It has been a year since my last trip to Kiara trails. I remembered the last run led by Alwin, and the X-Country race (when Kash won first place!) and that was that. At the back of my mind, when circling FRIM almost every Saturday, I wanted to relinquish the elusive trails once more.

With the fear of missing my way and ending up in remote places, alone, I opted to join the Trail Runners but after many failed attempts to coordinate meeting time and dates, I missed their various meets to tag the trails. Luckily, some running friends are kind enough to join me to tag our own tracks, and that sounded like a good plan.

First time back to Kiara, armed with a generic map from FakawiTribe.com, Nik, Shanaz, Kash, Catman and myself headed left from the carpark, and soon followed the outer trail through the 'Flinstones Playground', into the 'Around the Mountain' trail. The trail is tough with steep inclines and sharp rocks, super slippery from the heavy rains the night before. Regardless, the cool weather did not hamper our spirit, more so running with the 'Queen of Kiara' who's in KL for a short weekend.

The trail is a little deserted, perhaps not advisable to run alone, but possible if you have to. Along the way, there are a lot of plastic-filled latex from the rubber trees - a sure sign of the morning-people tending the trees. Mobile coverage was superb, so a (less expensive, albeit secondary) handphone is handy.

Beyond the water tank, the trails started to branch out in multiple directions, and the map is no longer traceable. We have lost our bearing, and everytime we stop at junctions, it was a guessing game when we either decide to climb up, or sprint down. More so, we maintained on the obvious trails over the conspicuous smaller trails. At many points, we bumped into weekend trekkers, mostly jolly in pre-Chinese New Year mood, and we were off again. The trails are generally well maintained, and sometimes we follow the paper trails only to get confused at multiple junctions. Sometimes we hit the single tracks, switchbacks, and platforms. For instance the Simpang Lima that has 6-7 branches at the same place. 

Regardless, we branched out from the trail onto the tarmac, and headed down, and back into the carpark.

The second week into Kiara, we came armed with a pair of scissors and a roll of fuschia-coloured ribbon, courtesy of Shanaz. We were on a mission!

I was joined by Daniel, Nik, Shanaz and new daddy-Meor on another slow-and-steady Kiara trails. We hit the tarmac first to get ahead of ourselves tackling easier '2K' and '4K' trails, hopefully bump into the new 'Magic Carpet' trail. Again we lost our bearing as the map does not match the trails. However, we tagged some trees along the way, what we thought a full '2K' loop. None of Karen's green and blue ribbons were spotted. 

As we came back into the tarmac, some one hour later, we came around the crossroad again, and went into the 'Snake & Ladders', 'Dirty Devils' into the 'Twin Peaks' (yeahoo!), 'Around the Mountain', along the water tank, and back into the 'Flinstone's Playground'. If I was right, the total distance was around 10k. Overall it was a good day out running.

I would assume that the shorter '2K' and '4K' trails, and the new 'Magic Carpet' trail is achievable if you want to run some alone time, but the other longer trails may need more familiarising to do, and more guts.

I wonder - if anything happens in the trails, who'd we call for help? 

Touch wood - but it is amazing when we runners are so fragile in the woods since we do not have the speed of a bike. Even running in packs, runners would still easily be vulnerable. 

In the mean time, Kiara exploration shall continue. 

Last night felt especially weird. On our bed, there was a frail baby between us, but Aiden has already joined Iris in the next bedroom. It felt like it was just few weeks ago when we had Aiden, all wrapped and motionless. It was the first time it struck me that we simply have 3 kids in our house. It was surreal, to say the least.

Batman Jr. was born 36 weeks, 2.4kg (5.3lbs), 08.37 hours, 30 January 2012.

Alhamdulillah syukur...

Thanks for all your kind wishes, and coming out of your way to visit us. 

Being in a food-loving country, we all have our favorite hangouts. The very least, I have one. A place I frequented on lazy weekends when nothing else in the world matters, when the laundry can wait, the car I could delay washing. A place where most staff knows me and my family.

