“Pain is inevitable, suffering is option” says Haruki Murakami, a well-known novelist and a long-distance runner. Running, like all other sports, requires mental discipline and physical endurance. One cannot even run 10 km without the proper training, as otherwise things might go very wrong and long-lasting injuries might occur.
We went to Cambodia to complete a half-marathon. The goal of the run is both to arrange a big sports movement and to help the long-time suffering people of Cambodia. The location is perfect as the route is passing through the ruins of the Angkor temples, going along a small lake, reaches at some dirt roads and ends at a point where we can see the entrance of the ancient temple city. The contrast between the excitement of the event and the tranquillity of the path was perhaps what made it a unique experience for majority of the runners. Running beside a lake whose surface seems as smooth as newly-ironed bed sheet, running through the centuries-old ruins whose spirits are awake as if they have never been asleep, running with thousands of young souls whose only aim to finish the race before the frying heat of the sun hits our bare heads...
For many of us, this is the first half-marathon and being an underdog it is impossible not to be intimidated by the size of the experience while at the same time not to be overwhelmed with the possible achievement at the end. It is not the distance to be beaten, it is not the time to be challenged! It is our own lazy souls, our own laid-back personalities, our own lives to be disciplined and to be taught. The difficulty is an undeniable reality of the show. However, the naïve belief one might have about the power of collectivism can work here as a catalytic essence. “If everybody runs, I can run too.” is probably the biggest source of energy for many runners here.
The race started at 6:30 am for which we need to wake up at 4 am. With the start sign, people began moving and mumbling like a locomotive starts its long journey at a station together with the whistles and notchings. The metaphor of train station and the departing locomotive can work as far as waving hands beside the railway and the distant eyes staring at the disappearing individuals. Slowly, the cacophony in the air is replaced by the pure sound of the footsteps and the heavy breathings. The lake, as tranquil as an invitation letter for the ants to lean over and drink water, the air as cool and pure as the freshness after the rain, the ruins as vivid as the paintings of Van Gough...
Then things get harder and harder as one can imagine after a few kilometers. Some stopped and rested for a while to stabilize their breathing, some stopped to take the photos of magnificent views in the temple ruins, some stopped to help those who didn’t want to stop, some slowed down to touch the hands of the kids cheering beside the running path, some left the route to the woods for a quick pee… The race continued with the pain going along with us. Some had knee pain from beginning to the end; some ran with twisted ankles, some had trouble with toe nails or squeezing shoes.
However, the spirit was high as I have seen a guy running with a heavy bag on his back and a mother running with the teddy bear –most probably she was helping her daughter’s teddy bear to finish a half-marathon- . The most motivating factor after the never-ending flow of runners in front of me was seeing someone with a message at his back “Run faster, you are still behind me!”. It was slightly obnoxious but otherwise no one would care of it.
Once you reach the 15 km sign, you realize that stopping and resting are no more options. No matter how much pain you have built inside the walls of your body or how little stamina left in your stubborn soul, you have to keep going. As people passing by or cheering beside the path, the finish line becomes an inevitable destiny for the runner, a gift that the runner deserves, a divine trophy that one can only dream about.
I reach the finish line and see some of my colleagues waiting there. The others came one by one and the final scene was an unforgettable moment for everyone. Limping, complaining, and whining about the various injuries while at the same time feeling satisfied deep inside with the achievement came along after 21 km of sweat, inner-talk and pain. Exhausted with the run and with the heat from the rising sun, we decided to get back our hotel rooms for some rest. Before getting on the bus we took several photos and for the last photo we handed the camera to a local young boy. At that moment, I thought “If he runs away with the camera now, none of us could go after him and catch him, considering our exhausted muscles :)” Fortunately, he was a good boy, not as naughty-minded as I was.
Despite the fatigue, we managed to have fun all afternoon, eating and drinking till late hours of Sunday evening. Someone asked while eating the quasi-happy pizzas and drinking the Angkor beers; “Shall we come here next year again?” The answer was a “BIG YESSSSSSS”...
