It has been 16 weeks since my bleeding knees story broke, and I had lost the energy to continue writing about it. However, after last week's historic London Marathon, I found renewed inspiration to recount my traumatic experience at the Cebu Marathon.
The Incident at the Start Line
Just minutes after the gun start, a strapping young man, bursting with energy and eager to go the distance, knocked me to the ground. I wanted to tell him to chill because the race was 21 kilometers long, and he had plenty of time to reach the finish line ahead of thousands of runners, including myself. I was not running erratically or changing lanes; I was running in an orderly fashion. This was my 32nd race, but my first knockdown.
He behaved like a careless motorist overtaking a vehicle on the road and hitting it. However, I must argue that when you are not even 200 meters into a 21K race, there is no justification for overtaking. If you are a competitive runner, you would be at the front rows of the start line.
The Aftermath of the Fall
The shock of the shove left me speechless and immobile. Lying on the ground, I feared being trampled by the thousands of runners still pumped with adrenaline from the start. After a few seconds, he turned around and, to my utter amazement, lifted me to my feet as if I weighed nothing. I felt like a doll in his hands. He whispered, "Sorry." I nodded and mouthed, "It's okay," and off he went.
In that moment, I never felt so vulnerable. I realized how old and defenseless I was in a sea of young, strong, and energetic runners. I realized how easily I could be shoved to the ground, injured, or even killed in a stampede. I never felt so small and frail in my life, but my spirit was strong.
Running with Bleeding Knees
I raced ahead. Soon, I felt a sting. I glanced at my right palm and saw blood oozing, but I kept going. After a while, the blood on my palms dried up. My knees were hurting terribly, but since I was wearing leggings, I could not see them, so I put mind over matter. I passed medics along the race route, and for the first five kilometers, I entertained the idea of stopping. I decided against it for three reasons: first, stopping would take away from my time; second, the thought of alcohol being poured over my cuts seemed unpleasant; and third, the idea of having my not-so-cheap technical leggings cut seemed even more unpalatable.
And so, I ran 21 kilometers with bleeding knees. They stung terribly in the first few kilometers, but as I ran further, fatigue took over, and the instinct to survive prevailed. By the time I crossed the finish line, I could no longer feel any pain, only exhaustion. It was only when I got home that I realized things were worse than I thought.
The Severity of the Wound
Some skin came off my right knee when I took off my leggings. Sweat and friction created the perfect recipe for a blister. What I saw was a big, gaping wound that took a month to heal. For some time, it looked quite angry, and I was terrified. I got a tetanus shot and took antibiotics as a precaution because the wound was deep and close to the bone. However, the angry look turned out to be trauma rather than an allergy.
Ongoing Trauma and Recovery
I have only run two other races since then. My anxiety at the start line now stems from the possibility of someone knocking me to the ground again. I have recovered from the wounds but not from the trauma. But I will be back. I am just taking a brief hiatus. In the meantime, I am on the lookout for a singlet with back printing that says: Senior citizen. Please keep your distance.
Please run safely. I do not wish bleeding knees on anyone.