But sooner or later, we'll end up having a bad time at what is supposed to be our favorite restaurant. And when that happens, you might be startled at how upset you will become. Surprised even, on the things that ticks you off. It probably won't be the food, or the 5-year-old ambience that's to blame. 

I can always shrug off missing few shrimps in my curry mee, or lack of flavour in them, since the chef didn't mean to dissapoint me. But everyone takes poor service personally. Get my food with not a quirk of smile on her face finds me unworthy. Getting my drinks very late and I'll feel worse, because I would be expected to tip.

But I understand, poor service is the result of a restaurant having an unfortunate day. Perhaps the chef snapped at my waitress and made her sulk. More than likely, poor service could be inevitable, caused by a staff with less-than-interested spirit in you/me. It could also be the the fact I was having a bad day, and anxious at all the things around me, easily irritated even by the sight of slow moving snails in my path. This colossal chain of events, especially when we are so 'close' at heart, well, practically a second kitchen, caused multiple frictions. One bad day, everything came crashing chipping the plates. 

When you have a place so dearly, we tend to overlook the details - prints on our glass, stains on the forks, dirty plates, soggy salads, pretentious meals, overpriced bills, etc. Because overall, we paid for the experience. We went again and again for the camaraderie, if you will. 

But bad service leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Along with it goes the gargantuan laughter, the free-flowing ais kosong, shameless orders for ice-creams, and a group of people I fondly called friends. 

I do not know whether I would risk visiting the place again, and face the possibility of another bad service. Scouting for another new good spot will take me years, so I do not know.

Sometimes I wonder why does things have to be complicated. 

(I heard what you are implying - that I am complicated. Apa-apalah...)

2012.

Reality check. Creative-check, I’d say.

Indeed a cliché, I look upon the new year with hopes to do better things. That’s all there is, kan? To be the better person, be a better Muslim, spend more good quality family time, eat more healthily, run longer, lose more weight, wardrobe makeover, learn more, swim more, cycle longer, get new shoes, watch plays, collect the stamps, learn to play drums, help the needy, participate in social services, donate blood, pass exams, grow organic plants, get a cat, and more.

It’s always about more, bigger, better. Subhanallah, what have I become?

It’s only January, but we have all year mapped out. But I look up high for uncertainties and spontaneous adventures to keep me going. But some realities are certain, and already taking the front seats.

Reality 1 – Batman Jr. is coming. Last time, before Aiden arrives, we managed a traffic free bedroom when Iris moved into her own room at 3. Now, with Aiden still with us, Batman Jr. will add more orchestra to our room. The playpen, swing, and arrays of plush toys, not forgetting the diapers, ointments, extra towels and the whole fiasco will take permanent residence in our room for another 3 years. I cannot discount when there are many trying times when Iris would insist to bunk with us (she’s a tad jealous).

It is just a matter of days before we’d hurry to the hospital, and bunk at the hospital’s sofa bed. And I am thankful our earlier decisions to buy baby stuff in neutral colours are adaptable to Batman Jr. Had they all be in their pinks, we’d have to round another shopping spree.

Reality 2 – Iris started her first day in the mainstream school, and I spent the whole week ferrying her around between morning and evening school. She took it like a real sport – smiling and not worrying a thing. That’s what being at playschool since 4 would do. I can never get instrumental enough for her. I missed her when she’s at school, and we’d secretly stopped for ice-cream, just the 2 of us, when I picked her up from school as she’d go on about her new friends, school, etc.

It simply means fitting her schedule against ours. Homeworks, tuitions, swim class, diet, orderly sleeping time, campaign to run for presidency, world domination.

Reality 3 – I failed one paper in my professional exams. I know I have never been the studious type in the family, and my state of dyslexity makes it more difficult to understand the stuff I was reading. And this year I have to have a go at it again, burying myself in the codes of conducts, Acts, legislations. To be honest, I do not surely know what to do with it yet, had I pass the papers. However, again, I hope, things will fall into places and I’d be able to chart a better quality life.

Let’s see if I am cut out to be one, once and for all. If not, perhaps I should join Masterchef Malaysia Season 2 and cook varieties of Maggi Mee.

