Part One: Ava's First Flight
Monday 21 November 2016
TMBT 2016 Part Eight: Post-Race
I speak to a lady who’s just finished her 50. She asks me which way I came from but I don’t really understand her question. The only way is up? I’ve spent the last 4 hours crawling through muddy hell and beyond. She doesn’t seem to understand me either and I leave the conversation feeling a tad irritated.
As I enter the Hall, I spot Kheng Loh, Sow Mun, Malissa and Sen Leong!
I’m surprised to see Kheng Loh. I knew she’d make it but I thought we parted ways just after Tambatuan! I feel a little crushed – was I moving that slowly over the final 6 KM?
She tells me though that some runners, like herself, were diverted onto the highway after the penultimate hill. Landslides and extensive damage to the course had rendered it unsafe. I’m reminded of the lady’s question (which way?) and things are starting to make sense. But it’s a bit too much for me to process – my head feels heavy so I sit down, looking more annoyed than I should be!
Malissa offers me a choice of coffee or tea. I sip on the black coffee and start vomiting.
For the longest time, my eyes are fixated on what appears to be a clump of mud or undigested Chomp near my foot.
I’m hoping it’s just mud from my foot (and not from my stomach!).
My friends get me cleaned up and I feel terrible. The race was bad but this is worse. My things are all over the place but they’re helping me pack up. I keep asking for my medal and Finisher’s T. Do we have it? Is it there? That’s all that matters, right?
I don’t remember much of the bus ride back. Just flashing lights and Sow Mun’s calm and reassuring voice. We get off at Downtown – but Downtown is a haze of colour and I can’t find my bearings (or my hotel). Sow Mun asks for directions and eventually, we get there.
I feel bad for putting my friends through all that. And also very grateful – without their help, I’m not sure how or when I would have made it back.
Angela spends the next 2 hours fixing me. There is some hysterical sobbing, more vomiting and weak attempts to scrub the mud off.
Also food, water and finally? Rest …
***
***
It’s a brand new day and I am a TMBT FINISHER! My time is 14:39 and my overall position, 220 of 440 participants (Male & Female; 50K). It’s nothing to shout about but given the unexpected and exceptionally challenging conditions most participants had to endure to complete the race … I’ll take it.
In text messages exchanged over the day, I thank Sow Mun and Malissa again for their kindness; commiserate with Kheng Loh over what we had to go through and congratulate Lauren for her very strong finish.
In the evening, we have seafood at the Waterfront and spot Jan Nielsen, first runner up in the 100K category. Also, 4 guys walking abreast in their 50K Finisher Ts. One comes up to our table and what do you know – it’s the same guy who gave me a hand during the race!
“Hey man, are you ok? I saw you on the bus last night.”
“Yeah, I’m better now!”
What a happy coincidence. We shake hands and I thank him again.
Dinner is good. KK is nice and Angela and my mum are having a great time. Ava is soaking it all up with little complaint and every day is a new experience for her. I’d love to explore more of KK as she grows older and I’m already thinking of next year’s race …
Will I do it again? Possibly! With consistent training, I know a sub-12 isn’t beyond me. I feel that if I can get to Kiau Nulu in 8-9 hours, I’ll be okay. But if I can’t, I will DNF voluntarily as I would never – ever – want to go through THAT final segment again. Not at night and certainly not after a heavy downpour.
“Sayang, wanna sign up for the 50K next year?”
“Remember what happened the last time we started training for a race together?”
“Uh, Ava?”
BAHAHAHAHA.
(THE END)
As I enter the Hall, I spot Kheng Loh, Sow Mun, Malissa and Sen Leong!
I’m surprised to see Kheng Loh. I knew she’d make it but I thought we parted ways just after Tambatuan! I feel a little crushed – was I moving that slowly over the final 6 KM?
She tells me though that some runners, like herself, were diverted onto the highway after the penultimate hill. Landslides and extensive damage to the course had rendered it unsafe. I’m reminded of the lady’s question (which way?) and things are starting to make sense. But it’s a bit too much for me to process – my head feels heavy so I sit down, looking more annoyed than I should be!
Malissa offers me a choice of coffee or tea. I sip on the black coffee and start vomiting.
For the longest time, my eyes are fixated on what appears to be a clump of mud or undigested Chomp near my foot.
I’m hoping it’s just mud from my foot (and not from my stomach!).
My friends get me cleaned up and I feel terrible. The race was bad but this is worse. My things are all over the place but they’re helping me pack up. I keep asking for my medal and Finisher’s T. Do we have it? Is it there? That’s all that matters, right?
I don’t remember much of the bus ride back. Just flashing lights and Sow Mun’s calm and reassuring voice. We get off at Downtown – but Downtown is a haze of colour and I can’t find my bearings (or my hotel). Sow Mun asks for directions and eventually, we get there.
I feel bad for putting my friends through all that. And also very grateful – without their help, I’m not sure how or when I would have made it back.
Angela spends the next 2 hours fixing me. There is some hysterical sobbing, more vomiting and weak attempts to scrub the mud off.
Also food, water and finally? Rest …
***
***
It’s a brand new day and I am a TMBT FINISHER! My time is 14:39 and my overall position, 220 of 440 participants (Male & Female; 50K). It’s nothing to shout about but given the unexpected and exceptionally challenging conditions most participants had to endure to complete the race … I’ll take it.
In text messages exchanged over the day, I thank Sow Mun and Malissa again for their kindness; commiserate with Kheng Loh over what we had to go through and congratulate Lauren for her very strong finish.
In the evening, we have seafood at the Waterfront and spot Jan Nielsen, first runner up in the 100K category. Also, 4 guys walking abreast in their 50K Finisher Ts. One comes up to our table and what do you know – it’s the same guy who gave me a hand during the race!
“Hey man, are you ok? I saw you on the bus last night.”
“Yeah, I’m better now!”
What a happy coincidence. We shake hands and I thank him again.
Dinner is good. KK is nice and Angela and my mum are having a great time. Ava is soaking it all up with little complaint and every day is a new experience for her. I’d love to explore more of KK as she grows older and I’m already thinking of next year’s race …
Will I do it again? Possibly! With consistent training, I know a sub-12 isn’t beyond me. I feel that if I can get to Kiau Nulu in 8-9 hours, I’ll be okay. But if I can’t, I will DNF voluntarily as I would never – ever – want to go through THAT final segment again. Not at night and certainly not after a heavy downpour.
