At the 2016 Seoul International Marathon, Rebecca Ilham gets a view of the city from a different perspective
IT was a chilly Sunday morning when I boarded the subway train at Jongno-3-ga station in Insadong to Gwanghwamun Square where I joined other runners at the starting line of the 2016 Seoul International Marathon last March.
The mood at the square was lively; runners were changing clothes, stretching, warming up, lining up for the toilet while announcements blared from loudspeakers.
The elongated public space is sandwiched between various arts and cultural institutions such as Seoul National Museum and King Sejong Performing Arts Centre. However, it is better known for its namesake, Gwanghwamun, the main gate of the palatial grounds of Gyeongbukgung.
In the middle on the square, perched on a throne is the magnificent golden statue of King Sejong The Great, a wise ruler who abolished the difficult kanji characters (hanja) and introduced a new writing system (hangul) to improve his people’s literacy. With a current literacy rate of 98 per cent, no wonder South Koreans today regard the 4th king of the Joseon Dynasty very highly.
I took off my heavy jacket and bundled it up with my purse, passport and some carbohydrate-rich snacks and caffeinated drink into the 45-litre plastic bag provided by the organiser. After checking that I had all the necessities (cell phone, a 10,000 won note, two sachets of energy gel) in my SPIbelt, I deposited the bag in the designated baggage truck before joining my fellow comrades.
I was nervous, even though this was my fifth full marathon; I had even taken part in two marathons one week apart. However, this was my first attempt to finish in less than five hours, the cut-off time for Seoul International Marathon. In my excitement a few months ago, I forgot to check the time limit when registering. I only realised it after the deed was done, but decided it was a challenge that I needed to face.
TEARING THROUGH THE STREETS
The race flagged off at 8am. For the first 5km, runners tore through the city streets lined by skyscrapers owned by chaebol (conglomerate companies), heading for the more traditional side of Seoul, namely Jongno-gu and its vicinity.
The streets were still deserted and shop shutters were down. Seoul is a bustling city of 10 million residents, so it was surreal to see it all quiet. However, there were buzz of activities as runners approached Gwangjang Market, the oldest daily market in Seoul.
Even though most shops were closed on Sunday, food stalls were opened. Visitors crowded seen around the famous bindaetteok (mung bean pancake) stalls and the meat sections where sundae (blood sausage) was a specialty.
I ran close to the 4:50 pacers as runners ran pass the first turning point in a much dreaded section along Cheonggyecheon. This is a 10km-long restored stream constructed below street level. Previously blocked by transportation networks during rapid industrialisation in the 1970s, it came back to life in 2005. Paved on both sides and connected at intervals via aesthetically placed stepping stones, Cheonggyecheon is bordered by rows of fabric shops and used bookstores, sealing its reputation as a popular leisure spot among locals and visitors alike.
I emerged two hours later, and was greeted by the Heunginjimun, one of the eight fortress gates along Seoul City Wall. It was built in the architectural style of the late Joseon era, majestically preserved in the midst of modern Seoul. It is perfectly juxtaposed by a new icon in town, Dongdaemun Design Plaza.
Designed by the late Zaha Hadid, an Iraqi-born architect best known for her futuristic buildings, this pride of Seoul is a vast steel-wall building of meandering shape not unlike a slithering giant snake. As a landmark that displays fluidity made possible by technology, it is a bold statement that Seoul is willing to move forward without forsaking its glorious past.
By this time, I had covered half of the full marathon distance. Feeling good, my pace was surprisingly even and my legs were fresh. Apart from the view, I enjoyed the support from the crowd along the route. There were not too many spectators, but their enthusiasm was contagious. I usually run with earphones on but this time, I did not need them; apart from the cheering crowd, shops I passed played music on loudspeakers. Interestingly most of them were songs from the popular K-drama, Descendants Of The Sun, starring heartthrobs Song Joong Ki and Song Hye Kyo.