And 2011 was not mostly kind. I drifted a lot, not knowing where I was heading. After a purposeful 2010, I spent half the time in 2011 worrying about trivial things. I forgot to keep the little things that matters. Honestly, I forgot most things I did last year. The most memorable events are when we found out about Batman Jr., and how I suffered in TNF100 and SCKLM, our family (shopping) trip, and Amy Winehouse’s passing. I think I have been overly complacent.    

And it is 2012. The year the Mayans predicted the end of the world. On the very day before my 38^th birthday. Or so they predicted.

Looking back to a mediocre 2011, I have better hopes for this year. As much as I aspired to become a philanthropist, or a successful Chef, but for the purpose more fitting for the contents of this blog and its kind readers; my head revolves around how to enjoy my 7^th marathon. Singular because, I have only 1 planned for 2012. It is more that a mouthful. To break the 4:45 comfortably, and injury-free. Perhaps by June, my shining Newton will be worn and seasoned for the adventure across KL City. But so far, every dates I have with her gives me a specific blister on my right toes. Love hurts, eh.

But in all honesty, I will have to be more creative to find ways (and time) to enjoy some alone time. Although most ideals always dwells down the idea of having a maid around, I’d have to be more resourceful. The immediate target is morning runs, which conveniently slots between dropping the girls off, and work that I have a sweet 75minutes alone. And although after-works are still favourable due to its crowd and chick factor – soon wifey would insist an earlier curfew in view of Batman Jr.’s feeding time. The only good thing is she’d be in a 3-months leave! Hopefully that should be good enough for my 18-months training for SCKLM.

But what’s beyond that will sap away my creative juice. If any of you who are in the same situation as me, please share your wisdom.

In terms of personal achievements, I see no shame in trying to go longer, faster, etc when it’s in my (and our) nature to see progress. Only last weekend during the FTAAA X-Country at Padang Merbuk, I sniffed the air for the excitement of small races, and the small hidden trails on the tray sparked the excitement of Genting Trailblazer. Small, short 10K races were the ones I started with, and perhaps it’s the way it should be for this year.

With 2011’s addiction to Cheezels and banana cakes, I hope that is a phase I could press on ahead without. It will be interesting to see how the mediocre cooking expertise to match the Australia’s Junior Masterchef’s offerings when I whip everyday food for Iris’s breakfasts, morning snacks, and afternoon snacks… as well as all of mine.

Happy New You, everyone.

I found out about this trail from Meor’s Dailymile entry. Again, this reinforces the fact that such opportunities are available when one seeks it out, but if oblivions are at large, gajah depan mata pun tak nampak. And while Kuantan is a beautiful place to live in, I share a special connection to this birthplace of mine. Traffic is easy and their drivers are not annoying, a lot of beautiful beaches, mee calong, keropok and fresh seafood off Tanjung Api and Beserah market.

Therefore, a short getaway was welcomed, and with anticipation of this Bukit Pelindung that Meor has gotten all prepped up, almost exclusively. I was quite sure its regular patrons, mostly elderly making their morning rounds does not blog about it. Quite understandable, the younger regulars in Bukit Pelindung are mostly MTBers as documented in few youtubes.

It’s the monsoon season, and the morning I spent tossing around looking at the rain outside was futile. I needed to see this trail Meor talked about for months, but I was trying to stay away from any cold. In my aunt’s kitchen, I could smell nasi lemak boiling and the sound of dried chilli paste being fried with belacan.

Tak boleh jadi ni…

Thanks to a skill I almost perfected over years of late morning runs, I grabbed my running bag by the door, reached for the keys and phone, and went out. At least my wife knows where I’d be going.

The location of the RV area into Bukit Pelindung is not apparent, so if coming from Beserah/Kuantan area into Teluk Chempedak, look out for Sekolah Afzan on your right (after Sekolah Menengah Teknik), and the entry is on your left where you’d see lots of bungalows, and a road leading up to a hill where you’ll see an apartment on your left after these houses. Lots of cars are usually parked by the roadside. But by the time I reached the parking area at the foot of Bukit Pelindung, it was drizzling and no one was there. Don’t be afraid when you are greeted by many dogs howling.

