All I see is green. Among the mass of 10,000 runners clad in green, I find my way towards the clear roads of Roxas Boulevard. I am running, no flying. Other runners stare in disbelief as they fall like bowling pins knocked out by a speeding ball. I run the streets as if it is mine. I see nothing and feel nothing. I am running faster than I have ever had in my life. In the blink of an eye, the race is over. Crowds cheer. I look around to realize I am the first one to cross the finish line. I am the winner!
I wake up at exactly 5:58 this morning with that wonderful dream. (Yes, boys and girls it was a dream. What did you think?) My only thought upon waking was: two more minutes to the start of the race—and I missed it. I lay in bed watching the clock. One minute more. 30 seconds. 10. 3…2…1…and they are off. Me too—but I am headed towards the bathroom. This sucks.
Why did I miss the race? Because of my “little” incident last night:
After dinner in Teriyaki Boy, we—my hubby, son, daughter, and I—hop over to our favorite weekend haunt: Timezone in Alabang Town Center. In about 10 minutes, my stomach starts acting up. I ask my hubby to watch the kids while I walk in haste towards the nearest restroom. It’s a short walk, but not to me. As I wobble through the corridor towards the comfort room, my tummy starts churning, my vision becomes hazy, and I suddenly feel like I’ve been possessed by a drunk Britney Spears. When I reach the door to the comfort room, a woman holds me up and asks “Are you okay?” to which I can barely find the strength to reply a simple yes. I clumsily find my way to a cubicle and enter.
There are women chatting and I am watching them from afar. I walk towards one of them. I am about to tap her in the shoulder when…
I open my eyes to hear voices “Miss, wake up. Wake up.” in tagalog. I was just dreaming. I look around to discover that I am lying on the floor of the comfort room in the arms of two janitresses who apparently caught my fall. God, I fainted. For the first time in my entire life, I fainted?!
Three security guards help locate my husband and kids and—even if I feel alright after a couple of visits to the toilet—they insist on taking me to nearby Asian Hospital. I hesitate, but relent. Before we know it, I am whisked away in a wheelchair towards the gates of the mall. God, this is so embarassing, I think. When we reach the exit, there is a large crowd curious to see who shall enter the ambulance that awaits. OMG, this is even more humiliating. I wish I had a brown bag to cover my head. I will die if I see anyone I know. I stand up, smile at everyone, and ride the ambulance towards Asian Hospital.
By the time we get home it is around 9 pm. I ask my hubby about the Milo race and he curtly replies “Don’t even think about it.” I pretend not to hear it and send SMS messages to my sister Janice and two other runner friends Mayi and Annie about the incident. All of them advise the same thing: “Don’t run.” Being the bull-headed runner (er, I mean The Bull Runner) that I am, I refuse to even think of skipping the race, but I don’t have a choice. It would be crazy to risk my health for a race. Besides, I think that fainting in a marathon is a hundred times worse than doing so in a bathroom with a handful of people as an audience.
So, there goes my Milo Manila Marathon story, which was certainly not the Milo Marathon race report you probably anticipated. To all those who crossed the finish line, congratulations! Annie, Coach, Mayi, Jamike, and Happy Feet: sayang, I didn’t get to see you there! To those who pledged through me for Kythe: I ran 0km but if you still wish to commit to your pledge I can still donate it directly to Kythe—or you may wait for my next race. Banggigay, Marga, Roselle, and Neville: shucks, I missed meeting you for the first time! Not to worry, there will be more races…like next week’s Run for Hope? haha.
Oh, and for those who have lingering questions about the cause of my fainting, here are the answers:
- Nope, I’m not pregnant. At least I don’t think so.
- Yes, I eat. I am not anorexic.
- No, I will not be suing Teriyaki Boy. I’ve ruled out food poisoning because my family ate the same thing I did.
- Yes, I’ll get myself checked.
- Yes, I will still continue running.
- No, I will not give you my Milo singlet!
Thank you to Alabang Town Center for taking very good care of me—specifically the two janitresses, three security guards, ambulance driver and his companion. I regret that I didn’t get their names, but I’ll surely be writing you to let you know of the wonderful people you have in your team.