“Sayang, wanna sign up for the 50K next year?”
“Remember what happened the last time we started training for a race together?”
“Uh, Ava?”
BAHAHAHAHA.
(THE END)
TMBT 2016 Part Seven: The End
It’s been over 3 hours since I began my ascent to the Finish at Pekan Nabalu. Night has fallen and I can barely make out the trail ahead. I’ve cuts and bruises and I’m muddied from top to toe.
I’ve spent the last few minutes trying to tear open a pack of GU Chomps. My fingers are slathered in mud and I eventually prise it open with my teeth. Still, I get mud over every damn chomp so it’s blueberry flavoured MUD for dinner.
There are runners resting on the ground. Runners in their emergency blankets. Runners clawing the earth on all fours – scrambling and grasping for root, rock, trunk, stump or branch – anything that will give them a handhold or a foothold to pull or push themselves up.
Most have slipped or tripped and fallen at some point. The heavy rains in the evening and the earlier passage of the 30K participants and 50K frontrunners has caused significant erosion to the course. Progress is painful, slow and dangerous – I have never had to endure a physical challenge of this nature and the creeping fear in the back of my mind is that I will not make it home safely.
I’ve called Angela several times in the last hour. Or at least I think I have – why live in muddy hell when you can live in your head, right?
“Hi Sayang!”
“Hi sayang …”
“Where you!”
“Stuck.”
“Stuck where?!”
“Mud.”
“Why stuck?”
“Cos mud.”
“Poor sayang!”
“Ya.”
Our conversation isn’t going anywhere and neither am I; indeed, I’m struggling on a slope and stuck, as it were. I get a helping hand from a guy in front. Thanks buddy.
I figure I’d just call her after I’ve well and truly expired.
“Hello?”
“AWOO?”
“Sayang?”
“A WOO WOO WOO!”
“Oh I geddit. You’re dead.”
“WOO!”
“Well I didn’t bring your Amulet of Ghost-Speak you @#$%.”
“WOO?”
“Now I’ll have to raise Ava all by myself.”
“OO.”
“Well at least I know your passwords.”
“OO @#$%.”
“I’m gonna give ALL your Gold to your Warcraft guildmates!”
“@#$% WOO!”
“I’m gonna sell ALL your collectible cards!”
“@#$%! @#$%%%%%%%%%%%%!”
“Oh and we’ll bury you in your RACEPANTS.”
“…”
Some things aren’t worth dying for, I guess. I figure I’ll call her – for reals – after I’m done. So it’s one step at a time and one foot in front of the other. Kind of like the last 14 @#$%^&* hours. But slower.
The marshals/mountain guides I come across give me straight and honest answers. None of that “5 more minutes” or “just a little bit more” bullshit.
“1KM.”
“300-400 meters.”
After an eternity plus 5 or so minutes, I reach the Finish and get my tag scanned in for the last time.
“So I’m good?”
“You’re good!”
“I made the cut-off?”
“You did, congratulations!”
“So … I’m good?”
TMBT 2016 Part Six: The Middle
I'm now headed for Water Station 2 at Tambatuan. But for one steep climb, the first half of the course is mostly downhill with some technical sections. I’m taking it easy and being extra careful not to land on my ass. I note that several depressions on the ground, which I made in 2015, remain visible to this day.
But who am I kidding. My ass is well-fortified. The same idiot who slid downhill in 2015 brought RACEPANTS in 2016. Yes, they’re STILL on (I’d forgotten to take them off at WS1) but no matter, I’ll survive.
I’m on the second half of the course and pass through a village. There’s a bit of a delay at a bridge; access is limited to 4-5 participants per crossing so I wait in line with other reasonable folk while the privileged few (“competitive” 30K/50K runners or obnoxious, delusional mid-packers, depending on who you ask) cut queue.
“DUNNN CUT Q!”
… are words that fall on deaf ears, predictably. Pfft. Screw y’all.
I eventually make it across. The scenery over the next couple of kilometers is pleasant and the terrain, varied. There are more streams, stony paths, dirt trails, jungle, hills and paddy fields. It’s all quite beautiful. I pass a hut with a low zinc roof under which I am forced to duck. Being tall, generally oblivious, but a little wiser this time around, I recall what happened in 2015 and seek to avoid a similar fate.
“Bumped my head here last year.”
“Looks like you made it this time!”
I laugh. Thanks for that, fellow runner. Yes – yes, I certainly have!
There’s one final bridge crossing and then a gravel road that leads to the Water Station. I see participants who’ve already cleared the check point, doubling back. Most are all smiles.
I run into Kheng Loh and she’s doing OK. We both are, thankfully!
Restock. Refuel. Retie shoes. Text Angela and it’s all systems go!
Kheng Loh and I decide to pace each other and I’m glad to have her as company. As we leave, we bump into the lovely Lauren and Ellen (two other friends of ours who are doing the 30). They're incredibly cheery and seem to be having a ball of a time. We wish each other well and move on.
Kheng Loh suggests that I go ahead. Our immediate challenge is a hill some 2KM from the Water Station. I tell her that this is where I collapsed last year – the beginning of the end of my race. I remember crouching in the dirt and grass with insects crawling up the length of my arm. I couldn’t so much as swat them away as I was dazed and so, so tired.
Not this time. It’s a hill just like any other. I’m picking up the pace a little and feeling good. It’s mostly single track through the jungle from here on with some double track segments in between. Runnable in large parts and relatively easy. Some 6 KM later, I’m close to Lobong Lobong (Water Station 3). Just one more climb to go.
“Never-ending hill!”
“I don’t how you guys keep talking.”
“The distraction helps!”
I figure I’d join in and distract myself, too. And that’s how I meet Sandi and her friend. They work for NGOs and will be organising a trail run (the BADI run) in Sabah next year in aid of rural communities – cool. We make it up to the Water Station together.
Mission accomplished!
It took me almost 4 hours to get from Tambatuan (WS2) to Lobong Lobong (WS3) in 2015. I was beaten and very close to throwing in the towel then. But also curious if I could “just make it” to the next Water Station at Kiau Nulu (WS4).
