anyway here it is for you lazy people who don’t even want to click on that link. haha. enjoy!

**************
I literally just got the message you put in my coffee… – m4w

Date: 2009-03-29, 3:26PM PDT

You–a cute barista who tried to save me from a bad date
Me–clueless

You probably won’t remember this, but I have thought about it every day since it happened, and although it happened about 10 years ago it only just occurred to me that your memory might also be haunted by the very same event, and that you likely have been waiting for a reciprocating sign all this time. Also, I may have inadvertently recently watched a suggestive Sandra Bullock movie, the kind that, in the right state of mind, makes otherwise implausible plot twists seem like personally directed cosmic prophecy.

Anyway, here is what happened: in 1999 I was a grad student at UCLA and made the mistake (or perhaps was guided by Destiny, which now in retrospect seems so obviously the case) of agreeing to a blind date, set up by this guy who worked in our IT department but who happened to be a grad student in the Slavic Languages department and whose girlfriend had a lonely friend who had recently moved to town and who wanted to meet someone. My apparent qualifications for this assignment were that 1) I was alive; 2) I had earlier helped this guy set up an amazing color laser printer in his office with the unspoken yet clearly implicit condition that I would thereafter have free access to color printouts (though future events prevented me from ever taking advantage of the opportunity) and he was therefore forever in my debt and felt that plugging back in the life-support system that my hospice-bound love life had been on was a suitable repayment for services rendered; and 3) I happened to be strolling along the hallway outside his office just as he received the plaintive call from his girlfriend demanding some sort of romantic intervention on her friend’s behalf immediately, lest his own well-being be threatened (this last bit I gathered myself as his door was open while I walked by). I had some time between resetting my experiments and while my data collection was cooking I thought “what the hell.” Hell, indeed. She was from Seattle and was also part of the Slavic Languages department (that was the last time I’ll be mentioning “slavic languages” by the way), she was very thin and pale, had multiple facial piercings, and seemed like someone who while having an instinctual ease around coffee also seemed to require regular doses of it in order to maintain her drollness and obvious contempt for the banal. And I had a calculator-watch. Thus, I suggested we take a walk over to the Kerkhoff coffee house on campus. That is where the divine hand of Fate intervened and I almost met you.

Now, I had been to that particular coffee shop many many times before, partly for the coffee and partly for these amazing chocolate croissants which really have nothing to do with this story except that they were almost good enough to warrant an expletive and have also left a lasting impression on me, to the point where I may have been distracted from noticing you, my lost love, the Universe’s true purpose in leading me there with promises of chocolate and caffeine. The point is, I was relatively familiar with the menu and had not previously experienced any untoward degree of surprise, consternation, or disappointment in food or beverage items that I had purchased there and so was totally unprepared for the significance of what would soon happen. So it was that with a degree of brazen ennui, my closest attempt at posing as a hip coffee aficionado in my present company, after the thin pale lady ordered something that seemed unnecessarily complicated for a Tuesday afternoon I approached the counter and placed my order. At what should have been one of the greatest most illuminating moments of my life, basking in the heavenly glory of your blue cap and apron like the halo and robes of an angel sent to Earth as a revelation just for me while the lights dimmed and Dreamweaver played for us in the sparkling universe of which we were the only two inhabitants, I was instead distracted and intimidated by the thin pale lady into ordering something whose name was not part of a language I spoke on a regular basis, but which I at least knew did not have anything to do with ice cream, as random as that fact may seem. You knew this as well, my sweet one, and this is how you tried to save me. I am only sorry that it has taken me so long to realize it.