Going up, almost immediately I hit face first on a steep incline. I decided to walk up after a bad case of lower back pulls on Friday. Walking/running up the tarmac road, which leads to Telekom towers and their cool-weather office at the top of the hill, is taxing, like going up the Steroid Hill, times 3 – as the road meanders up and up and up into a seemingly never ending climbs.

But the climb is littered with awesome collection of forestry plantings with Meranti, Mempening, Merang, Balau, Keruing etc etc, and deep gorges below that dips just next to the walkway. With no railings, this is a place kids may need to be watched closely. And the road has a lot of resting benches by the roadside to rest, almost at every 100m. I had to turn off my music, and listen to the raindrops falling on the leaves, and the sound of the faunas. Thick fog descended upon me at times, and it was pretty cold, considering I went up in my skimpy running shorts and Salomon’s drifit.

The view on top of Bukit Pelindung is a bit of a let down, as I expected to see Kuantan’s skyline and rolling beaches from Teluk Chempedak into Pantai Batu Hitam, but the reserve jungle is still thick and high, all I could see were ferns, trees, and few telecommunication towers strutting beyond the fogs like Alton Towers in winter. The road ends at the Telekom office (must be one hell of an office), and it is road down to the start.

I imagine it would be a cool and quick dash down, even with my Ghost and slippery tarmac, I’d be down in 15 minutes tops. But some 100m from the towers, there lies a secret detour into a trail. The walking track of 1.88km from that point into the Teluk Chempedak beach itself has a 220m elevation on descent. I stood there for a few minutes, weighing my options. By then, there were some 5 walkers plying the tarmac, few motorbikes and 2 trucks from Telekom revving up between the last half hour. I wondered what I would encounter in the trails, but it did not register anything as my heart was urging me to jump in.

‘Try for 15mins’, my brain said. ‘If you don’t like it, turn back’. Ok, sounds like a plan.

So I swiftly entered into a trail, wet and water puddles everywhere. The rain has stopped, and the fog disappeared, but I cannot make out of anything beyond 5metres to my side. Even the tarmac quickly disappeared once I entered the trail. The only sign of civilization along the trail is the seats provided for walkers to rest and soak in the experience.

So I went. The first view was a steep climb on a staircase, into a hut. Then, the trail gets deeper, and I forgot the 15minutes curfew as I dashed ahead into a rolling trail. Although the trail was wet, but it was not super slippery as the trail base is sand. But sometimes coming down boulders and heavy roots would impose danger of sliding down butt first. But the trail is quiet and serene, and air is crisp. There were not a lot of sounds except for the twigs and leaves, but enough to keep me alert for incoming danger. The eyes kept looking down for snakes, and I was forever worrying for wild boars, after seeing their fresh dugs just outside the trail.

One time, the Sony automatically plays a Coldplay where Chris Martin was almost talking in his hit ‘Fix You’, I jolted with surprise as it sounded as if somebody/thing whispered into my ears from my back. Seriously creepy.

I think halfway down, the trail started to branch out into many smaller trails. Evidently enough, when it’s a place for MTBers, there are bound to have many technical alternatives, which made me doubt certain tracks. But in the end I maintained my strides on the big trail, and kept moving. There were times when I encountered bushes thrown against the main trail, even tree trunks that fell across from all the rain this season, but the trail is wide enough to read, so it was ok.

But like the Dream Trail, running alone is not so ideal. I was out of my comfort zone, especially not knowing the trail at all, and where I would end up. The only guy who knows about the trail is Meor, who was nursing his pregnant wife in TTDI, and whether I’d see anyone running the trail at all. The trails are similar, albeit remote to my liking, but it allows you to be aware of your footing and the surrounding. And the Bukit Pelindung trail has a lot of dips where you could fly down off the boulders and hills, or hurl yourself up if coming from Teluk Chempedak.

Not long, I encountered a marked area, possibly recently used for a MTB event. And the trail was becoming more confusing with many new additional trails branching out which made me try some of those, backtracked and ahead. In the end, it is safe to be on the main trail.

