And gradually, I inched and inched and inched my way to the beckoning finish line, guided through the last 10 metres by my mother, who’d completed the 10KM distance earlier that day, while my father and sister cheered from the sidelines, each overjoyed by their own finishes.
I forgot all about my [stupid] cramp for the next few minutes, as I took in my surroundings for the first time in three hours [what can I say? Running makes me egoistic!]. Finishers of all 4 distances [the 5KM, 10KM, half marathon and full marathon] milled about triumphantly, as an air of self-satisfaction settled around us like a comfy blanket.
We bumped into a few friends, posed for a couple of photos and grabbed a bunch of snacks from the food counters before deciding to call it a morning and head back home [but not before planning a post-run celebration party at the beach for the evening with a few running buddies, of course!].
As we waded through the grinning athletes, our hearts thumping as loud as the booming live music, I made up my mind about 2 things;
- I was heading STRAIGHT for a 30-minute, cold shower as soon as we reached the house and
- 42KM, here I come…