Kriszia's Fun Run 2004

Damn, I feel like there should be fireworks and dancing monkeys and cheesy midi files playing next to that title.

This has got to be one of the most physically challenging things I have ever done. Ever. Ever. Ever.

The last thing that Laarni told me before she ditched me to run in the first leg of the race--don't worry sweetie, I still love you--was "I will look forward to reading your blog tonight!"

Of course, I didn't post a blog and she didn't really log on. Both of us were dead tired after 10 km. And while she had the nice benefit of a day in the spa right after the race, I spent most of it trying to sleep and convincing myself that I'd really done it.

That i've gone through the ten fucking kilometers, that this wasn't a dream and I was really at home. That I wasn't daydreaming and suddenly snap to in the middle of Roxas Boulevard still running with camera in tow.

I've never been good at documenting any of my "wow" experiences. Truth be told, when they happen I just tend to sit there and think "hoo boy, that just happened to me? Me?"

But for all ye friends who were waiting for this--you had better pay up buddy. Fun as it was, those 10 km were not easy and there's a lot of starving children waiting for your pledges!

As evidenced by my previous post, my day began at 1:57 am.

As my friend Xarra thought after reading my post: "What the fuck are you doing still up at 1:57 in the morning?"

Good question.

I spent the day before at the mall with Xarra, running errands, hanging out, and pitching my idea for a movie--which we both thought was suffeciently challenging yet mushy enough for the Filipino market, which I plan to take via a quiet but intense storm.

Since there aren't any quiet places to discuss at a mall and we didn't want to leave, we succomed to the inevitable and just headed off to Starbucks, where I ordered mistake number 1: a grande White Mocha.

I haven't had any sort of caffeine for about a week--coffee, tea and soda included.

I went home with my eyes wide open and the realization that I had skipped dinner.

After making arrangements on how to get to Quirino Grandstand at o'fuckass early, I tried to be a goodgirl and follow Laarni's text message/advice.

Don't be nervous, it'll be FUN. Eat lots of carbs. Sleep early. Get a lot of rest.

Of course, all of that went down the toilet as soon as I realized that the only thing I was capable of eating was a Country Style Crueller.

Plus the fact that I spent a good ten minutes charming Mark--who's rarely down by five and up at seven, much less EIGHT--to come pick me up after the race.

I went down at around 11:30, telling myself that I'd get up at around 2:30 to check out the race schematics before heading off to the bathroom to shave my legs.

By 12:30, I realized that my eyes hadn't closed and my left hand was growing a bit numb from nerves and the caffeine.

As a person suffering from MVP, caffeine and nerves do not mix. It makes for a shitty sleepless night. And curses for me for having done both.

I decided to just get up and surf for a bit. I checked out the race route schematic again, which seemed to have grown longer due to my sleep deprived brain.

To calm myself, I decided to go watch a movie. I pulled out the copy of Mannequin that i'd bought the day before--courtesy of my latest Andrew McCarthy obsession. I got halfway through the first half before my computer went on the fritz and just conked out on me.

Not his fault, he needs the update and it's 2:30.

The cab was going to pick me up at 4am, and I hadn't packed and I needed to shave my legs.

Packing has never really been a problem for me. I saw a segment on Oprah about packing wisely and I have never been the same. Since I saw that lady cram a a weeks worth of clothes on one carry on, I vowed to myself that I would never overpack. Or spend more than an hour stuffing things into a bag.

It took me about five minutes to grab a fleece sweater and just dump it inside my WWI french army bag. Then off to the lucky belt back and in went my rosary, travel size Endless Love by Victorias Secret perfume, wallet, cell phone, and sun glasses.

I may pick compact bags, but if there's room in there, stuff is coming in. I'd pack my Koala bear in there if he'd fit.

Anyway, 0300 I was in the bathroom taking a bath. 0330 I was out. 0345 I was dressed and starting to panic. 0350 cab comes and I run out. 0355 and I run back in because I forgot my camera and a spare t-shirt.

Off the house at 0400, with my mother sleepily waving me off at the front door, telling me to come home early because I needed to write a publicity blurb for my uncle's jewelsmith class.

I called Laarni and offered her a ride, partly so that we didn't need to find each other once there and partly because I was so nervous I wanted to throw up.

After picking up Laarni and her boyfriend Eric, we headed off to Quirino Grandstand.

Laarni hadn't slept either, so u stwo zombies tried to settle down as we made our way through. I must have chatted a mile a minute, it's a wonder why Laarni didn't just hit me in the head. I wouldn't shut up!

I was so nervous I felt like throwing up and dancing at the same time.

Since there wasn't any traffic, we made it to the park in under an hour--a remarkable record since it takes an hour to get anywhere in this city.

I hovered out of the cab, feeling woozy from lack of sleep and nourishment.

This must have been the dumbest thing i'd ever done: be in a 10k race with a total of 1 1/2 hours of sleep, a cruller the night before, and two small bottle of energy drinks and two chocolate chip donuts the size of hockey pucks for breakfast.

I felt like leaving my ID at the Red Cross station, until I realized later on in claiming our racing packets that I forgot my ID and just had my credit cards for identification. Did they charge for rescues?

I also made the mistake of not loading up my cellphone. I had about about two phonecalls and five text messages left. I figured that I could just call Laarni's phone and beg Eric to harass the aid station to come get me.

The remaining call and text are for Mark, so I can yell at him to wake up and come get me.

We spent the next few minutes checking in our things and looking for Trina. I was bouncing all over the walls and taking pics of everything, including a rather miffed Laarni when she couldn't find Eric. (That's what you get when you don't have enough sleep)

At around 0530, we decided to forego waiting for Trina and started warming up. After a few minutes of stretching and ten minutes of running, we ran back to the starting line and got in line for the race.

Funny, that race start. It completely disillusioned whatever thoughts I had for a marathon.

There were around 13,000 who registered, and about six thousand of them showed up--all of `em crammed in a starting line less than 50 feet wide.

I spent the ten second countdown mooshed between two guys and clutching Laarni's hand, who was bouncing up and down on the confined space beside me.

This was her fifth marathon, I think. She wanted to see how fast she could finish the ten kilometers, thus she would be running all the way.

She did, though, walk me through until the first bend. Since that's what you do when you have six thousand people trying to run in tandem--you walk.

At the first bed at Pedro Gil, Laarni waved goodbye and just ran, while I set myself up for a nice pace and jogged the next fifteen minutes.

And thus, the adventure begins.