However, I did not bring any water and fuel (rookie mistake), and tackling the hills sapped me out very quickly. But by then, I could already hear a splashing beach below me, and within 15 minutes, a small window ahead draws a curtain  and reveals the breathtaking beach at Teluk Chempedak (although, the sea was like a whirpool). And that was it, Teluk Chempedak in your face.

Hooray!

 

The trail is a short one, no doubt, but the enough element of fun and fear was adequate, given trying it for the first time. I would think that on my next trip to Bukit Pelindung, I’d have to chart a longer route. From the beach, I ran up into the road, and towards Taman Teruntum, in high hopes to thread the sandy beach to Taman Gelora, and back. However, even in low tide, my run abruptly stopped as the beach is not runnable between Teruntum and Gelora, so I headed back to the carpark (along Jalan Alor Akar, etc) in full monsoon rain (even hard rain without thunders are always welcomed). Overall distance was perhaps 8k-10k, and my cold sweat made the most of it coming down Bukit Pelindung.

I missed this Road Safety Awareness campaign when I was a kid!

The beach at Taman Teruntum - looking towards Taman Gelora beach

Back to civilisation

Nik Fahusnaza having a field day at a free range

Imagine Kapas - Marang... seram!

Short and sweet.

Although not the same I could muster when sitting at the dining table for breakfast with sambal ikan bilis staring back at me. But life is like that. You win some, you lose some. When balance is what I was looking for, a short, intense run with family getaway together is always a winning strategy.

So, the Bukit Pelindung in one of the top ten list of to-do things in Kuantan now. Until the next trip!

Progress often brings me to new adventures. That adventure this time was Powerman. After many moons of running and swimming, the first Duathlon beckons. Although the training was nowhere near complete with just few weeks to spare post TNF, I thought that Batman is ought to be whipped out for some action.
But like TNF was shocked by the death of Kharis, a.k.a. TSB in the final eves of the trip, for Powerman we were rattled by the sudden death of a fellow cyclist, Ibrahim the day before our trip. And hence the mind plays precautionary measures into our preparations, and our drive up to Seri Manjung was marred by moody skies and cool weather. 

I have been accustomed to picking up race kits at shopping malls, parking lots, open field etc, and seeing familiar faces was somewhat I look forward to. Those we the windows when you see your running allies in work dresses, apart from their skimpy weekend uniforms. But coming to the briefing area for Powerman, almost immediately I felt dwarfed coming to a prestige duathlon event like this - what with people were parading blind expressions. Or at least that was how I felt, somewhat inferior as compared to a friendly atmosphere in the running fraternity. The evening when we went for the briefing at the hall, I was at my discomfort by the sheer sight of faux arrogance by some, and at awe by the brush of power. The only consolation was being carted away to the refuge of our hotel room, and later with familiar faces at dinner, set by beautiful bay next to the Outward Bound. I didn't want dinner to end.

Used to swim with Richard (hope to get back at it soon) and he's coming back a lot stronger now. And of course, the AirAsia X CEO - Azran Osman Rani. A cool boss, and aspiring sportsmen (pic credit : Cyn)

Back in the room, we had little time to ogle at the bad newscaster-ship over the Sea Games on the telly, as the prep starts right away. It was the most complicated preparation to date - in the end, for fuel I ended with 5 GU Gels (1 at T1, 3 taped to top tubes, 1 at T2), 2 Mars bars (reserve fuel), 1 Zip Bar (pre-race), 1 packet of Chomps, few asamboi, 3 ORS packets, 2 bottles of Gatorades (for the bike).

Laid down the Sloan, jersey, cycling shorts, bibs (for jersey, helmet (left and front), bike), belt, bottles, tube, ID, championchip, running shoes, flipflops, cycling shoes, helmet, gloves, small towel. Plus a fresh change, and arrange them all in the Transition Pack.

I decided to leech on the cycling jersey throughout, where I'd put in the gloves (to wear when approaching T1), Sloan deepheat rub and some ORS.
And the night before we set the bikes up - seat posts, rations in the pouch, pump the wheels, and some spits on the bikes, then finally the asap with the coal and some asam limau thrown in.