After picking up our drinks (she paid for hers herself which I was more than happy to go along with, given how scary some of her piercings looked close up) we took a small table for two next to a wall and below one of the several speakers placed around the coffee house which happened to be playing something by Smashing Pumpkins, which also happened to be the description of an activity that I would have enjoyed far more than the ensuing coffee talk that I was now dreading. I’m not saying she was a horrible person–she seemed nice enough apart from her contempt for my attempt to order a sophisticated coffee drink at a university coffee shop a little after lunchtime on an otherwise nondescript weekday–but clearly the Universe knew, you knew, and I was slowly coming to realize that she was not only not The One but that I would have to come up with an entirely different strategy for getting free color printouts. The music was just loud enough that I could barely hear her as she went on and on about memes and phonemes, and as I sipped the coffee drink you had given me I began to become even more despondent as I realized that I would also have to find an alternate path instead of the hallway where the IT guy’s office was. That is when your message literally slapped me in the face and changed everything.

As I tipped my cup back for another sip, a perfectly formed scoop of jamoca almond fudge ice cream rolled out of the coffee, like Excalibur emerging from the depths, to the rim of the cup and onto my nose. Needless to say, I was shocked, stunned almost to the point of cardiac arrest. This had never happened to me before in my entire life! My “date” was clearly embarrassed and surely took it as yet another of the many vulgarities associated with my being a member of the untouchable caste when it came to coffee. But the point is, there was a scoop of ice cream in my coffee! I had not asked for such a thing, and in fact had never even heard of or known that such a thing was possible. It is true that there was an ice cream place in the same general area as the coffee place, but in the endless serial reconstructions narrated by my own internal F. Lee Bailey I simply cannot think of a way that a scoop of ice cream could have accidentally appeared in my coffee. It was only much later that I realized that you, my love, are the only one who could have put it there as a final effort to save me from thoughts of smashing pumpkins, to give me an out, and to let me know that you saw me, and I mean that in a Joy-Luck-Club kind of way. It had the effect both you and I were looking for, but I didn’t know it at the time. For the rest of the time we were there I could not stop marveling at how a scoop of ice cream had ended up in my coffee, I must have said exactly that at least a dozen times. I’m sure soon thereafter as the thin pale lady re-told stories of her worst dates I would come to be known as the ice cream guy. But now, so many years later it is with a Hemingway-esque regret that I think to myself late at night: why didn’t I look over to the coffee counter to see you there, my savior, my Lady of the Latte, my love? Would you have smiled and tipped your cap to let me know that everything was going to be ok? Would you have thrown off your apron and gone running barefoot with me through the grass of Meyerhoff park to that special place where the Bee girl from that Blind Melon video seemed to finally find acceptance and contentment? Instead, I wiped my nose, finished my coffee and ice cream, and accompanied the thin pale lady back to wherever it is that the Slavic peoples go. I never saw her again. But alas, I never saw you again either.

I looked for you, from time to time, but looking back I never really knew what you looked like; I was only ever aware of the warmth I felt, much as when one sits in the sun on a Spring day, that I am absolutely positive had more to do with you than the steamers and kettles and lack of air conditioning. I always trusted that somehow I would just recognize you when I found you and know without doubt that it was you, much in the same way that people think about the afterlife or a really great pair of shoes, where everything seems right and seems to fit in a way it never has before.

To this day, with each cup of coffee I pause and wonder what will emerge as I tip the cup back for a sip, wondering if today will be the day that somehow I find you again, if not through a message in my coffee then maybe something more conventional although still just as original, coming from you. So far, every cup has been just another cup of coffee.

Anyway, if you remember a dorky looking science guy who came in every once in a while and who you took pity on and saved from a truly awkward social experience sometime shortly after Grunge had peaked and by whom you found yourself slightly intrigued, look me up. We’ll go for coffee. Or ice cream. Your choice.

************

Anyway, as i was saying, ORD is extremely overrated. All that suspense and anticipation builds up in the final days and months before that one very day. When it comes, you realise, why the hell were you so happy in the first place? So many things change.

1. You don’t get money (however minuscule an amount, it is, after all, still money) for doing nothing, or pretty much nothing. Instead you get what you deserve — nothing!

2. You have to go out into the streets and go look for a job to get money. And it has to be a part-time one since you’re going to school in August anyway. This may sound easy. It was pretty damn easy to find a job pre-NS because the economy was booming. Now things are different.