Today, I’ve taken about 2.5 hours. There is no doubt in my mind that I’ll make it to Kiau Nulu.
So I rest. Restock. Refuel and text Angela. All systems go!
I set off for what is undoubtedly the toughest part of the course up till this point – a 7.5 KM climb through hills and pineapple plantations. It’s picturesque but the weather is starting to turn; the mountain is shrouded in mist and cloud; it’s getting darker and things are looking rather dismal.
My conservative start however is paying off. I’m handling the climbs better than I thought I would. I’m still eating and hydrating frequently. Still mobile down the hills and flats; still moving past others. After the peak, I’m running for the most of the way to the village at Kiau Nulu.
By the time I get there, it’s pouring. The marshals and volunteers are friendly (as they have been at every Water Station prior). There’s a lady with a kind face who looks familiar. She might be the same lady who talked me out of quitting at this same Water Station last year. I was DONE – or so I thought. But she told me to rest, eat, drink and think it through. So I did and before I knew it, I was off to see if I could “just make it” to the next Water Station.
I made it. But unfortunately, that was where my adventure ended. My quads were busted. I was physically and mentally drained. There were but a handful of participants who bowed out at the penultimate checkpoint (KM 42) in 2015, and I was one of them. A sad and miserable way to end things. On another day, I might’ve struggled through the remaining 8 KM. Others did. I had the time and the terrain was favourable – but my will was gone.
It is another day though and I’m running a different race. I text Angela and leave Kiau Nulu with a sense of urgency. The rain is coming down hard and fast and trail conditions are deteriorating.
THANK GOODNESS FOR RACEPANTS. SWEET!
Not sure why I still have them on, but I can’t complain.
I’m now running where I can; pushing the pace on the downhill course and trying to make the most of the fading light.
Unlike 2015, there is no return to Lobong Lobong and no Water Station to check-in to at KM 42. The course has changed and participants will instead make a detour before the station and continue via trail to the finish.
I make KM 42 in 10 hours and 30 minutes.
I’m reasonably happy with what I’ve accomplished. While I may not have trained as hard as I did in 2015, I’ve certainly run a smarter race and have made it this far, intact. Never a frontrunner but no slouch either – I’m firmly in mid-pack territory and gratified in the knowledge that I’ve not been overtaken since leaving Water Station 2 at Tambatuan.
I’ve 6 KM or so left and some tough climbs ahead of me. I’m confident though as I have the luxury of time – 4.5 hours to be exact.
I will finish this.
Part Seven: The End
But who am I kidding. My ass is well-fortified. The same idiot who slid downhill in 2015 brought RACEPANTS in 2016. Yes, they’re STILL on (I’d forgotten to take them off at WS1) but no matter, I’ll survive.
I’m on the second half of the course and pass through a village. There’s a bit of a delay at a bridge; access is limited to 4-5 participants per crossing so I wait in line with other reasonable folk while the privileged few (“competitive” 30K/50K runners or obnoxious, delusional mid-packers, depending on who you ask) cut queue.
“DUNNN CUT Q!”
… are words that fall on deaf ears, predictably. Pfft. Screw y’all.
I eventually make it across. The scenery over the next couple of kilometers is pleasant and the terrain, varied. There are more streams, stony paths, dirt trails, jungle, hills and paddy fields. It’s all quite beautiful. I pass a hut with a low zinc roof under which I am forced to duck. Being tall, generally oblivious, but a little wiser this time around, I recall what happened in 2015 and seek to avoid a similar fate.
“Bumped my head here last year.”
“Looks like you made it this time!”
I laugh. Thanks for that, fellow runner. Yes – yes, I certainly have!
There’s one final bridge crossing and then a gravel road that leads to the Water Station. I see participants who’ve already cleared the check point, doubling back. Most are all smiles.
I run into Kheng Loh and she’s doing OK. We both are, thankfully!
Restock. Refuel. Retie shoes. Text Angela and it’s all systems go!
Kheng Loh and I decide to pace each other and I’m glad to have her as company. As we leave, we bump into the lovely Lauren and Ellen (two other friends of ours who are doing the 30). They're incredibly cheery and seem to be having a ball of a time. We wish each other well and move on.
Kheng Loh suggests that I go ahead. Our immediate challenge is a hill some 2KM from the Water Station. I tell her that this is where I collapsed last year – the beginning of the end of my race. I remember crouching in the dirt and grass with insects crawling up the length of my arm. I couldn’t so much as swat them away as I was dazed and so, so tired.
Not this time. It’s a hill just like any other. I’m picking up the pace a little and feeling good. It’s mostly single track through the jungle from here on with some double track segments in between. Runnable in large parts and relatively easy. Some 6 KM later, I’m close to Lobong Lobong (Water Station 3). Just one more climb to go.
“Never-ending hill!”
“I don’t how you guys keep talking.”
“The distraction helps!”
I figure I’d join in and distract myself, too. And that’s how I meet Sandi and her friend. They work for NGOs and will be organising a trail run (the BADI run) in Sabah next year in aid of rural communities – cool. We make it up to the Water Station together.
Mission accomplished!
It took me almost 4 hours to get from Tambatuan (WS2) to Lobong Lobong (WS3) in 2015. I was beaten and very close to throwing in the towel then. But also curious if I could “just make it” to the next Water Station at Kiau Nulu (WS4).
Today, I’ve taken about 2.5 hours. There is no doubt in my mind that I’ll make it to Kiau Nulu.
So I rest. Restock. Refuel and text Angela. All systems go!
I set off for what is undoubtedly the toughest part of the course up till this point – a 7.5 KM climb through hills and pineapple plantations. It’s picturesque but the weather is starting to turn; the mountain is shrouded in mist and cloud; it’s getting darker and things are looking rather dismal.
My conservative start however is paying off. I’m handling the climbs better than I thought I would. I’m still eating and hydrating frequently. Still mobile down the hills and flats; still moving past others. After the peak, I’m running for the most of the way to the village at Kiau Nulu.