All those are not with additional glass of sweet Milo, and roti telur and dhal for supper. I closed both eyes to these sinful days, and enjoyed my first roti telur in ages, as we yapped about everything under the stars and the moon.

The morning of the race, we RV-ed at McDonalds for a simple coffee and breakfast in full view of many participants cycling from Lumut into Seri Manjung (such hardcores that they are), and arrived at the race site in hurried pace to secure the bikes in the transition area. I do not know how strict they would be, but it was something I would not want to experiment. But getting the rear wheel was a challenge made easy when Diket coyly secures everything in a fizz. And getting everything I'd need at the transition into the pack the night before was easy as I just dropped the whole thing, and split into the running holding pen. But one had to pause and look at those expensive bikes and drool. 
But in the hype of swish-swashing in the transition, I was questioning what on earth I was doing there. Probably my severely lack of training caught my conscience off-guard, and was trying to tell me to knock myself silly. This is a completely new territory.


But as I was standing facing the open sea earlier this year for the Singapore Biathlon, freaking out, thinking all the stupid thoughts, and positive thoughts together - quietly I knew I would sail this through. 
I imagine a modest 65mins for the first run, 2.5 hours on the bike, and 75mins for the final run would be achievable. Just thinking of the elusive finisher's t-shirt, no less.

Band of Brothers

In the holding area, generally the eyes were feasting on multiple shots of cycling jerseys and all sorts of comics. Some were wearing helmets for the run, some equally equipped with cycling gloves, mostly running with cycling shorts (myself included). Its amazing that no similar jerseys were donned (except for the team jerseys of Bukit Antu, OCBC and the likes) - so we were all spared by the wardrobe malfunction. But I felt at home that morning, despite different to the normal running shorts and all. The air was light, atmospheric smells familiar when running was put to the grind first.

As a common strategy, when the horn blew, everyone (almost) adopted an easy pace for the first running leg, on a conscious effort to reserve energy for the second running leg. But the runners in us kept our traditional LSD feature in saying hi-s and cheering the nasi lemak seller. With the aromatic grilled chicken to the savoury sambal along the road, it was music to my tummy. And the route is littered with children who flock the side kerb to watch us run, and probably trying their luck at the generous offerings of Gatorades at the 4 water stations. They came out in their school uniforms, fixies, and bestest of friends, almost to ridicule our running in the hot sun.

At one point, the sound of synchronised plods between the three of us running was delicious. One of the best 11k run to date for me (not in terms of time, but running experience).

And so the first leg was done in a very comfortable pace, as Diket, Azmar and myself cornered into the stadium ground into the transition. I pulled the Sloan, lather onto the quads and hamstrings, and downed a GU gel, and off to get the bike. Getting into transition was easy, but marred but inconvenient incident when the plaster tape I had from this morning stuck to each other, and when putting on the cycling shoes, I had the toes all bundled on top of each other, at all directions. Tweaking them on both feet took precious time off, but once that was sorted out, putting the helmet was quick and I found a trail of Diket right out front. I was on track.

I took off to the road on a light gear, trying to maintain my speed - and few turns later exiting the town into the main road into Damai Laut. Quickly I realised my odometer was not sending any readings (which I later found out that the front wheel was fixed upside down), but with many rider zooming past, I went ahead, only faster when I saw a water station ahead. I was always curious to see how do they actually work so I reduced the speed, and put out my left arm and grab a bottle of cold Gatorade. Few sips of those, I rode while holding the bottle and feeling stupid. I downed another gulp and threw the precious hydration. Too bad. But I later learnt to call out for the hydration of choice, and the selected volunteers would come out and reach for you. Kinda cool too.

The first cycling leg was enjoyable, to say the least. I managed to stay behind Diket until the major climb at Bainun's bridge when baffled by the bridge, I lost my bearings and delayed in my hasty attempt to shift gears. And the view on top of the bridge is awesome. Stretches of mangrove forest beyond what I could see in the low tide. But all was good and I returned back into Lumut still smiling. However, beyond the 40th km, almost immediately both feet swelled up and pushing against all walls. As a result, in between the numerous effort to unclip, and air wiggle the feet alternatively, ultimately I had to stop at the turnaround point near Damai Laut, and air the feet in open air. Suddenly I was brought back to Penang Bridge Half Marathon when multiple cramps forced me to admire the foul smell of the water below, under the magnificent city skyline of Penang.