LOSING PACE
The route now led runners away from the city centre on the north side of the Han River. The skyscrapers became fewer and fewer but the traffic congestion was worsening. At about 10.30am, Seoul finally woke up, and drivers honked in frustration as they were allowed only on one side of the road, while the other side was reserved for runners. I could not help but recall my experience running the KL Marathon.
Seoul motorists, true to their palli palli (hurry hurry) culture, seemed similar to the ones at home.
But it did not dampen my spirit; I was still able to follow the 4:50 pacer closely, even after 25 km. I must admit it was nice to leave the pace split to others, instead of constantly doing the maths in my head.
However, the test came at 26km when I lost the pacer. I had stopped for a quick toilet break, but when I came out from the portable toilet a few minutes later, the pace group was already about half a kilometre away.
At that point, I was feeling surprisingly fresh and fuelled up, so I gave the pacer a chase. Hence the next few kilometres were blurry. I passed spectators and fellow runners, including a sizeable running group from China, but I could not remember the scenery much. It was a huge relief to be reunited with the pace group at 29km. Now, I could enjoy the race again, instead of worrying about not making the time.
We passed the Seoul Forest area in Ttukseom, which was the starting point for the 10km category of the marathon. Previously a royal hunting ground, this was now a nature reserve that houses a cultural art park, an ecological forest, a nature-experiencing study field, wetlands area and the Han River waterside park.
I felt rejuvenated, both at the prospects of the remaining distance approaching single digits, and at the change of scenery. Buildings were now replaced by trees. Unfortunately, winter was still lingering, and they were not yet bursting with vibrant coloured leaves and flowers.
FINAL ASSAULT
I lost the pacer again at 32 km. This time, I did not give chase, being resigned to run my own pace. My motivation was now visible. The route took me across the Han River and I could see the majestic Jamsil Olympic Stadium — the finish point — from the bridge.
But before that, I had to go through the infamous Gangnam, the south side of the Han River. Nature again gave way to skyscrapers as the route demanded runners to navigate rows of high-rise buildings, including several Lotte malls and the theme park. After all, Gangnam is Seoul’s central business district.
Dutifully, I pounded the hard flat road, telling myself to endure the suffering for a little longer, while hoping to escape the mundane views of endless office buildings as soon as possible.
My wish was granted as the route edged closer to the finish line. The crowd became thicker, the atmosphere livelier. I could also see more green areas near the Baemynng High School area. The distance marker indicated 38km and I started to make my move. My target was to finish in half an hour, which would give me enough margin to comply with the enforced time limit. After two fast kilometres and passing many runners later, I rechecked my timing and was confident that I could finish in less than 15 minutes.
Goosebumps were all over my skin as I turned into the stadium courtyard. The crowd went wild at the sight of runners. I choked back my tears as I made my way into the tunnel and onto the track inside the stadium.
The race was not over, yet. The finish line was about 200m away, on the Olympic-standard track, which was used when Seoul hosted the 1988 Olympic Games. Later I learnt that the bare concrete facade stadium was designed by local architect Kim Swoo Geun; its elegant curves were inspired by a Joseon Dynasty porcelain vase.
I sprinted as fast as I could. I had run for 42km, and would not give up at the remaining 0.1925km. Just before crossing the timing mat, I passed the 4:50 pacer who had been a tremendous help during the race. I pumped my left fist in the air and finished the race.
A fellow runner, a local man, enthusiastically said something in hangul when we walked towards the runners’ rest area. From his gestures, I believe he was commenting on my final sprint. I returned the favour by nodding and patting his back, saying “very good” for his efforts too.
As I followed the flow of runners to snack and medal collection areas just outside the stadium, I realised that while I came Seoul to challenge myself, I had gained so much more than a full marathon personal best along the past 42.195km route.
I had the advantage of seeing the city from a unique vantage point, a perspective that might not be possible otherwise. I had experienced the warmth of Seoulites and, at the same time, witnessed their less-than-flattering sides. My official time (well, if that still mattered) was 4:48:04.