By the time I get there, it’s pouring. The marshals and volunteers are friendly (as they have been at every Water Station prior). There’s a lady with a kind face who looks familiar. She might be the same lady who talked me out of quitting at this same Water Station last year. I was DONE – or so I thought. But she told me to rest, eat, drink and think it through. So I did and before I knew it, I was off to see if I could “just make it” to the next Water Station.
I made it. But unfortunately, that was where my adventure ended. My quads were busted. I was physically and mentally drained. There were but a handful of participants who bowed out at the penultimate checkpoint (KM 42) in 2015, and I was one of them. A sad and miserable way to end things. On another day, I might’ve struggled through the remaining 8 KM. Others did. I had the time and the terrain was favourable – but my will was gone.
It is another day though and I’m running a different race. I text Angela and leave Kiau Nulu with a sense of urgency. The rain is coming down hard and fast and trail conditions are deteriorating.
THANK GOODNESS FOR RACEPANTS. SWEET!
Not sure why I still have them on, but I can’t complain.
I’m now running where I can; pushing the pace on the downhill course and trying to make the most of the fading light.
Unlike 2015, there is no return to Lobong Lobong and no Water Station to check-in to at KM 42. The course has changed and participants will instead make a detour before the station and continue via trail to the finish.
I make KM 42 in 10 hours and 30 minutes.
I’m reasonably happy with what I’ve accomplished. While I may not have trained as hard as I did in 2015, I’ve certainly run a smarter race and have made it this far, intact. Never a frontrunner but no slouch either – I’m firmly in mid-pack territory and gratified in the knowledge that I’ve not been overtaken since leaving Water Station 2 at Tambatuan.
I’ve 6 KM or so left and some tough climbs ahead of me. I’m confident though as I have the luxury of time – 4.5 hours to be exact.
I will finish this.
Part Seven: The End
TMBT 2016 Part Five: The Start
We’re off and there are drones in the sky. RUN OR DIE YOU FOOLS! I imagine they’re being piloted by skilled operators tasked with eliminating (or encouraging!) stragglers and slowpokes. Like, guy in the red shirt with the RACEPANTS aka Me. Pick up the pace or else! (ZAP! —POOF! —DNF.)
That, or they’re snapping photos. Still, I run a little faster because I can – no hold on – I can’t. Woe, Death from above!
Or from within. You see, my RACEPANTS are causing me some discomfort. Soft and stretchy! Lightweight and waterproof! Designed to protect me, the mountain athlete (HEH) in the WILDEST of conditions while allowing UNRESTRICTED motion! They’re also hot as @#$% and clingy like some bad ex who’s back – for the next 15 hours of my life, at least. Thank you INOV8!
It’s a bad mistake and I’m mad at myself. The last time I wore them, it was raining and I was freezing to death in 8-degree weather. But I didn’t die and they were great! Thank you INOV8! So I convinced myself just the night before (despite bringing two other pairs of shorts) that THIS was what I needed for the race in anticipation of the adverse conditions and hazards predicted during the day (lalang, winds, thunderstorms, freezing rain, hail, sleet, snow, meteorites, mysterious falling objects and/or death rays from above.) For the RACEPANTS that clingeth – protecteth!
ZAP! – POOF! – DN – No, damn it. Could I at least get to the first water station?
I vow to tear them off there and then and to tie them around my waist – or something. I am hesitant to do so now in the interests of common decency and at the risk of setting hearts a-flutter. HA.
Gravel roads. Dirt roads. Tarmac. Mountain in view! I don’t remember the stretch of tarmac being as long or as new. Maybe the roads were resurfaced.
What else is new? Unlike the year before, I’m starting off at a very comfortable pace and my heart rate is exactly where I want it to be. I’m running on the flats and downhills; walking the uphills and eating and drinking at regular intervals. Travel-induced fatigue aside, the heat was a major stumbling block for me in 2015. I underestimated its effects and did not fuel as often as I should've. So caught up was I in the excitement of the race – I shot off, in what was a decent and sustainable pace (I was fitter then) but which ultimately proved unsustainable in the long run (HEH).
This weighs constantly on my mind and I am determined not to repeat my mistakes. I feel that if I can keep this up, I’ve a good chance of making it to Water Station 3 (KM 30) and perhaps, even finishing the darned Thing. But it’s early days yet.
I turn a corner and marvel again at the sight of the Mountain.
“This is the Kota Belud view!”
So says Foo Chee (or Foo Jee?). A local from KK, it's her first TMBT. She’s friendly and we chat awhile.
After more undulating and mostly runnable road, the ascent to Kebayau marks the first challenge of the day. I’m feeling good and it is here that I begin overtaking others, slowly but surely. I bump into Mezan again, who’s in good spirits! She tells me that Kheng Loh is about 500m ahead.
I will not catch her as the next segment takes us into the jungle. It’s mostly single track trail and, notwithstanding those who step aside, you can only move as fast as the group who are ahead of you. I come across the lalang that is said to leave tiny, razor-like cuts on one’s knees, legs and thighs.
O RACEPANTS PROTECT ME!
Alas, the lalang has been trampled underfoot no less than a thousand times and before me lies a clear and safe path! While I believe that “long pants” is generally good advice and should make the “recommended” kit list, I do not think it essential for a 50K mid-packer like myself. Nothing in 2015, or in the race thus far has convinced me otherwise.
The trail eventually widens and not long after, I reach Water Station 1.
Restock. Refuel. Text Angela. All systems go!
Part Six: The Middle
That, or they’re snapping photos. Still, I run a little faster because I can – no hold on – I can’t. Woe, Death from above!
Or from within. You see, my RACEPANTS are causing me some discomfort. Soft and stretchy! Lightweight and waterproof! Designed to protect me, the mountain athlete (HEH) in the WILDEST of conditions while allowing UNRESTRICTED motion! They’re also hot as @#$% and clingy like some bad ex who’s back – for the next 15 hours of my life, at least. Thank you INOV8!
It’s a bad mistake and I’m mad at myself. The last time I wore them, it was raining and I was freezing to death in 8-degree weather. But I didn’t die and they were great! Thank you INOV8! So I convinced myself just the night before (despite bringing two other pairs of shorts) that THIS was what I needed for the race in anticipation of the adverse conditions and hazards predicted during the day (lalang, winds, thunderstorms, freezing rain, hail, sleet, snow, meteorites, mysterious falling objects and/or death rays from above.) For the RACEPANTS that clingeth – protecteth!
