42point195
By marathonerArchive for September, 2009
Lights, camera, action!
As I write this, the dust has already settled on the race track. In fact, workers are in the process of tearing the Marina race track apart to make way for regular traffic on Tuesday.
Last year, I watched the race live on TV in the US on a Sunday morning and wished that I was here. This year, I am here. Indeed, the sensation is completely different – watching images of cars racing on the circuit glowing in the dark beamed to my living room and being right in the middle of it, listening to the sounds from the engines reverberate through the built up Marina and City Hall areas.
This race weekend was also a photo outing for me. I decided to take most of my photographs during the practice and qualifying sessions and spend most of the time during the race watching the race itself.
I carried my modest 17-70 mm lenses to the track, where I saw many other photography enthusiasts show up with their humongous telephoto lenses. Even my tripod, the one that is compact enough for me to be willing to carry it with me when I travel, appeared wimpy in the presence of their more sturdy and taller ones.
Never mind, we work with the gear we have and learn to be creative with it. That can be said very easily, but for a moment, I was at a loss of what to do when faced with the low lighting conditions and the very fast cars. For a number of shots, I ended up shooting the fence, or the track, or anything, except the cars.
While on one end of the spectrum, we have the well-equipped photographers, there were many spectators with equipment that belonged to the other end of the spectrum. More than once, I peeked over their shoulders to steal a glance at the LCD screens on their PhD* cameras. Hey, these people actually managed to capture the cars in their shots. Well, if everybody else could why couldn’t I?
Think, think, think… I had to think – what could I do with my camera? What could I try? I think I eventually “got it”, and I managed to get a few decent shots. The race track was lit, I had my camera, and I was able to capture some of the action.
* Press here, dummy!
I want that medal!
This time, 27 km was the limit. Hip pains, thigh cramps, knee pains and feet strains all came into play. It started out as a stretch-run-walk routine, but I soon figured that I would be better off walking most of the remaining distance.
The will was there. I began counting, kilometre by kilometre, … 32-33-34… It did take a good bit of will to keep going. As the count went from the low thirties to the high thirties, a few people appearing along different parts of the course began to catch my attention.
To be exact, it was not the people who caught my eyes. It was that ribbon that they wore around their necks. A ribbon with black, red and gold stripes, from which hung the finishers’ medal.
Black, red and gold, these are colours familiar to me. When I was a teenager, I had weaved a wrist band of these colours and tied it to the strap of my bag during the World Cup seasons in support of the German team. Now I had a chance of earning a medal with a ribbon of these exact colours and seeing it just brought back some memories. I wanted that medal, but to get it, I should not let myself faint, cramp and collapse or simply give up before crossing the finish line.
Once I had my black, red and gold ribbon around my very own neck, I got to take a close look at the medal. On its front side is the face of Haile Gebrselassie, with his world record timing of 2:03:59 h engraved on it. This is the time he set in Berlin in 2008, the first time a runner ever broke the 2:04 barrier. The engraving on this year’s medal commemorates his record-setting feat last year.
The other side of the medal is the obligatory text showing the event, the date and the year. As image, it shows that famous moment as Haile crossed the finish line last year, arms in the air, a wide smile across his face.
Actually, the race magazine given out at the expo had a column describing the design of this year’s medal. I did not read it the night before the race as I was busy packing and memorising the water and refreshment points.
This one is definitely something different from the medals that carry the same designs year after year, except for their dates. I like it!
Brandenburg Gate
Here we go, Brandenburg Gate, built during the Prussian times as a ciy gate to Berlin, survived World War II, and during the years when the Wall still stood, found itself in no-man’s land and often seen in footages that covered Western leaders’ visits.
Sunday, we will all be running through the gate. When that happens, the finish line will be real close.
Conversions
After training and racing for about 2.5 years with all my distances measured in miles, my internal pace converter has been calibrated to work with distances in miles. In Berlin, the course will be marked in kilometres. The change in units may simply throw my internal system into a state of chaos and I feel that I need to lay this out in front of me to see.
Distance conversion:
- 5 miles – 8 km
- 10 miles – 16 km
- 15 miles – 24 km
- 20 miles – a little more than 32 km
- 22 miles – about 35 km, more like 35 and a half, i.e. around 7 km more to go
- 24 miles – over 38 km, i.e. less than 4 km more to go
- 25 miles – 40 km plus a couple of hundred metres, i.e. about 2 km more to go
- Counting the 2 km that remain should not be too difficult
Pace conversion, which is the harder one:
- 13′00″ /mile – 8′08″ /km
- 12′30″ /mile – 7′49″ /km
- 12′00″ /mile – 7′30″ /km
- 11′45″ /mile – 7′21″ /km
- 11′30″ /mile – 7′11″ /km
- 11′15″ /mile – 7′02″ /km
- 11′00″ /mile – 6′53″ /km
- 10′45″ /mile – 6′43″ /km
- 10′30″ /mile – 6′34″ /km
- 10′15 /mile – 6′24″ /km
- 10′00″/mile – 6′15″ /km
- Any faster than that, I would be killing myself
I have said before that not having hills to confront in Berlin, the mind and body can focus on other tough aspects of the race. However, I do not want my brain to be preoccupied with doing math as I run. I will be rereading this post every now and then in the coming week. At some point, I will internalise the numbers. This is some kind of mental preparation for me.
What a long run did to me
I did my final long run this past Sunday. 22 miles on a Sunday morning is a daunting thought. I was looking forward to tapering and to not having to drag myself out of bed at 4 or 5+ on Sunday mornings any more. I have been having problem falling asleep Saturday nights and have been doing my Sunday runs with insufficient rest.
I felt lousy during the run this Sunday. The mind was not there. The body loses it when the mind is not in control. Still, I made myself complete my run. And you know it when your body is about to lose it. Long runs are taxing to the body. I have came across articles that say that a runner’s immune system is generally weaker after running a marathon. The truth is, it does not even have to be a marathon, all it took was a long run like what I had this past Sunday to make my body feel so vulnerable.
Sunday afternoon, I felt as though my body was ready to open its doors to viruses and bacteria. Sunday night, I took a plane to Nashville for a meeting the following day. The flight was delayed and I had to spend some time at the airport where the air conditioning was cooler that I had expected. Nashville’s nocturnal air was pretty cool too and I probably caught a chill that evening. I went to bed immediately after arriving at the hotel, exhausted.
Monday, my sore throat began to make its presence felt. Tuesday, my nose started to leak. Wednesday, I felt groggy waking up. I did not work, went to the doctor, who reassured me that it was not the flu. While it feels miserable to be sick, earning some time off to rest is a nice break from the laborious routine. Not something I wanted to happen during my taper period, but well, what else can I do now apart from rest?