*** Photos on this page are taken by Steve P, Hugh M, Fiona D, Curtis G and Andrew A. Thanks to all for giving me the photos and asking me to write this short article. This will be published in school's newsletter.
We went to Cambodia to complete a half-marathon. The goal of the run is both to arrange a big sports movement and to help the long-time suffering people of Cambodia. The location is perfect as the route is passing through the ruins of the Angkor temples, going along a small lake, reaches at some dirt roads and ends at a point where we can see the entrance of the ancient temple city. The contrast between the excitement of the event and the tranquillity of the path was perhaps what made it a unique experience for majority of the runners. Running beside a lake whose surface seems as smooth as newly-ironed bed sheet, running through the centuries-old ruins whose spirits are awake as if they have never been asleep, running with thousands of young souls whose only aim to finish the race before the frying heat of the sun hits our bare heads...
For many of us, this is the first half-marathon and being an underdog it is impossible not to be intimidated by the size of the experience while at the same time not to be overwhelmed with the possible achievement at the end. It is not the distance to be beaten, it is not the time to be challenged! It is our own lazy souls, our own laid-back personalities, our own lives to be disciplined and to be taught. The difficulty is an undeniable reality of the show. However, the naïve belief one might have about the power of collectivism can work here as a catalytic essence. “If everybody runs, I can run too.” is probably the biggest source of energy for many runners here.
The race started at 6:30 am for which we need to wake up at 4 am. With the start sign, people began moving and mumbling like a locomotive starts its long journey at a station together with the whistles and notchings. The metaphor of train station and the departing locomotive can work as far as waving hands beside the railway and the distant eyes staring at the disappearing individuals. Slowly, the cacophony in the air is replaced by the pure sound of the footsteps and the heavy breathings. The lake, as tranquil as an invitation letter for the ants to lean over and drink water, the air as cool and pure as the freshness after the rain, the ruins as vivid as the paintings of Van Gough...
Then things get harder and harder as one can imagine after a few kilometers. Some stopped and rested for a while to stabilize their breathing, some stopped to take the photos of magnificent views in the temple ruins, some stopped to help those who didn’t want to stop, some slowed down to touch the hands of the kids cheering beside the running path, some left the route to the woods for a quick pee… The race continued with the pain going along with us. Some had knee pain from beginning to the end; some ran with twisted ankles, some had trouble with toe nails or squeezing shoes.
However, the spirit was high as I have seen a guy running with a heavy bag on his back and a mother running with the teddy bear –most probably she was helping her daughter’s teddy bear to finish a half-marathon- . The most motivating factor after the never-ending flow of runners in front of me was seeing someone with a message at his back “Run faster, you are still behind me!”. It was slightly obnoxious but otherwise no one would care of it.
Once you reach the 15 km sign, you realize that stopping and resting are no more options. No matter how much pain you have built inside the walls of your body or how little stamina left in your stubborn soul, you have to keep going. As people passing by or cheering beside the path, the finish line becomes an inevitable destiny for the runner, a gift that the runner deserves, a divine trophy that one can only dream about.
I reach the finish line and see some of my colleagues waiting there. The others came one by one and the final scene was an unforgettable moment for everyone. Limping, complaining, and whining about the various injuries while at the same time feeling satisfied deep inside with the achievement came along after 21 km of sweat, inner-talk and pain. Exhausted with the run and with the heat from the rising sun, we decided to get back our hotel rooms for some rest. Before getting on the bus we took several photos and for the last photo we handed the camera to a local young boy. At that moment, I thought “If he runs away with the camera now, none of us could go after him and catch him, considering our exhausted muscles :)” Fortunately, he was a good boy, not as naughty-minded as I was.
Despite the fatigue, we managed to have fun all afternoon, eating and drinking till late hours of Sunday evening. Someone asked while eating the quasi-happy pizzas and drinking the Angkor beers; “Shall we come here next year again?” The answer was a “BIG YESSSSSSS”...
*** Photos on this page are taken by Steve P, Hugh M, Fiona D, Curtis G and Andrew A. Thanks to all for giving me the photos and asking me to write this short article. This will be published in school's newsletter.
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