ZAP! – POOF! – DN – No, damn it. Could I at least get to the first water station?
I vow to tear them off there and then and to tie them around my waist – or something. I am hesitant to do so now in the interests of common decency and at the risk of setting hearts a-flutter. HA.
Gravel roads. Dirt roads. Tarmac. Mountain in view! I don’t remember the stretch of tarmac being as long or as new. Maybe the roads were resurfaced.
What else is new? Unlike the year before, I’m starting off at a very comfortable pace and my heart rate is exactly where I want it to be. I’m running on the flats and downhills; walking the uphills and eating and drinking at regular intervals. Travel-induced fatigue aside, the heat was a major stumbling block for me in 2015. I underestimated its effects and did not fuel as often as I should've. So caught up was I in the excitement of the race – I shot off, in what was a decent and sustainable pace (I was fitter then) but which ultimately proved unsustainable in the long run (HEH).
This weighs constantly on my mind and I am determined not to repeat my mistakes. I feel that if I can keep this up, I’ve a good chance of making it to Water Station 3 (KM 30) and perhaps, even finishing the darned Thing. But it’s early days yet.
I turn a corner and marvel again at the sight of the Mountain.
“This is the Kota Belud view!”
So says Foo Chee (or Foo Jee?). A local from KK, it's her first TMBT. She’s friendly and we chat awhile.
After more undulating and mostly runnable road, the ascent to Kebayau marks the first challenge of the day. I’m feeling good and it is here that I begin overtaking others, slowly but surely. I bump into Mezan again, who’s in good spirits! She tells me that Kheng Loh is about 500m ahead.
I will not catch her as the next segment takes us into the jungle. It’s mostly single track trail and, notwithstanding those who step aside, you can only move as fast as the group who are ahead of you. I come across the lalang that is said to leave tiny, razor-like cuts on one’s knees, legs and thighs.
O RACEPANTS PROTECT ME!
Alas, the lalang has been trampled underfoot no less than a thousand times and before me lies a clear and safe path! While I believe that “long pants” is generally good advice and should make the “recommended” kit list, I do not think it essential for a 50K mid-packer like myself. Nothing in 2015, or in the race thus far has convinced me otherwise.
The trail eventually widens and not long after, I reach Water Station 1.
Restock. Refuel. Text Angela. All systems go!
Part Six: The Middle
TMBT 2016 Part Four: The Day Before The Race
We have dim sum in the morning at Fook Yuen, across the road from our hotel. Then we have laksa in the afternoon at Yee Fung, a couple of blocks down the street. Then we order takeaway pizza from Little Italy for dinner. I hope to save some for breakfast tomorrow.
In between stuffing my face, I pack my bag, unpack my bag and repack my bag to ensure that I’ll have everything I need when I need it. Also, I like packing my bag.
I’m in bed by 6PM and spend the next 7 hours tossing and turning. I’m careful not to squish the small body lying next to mine, who’s tossing and turning too, but who is otherwise dead to the world. I find some peace in watching her sleep.
“Why aren’t YOU asleep, Papa?”
“Big race tomorrow.”
“Are you afraid?”
“A little, I guess.”
“Are you excited?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you packed your bags?”
“Probably not?”
“Better get started.”
***
I fall asleep around 1AM. I’d set my Ava for 2AM and right on cue, I am awakened.
“UH NGAEH UH NGAEH FEED ME!”
“UH NGAEH UH NGAEH HOLD ME!”
“UH NGAEH PAPA ARE YOU AWAKE YET?!”
“Yes.”
“UH NGAEH OK JUST CHECKING.”
“UH NGAEEEEEEHHHHHHHHH.”
I hand her to Angela and begin prepping. A quick shower follows and by 240AM, I am ready to go.
I kiss my mum, Angela and Ava goodbye. My pick-up is at the Hyatt Regency, an 8-minute walk away. Five minutes into the walk, I realise I’ve forgotten my drop bag. I call Angela and make my way back. My mum is at the lobby waiting for me. I thank her and I’m off – again!
I arrive at the pick-up point around 3AM. Several participants are already here. It has started to rain and I find shelter under the walkway next to Burger King. I do not have to wait long as our bus is soon ready for boarding. It fills up in no time and a little after 330AM, we depart – right on schedule!
I close my eyes but whenever I open them, I find everyone else asleep, pretending to be asleep or at least, trying to. I too, pretend to sleep although my thoughts invariably drift to the challenges ahead – like, how do I eat all this pizza I’ve packed?
By 445AM however, there is no pizza left. I guess I was really hungry.
We arrive at around 515AM. I step off the bus, leave my drop bag in the designated van and make my way across a bridge. Lots of participants are already here and are gathered inside a hall. I join them and get my wristband scanned. I am now officially registered for the race.
I spend the next 45 minutes milling around. Daylight breaks but we are due for a late start. Apparently, a bus has broken down. I bump into Mezan, a friend, and we chat awhile. I lose her in the crowd which has now swelled to hundreds of participants from both the 50k and 100k categories.
We receive a preliminary briefing on our route and some safety reminders.
At around 620AM, the countdown begins.
“FIVE – FOUR – THREE – TWO – ONE!”
Part Five: The Start
In between stuffing my face, I pack my bag, unpack my bag and repack my bag to ensure that I’ll have everything I need when I need it. Also, I like packing my bag.
I’m in bed by 6PM and spend the next 7 hours tossing and turning. I’m careful not to squish the small body lying next to mine, who’s tossing and turning too, but who is otherwise dead to the world. I find some peace in watching her sleep.
“Why aren’t YOU asleep, Papa?”
“Big race tomorrow.”
“Are you afraid?”
“A little, I guess.”
“Are you excited?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you packed your bags?”
“Probably not?”
“Better get started.”
***
I fall asleep around 1AM. I’d set my Ava for 2AM and right on cue, I am awakened.
“UH NGAEH UH NGAEH FEED ME!”
“UH NGAEH UH NGAEH HOLD ME!”
“UH NGAEH PAPA ARE YOU AWAKE YET?!”
“Yes.”
“UH NGAEH OK JUST CHECKING.”
