I JOINED THE HONG KONG MARATHON!

6:00 am, Sunday. I was roused from my sleep by the sound of a collective “WOOOHOOO” from downstairs. Looking out my window, I discovered that the sound came from hundreds and hundreds of runners turning from Nathan Road to Austin Road.
Runners on the bend...

Thanks to all those “nose for news” lessons from Prof. Teodoro, Prof. Domingo and Ma’am Tessa, I quickly washed up, jumped in my jeans, grabbed Deegee, and made my way downstairs. The stream of runners continuously flooded the streets, further piquing my curiosity as to what was happening in Tsim Sha Tsui this quiet Sunday morning.

The answer was in between Granville and Cameron road (the fashion holy ground), and it was lime green and sky blue.

As it turns out, the 10th Standard Chartered Hong Kong Marathon was happening not too far away from my doorstep. The streamers and transit ads for the event were all over HK the past month or so, but not knowing how to read pin-yin, the date of the event wasn’t too clear to me. Until today, at least.

I quickly made my way to the starting line where another set of marathoners were preparing to run. Two hosts’ voices were blaring on the speakers, and my journalist’s instincts tuned in to the 5Ws and 1 H. There were more than 5,000 runners from HK and other countries, including Nairobi, Kenya, and other African countries who are known to dominate competitions like these.

My attention was quickly diverted at the sight of a lady wearing a Standard Chartered vest with the Philippine flag sewed on to the upper right area of her garment. As much as my congenial side wanted to say “Hey there, Kababayan,” I feared that she might scream “weirdo stalker with bed hair!” Ergo, I chose to just focus my attention on the cute buggy with the clock on the roof.

The time buggy...

It said: “5:00”, meaning, in less than 300 seconds, the marathon was set to begin. At this point, I stood on top of the flower box for a good view of the runners. Suddenly, this nice Chinese lady gives me a plastic with “pong-bongs.” Intrigued by what a “pong-bong” was, it turned out to be an inflatable thingamajiggy that made a “pong-bong” sound when you hit them. Coolness!

The hosts then called the audience’s attention to the stage where HK Chief Executive Donald Tsang was welcoming the runners. In my stay in HK, I’ve actually seen Mr. Tsang about 5 times already, some up close, others – like today – from about 50 feet away.

Yup, Donald Tsang is somewhere there...

After all the niceties, the token dragon dance, and two eerily cute ant mascots appearing on stage, the marathon was about to begin. The clock began counting down, 30…29…28…27… and everybody was pong-bonging like mad! Suddenly, a pistol shot, fireworks, and the runners were off!

Running...
Running...
And more running...

Noticeably leading the pack were the Africans, then I saw a guy wearing a jersey with the Philippine flag! A Pinoy front runner! That made me go Wooohooo myself. Shots of the runners came out blurred since these people were really zip-zap-zooming away like anything. This is the reason why I didn’t get a good shot of the Pinoy runner.

Wanting to get into the pong-bong spirit, I started pong-bonging my pong-bongs. Instinctively, instead of a random pong-bong, mine was the DLSU cheer:

ORIGINAL: Go-La Salle-Go-Go-La Salle-La Salle
MY VERSION: Pong-Pong Bong-Pong-Pong Bong-Pong Bong

This was strange considering my alma mater is UP Diliman. But heck, I don’t even know UP Naming Mahal, so don’t expect me to know what our school cheer for the UAAP is. Better just play something familiar to me.

Then surprise of surprises! The girl beside me taps on my shoulder and asks: “Are you a La Sallite?” Of course, my reply was “No” and she continued by saying: “Oh, I just noticed that you were playing the La Salle chant, so I thought you were a La Sallite. Anyway, are you Filipino?”

Me and my pong-bongs...

Ah, yes. The proverbial question.

After some small talk with the Filipina, I decided to finish my instant “participation” in the Hong Kong Marathon. The arc was being deflated and transported to Wan Chai (site of the finish line), and the crowds were quickly thinning out. It was time to go home.

Time to move...

Now, like a journalist trained by CMC, I’m writing my account of the event that just passed me – literally! And it’s about time this article is put to bed. In a few minutes, I’m off to have breakfast with Joey in Causeway Bay. That should be another newsworthy event.