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[This is a multi-part series describing in gory detail my 10km race through the treacherous mountains of Padawan, Sarawak.]

See previous chapters:
Part 1: Crossing the chasm of death
Part 2: We were stung by bees
Part 3: A leech on my bum

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PARENTAL ADVISORY
Disturbing content
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Death Mountain

I wish I could have taken a photo but I didn’t have my camera with me.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, a monster of an obstacle presented itself to us.

It was a cliff face which we had to Spiderman across to get to the top because that was the only way to go.

My illustration isn’t totally accurate because it’s really hard to draw terrain, but the general idea is there.

We could see some faint outlines of footholds in the path we were supposed to take, but they had been ground almost flat by rain and by other trekkers before us. There was also a scarcity of anchored objects which we could use to haul ourselves across.

Worst of all, though, was the nothingness beneath the trail. We were about 3,000 metres above sea level.

There was a jungle below. We could see thorny plants and trees and shrubs. But the jungle was on another slope and it didn’t look like an ideal place to fall into if one wasn’t ready to be jungle fertiliser.

Taking a deep breath, Nanny Wen led the way. She encountered some minor incidents (root giving way and stuff) but on the whole did pretty good progress. I followed her shortly after.

When she was three-quarters of the way through and I was only about a quarter way, I got stuck.

“Arrgh,” I yelled, “I’m stuck! I can’t find anything else to grab!”

“Wait, I’m reaching,” Nanny Wen yelled back. “I’ll help you to see once I get up there.”

Everywhere around me was mud and leaves and fungi and unidentified icky things. Maybe worms.

I tried not to see worms. I had trained my mind to think: “That’s just a branch!” whenever I saw a worm.

As my eyes searched desperately for my next anchor, I started feeling my feet losing purchase on the two slippery footholds I had chosen.

I had to move on, quickly.

Setting my sights on a faraway branch sticking out the cliff face, I strained a hand towards it. But before I could reach it, the hold under my feet totally gave way at the same time the piece of root one hand was holding on to started loosening.

I found myself sliding down.

Deus Ex Machina

Crying out in shock, I tried to grab stuff around me, anything, hoping to find something anchored strongly into the cliff face.

I think I must have worried Nanny Wen a lot because she stopped in her tracks and went, “OH NO!”

I slid down a few metres. It felt like a year.

And then, miraculously, I stopped sliding.

I can’t remember now how it happened. Maybe I managed to grab hold of something. Maybe my feet found better footholds.

I just remember my mind blanking out in one horrifying moment when all I could think about was the nothingness below me. Next thing I knew, I had stopped sliding.

I hung there for several seconds, reluctant to move. Nanny Wen started to clamber downwards to help me, but I told her to stop.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I got it. Go ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

After pulling herself up the last few steps, she began to direct my pathing.

My arms were beginning to feel like they were coming out their sockets because I was using mostly my arms to suspend myself, unwillingly to trust the slippery footholds.

Fortunately, with Nanny Wen’s help, I managed to haul myself up with the dying strength of my arms. I finally docked at safe harbour.

We had a few seconds of reprieve as we trudged shakily forward, and then the next obstacle loomed, although now I know that the worst had already past with that crazy Spiderman stunt we pulled.

No Quitting

Thinking back now, I can’t believe we managed to complete the race. There were moments I wished we could give up because the trail was insane.

I began to suspect that maybe Sarawakians are all superheroes in disguise because they just bowled through the obstacles as if gravity didn’t exist for them.

At the 5km checkpoint, there was a real chance for us to give up. The jungle trail led out to a spot of civilisation where tourists come up on buggies to admire the scenery. We could have copped out and followed the next tour group down in a buggy.

I contemplated it seriously. The obstacles had been really frightening, to say the least. I couldn’t believe the race organisers would put any normal human beings through what we had been through.

I asked Nanny Wen, “Do you want to quit?”

She said, “Yes.”

Relieved and happy to have reached the checkpoint, we ran up a grassy hill to the water station and downed a can of 100 Plus each.

Our media host was there. We told him about our bee stings and leech attack. By the time we finished our drink, Nanny Wen said, “Let’s not give up.”

As much as I valued my life, I didn’t like giving up, either. I’m a stickler for achievements. I told myself, “If we can make 5km, we can make another 5km.”

