The sun was still creeping into a golden nest of clouds when I trudged toward the smattering of white T-shirts, lively chatter and bright smiles assembled near the Independence monument. The early morning chill and cobwebs of sleep that cloaked me did little to dampen my own enthusiasm. For a month I had prepared with single-minded determination for ‘Run for Their Lives 2012’, my first charity run. And as I strolled to the starting line, a noticeable swagger in my step, I felt like a Maasai hunter about to chase down an antelope in the Serengeti.

“Step aside Sunday joggers,” I thought to myself as the countdown began, edging my way near the front of the pack. Five. I am a gazelle, fleet-footed and graceful. Four. Let’s not get too carried away now, even Haile Gebrselassie has been felled in competition. Three. Quick, short steps, it’s all about efficient movement. Two. Hulk Hogan? It can’t be. One. Go! Go! Go!
Thundering down the first 400 meters of the course, the wind grazing my face, I felt like Kate Winslet standing at the edge of the Titanic. It was exhilarating and the adrenaline was gushing through my veins as I made my way between roughly two thousand runners, walkers, Rotarians, and everyone else stirred by the passionate members of the Rotaract Club of Colombo Uptown to help the patients of the Maharagama Cancer Hospital.

This was a cakewalk. My legs were loose and my breathing steady. It was now time to throw down the hammer and leave my fellow participants in the dust. But that hammer never did come down, or if it did, it landed straight in my gut and forced all the air out of my lungs.

This was not going as planned. Instead of rambling among the frontrunners, I was languishing at the rear of those same ‘Sunday joggers’ I had condemned. By the three kilometer mark I had abandoned all thoughts of a thrilling burst across the finish line. I even lost a large measure of dignity as I broke into a catwalk to earn a bar of Snickers from one of the race volunteers.

By the time I reached the finish line I resembled a praying mantis with a gunshot injury. I did manage a jubilant Usain Bolt pose though, in celebration of my first completed race and the fact that I had run the entire five-kilometer route.
Strangely I did not feel disappointed by the outcome of my race, despite my hard, albeit brief, training and lofty pre-race expectations. Instead I felt a surge of happiness at having been a part of something truly special: a collective exertion of will and stamina for a very worthy cause.

Ironically, Run for Their Lives would also go on to change my own life, inspiring me to train for and complete my first marathon. It would reveal the benefits of a healthy lifestyle and instill in me a deep and still growing love for running. As this year’s race rounds the bend (December 8), I eagerly anticipate an even bigger and more spectacular event. And when I energetically tear from the starting line this time, it will not be with a feeling of pride driven by a false sense of physical superiority, but with a joy born of camaraderie, competition and as sentimental as it sounds -love .

Run for Their Lives  will take place on December 8 from 6am at the CH and FC ground