“UH NGAEEEEEEHHHHHHHHH.”
I hand her to Angela and begin prepping. A quick shower follows and by 240AM, I am ready to go.
I kiss my mum, Angela and Ava goodbye. My pick-up is at the Hyatt Regency, an 8-minute walk away. Five minutes into the walk, I realise I’ve forgotten my drop bag. I call Angela and make my way back. My mum is at the lobby waiting for me. I thank her and I’m off – again!
I arrive at the pick-up point around 3AM. Several participants are already here. It has started to rain and I find shelter under the walkway next to Burger King. I do not have to wait long as our bus is soon ready for boarding. It fills up in no time and a little after 330AM, we depart – right on schedule!
I close my eyes but whenever I open them, I find everyone else asleep, pretending to be asleep or at least, trying to. I too, pretend to sleep although my thoughts invariably drift to the challenges ahead – like, how do I eat all this pizza I’ve packed?
By 445AM however, there is no pizza left. I guess I was really hungry.
We arrive at around 515AM. I step off the bus, leave my drop bag in the designated van and make my way across a bridge. Lots of participants are already here and are gathered inside a hall. I join them and get my wristband scanned. I am now officially registered for the race.
I spend the next 45 minutes milling around. Daylight breaks but we are due for a late start. Apparently, a bus has broken down. I bump into Mezan, a friend, and we chat awhile. I lose her in the crowd which has now swelled to hundreds of participants from both the 50k and 100k categories.
We receive a preliminary briefing on our route and some safety reminders.
At around 620AM, the countdown begins.
“FIVE – FOUR – THREE – TWO – ONE!”
Part Five: The Start
TMBT 2016 Part Three: Metro Town
I’m off to Metro Town and as I pass the front desk of the hotel I enquire what the fare will be – RM 30. Taxi rides in Kota Kinabalu are charged at “fixed” rates based on “zones” – a rather nebulous concept in practice, as there is no indication of where one ends, where the other begins or what the “fixed” price is to start with. They vary from cabbie to cabbie and from passenger to passenger (local/Semenanjung/foreigner) and so, putting on my best Semenanjung stride forward, I walk onto Gaya Street to look for my ride.
Cabbie 1 says RM 40 ikut zon.
Cabbie 2 says you dari Semenanjung kan? RM 35 Special price!
Cabbie 3 agrees to match the hotel’s fare of RM 30 (they have their own taxi service) and I guess we’re getting somewhere.
I start circling back to a group of cabbies on the opposite side of the street and Cabbies 1-3, sensing an opportunity missed are quite keen to offer me their “best price”. I cut a deal with Cabbie 3, who has Lee on his name card and who goes by Ramlee; RM 50 for a ride both ways and we’re set.
Ramlee is as chatty as cabbies go. I explain the purpose of my trip and why I need to get to Metro Town. He has some knowledge of the major races, is immensely proud of the local Sabahan athletes and insists that foreign participants only win because we let them (when Saffrey Sumping et al decide not to participate in an event).
Ramlee has also climbed Mount Kinabalu 8 times and offers me a special Ramlee all-in package for RM 480/pax (certificate, lodging and guide included!). His brother-in-law works at a tour company and can sort me out. I thank him and tell him that I’ll consider it as I do intend to summit Mount Kinabalu in 2017. His package though, attractive as it is, sounds a little too good to be true.
As we drive past the intersection (or possibly a roundabout) that leads to Likas Stadium, we talk about the Sabah football team of the early 90s. I was a boyhood Sabah fan (for some peculiar reason) and at this point, we’re cool, bro. I’d like to think that I will receive Ramlee’s best Semenanjung price ikut zon now and always.
We arrive at Metro Town after 20 minutes or so. It’s an upscale commercial area with restaurants, shops, offices, hotels and a medical centre. We circle Block F several times in an attempt to locate Borneo Ultra Trails and eventually find it at the corner to the “left” of Secret Recipe (from one’s POV). Ramlee says that he’ll wait at the shop where he’s dropped me off; I tell him that I’ll be as quick as I can.
The office is on the 2nd floor and as I enter it, I spot several familiar faces – Kheng Loh, Malissa and Sow Mun! They do not notice me coming in as they are happily snapping photos so I register myself and go through the mandatory kit check which takes all of 2 seconds (HMM …). I collect my race pack and walk over to say Hi.
It’s been quite a while since I last saw them and we chat for a bit. Kheng Loh is doing the 50K while Malissa, Sow Mun and their friend, Sen Leong are all attempting the 30. I ask Kheng Loh if she has any other companions running the race (she doesn’t), so we agree to look out for each other on the day. I excuse myself shortly after as I do not wish to keep Ramlee waiting.
When I get outside, however, Ramlee is gone!
I look around and walk up and down the street but he is nowhere in sight.
I call both numbers on his name card but get his voice mail.
I feel almost betrayed. I thought we had … an understanding. I don’t see any other cabbies so I head back up to the office.
“Guys, my cabbie ditched me.”
I figure I’ll hitch a ride with them when they leave. For now though, Etienne Rodriguez, poster boy on the wall (and winner of the 50K in 2014) is the man of the hour. Nobody can get enough photos with him and in all honesty – the surrounding scenery makes for a lovely backdrop. I join in too!
It’s time to go and Sen Leong gets us a ride via Uber. It’s a bit of a squeeze but all 5 of us manage to fit in the MPV. The driver pulls over after about 50m or so (to pay for his parking ticket, maybe?) and I see a taxi pull up ahead of him.
Lo and behold, it’s Ramlee marching towards us looking rather befuddled.
“Guys, it’s my cabbie! He came back for me!”
I exchange goodbyes with the group and we wish each other well.
(Translated from Bahasa.)
“I walked all over looking for you!”
“I was at the tayar shop!”
I step in the vehicle.
“I called you 4 times!”
I pull out my phone and show him my call history. He pulls out his phone, looks at it, at promptly begins charging it.
“I told the shopkeeper that I’m going to the tayar shop. I said look out for the tall Indian fella and tell him I’ll be back!”
“But just now we saw you stepping into the white MPV and the shopkeeper said … THAT GUY AH?!”
Maybe I'm not tall enough ...
