Blisters & Bidons

The second leg of the 21km run was admittedly more difficult-although I tried to run faster than the first 10km, I suspect in reality that I was really going about the same speed or even slowing down a little. That's what perceived exertion does. After swimming, cycling and running for over 4 hours, the body got into protest mode and really, it's a mind-over-matter thing from here. Physically, I knew that I was dehydrated (the earlier toilet stop already confirmed that), the blisters in my feet were beginning to bite hard (serve me right for not wearing socks!) and the noon-day sun was of no help at all.

What was happening around me only reminded me that this is really the last part of the race. All round me, runners were slowing down and I could see some were already wilting in the heat; their strides were morphing into slow-motion cartoon running. At the water points at Kallang, I filled up with my race bottles again with water, and the last one, with electrolyte. I may have lost a bit of time but I was wagering that these liquids are probably worth their weight in gold (in the appetite sense for a thirsty half ironman) further down the 21km route. The next water stations were running low on sponges and electrolyte. I managed to find one last cold sponge in the ice box and put in quickly over my head, letting the water to drip and cool off the little inferno I had in my head. Turning at the U-turn (at last!) near the National Stadium, I began my final run back toward the Esplanade. Looking at my watch, I estimate that I might just make it for a sub-6 hour finish. Provided that my legs don't cramp. Provided the stitches don't come. Provided my mind can override the tiny protests of my blistered feet. This won't be easy.

So far I was feeling good. I could speed up a little along Nicoll Highway. There, a runner in front of me had slowed down, and was rummaging through a pile of strewn bidons (race bottles) by the road side. Lifting a bidon, he shook it for water; then picked up another before throwing it back in disappointment. As I was about to overtake him, I offered him a drink. 'Electrolyte', I said as I took out the bottle from my belt and offered him my nugget of 'gold'. Grateful with thanks, he returned the bottle after taking a sip. Here I must confess that this is a technical breach of race rules. No outside assistance is allowed & this even includes helping fellow participants.

I sure hope none of the race officials are reading this blog...