3. In other words, ORD = Retrenchment. Retrenchment = No Money. No Money = No Honey No Entertainment. No Entertainment = Life sucks. And Life sucks = enough said. life sucks.

It’s kinda ironic the way i am now. I sulk and sulk everyday i have to appear at camp at 8am. I used to sulk and sulk whenever i was on duty, looking at myself in the mirror while brushing my teeth, thinking, oh man how good it would be to ORD just right bloody now. And then this very morning when i was brushing my teeth, i was thinking, damn, what the hell am i doing brushing my teeth only at 10am? How much am i earning nowadays? ZILCH! And i just needed to stand at the balcony to see the busy roads, and within each and every car was a person who was doing good hard work to put food on the table. I, on the other hand, was just staring at them from my balcony, such a distance away.

Many people have found good temporary jobs to work at to get some financial support/ pocket money for university. Others give tuition occasionally. If you are an NSF reading this, please please please try to find a job before you actually ORD, so at least you won’t be sitting at home doing nothing. Okay, strictly speaking, i’m not doing nothing — i am reading books, improving myself, yada yada, which in other words mean that i’m not economically productive, if you ignore the fact that it may contribute to future implied productivity (though i’m betting on the hope that it does!).

For the rest of us without jobs, just go to Facebook and see who does almost all the quizzes and tests, updates the Notes and actually DOES the Notes that they’re tagged to do. They are probably jobless/ reading books/ improving themselves/ yada yada too. So, yeah, they’re probably all jobless. Or soon-to-be-jobless slackers who use Facebook during their work hours. Haha. Facebook was actually found to have decreased workplace efficiency. And i can clearly see why.

Back to my jobless life.

WTF.

The Aviva Half-Ironman 70.3 Race was fun i know i must mentally perverted to see 70.3miles of swim/bike/run as “fun”, but i guess we are all pervertic in our own ways. There was a big hoo-ha over the bike route because apparently some asshole decided it was all in good fun to dispose a few pins of his along the road so that he (and many others) could have the pleasure of seeing cyclist after cyclist dismount from their bikes to inspect them, only to find that their tyres had been deflated. And who in their right minds would be carrying spare tyre rubbers around? Well, apparently everyone does so, but it’s not like in cars where you can carry it in your boot. For cyclists they just leave their spare tyres at the transition area so it is still possible to self-repair when the need arises.

One thing i learnt was that Race Nutrition is extremely important to the athlete. PowerGels are ESSENTIALS, really. But the next time i secure them to my bike it would do me a lot of good to really scotch-tape them well to my bike. This race, i loosely attached them to my bike so that i could grab them when i needed them. But after the first 30km of infrequent bumps and potholes, they were all gone. In retrospect i was kinda stupid actually. Haha. I couldn’t consume them while riding on the bike anyway (i hadn’t trained for that before!), so in all cases i would have had to stop to consume them. So why did i need to “grab them when i needed them”, as though i would be riding and eating them? Damn. $9 worth of PowerGels gone down the drain, and i mean it literally, down the damned drain by the roadside.

Yes, the past few weeks have been about training, training, and more training. It was to the point i felt exhausted at the end of every day, and when i did my bedtime readings i just wanted to sleep. And then there was the jadedness that tomorrow would be yet another day of, guess what? Training! Again! It really took its toll on myself i think. I stopped going out so much and spent as much time as i could in the comforts of my home. That was an opportunity cost, of course. And now that it’s over i can resume my previous life of eat-sleep-play again! Hey, it’s better than a pig who eats and sleeps okay.

My study of poker is improving everyday with the help of books, forums, and of course my own brain. But mostly books and forums lah. There are new things to learn every single time you play. There are things to learn from every individual, whether he’s a fish (that you can hook and gut every last organ out) or a shark (ever seen Jaws?). It’s a supremely complex game that is worth studying for, and that’s what i’m doing nowadays.