But we’re cool. Ramlee gets me back to my hotel and I agree to contact him on Monday to arrange our pick-up to the airport.
We’re off to dinner now and since my race pack came with a 10% voucher for a meal at Little Italy, that is where we go. Can’t go wrong with pizza and thankfully, the food is good.
We return to our hotel and I prep for bed. I’m hoping for a good night’s rest as I know I’ll sleep poorly tomorrow, if all my previous out-of-town race experiences are anything to go by …
Part Four: The Day Before The Race
Cabbie 1 says RM 40 ikut zon.
Cabbie 2 says you dari Semenanjung kan? RM 35 Special price!
Cabbie 3 agrees to match the hotel’s fare of RM 30 (they have their own taxi service) and I guess we’re getting somewhere.
I start circling back to a group of cabbies on the opposite side of the street and Cabbies 1-3, sensing an opportunity missed are quite keen to offer me their “best price”. I cut a deal with Cabbie 3, who has Lee on his name card and who goes by Ramlee; RM 50 for a ride both ways and we’re set.
Ramlee is as chatty as cabbies go. I explain the purpose of my trip and why I need to get to Metro Town. He has some knowledge of the major races, is immensely proud of the local Sabahan athletes and insists that foreign participants only win because we let them (when Saffrey Sumping et al decide not to participate in an event).
Ramlee has also climbed Mount Kinabalu 8 times and offers me a special Ramlee all-in package for RM 480/pax (certificate, lodging and guide included!). His brother-in-law works at a tour company and can sort me out. I thank him and tell him that I’ll consider it as I do intend to summit Mount Kinabalu in 2017. His package though, attractive as it is, sounds a little too good to be true.
As we drive past the intersection (or possibly a roundabout) that leads to Likas Stadium, we talk about the Sabah football team of the early 90s. I was a boyhood Sabah fan (for some peculiar reason) and at this point, we’re cool, bro. I’d like to think that I will receive Ramlee’s best Semenanjung price ikut zon now and always.
We arrive at Metro Town after 20 minutes or so. It’s an upscale commercial area with restaurants, shops, offices, hotels and a medical centre. We circle Block F several times in an attempt to locate Borneo Ultra Trails and eventually find it at the corner to the “left” of Secret Recipe (from one’s POV). Ramlee says that he’ll wait at the shop where he’s dropped me off; I tell him that I’ll be as quick as I can.
The office is on the 2nd floor and as I enter it, I spot several familiar faces – Kheng Loh, Malissa and Sow Mun! They do not notice me coming in as they are happily snapping photos so I register myself and go through the mandatory kit check which takes all of 2 seconds (HMM …). I collect my race pack and walk over to say Hi.
It’s been quite a while since I last saw them and we chat for a bit. Kheng Loh is doing the 50K while Malissa, Sow Mun and their friend, Sen Leong are all attempting the 30. I ask Kheng Loh if she has any other companions running the race (she doesn’t), so we agree to look out for each other on the day. I excuse myself shortly after as I do not wish to keep Ramlee waiting.
When I get outside, however, Ramlee is gone!
I look around and walk up and down the street but he is nowhere in sight.
I call both numbers on his name card but get his voice mail.
I feel almost betrayed. I thought we had … an understanding. I don’t see any other cabbies so I head back up to the office.
“Guys, my cabbie ditched me.”
I figure I’ll hitch a ride with them when they leave. For now though, Etienne Rodriguez, poster boy on the wall (and winner of the 50K in 2014) is the man of the hour. Nobody can get enough photos with him and in all honesty – the surrounding scenery makes for a lovely backdrop. I join in too!
It’s time to go and Sen Leong gets us a ride via Uber. It’s a bit of a squeeze but all 5 of us manage to fit in the MPV. The driver pulls over after about 50m or so (to pay for his parking ticket, maybe?) and I see a taxi pull up ahead of him.
Lo and behold, it’s Ramlee marching towards us looking rather befuddled.
“Guys, it’s my cabbie! He came back for me!”
I exchange goodbyes with the group and we wish each other well.
(Translated from Bahasa.)
“I walked all over looking for you!”
“I was at the tayar shop!”
I step in the vehicle.
“I called you 4 times!”
I pull out my phone and show him my call history. He pulls out his phone, looks at it, at promptly begins charging it.
“I told the shopkeeper that I’m going to the tayar shop. I said look out for the tall Indian fella and tell him I’ll be back!”
“But just now we saw you stepping into the white MPV and the shopkeeper said … THAT GUY AH?!”
Maybe I'm not tall enough ...
But we’re cool. Ramlee gets me back to my hotel and I agree to contact him on Monday to arrange our pick-up to the airport.
We’re off to dinner now and since my race pack came with a 10% voucher for a meal at Little Italy, that is where we go. Can’t go wrong with pizza and thankfully, the food is good.
We return to our hotel and I prep for bed. I’m hoping for a good night’s rest as I know I’ll sleep poorly tomorrow, if all my previous out-of-town race experiences are anything to go by …
Part Four: The Day Before The Race
TMBT 2016 Part Two: Last Year's Race
I’m off to participate in The Most Beautiful Thing (or TMBT for short). It’s an ultra-trail marathon set in the highlands of Kundasang, Sabah, which takes participants through villages and plantations; hills and jungles; rivers and hanging bridges among others. Stunning views of Mount Kinabalu are assured along with rain, mud and death. Quite possibly in that order. Not that anyone has actually died attempting it although the thought may cross one’s mind. It’s certainly no stroll in the park; Beautiful is no misnomer, but Brutal is perhaps more apt.
This is my 2nd TMBT, having attempted the 50K the year before. In 2015, I was as fit and strong as I’d ever been with months of solid training behind me. Two weeks of hiking and camping through Europe however, did not make for an ideal taper (it was our honeymoon) and I returned to Kuala Lumpur feeling rather drained. We flew into Sabah not 2 days later and although I started off well, I was struggling after 20 KM. Several poor decisions only compounded matters; I would trudge on and eventually bow out at the penultimate checkpoint, KM 42. I vowed then that I would return the following year, hopefully stronger and wiser to finish what I had begun.
