They Call Me Mellow Yellow

Finally, sponsored by adidas!

Lance Armstrong is back in competitive cycling. That's a crock of bullshit, if you ask me. The guy is an egomaniac and he loves attention, and he loves that this announcement is giving his various causes and foundations a huge publicity and financial boost. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing -- good for cancer research and anyone else who'll benefit. But it doesn't do too much for professional cycling -- if he falls short of previous achievements, there'll be speculations over how far Lance has fallen without 'roids -- if he took them. Can he return to his former form? He'll gain my respect if so. But only if he can wipe the smirk off his face.

Other recent yellow jerseys haven't been all that impressive either, in my opinion. Usain Bolt is an amazing sprinter and his Olympian achievements will do a lot to raise the spirits of his fellow Jamaicans in so many ways. But to showboat 10 meters from the finish line? The 100-meter dash is a sport in which every sprinter learns to dip their heads while making a last surge to come in first or break a record across the finish line. I think every sprinter should keep their head down, no matter how far ahead you are of the pack. Even individual events aren't individual competitions. You wouldn't win if you were the only participant. Lightning bolts fall from the sky, but they also hit the ground hard.

A month ago, I received an e-newsletter from adidas, one of the main sponsors of the Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon, announcing a call for entries for Inspirators. If you had an inspiring story about how you came to sign up for the marathon or became a runner, you could submit it for a chance to win a contest and a full running kit for the Big Day -- dressed head to toe in adidas yellow, like an adrenalized banana. A local actor, Randall Tan, is the top banana Inspirator, recovering from a condition that left him almost paralyzed a few years short of his doctor-prescribed recovery time. Me, well, my humble little old submission was:

"In 1996, I smashed my left patella into a steel pole diving for a pop foul during a softball game, killing a mass of nerves in my joint. The doctor advised against long-distance stress on an achy knee full of malfunctioning cartilage. That's OK, I was always an athlete, but not a runner. In 2002, I decided to try running short distances and managed to muster 5km in 45 minutes. Using a self-devised training program in which I set new time targets while gradually increasing distance, I hit 22 minutes by 2004 and now complete 8km in 40 minutes and 10km in 54 minutes. In 2006, I agreed to pace my great friend Maureen in the Chicago Marathon for 5km and ended up running 30km without training. Last year, I completed my first marathon in 5:00:03 and this year, I'm shooting for 4:45."

I'm kind of stressed and encouraged by the fact that I am supposed to be inspiring and motivating people to keep going on December 7, based on the fact that I am currently still stuck at two long runs only. I plan to run 30km on Wednesday, although I am supposed to be tapering already. I need to know I can do it, since there is no way I am going to build stamina and strength at this point in time. But just to know I can do it. Hopefully, since I have some sort of a designated role as Inspirator, I'm going to be able to keep going on some kind of adrenaline and Lance Armstrong-esque trip. When I cross the finish line though, I won't be slowing down and showboating. I will be holding up two fingers for my second completed marathon, I'd probably be yelling "Fuck yeah!" and I'll do something to chalk up yet another dorky finish line shot. But I'd also be humbled, because there would have been many more who overcame greater adversity to cross that line, and plenty who crossed it in a much more classy and admirable fashion than I would be.

When you bleed Cubbie blue under adidas yellow, you know the meaning of humility very well.