I have read that, much like how non-smokers will never understand what’s up with smoking, it would be pointless for a poker player to explain the intricacies of poker to a layman and expect him to get hooked to the game too. It just won’t happen. Maybe a little interest, okay, but to the layman, poker is cards, and cards is gambling, and gambling is bad. And that’s that. It won’t change. Maybe a little blackjack or big-two during Chinese New Year, all in the name of fun, would be reasonable, but to pursue poker outside this period of festivity would be deemed “gambler”. In Mandarin, a gambler is called a “du2 gui3″, which directly translates to a gambling devil. And of course i don’t need to tell you what kind of connotations go along with the word “devil”. It’s bad, to say the least. So i’ve decided to try my best to draw a line between my poker and my life. I’ve told friends that i play poker and evidently they see it as gambling, which made me come to this conclusion of drawing that line now. I’ll try my utmost best to never mention poker to people who don’t know that i love that game so much that i study it even harder than i did for any exam in my life. Maybe i can keep it cool like Phil Hellmuth who, when asked by a stranger whether he played poker, replied, “Yeah, a little.” And this is the guy who has won the most bracelets at the moment. And to say that he plays “a little” poker would be to say that Tiger Woods plays “a little” golf, that Michael Jordan played “a little” basketball.

Okay i’m also currently jobless after just ORD-ing. It’s sad to ORD at such a period of time because of the bad economy and everything that you would have to have lived in a shell if you needed me to explain. But then i think of the fresh graduates and think, “They’re in a far worse spot than me! At least i can afford to be jobless for a while as i’m entering uni anyway, but what about them?” Let’s just hope the tough can tough their way through this period of hardship. As the going gets tough, the tough gets going. Haha, that’s a funny inspirational line i heard recently (yes, no doubt from one of those running websites that shows popular quotes of encouragement). As such i’m just gonna be a Geodude at home (stone), look forward to learning driving, and prepare for a few more races that are coming soon. Passion Run and Tribob, here i come.

2.
aviva ironman 70.3 is in 2 weeks time, and i’ve been training like a mentally unstable dog of late. fell off my bike again yesterday on the wet, wet roads. lucky the traffic lights were red. if they weren’t i would have painted it permanently red. but oh well nothing’s happened so far so i’m happy.

3.
since my last entry, 3 teeth have been extracted from my mouth. and 3 teeth = ~10 days of medical leave. i didn’t want them to hurt like a bitch (like that last one did) so just extracted them without a second thought.

4.
You know it feels like crap to be invited to someone’s 21st birthday, and you have to reject them because of your own problems and schedules. There’s a certain majesty that comes along with being 21 years of age, and it’s a kinda expensive majesty too, no doubt. And then it has to be hyped up and everything and adds stress to everyone. But i guess that’s the price of really enjoying this fleetingly exciting coming-of-age. The very next morning, do they go, “is that it?”

5.
I kinda dislike Terminal 3 now. People fly, fly, fly away. No matter how well it went, guests would have to leave after a dinner, and it’s either we meet them again in the streets of life, or they just disappear into nothingness forever and ever.

Just today i made a date with a few other individuals with the same interests as mine to meet up and play a game of in-between. Yes, us gamblers. And, as you know, gambling in public is not so much as fun as when gambling in a house (especially when policemen come a-knockin’), so we went to a person’s house.

It is of chinoiserie interests to bring two mandarin oranges along with oneself whenever going to people’s houses during Chinese New Year, as a form of respect and sharing of luck. However, in return, or at least out of politeness, a married couple would have to give the unmarried a red packet, or angpow, which, more often that not, contains money. I’ve met certain people who give chocolate coins, but that’s not the point here, though i must say that i still do equally (ok, maybe not so equally. ok. not equally at all) appreciate the effort. Giving chocolate coins sort of imply that the person is going through some financial turmoil at the moment for him to resort to such a valiant action, so it would be extremely cruel to fault someone for giving chocolate coins instead of bank notes. Just hope he has better luck next year or something.