Coming into this year’s race, I am wiser but not stronger. The last 3 months had marked a period of indolence and inactivity. As convenient excuses go, fatherhood had introduced new and welcome responsibilities into my life. It’s a poor excuse to make though and a spurious one at that. If anything, running had simply been replaced by more sedentary pursuits.
Yeah, so I played videogames 24/7 for 3 months. I’ve always been an avid gamer and it’s a phase I still go through occasionally. I don’t smoke, gamble, booze or womanise; just mash buttons and kill y’all mother@#$%^&* online.
As in years past, Angela would get mad at me for having fallen into such a rut and I’d run off to the park to get away from the screaming. By the time the screaming (and running) started this time round, it was a little too late.
In the 3 weeks before the race, I managed approximately 60KM on trail. Just enough to get the legs moving again but not much else. Still, I am hopeful that by adopting a very conservative approach and making better decisions, I will at least make it to the third checkpoint (KM 30).
We touch down, take a taxi to our hotel, have lunch and settle in. So far, so good. I’ll be off to the organiser’s new office in Metro Town to register and collect my race pack in the afternoon. But first, I’ll need to check my kit again for the umpteenth time …
Part Three: Metro Town
This is my 2nd TMBT, having attempted the 50K the year before. In 2015, I was as fit and strong as I’d ever been with months of solid training behind me. Two weeks of hiking and camping through Europe however, did not make for an ideal taper (it was our honeymoon) and I returned to Kuala Lumpur feeling rather drained. We flew into Sabah not 2 days later and although I started off well, I was struggling after 20 KM. Several poor decisions only compounded matters; I would trudge on and eventually bow out at the penultimate checkpoint, KM 42. I vowed then that I would return the following year, hopefully stronger and wiser to finish what I had begun.
Coming into this year’s race, I am wiser but not stronger. The last 3 months had marked a period of indolence and inactivity. As convenient excuses go, fatherhood had introduced new and welcome responsibilities into my life. It’s a poor excuse to make though and a spurious one at that. If anything, running had simply been replaced by more sedentary pursuits.
Yeah, so I played videogames 24/7 for 3 months. I’ve always been an avid gamer and it’s a phase I still go through occasionally. I don’t smoke, gamble, booze or womanise; just mash buttons and kill y’all mother@#$%^&* online.
As in years past, Angela would get mad at me for having fallen into such a rut and I’d run off to the park to get away from the screaming. By the time the screaming (and running) started this time round, it was a little too late.
In the 3 weeks before the race, I managed approximately 60KM on trail. Just enough to get the legs moving again but not much else. Still, I am hopeful that by adopting a very conservative approach and making better decisions, I will at least make it to the third checkpoint (KM 30).
We touch down, take a taxi to our hotel, have lunch and settle in. So far, so good. I’ll be off to the organiser’s new office in Metro Town to register and collect my race pack in the afternoon. But first, I’ll need to check my kit again for the umpteenth time …
Part Three: Metro Town
TMBT 2016 Part One: Ava's First Flight
The smell of McDs fills the air. I've kept my seat up as the passenger behind me has her tray down. I’m considerate like that, but she’s not. She’s been at it for a while now and has in fact, violated the 2nd rule of flight club: of what fast food one cannot consume within reasonable time, of said food one must share … with the passenger of the upright seat, no less. Like hash browns, lady. Gimme some.
Angela smells it too.
“Hey smelly!”
She checks Ava and this puzzles me.
“She might need a change.”
She's sniffing her now.
“Huh.”
“She’s made a poo la – wow, big one!”
After confirming that this is no McBreakfast, I feel it is time for a serious chat with my daughter.
“Sayang, the 1st rule of flight club is that you will NOT POOP for as long as we remain airborne.”
“The 1st rule of flight club, Papa, is that there are no rules. Not for me, anyways. I do what I want. Cos I’m 5.”
“5 months.”
“Same difference. Now clean me or I’ll make another.”
“Mmrghr.”
Operation Clean Baby On Board a Moving Plane is now underway.
“McDs? Seriously.”
“I’m hungry and confused.”
“You’re always confused.”
“Yeah, but imagine if I was always hungry.”
We both look at Ava and agree that two constantly hungry babies would be too much to handle.
Ava, incidentally, is on her last bottle and now smells like yoghurt. Yoplait, to be precise. I can sense my powers of smell returning although I do not share this with Angela (whose powers of ridicule appear to be intact at 38,000 feet). We decide to change her so I walk to the front of the cabin to enquire with the crewman on duty.
“Is there a changing area available? Y’know … for babies?”
I trace a baby in the air for emphasis.
“No sir!”
“So I guess I’ll just have to use the lavatory?”
“Yes sir!”
My subsequent investigation of the lavatory reveals a tiny room that is fairly clean and dry. Pulling the lid down over the seat cover creates an area just wide enough for a baby Ava’s size. Still, I have my doubts given her new-found abilities to roll LEFT-LEFT-AND-RIGHT within 3 seconds of landing on any hard surface.
I report my findings to Angela and despite our reservations, we are determined to clean Ava up. I have her in my arms and Angela’s got the changing bag. We can do this!
As soon he catches sight of mum and baby though, our crewman is through the door of the lavatory in a flash. He unlatches a heretofore hidden panel, which unfolds a changing table. Infinite combinations of LEFT-LEFT-RIGHT-RIGHT-LEFT lay before us.
“Huh.”
“And ma’am, please use this bag to dispose of the diaper.”
“Huh.”
Angela looks at me in disbelief, takes the bag, grabs Ava and disappears.
“Uhh.”
I look at our crewman and the touch screen panel on the wall and begin plotting my revenge. Ava and Angela however, reappear before I get to press Throw Especially Helpful Crewman Overboard. So we thank him and return to our seats.
Cradling Ava, I’m amazed at how far she’s come. Our little girl was born pre-term and spent the first 5 weeks of her life in an incubator. Sabah was the last thing on our minds back then. And here we are today - flying to the Land Below the Wind as a family. My mum, who's never been to Kota Kinabalu is also with us.
It’s our first holiday together and it’s going to be grand. Ava is handling the flight so well and I couldn’t be happier. There’s the small matter of an ultra-marathon to worry about but that can come later. For now, I am content.
Part Two: Last Year's Race
Part Two: Last Year's Race
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