I return to Angkor Wat for my annual low-budget Southeast Asia end of the year trip (and run).
Like the Chiang Mai Marathon, I have seen
Angkor Wat Half Marathon and 10k evolve from a small-scale race for a handful of serious runners into a
colossal tourist industry event. A
staggering 9,000 runners descend on a narrow area in front of the entrance to
the temple for the sunrise start. It has
to be the most visually impressive and sublime location to start a race in the world, but it
is an absurdly congested area for this many participants starting a half marathon then a 10k. As loudspeakers
blared right in our ears and huge crowds of runners surged in on us from both directions I start to be overcome by
panicked claustrophobia. I manage to
focus on taking a few breaths and am able to calm down and return my attention
to the matter at hand - getting somewhere reasonably near the starting line of
the 10k. Gradually we weave our way somewhat
closer to the line, but despite our pleading and rather restrained effort, we are still chastised by an expat woman for for trying to nudge our way past her (yeah, I did kind of wonder what place this woman ultimately finished in the race, but you know - she is entitled to her opinion, there is certainly no reason to be annoyed, and as always I tell myself not to be excessively competitive).
Starting the race 4 rows deep does make the first 500 meters rather scary and draining (very
much like the cross country race's explosive starts that leave me struggling
through the remainder of the course).
Still I am with Arnaud at 1k in a slow 3:50 and the lead pack of about
10 runners is within range at about 15 meters ahead. I had hoped to just stay behind Arnaud and
kick at the end, but when I gasp to Arnaud "Shall we catch
pack?" he grunts back that I should
go ahead alone. It is a wrenching
decision given how bad I feel, but maintaining contact with the pack is my only
shot at being able to declare any real triumph for the day.
So I reluctantly surge ahead of Arnaud and burst
to catch the pack, clocking 3:40 for the second kilometer.
As always I appreciate this aspect of
the sport - mixing it up with the other athletes, testing myself, pushing
myself, and it is an intriguing effort to try and capture one of the 3 overall podium positions. But on this day it is not meant to be -- I am fading by the 5k
turnaround mark, lose contact with the leaders, and at 8k with my leg protesting, I wait for Arnaud and we jog the
final few kilometers.
But the trip is really about continuing
my global search for great running courses. So from Angkor Wat I travel to Laos and
the idyllic 4000 Islands - 4,000 automobile free islands.
I dream of automobile free islands -- running and cycling on roads free of all those horrible cars, and relaxing amidst the laid-back vibe that emerges when cars are removed from your surroundings. And in southern Laos, the Mekong River spreads out to form some 4,000 Islands - all 4,000 of them blessedly free of cars. Granted there are some motorcycles puttering along the bumpy dirt roads and admittedly most all 4,000 of these islands are essentially just rock outcroppings amidst the rapids. But there are several islands ideally sized for circumnavigating on a bike or run.
I dream of automobile free islands -- running and cycling on roads free of all those horrible cars, and relaxing amidst the laid-back vibe that emerges when cars are removed from your surroundings. And in southern Laos, the Mekong River spreads out to form some 4,000 Islands - all 4,000 of them blessedly free of cars. Granted there are some motorcycles puttering along the bumpy dirt roads and admittedly most all 4,000 of these islands are essentially just rock outcroppings amidst the rapids. But there are several islands ideally sized for circumnavigating on a bike or run.