We had taken two hours to finish our first 5km. I was hungry but I decided I could hold out for another two hours.

So we forged on ahead, leaving our last chance for refuge behind.

Nobody told us that the next half of the trail was going to be the more dangerous half. (The suicidal obstacle I had described above belonged to the second half.)

I constantly questioned my own sanity.

What the hell was I thinking?

To make myself feel better, I would imagine real people being trapped in jungles, lost, wandering around for days looking for an exit, tired, hungry, forced to eat bugs and mossy plants.

It could have been a lot worse, right? At least I had red paint to guide my way and I didn’t have to eat bugs. I just had to endure the ordeal for a few hours and there would be a finishing line.

Breaking Down

By the time we were just 2km away from the finishing point, we were both so bone weary it felt like we would dissolve if you so much as poked a finger at us.

Reaching the 2km checkpoint was a bit demoralising because we really believed we were closer, like 1km, instead.

We were just putting one foot in front of another mechanically. If a tiger had come out of nowhere and pounced at us, I doubt we’d have had the strength to run.

My body was shooting signals of pain all over, especially on my back and knees. My feet and shins were cramping from the effort of balancing myself on precarious footholds for hours.

I had gastric pains in my tummy and bee stings on my ankles. My arms were sore from overuse. My feet were literally heavy with mud because there were a couple of swampy patches we couldn’t avoid.

The last 2km was madness. I was so weary I would have screamed in frustration at the neverending obstacles if I had the strength to.

Nanny Wen suspected that the trail was more than 10km. The map did say that 10km was only an approximation. Also, the 10km probably didn’t take into account vertical distance, of which there was an abundance.

Finishing Alive

When we finally broke out of jungle and hit civillisation (paved roads) at about 500m from the finishing line, we yelled out in happiness. We couldn’t do a victory dance, though. We were too exhausted.

There were some construction workers by the side of the road. They waved at us and gave us the thumbs up sign. We waved back.

Bones about to fall apart, we trudged up the road hill and into the welcoming arms of the finishing line.

We finished the race in 4.5 hours. We found out later that the champion had finished in something like 80 minutes.

How he did that is something I will never understand till the day I die. Nanny Wen and I never stopped to rest except at water stations for hydrating. We had kept going as fast as we could without compromising our safety.

I can understand three hours. Maybe even two hours. If we had worn the right shoes, we might have finished faster. Our running shoes didn’t have the right traction for the muddy slopes.

Still, 80 minutes is just freaking unbelievable.

Nevertheless, I’m glad we completed the race, even if it was a little embarrassing reaching the finishing line hours after everyone else. By the time we arrived, all the other participants were lounging about in the grass, clean and relaxed, the race all but forgotten.

But we did receive encouraging words and applause from some people who were impressed by us being the only Singaporean participants. The race referee had made a big deal at the start about us being media from Singapore who have never seen jungles.

Well, at least we didn’t come in last.

And I was so glad to be alive.

The following post first appeared on Sheylara.com on September 13, 2005.

Illustrations are new.

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I had a mini adventure yesterday. I drove to Changi Airport at six in the morning.

It feels really good driving when there are hardly any other cars on the road. Especially if the last time you actually drove was so long ago that they haven’t even invented sliced bread yet.

Having no other cars on the road means you have a higher chance of staying accident-free.

I have never been a good driver.

(Which is why I never feel insulted over woman driver jokes. I do try to stick up for my gender, though, explaining that men and women have different talents. For example, men suck at wrapping birthday presents, so there.)

After my dad bought me my first car as a reward for passing my first driving test, the car suffered many bumps and scrapes. I suffered many traumatic moments when I thought someone was going to throw me into jail for being a horrible driver.

For instance, I have difficulty multi-tasking while driving. I can’t watch the road efficiently while I’m lost, trying to figure out whether turning left or right would get me nearer to my destination.

Earlier, I was driving for practice and scared the bejeezus out of some poor pedestrian trying to cross a zebra crossing. I forgot I had to stop and didn’t brake the car until I was near enough to smell what the pedestrian had for dinner.

Anyway, rewind back to when I got my first car. Many minor accidents and almost-accidents later, I developed a phobia for driving. The car was sold when I had to go overseas and I didn’t drive again until now.

I decided to start again because the boyfriend needs someone to drive him home after getting drunk at pub outings.