Regardless, I arrived at the transition (T2) and a walk/run in the transition area was unbearable. It was almost a Godsent when I took the shoes out, ran on the grass and quickly slipped into Ghost, downed a GU gel, and off I went. What made it all worthwhile (at that point in time) was the sight of Azuria holding a cold bottle of Coke like an offering. The sun was up and the thin hot air slicing, and a sip of cold Coke is all you need sometimes.

100 metres out, a strong surge of tight knots on both quads floored me to a semi squat. The multiple spasm continues and saw me admiring the uneventful stream from over a bridge. It only subsided in the second loop of the run, although possibly the adrenalin takes over, and sheerly motivated by the finisher's t-shirt. And I had Puisan as company, who brilliantly carried her water bottle and filled it with ice water. A squirt of those in the high afternoon picked up a little bit of pace. Definitely a clever trick to continuous ice shower. 
Overall, the second running leg was not uneventful, and didn't lose its appeal any bit. What can I say - first love dies hard.

Coming back into the end of it all, I arrived at rows of barricades littered with PowerBar signs. After all these years looking at the setting in blogs of the IMs and triathletes alike, I found myself coming back into one. Surreal, to say the very least. As I passed through the gantry into the less-than-impressed spectators, it was a noble thing to come back to an icy cold towel (classic PowerBar towel, no less), and that exclusive finisher's t-shirt. Not a fan of the colour - but I'll have fun having my wife jeering at me when I flaunt it at social gatherings. Heheheh...

And that tan line... I felt like a kid with a KitKat. 

The tan line felt like a badge of honour. 

Beyond the finishing gantry, Powerman served simple food in the form of melons (would be super if it was cold), taufufa (for some odd, sweet protein) and cendol (OMG-ness!). The second stage was a full lunch during the prize giving ceremony, when the Organiser did not have the slightest idea what a sportsmen would need in their system post-Powerman. Despite the protein, we were served with white rice, super hot black pepper roasted beef, pasta with cream and bolognaise sauce, marble cakes, karipaps etc etc etc. A buffet spread fitting for politicians, I forced some food as my stomach was growling. Suddenly, a McChicken was more appealing. I needed more sugar!

When we finally regrouped, the Powerman virgins talked the most (myself included), like kids yapping about their day out in the zoo, as we went on and on and on, on transition, on cramps, on people lapping us, on timing, on etc. I think the adrenaline lasted us the drive back to Ziff's place. Even my iPhone battery didn't last that long with all the WhatsApps rallying around.

In retrospect, I have loads of respect for this event. The format is different to what I was used to, but the setting and atmosphere are addictive. I truly enjoyed the runs, and had I put enough heads into the cycling, it would have been sufferfest-free. The Manjung and Lumut folks are friendly, and overly accommodative in us invading their streets, and without a doubt, Powerman is a well-oiled machine. Pain and soreness aside, the lure to come back next year came merely an hour after the event. Aduhai...

Without question, my cycling skills are poor. Body form was defected which caused my back stiffened like a rod. And I need to get another pair of cycling shoes (crap!) to allow for the expanding tissues. One piece of advice from a cyclist friend was to build a base of 200km cycling distance per calendar week! I vomited air with faint smell of peanut butter sandwich I had for breakfast. A trainer would have been a better investment. To date, I have yet to figure out how I'd turn myself around in cycling, into my life before the dawn of PD Triathlon next year.

But yeah - my escapade in Powerman was great. Unquestionable event, great company, scenic road trip, and a Gila-Gila-Remaja outing. I did not suffer from any blister, or muscle cramps, so that was a good thing.
Thanks Ziff,  for the ride and company. Diket and the whole gang (Azmar, Dett, Akmal, Nizam, Alwin, Izuan, Azu and etc) for taking the inferiority out of the question. I have been really blessed, Alhamdulillah.