I'm a Survivor
I took part in a half marathon yesterday, and the pain all over my body now reminds me of it every waking (and sleeping) moment.
Here's (roughly) how it happened.
Sometime in September/October:
Stephen and Keith ask me, separately, to take part in it. "21 kilometres? That's fucking insane!" is the response they get.
A week or two later:
I sign up for it anyway, pledging to train for it in the time leading up to 2 Dec.
A couple of weeks later:
I try running for the first time in a few months. I get stitches. And I don't run again.
Early November:
I send the date to my production manager, asking him not to schedule me for a shoot on 2 Dec.
Late November:
I find out he's gone ahead and scheduled me for that day anyway. I secretly rejoice inside and tell Stephen and Keith the bad news. I banish all thoughts of training from my mind.
30 November:
I find out that due to last minute complications, my colleague CY who has also signed up for the run, might be shooting on that day instead of me. "Oh shit," is my first thought.
1 December:
One day before the run, it's confirmed: CY will be shooting in the morning, and she'll miss her run. But I get to do the 21 km! Without any training beforehand whatsoever! Plus, I also get to shoot two scenes in the afternoon after the run! I get visions of me collapsing by the roadside and my body being cleared by road sweepers the next day.
2 December, 4:30 am:
I wake up at a godforsaken time and head for the run with Keith and his friend TJ. A feeling of dread overcomes me. I joke that if my breathing stops, all they have to do is put a cigarette in my mouth to revive me.
6:15 am or thereabouts:
The run starts. Fuck.
At the 6 km mark:
Not too bad, surprisingly. It's been nice and cool so far, with great views. Running down the middle of Shenton Way with towering buildings lining both sides of the street is pretty cool. We stop for a toilet break. Resuming the run is a bitch.
At the 10 km mark:
We stop running and walk for a bit. Then run a bit. Then walk a bit. I start feeling abrasions on my inner thighs - my fat thighs have been rubbing against each other and my shorts for a while now.
At the 12 km mark:
We realize it's been quite a distance, and start running properly again.
At the 13 km mark:
I start feeling something worse than the thigh abrasions. The sweat has wet my shirt, and the wind makes it cold. Cold does something to nipples. And running causes the shirt to move, leading to friction. Which over a long distance leads to major ouch. I try pulling my shirt away from my chest as I run. It's really very annoying, and I can't run properly.
At the 15 km mark:
I tell Keith to go ahead. Fuck it, I'll walk the rest of the way.
At the 18 km mark:
I recover from my running and start being able to walk really briskly. I realize that my walking speed is faster than some others' running speeds. Hee hee. It makes me feel good, overtaking them while walking.
At the 20 km mark:
I run for a little bit, because I think the finish line is up ahead. And then realize that it's still rather far away, so I stop and walk again.
At the 20.8 km mark:
I come round the bend and the finish line is up ahead! OK, time to run a bit so at least I don't look bad strolling across the line. I overtake most people easily, since I've been walking all this while and am pretty well-rested.
At the Finish Line (about 10:00 am):
Woohoo! And ouch, my nipples and thighs hurt again. And knees too. And you know what, so does every part of my body, it seems. I collect my medal. It doesn't look very impressive. I risked my life for this little piece of metal?
Final results:
Stephen took a little over 2 hours. TJ a little over 2.5 hours. Keith is next, at a little under 3 hours (2:58:20). And me with all my walking took a little under 3.5 hours (3:18:25, to be exact). But hey, I'm probably the one who needs the least recovery time.
It's the day after, and I'm still hurting. Going straight to set after a quick shower (I almost screamed like a girl when the water hit my abrasions) didn't help the healing process.
The official guide book to the marathon says, "Use petroleum jelly to prevent chafing in areas like inner thighs, under arms and even nipples." Thanks. I probably should've read it earlier, like before the damn thing.
If I ever do it again, my goal will be to actually run for a larger proportion of the distance. Which shouldn't be too hard if I prepare, like wear a pair of tights or use petroleum jelly, whatever that is. It sounds dirty. I wonder where you get it. A fucking Shell station?
Here's (roughly) how it happened.
Sometime in September/October:
Stephen and Keith ask me, separately, to take part in it. "21 kilometres? That's fucking insane!" is the response they get.
A week or two later:
I sign up for it anyway, pledging to train for it in the time leading up to 2 Dec.
A couple of weeks later:
I try running for the first time in a few months. I get stitches. And I don't run again.