Of course, that’s only what I allow him to believe since that’s the only way he could be convinced that letting me drive his car is worth the risk of a bumper dent or three.

So far, including the trip to Changi Airport yesterday, I have driven the car a total of four times.

Since we’re counting, I have given about eight pedestrians heart attacks and relieved the stresses of about 200 drivers by giving them a target to curse at. (Cursing someone and giving them the finger is like squeezing a stress ball, right? It allows you to express your stress in a productive, carthatic way.)

I have also bumped the front bumper twice, the back bumper twice, and also knocked someone’s front gate very lightly with my car license plate. Mind you, it was very lightly. I bet the gate hardly even felt it.

On my mini adventure yesterday, I took Elyxia with me — we were going to see Chong off at the airport. Chong was leaving Singapore for a mysterious reason and we were there to cheer him on and to encourage him to buy us cheap Nikes and Levi’s and Tag Heuers and Mont Blancs.

Ely was very much entertained as my passenger because I kept doing the unexpected, such as turning on the car wipers when I’m supposed to signal left. (It is common knowledge that audiences very much enjoy the unexpected.)

In return for my award-winning entertainment, Ely treated me to a breakfast of mee siam and iced milo at the airport.

Speaking of which, the mee siam I had at Changi Kopitiam (at T1) was really good. It was so sour it woke me up good and proper and gave me more energy to present part two of my entertainment program: Driving Elyxia Home.

She really enjoyed my Oscar-winning performance of a paranoid neurotic, with my well-timed fugs and shits and am-i-supposed-to-turn-here-now-oh-fug-i-missed-its.

Timing is everything in a good performance, you know.

And, now, in order to raise funds for the Society of Innocent Pedestrians Frightened by Crazy Drivers, I’m selling tickets to my limited-edition performance.

Since I am an Oscar winner now, the price of a ticket has gone up from a mee siam and iced milo to an all-expenses paid trip to HK Disneyland.

Hurry, now, tickets are going fast!

So, the Goonfather just came back from a China holiday, all excited to show me the presents he’d gotten for me.

“Deardeardear!” he said, “I brought back a menu from a Chinese restaurant for you!”

“A menu!” I said, trying to look enthusiastic, “Imagine that!”

He smiled excitedly as he thrust a large piece of paper into my hands.

“Wow, a real-life menu!” I enthused, as I peeked at his luggage furtively to see if he had brought anything else back.

Of course, it turned out that the menu was the best present because it had me in stitches for a few minutes.

Chinese menu items translated into English to hilarious effect are nothing new. But to actually see one with your own eyes just kinda knocks the ground out under you.

I found myself reading every item carefully, savoring each lovingly-crafted dish name with relish.

“The Japan standing grain sauce burns the beefsteak” jumped out at me especially.

It was a toss up between that and “This large handcart Liu Ba”.

I’d be delighted to meet the person who names his handcarts and offers them up as delicacies at restaurants.

Or maybe not.

“The shredded pork fries the spaghetti!” announces item number five on the global food category.

Not to be outdone, “Assorted mushroom Bacon fries the spaghetti”, too.

But neither can hold a candle to “The Sauteed Beef Fillet with Black Pepper fries the spaghetti” because everyone knows that dead cows can fry spaghetti a lot better than dead pigs can.

Especially ones that have black pepper in possession.

Item number nine claims that “Singapore fries expensively tricky”.

Trust Singapore to try trumping everyone else by being expensive and tricky.

Because, a continent away, underprivileged livestock and seafood are still attempting to find their destiny.

“The lemon deep sea silver snow fish digs up” while a few hundred kilometres away, hopefully above sea level, “The onion citron pig digs up”.

I think the onion citron pig might find it easier going because it’s understandably easier to dig up on land than in sea.

Hey, but how about making an example of soup?

Don’t be fooled by the name. “Example soup” is actually very tasty.

I’ll forward you some as an enclosure to give you an example.

In the meantime, “The western-style pig digs up the food/spaghetti”.

A winner is you!!!

Peaceful-like chicken all over the world celebrate by eating!

“The peaceful-like chicken eats” and “The Hungarian chicken eats”! Triumph! Victory!

Because, just before that, Hungary attempted to eat its chicken by first braising it.

I wonder who won.

Well, whoever it was that won, it sure wasn’t Wu Dong.

