water and energy drink - makes me feel so proud of myself. Certainly makes a difference compared to my NAPFA days in secondary school when I failed my 2.4km run every time and had to take a retest for it. And now 5 years later, I'm running 12km non-stop! LAH DEE DAH.

Took a ride back to J's place in A's car with Z. Z and I watched Confessions of a Shopaholic on A's laptop, and I think it induced motion sickness because I felt like throwing up halfway throughout the journey. I was too stoked to take a bus home from J's place, so I hitched a cab and went straight home. Imma head to bed soon. My shoulders are so tense right now and I've an odd feeling I'll be spending the day tomorrow slumped in a chair, moaning like a cow whenever I try to stand.