Anyway, if i were married, and have a kid or two, i would think it kind of weird for my son/daughter to bring his friends home to gamble, while i have to give my son’s/daughter’s friends angpow money, which i know would obviously end up on the gambling table throughout the course of the evening. When i give people money, i wouldn’t really want to know what they do with that money. Well, of course, if some dude tells me he’s gonna save it up in a bank account that would ultimately fund his university studies, then of course i would be delighted. Hell, i might even give him another angpow! As for the others, i really wouldn’t want to know what you do with that money. Perhaps at the other end of the spectrum is that, yes, i do know what’s going to happen with that money, and that, oh, no, it’s gonna be on the gambling table. What would i have perpetrated? What have i done, oh man! I’m giving someone money to gamble. Wouldn’t that be kinda evil? It’s like finding someone in a deserted house all alone and all tied up. He’s looking at you with those innocent, desperate “OMFG FINALLY A SANE PERSON! PLEASE MAN YOU GOTTA HELP ME OUT HELP MEEEEE!” eyes. Then you pick up a random stick from the ground and start poking him deliriously like the sadist that you are. You’re obviously driving him down the road to no where.

Anyway, since i was five, or maybe even younger than that, i’ve been thinking about how little children meet up with their cliques and start going around to one another’s houses to collect red packets. Like, “Let those adults pay for having given birth to their children! Mwahahhaah! I’m young and i’m powerful, and boy do i love these opportunities for free money. Now i can afford that Nintendo DSi thing i’ve been eyeing all year. MWahhaha!” And that sure looked like the case to me. I mean, what could the grown ups actually say to a group of children who come visiting? There isn’t much to catch up on. It’s probably the first time meeting each other anyway. What are your grades? What hobbies do you have? Which secondary school are you intending to go to? Ah, sounds kinda bland to me. And after they’re bored (let’s give that a guess.. maybe a grand total of 7 seconds?), they sort of give these body language signals that scream, “I WANNA GET OUTTA HERE AND GO GET MORE MONEY AT GABRIEL’S HOUSE! NOWWWWW!” and it would be a torture to both you and the small kids to detain them in your nicely decorated house that they fail to appreciate the value and thought involved. They probably think those decorations miraculously grow out of nothing out of nowhere. Or maybe out of a seed. You know, one of those seeds from Jack and the Beanstalk?

It would be so awkward! If the parents came too, i would feel less awkward, for like, maybe 1% less of the time. I would think, “Dude, you and i know why you brought your kid here. Just give me what you think i want, and i’ll give your kid what he very much wants, and let’s be on our ways.”

Okay, maybe rarely, very rarely, “Oh, thanks for the compliment on the house, i think they’re lovely too. Yes, yes, i put in a lot of effort for them. Here, okay i don’t usually do this but please take off your shoes and come in and be my guest, please. No one ever says those bloody decorations that i spend 6 hours on every year are any good, so please, make yourself at home!” Ah, that would be nice, really. Haha.

Anyway, i just wanted to say that Chinese New Year is an economist’s nightmare (or any person who studied secondary school maths, really). Like seriously. Two mandarin oranges that cost at most $1, could be exchanged for an angpow that is worth a minimum of $2! Well, maybe the occasional two chocolate coins, but then again it’s a one-in-a-hundred-or-more chance, so why not take it? It’s a 100% profit, or more! Usually more! Well, in any case, if i ever become a miserly economist I would 1) disallow any visitors of any kind to my houses, 2) only allow my children visit my friends who are married with one or no children, 3) buy ten cartons of mandarin oranges (remember the 100% profit! omg how can i let this go easily!), 4) let my children team up with his clique and force him to psycho everyone to visit everyone’s houses (except my house, of course, which would be off-limits to everyone!) to claim the angpows (it’s kinda like how people in World Of Warcraft use the term “raid”. It rather aptly explains it, really). This might have future repercussions on the psychology and mentality of my child, but, oh well, a small sacrifice for a greater good, eh? haha. And then last but not least, 5) buy new shoes before the New Year, so i can visit enough families during the CNY period to exchange my mandarins for monaaaaaay. Shoe spoil never mind, i got moooooolahhhhh!!

Okay, i shouldn’t say any other bad things people can do during the CNY period. They should all be kept as secrets. Secrets i would protect with all my heart, soul and bak kwa.