Poor Wu Dong got fired. And over what?

Thirty-two yuan, presumably.

At least “The French vanilla burns Yang Ba” over 88 yuan, which is more than double Wu Dong’s retrenchment fee.

From all this, we can take away a very useful lesson.

Whatever you do, if you ever visit China, do not, for any reason whatsoever, upset the prawn salad.

Stay away from it as much as possible.

Because it is a “Sentiment deep crazy bean prawn salad” and it will not look kindly upon laughing tourists.

You have been warned.

Shape Run 2009 at Raffles Boulevard.

Reporting the carnage in my mind…

Before the race started:

7:00 AM      Why are there still so many participants milling about all over the world? We’re supposed to gather at the start point by 6:45 am. Some people are still having coffee in Starbucks.

7:01 AM      Queuing up at 5 km waiting point, near the front. So many girls in pink. But I don’t see 8,000 people.

7:10 AM      Hahaha. Someone is wearing Standard Chartered Marathon tee from last year.

7:15 AM      I need to pee.

7:16 AM      I already peed three times in the last 30 minutes! Stupid bladder.

7:17 AM      That giant bowl of milk (with cereal) and that glass of water were taken at 5 am. Why does my body produce so much water by itself? I hate hate hate my bladder.

7:20 AM      STOMACH ACHE!!! DAMN YOU CEREAL. DAMN YOU WATER.

7:30 AM      Can they start already???!!! DJ talk so much in front but it’s all muffled. Can’t hear a thing. 10 km participants pushing through every 10 seconds to get to the front. Irritating.

7:35 AM      Zzz… Need to pee. Need to toilet. I hate Shape Run. I hate latecomers. I hate Singapore events for never starting on time.

7:40 AM      Finally 10km flag off! Relief! Why is everyone clapping? Flag off also must clap? Never mind just clap cos it’s kinda cool.

7:45 AM      5 km people allowed to run up to official starting line to queue up and wait some more. Some 10 km people have just arrived and are hurriedly joining the race. Siao lah, so late.

7:50 AM      DJ, stop talking so much, flag us off already before my bladder explodes.

7:55 AM      FINALLY. I DON’T BELIEVE THEY ARE LETTING US START.

Photo taken after run.

During the race:

00 MINS      The feeling of starting a run is amazing. The feeling of starting an organised run, everyone wearing the same top, having the same mind and purpose, is actually quite awesome. IN LOVE!

01 MIN      FEELS GREAT RUNNING ON AN EMPTY ROAD IN THE EARLY MORNING!

01 MIN      Okay okay don’t get carried away. Slow down, don’t get burnt out.

02 MINS      Die. Feel tired already. See lah, so kan cheong for what. Sloooooooooooow doooooooown. Negative split. Catch up later.

03 MINS      Damn I am so out of shape.

04 MINS      Bladder full, check. Desperately need bowel evacuation, check. Period started today, check. Haven’t run in a month, check.

05 MINS      Stop being negative! Just run your best. You’re not competing. Don’t need to break any records. Just finish the race.

06 MINS      Aaaarrghh people overtaking me. And I am already FREAKING TIRED AND WHEEZING.

07 MINS      Shhh, shhh… don’t care them. You’re not competing. You’re not breaking records. Just finish the race. Try and achieve your average training timing (33 minutes). Okay okay, give you +5 minutes since you’re not feeling well and you haven’t trained in a while.

08 MINS      What did I get myself into again? Why do I always torture myself like that? I hate running. I don’t ever want to join a race again!

09 MINS      I feel like I’ve run 5 km already. But I’m sure if I asked someone now, they’d say it’s only 1 km. I hate running. But I know that after I finish, I will love running again. WHAT THE FFFFFFFFFFFFF IS WRONG WITH ME?

09 MINS      I’m glad I’m only running 5 km. I WILL NEVER EVER RUN MORE THAN 5 km for races!!!!

10 MINS      Mind over matter, com’on. Remember how you’re always so confident that you can endure physical challenges and exceed your limits? Remember you believe how it’s possible to ignore all pain and discomfort and just focus on the objective?

11 MINS      Shuddup. I only believe all that when my body is at rest and my heart is not trying to jump out of my chest.

12 MINS      Remember… after a run, you always regret not pushing yourself harder while you’re at it?

13 MINS      Shuddup. I’m a nincompoop. I wish I’d studied the map more carefully. I don’t even know how far I’ve come and how far more to go. How to negative split like that?