Early November:
I send the date to my production manager, asking him not to schedule me for a shoot on 2 Dec.
Late November:
I find out he's gone ahead and scheduled me for that day anyway. I secretly rejoice inside and tell Stephen and Keith the bad news. I banish all thoughts of training from my mind.
30 November:
I find out that due to last minute complications, my colleague CY who has also signed up for the run, might be shooting on that day instead of me. "Oh shit," is my first thought.
1 December:
One day before the run, it's confirmed: CY will be shooting in the morning, and she'll miss her run. But I get to do the 21 km! Without any training beforehand whatsoever! Plus, I also get to shoot two scenes in the afternoon after the run! I get visions of me collapsing by the roadside and my body being cleared by road sweepers the next day.
2 December, 4:30 am:
I wake up at a godforsaken time and head for the run with Keith and his friend TJ. A feeling of dread overcomes me. I joke that if my breathing stops, all they have to do is put a cigarette in my mouth to revive me.
6:15 am or thereabouts:
The run starts. Fuck.
At the 6 km mark:
Not too bad, surprisingly. It's been nice and cool so far, with great views. Running down the middle of Shenton Way with towering buildings lining both sides of the street is pretty cool. We stop for a toilet break. Resuming the run is a bitch.
At the 10 km mark:
We stop running and walk for a bit. Then run a bit. Then walk a bit. I start feeling abrasions on my inner thighs - my fat thighs have been rubbing against each other and my shorts for a while now.
At the 12 km mark:
We realize it's been quite a distance, and start running properly again.
At the 13 km mark:
I start feeling something worse than the thigh abrasions. The sweat has wet my shirt, and the wind makes it cold. Cold does something to nipples. And running causes the shirt to move, leading to friction. Which over a long distance leads to major ouch. I try pulling my shirt away from my chest as I run. It's really very annoying, and I can't run properly.
At the 15 km mark:
I tell Keith to go ahead. Fuck it, I'll walk the rest of the way.
At the 18 km mark:
I recover from my running and start being able to walk really briskly. I realize that my walking speed is faster than some others' running speeds. Hee hee. It makes me feel good, overtaking them while walking.
At the 20 km mark:
I run for a little bit, because I think the finish line is up ahead. And then realize that it's still rather far away, so I stop and walk again.
At the 20.8 km mark:
I come round the bend and the finish line is up ahead! OK, time to run a bit so at least I don't look bad strolling across the line. I overtake most people easily, since I've been walking all this while and am pretty well-rested.
At the Finish Line (about 10:00 am):
Woohoo! And ouch, my nipples and thighs hurt again. And knees too. And you know what, so does every part of my body, it seems. I collect my medal. It doesn't look very impressive. I risked my life for this little piece of metal?
Final results:
Stephen took a little over 2 hours. TJ a little over 2.5 hours. Keith is next, at a little under 3 hours (2:58:20). And me with all my walking took a little under 3.5 hours (3:18:25, to be exact). But hey, I'm probably the one who needs the least recovery time.
It's the day after, and I'm still hurting. Going straight to set after a quick shower (I almost screamed like a girl when the water hit my abrasions) didn't help the healing process.
The official guide book to the marathon says, "Use petroleum jelly to prevent chafing in areas like inner thighs, under arms and even nipples." Thanks. I probably should've read it earlier, like before the damn thing.
If I ever do it again, my goal will be to actually run for a larger proportion of the distance. Which shouldn't be too hard if I prepare, like wear a pair of tights or use petroleum jelly, whatever that is. It sounds dirty. I wonder where you get it. A fucking Shell station?
posted by cinewhore @ 11:50 AM
6 mindfucks
6 Comments:
first time i hear someone injured neh-neh boh's while running. thank goodness i have small nipples!
btw, petroleum jelly can oso buy from sex shops.
Visitor
so u actually did turn up for the run eh? i think cy & marie were speculating that u probably would be too lazy to do so...at least i think that's wat i overheard while on the van to the shoot location haha :p
If you ever do it again, you should do the full distance.
wear a bra next time to run, mx.
You mean they give medals to 21 k participants?! Then why did I bother to do the full one?! FUCK. Anyway wear those super short running shorts to avoid thigh abrasions. I saw this guy with nipple tapes (or was it black tape? it looked like 2 X), hilarious. I used petroleum jelly. Don't be stingy with that.
Sports bra, baby. Protection against the chafing, accidental arousal, and against wind chill. (surfed here from Angeline's blog.)
gimme some mindfuckery
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