Hope you guys have a happy Chinese New Year.
Gong Xi Fa Cai!

Oh well, one thing’s for sure: this must NOT go on.

resolution: to create more readable and enjoyable posts instead of simply narrating my boring existence in this high fantastical world! customer loyalty is important! haha business readings do get ingrained after a while.

I keep reading news about 2009 being a bad year. Well, that didn’t come as much of a surprise with all the news about recessions. Of course that’s what everyone and their fortune teller would say lah. Like this i also can predict lor. Anyway, the year of the Earth Ox will be one filled with hard work and industry, so i guess that means it’s a good thing that i can enter school only in July so i would only need to work hard for like 5 months. Fine, fine. Just hope the one month odd to ORD would be smooth sailing in all senses of that expression ie no more choppy seas which translates to wet uniforms.

Nowadays i’m just immersing myself in poker addiction on facebook. Well, i’m doing okay there, but i’m still an addict i guess. But it does have benefits. I stepped into a library (many libraries, actually. Bishan, Bedok, National, Toa Payoh) to source for good poker literature that would improve my game in any way possible. It’s the first time since ‘A’ Levels that i’ve stepped into one. Anyway, the collection at the libraries are okay to say the least. They do have a specialised section under ‘Hobbies’, but it’s usually only of about 8 or 9 books, of which only 2 or 3 are really interesting to me. But at least there are books about them so i’m not complaining. There are actually poker stars in Singapore, to my amazement. I do vaguely remember one Singaporean who won some tournament in Macau a few years back, but that’s about it. Now after doing a little research i found out he’s a certain Ivan Tan, and we have up-and-coming star Bryan Huang. quite interesting. But then again Singapore contradicts itself by having plans for Integrated Resorts while disallowing the Asian Poker Tour to have one of its stops here in Singapore. Oh well.

Anyway i’m also trying to organise outings during this period. Close friends are flying off sooner than i expected. You know, those people who are going overseas keep saying about it, and yet i just assume it’s not gonna be soon, not gonna be soon. Procrastinating in a way. And then when it’s finally nearing, nearing, and there, you start to ask yourself, why didn’t you try to make the best of the times you had? Okay, maybe it’s not as bad as i’ve portrayed, but it really is going to come sooner or later. It’s sort of like ORD dates. You know it’s gonna happen some day, but sometimes you think it’s so, so far away, that when it really comes, you won’t know what to do. And when that day reaches, you are just lost. I’m starting to fret now. Did i spend my NS life wisely? Could i have used the time off from school better? Hmm.

I’m trying to think of better ways to spend my remaining duties at camp. Don’t want to just stone around doing unproductive things. I want to be besting myself. The “My Japanese Coach” on my DS has been rotting there for like 34873264 duties now. The only saving grace is that i DO, i repeat, i DO use my “My Word Coach” which lets me learn a few words a day. Well the hard part is actually remembering those words the next day, but oh well at least i learnt some words right.

okay i’ve gotten pretty much everything that i need now.
mahjong table + tiles (gambler item #1)
poker chips (gambler item #2)
bicycle repaired (ironman item #1)
ugly black specs to appease certain nit-picky epaulet-donning he-who-shall-not-be-named-or-i-may-be-charged
new clothing (always a bloody bother to buy)

ok time to go sleep. i wish you all an exciting year ahead, but not so exciting that you lose all your money or something. remember that once you think you’re beat, just fold and go on to the next hand. ok that’s nonsense to non poker players. do enjoy yourselves in the midst of the economic crisis. remember that money doesn’t always guarantee fun, but it always adds to the fun of it ok that was nonsense too. but oh well most of you won’t read up till here anyway right haha good night

- Albert Einstein

I was not as enthusiastic this time, mainly due to the fact that i had just had only ONE miserable training session of swimming 30 laps and then running about 5km previously. To say that was insufficient would be an understatement. Now i have to pay for my laziness.