14 MINS      It’s only a 30-minute race, don’t be a ninny. Just burst through it and then you can rest and pee and shit. There is plenty of time to run leisurely at your happy snail’s pace at other times. When it’s not a race.

15 MINS      I’m not even racing lah! I just want to finish at a decent timing. So why get so stressed out? Just run lor.

15 MINS      No no no… cannot slack. It’s an achievement thing. It’s a pride thing. Must at least maintain personal record.

16 MINS      This looks like a halfway mark since we’re making a big U-Turn. TIME TO PICK UP PACE!

16 MINS      WTF? Only halfway? I’m done already! I dowan to run already. People are overtaking me!! *cry*

17 MINS      Pick up the pace pick up the pace, if not you’ll go slower and slower and you will finish at 50 minutes and then you will regret it for the rest of your life! See see, so many people stop and walk. Your turn to overtake!!

18 MINS      Okay visualise a horse galloping. My legs are horse legs.

19 MINS      I think I feel a little stronger. I don’t feel my heart trying to jump out of my skin. I don’t feel my puny human legs crying for mercy. I’m all horse legs! I am a horse galloping with ease!

19 MINS      But I still can’t make myself go faster. Why?

20 MINS      Fuck the horse legs. My lungs are bursting.

21 MINS      WHERE IS THE DAMN FINISHING LINE!

22 MINS      Dammit, I really can’t pick up the pace. It’s all I can do to continue putting one foot in front of another. Negative split my ass.

23 MINS      MIND OVER MATTER!!!! Just suffer a few more minutes and then it’ll be done and you’ll be proud of yourself! COME ON! FASTER QUICK!! GOOOOO!!!!

24 MINS      Shuddup! You’re not the one who feels like you’re going to spontaneously combust. Weakly. Cos there is no more energy left to make a big bang.

25 MINS      I CAN SEE THE STARTING LINE! IS THAT THE FINISHING LINE ALSO?? DAMN WHY DIDN’T I MEMORISE THE ROUTE MAP?!?!??! Faster faster go gogo go legs go faster!

26 MINS      Dammit, legs. Why aren’t you going faster? We are finishing!!! Grrrr!

27 MINS      WHY IS THE FINISHING LINE NOT AT THE STARTING LINE?!?! KENA CHEATED WAH LAU!!! ARRRGGGGH. COM’ON IT MUST BE NEAR. JUST DO A BURST NOW AND IT”LL ALL BE OVER!

27 MINS      NOOOO…! CANNOT BURST! THERE IS NO MORE BURST LEFT IN ME. I HAVE NO MORE BREATH NO MORE STRENGTH NO MORE NOTHING. I AM DYING.

28 MINS      OMG IS THAT THE FINISHING LINE? So many people crowding at the sides here, taking photos. OMG OMG QUICK go faster don’t malu.

28 MINS      NO MORE STRENGTH LAH CANNOT. Can lah can can can go go go! CANNOT LAH. Can! Just one last burst! Only 50 metres DUH!! Come ON!

28 MINS      I see the finishing line! I see the clock! Hooray! OMG I am finishing under 30 minutes? It’s a miracle! Quick! Gogogogo before the clock reaches 30 minutes!

28 MINS      Arrrrrgh dying dying dying dying dying.

29 MINS      YESSSSSSS! I DID IT!!!!! WHEEEOOOOOT! SEE I TOLD YOU YOU WON’T DIE!

29 MINS      SHUDDUP, I FEEL LIKE DYING NOW.

29 MINS      Eh, why they wait 10 seconds to beep my timing chip? Cheat me 10 seconds!

Finisher bracelet:

Awww… isn’t that sweet and heartwarming?

I love running (again).

I am really pleased with my timing because I broke my record from two months ago.

I pushed past the line at around 29:05 today. I think my best timing two months ago was about 31 minutes. I had totally expected to clock 40 minutes today, due to all the unfortunate circumstances.

I guess this is why people continue with endurance sports, even though they hate it and they hate themselves during the moments when the going gets tough. Because finishing is fun.

And organised races are cool. We get tons of junk to take home.

I remember hating myself all the way through the race. I remember the pain and the torment. But I think I will forget again by the time the next race sign-up rolls around.