Anyway, i arrived at the Padang area in anticipation for a campmate’s call because i had his number tag and stuff. I got impatient after waiting for 5 seconds, so i decided to call him, which was a good decision because to my dismay, my call had metamorphosed into an alarm ring tone for him, shaking him violently out of his dreams. Damn, i hate being woken up by loud irritating ringtones like my own alarm ring tone, and then being forced to do things like go meet someone immediately. Which was exactly what happened to him really. In the end i managed to liaise with some baggage caretakers to help me pass the stuff to my friend, and i embarked on my way to the start point.

This was it. My journey of 42.195km.

The first 24km was fine. I was jogging at my own pace and everything. Met up with some other friends who joined, said hi, and then overtook or got overtaken. Everyone has different paces, and that’s why i prefer not to have a running buddy for such races. Having one for training is ideal, but not for races because it would cause stress both the runners, as there is this unspoken rule that “WE MUST ALWAYS RUN TOGETHER” which is total bullshit during races.

Anyway, the 24km point marks the point where my legs started to breakdown. Oh man. They were so strained they started to wrinkle. No, i’m kidding. But it was excruciating, to say the least. I just did my best to continue jogging at a comfortable pace. I remember jogging and jogging and suddenly this guy just walked past me and looked at me with an amused expression, as if saying, “Dude, i’m walking faster than you. Just give up and start walking like the rest of us, man.” I had no intention of getting into a brawl or anything, partly because i would have probably have been killed by any single jab to the lungs at that point of time. I just tried to see the humour in that situation. Boy, was it hard to see it. I was the butt of the joke, so of course i wouldn’t want to see the humour in it. But oh well, life goes on, and so did that guy who casually walked past me and kept looking back at me jogging like a turtle. Never mind. The turtle will win the rabbit. Yes.

This was how i consoled myself throughout the whole marathon. The jogging turtle will win the rabbits who walk and run.

I appreciate all of the supporters that turned up for the event. Not surprisingly, most of them were angmohs. I guess they’re more into sports and such activities, and have this concept that, if they can’t run, the least they can do is go down and support and cheer the guys on. And i’m absolutely thankful for that because they really do help. There’s one angmoh guy in particular that cracked me up twice in the race. The first time i saw him was between 24km to 30km. I know this distance is a long one, but you have to know that, after i ran past the 24km and everything started going downhill, so did my brain and my usually-excellent memory. Everything after 24km is a blur now. But back to the angmoh guy. I was slowly jogging, and he looked at me and asked me, “Hey man, what’s up with the glum face? SMILE!” Haha, it was ridiculously funny at that time, and i did smile in the end. And for some reason i could run faster when i smiled. Point to take note during the next IPPT. Haha.

The next time i saw him was near the 40km mark, near the F1 buildings were. The competitors were all walking and gaping in awe at the brilliant F1 cars on display there. I tried not to do so, and continued jogging at my own pace. The angmoh then suddenly shouted out to everyone, “HEY, GUYS! BIG WALK IS OVER. IT’S THE SINGAPORE MARATHON NOW, SO START RUNNING, MAN!” And of course, everyone smiled. And of course, everyone started jogging slowly, stopping to walk only after passing him. Haha.

It was a long journey, but soon i saw the Esplanade bridge and i knew the end was near. Yes, THE END WAS NEAR. YES!

Crossing the end point, i was so relieved I raised my my hands like i came in first or something. Colloquially they call it “zi4 high”, which means you are the only one feeling so high about it. And yes, indeed i was! Am finally over with this race. Should have trained harder, but oh well, i still completed it, albeit with serious muscle strains all over my body.

42.195km done. I can proudly say that i’ve completed a marathon at least once in my life. MWAHHAHA!

*it was good advice taken to have scotch-taped my nipples before the run. Bleeding nipples are not a sweet sight at the finishing point.

*recovery takes many days. tip: do not go out after a marathon. just stay at home and rest. don’t act garang and go for some bbq party and cause yourself agony.

*joining such races are good excuses to chao keng if you are serving national service. just say your legs super sore after the race, your superiors will understand (probably because they’ve been to it themselves)