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wristwatchjournal · 4 years

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No Longer Made: Sinn T2B (EZM 15) Watch

No Longer Made is a series done in collaboration with our partners at eBay, in which aBlogtoWatch editors feature their favorite watches that are no longer in production.

If there’s one watch I consider to be the cornerstone of my collection, it is, without question, the Sinn T2B. Though we typically write about new releases and loaners that we’re lucky enough to wear for a few weeks or months, today I’m reviewing a watch that’s been in my personal collection on and off (more on that in a minute) for several years. It’s the only watch I have that’s guaranteed to remain with me in perpetuity and is utterly safe from any purge of the watch box. Although I’m far from a “one-watch guy”— it would be pretty hard to write about watches if that were the case — it’s the one watch I consider unequivocally me.

I’ve always been a particular fan of German watches; from the function-first aesthetics to the tech to the value, German watches simply resonate with me. After making my way through several German tool watches (e.g., Stowa, Damasko, Limes), I came across the Sinn T2B, tucked quietly away deep in Sinn’s catalog. It’s cliché to say that it was love at first sight, but I was immediately smitten — 41mm, titanium, loaded with Sinn’s proprietary technology, but a blue dial and rounded lines that softened the severe mien that defines much of Sinn’s Einsatzzeitmesser (EZM, or mission timer) line. I had to have one. I sold off a couple watches, found a lightly used example at a fantastic price, and it was on my wrist. That was four years ago. I wore it more than any other watch — by far — and took it on adventures both local and global.

But then, the horological affliction that affects so many of us struck: I wanted a new watch. In particular, I wanted a blue Tudor Pelagos, but the only way that would happen was to sell the Sinn T2B. Stupidly, I did so. A year later, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Sinn and now word was out that the T2B was discontinued. So, the Pelagos went up for sale and I went on the hunt for another T2B. It took a fair bit longer this time, but I managed to track down a like-new example, albeit at a significantly higher price. Lesson learned. They say you should never get back with your ex, which is sound advice when it comes to dating, but I’d have to disagree when it comes to watches.

So, why am I so enamored of the Sinn T2B? Let’s start with the case. The Sinn T2B comes in a 41mm grade 5 titanium cushion case; the light weight of titanium coupled with the super short ~46mm lugs means the watch wears small and exceptionally comfortably. No hyperbole, it’s the most comfortable watch I own. By far. It makes the Pelagos feel heavy and unwieldy by comparison. At first glance, the watch is unassuming, but Sinn is packing a whole lot of heat in the T2B. When the watch comes from the factory, the case is filled with an inert gas. The Ar marking on the dial indicates the use of Sinn’s Ar-dehumidifying technology, though nitrogen is now used in lieu of argon. Inert gases less reactive than air, in theory maintaining the oils in the watch for longer, reducing degradation of the movement and increasing the service intervals. Next, Sinn adds a copper sulfate capsule, visible as a pale blue dot on the side of the case at 8 o’clock. Copper sulfate absorbs any water molecules that inevitably make their way into the watch. Mind you, I’m not talking about water leaks, but minuscule amounts of air that inevitably sneak past the gaskets. As copper sulfate absorbs water, it gets darker. Once it reaches a dark blue after a number of years, the copper sulfate has done its job — that doesn’t mean that your watch is now vulnerable but rather that it operates like a typical watch, albeit one that also features Sinn’s Extreme Diffusion-Reducing seals. Pretty sure the Sinn T2B will survive my trips to the pool.

And that’s just the start… Now, let’s check out the bezel. The Sinn T2B features a tegimented titanium captive safety bezel. It’s probably worth breaking down that word soup. First, the tegimented titanium. Tegimenting is a surface-hardening process used by Sinn that increases the hardness of the metal to upwards of 1,200 Hv. In practice, this means that the bezel is really, really hard to scratch. A nice change of pace if you’re used to aluminum bezels. Next, “captive” refers to the fact that that the bezel is secured by four small screws that keep it in place, but the “safety” is where it gets interesting.

In order to turn the bezel, you have to apply downward pressure, then turn. After you’ve set the bezel, it pops back up in place and can’t move unless you push and turn. It’s akin to childproof tops on medicine bottles (but easier to operate) and made with typical German precision. When you do set the bezel, its 60 clicks are solid with zero wiggle. In practice, it means that the bezel can’t be inadvertently knocked out of position. One last note on the bezel is its unusual scalloping. It’s a unique approach and is fairly grippy and certainly not something you see very often. Again, these soft lines are a design element that echoes throughout the piece.

Finally, there’s the 2000m of water resistance. Yes, 2000m in a 41mm, ultralight watch with a very modest 13.3mm case height. Completely absurd and excessive and about 1,995m more water resistance than I’ll ever need, but if you want assurance about the capability of the tool on your wrist, that should do the trick. And it’s this feature that makes me smile when people chalk up the bulk of dive watches to high water resistance (I’m looking at you, Tudor Pelagos, with your 500m water resistance). It’s not about size, but construction, design, and tolerance — something Sinn nails like few others.

A gaze through the double-domed sapphire reveals the most important aspect of this watch: the dial and hands. After all, this is a tool watch and its prime responsibility is to allow you to tell the time quickly and easily. And that it does. Sinn continues with the softened aesthetics, rounding both the hour markers and hands so that the hour markers have a stark white pill shape set off against the matte blue dial. Now, the hands are where things will get divisive. The hour hand is small (some would say stubby), but this is entirely intentional, as it allows the large arrow-shaped minute hand to become the focal point. In practice, this means that reading the minutes is instantaneous.

Finally, the watch features a white-on-black date window. I actually prefer the choice of a black date window over one color-matched to the dial since it complements the black Ar text at 9 o’clock and the black at the base of the hands. Sinn uses two colors of Super-LumiNova — green for the bezel pip, minutes, and seconds, and blue everywhere else. And there’s a lot of it. The watch is a torch at night, though the distinctness of the colors is lost after a short time. The two-tone lume is a fun feature but really only noticeable right after a full charge of the lume.

Depending on when the Sinn T2B was produced, it’ll feature either a Soprod A10-2 movement or an ETA 2892-2, which eventually replaced the Soprod. I’ve found both movements reliable and I’d be happy with either. My T2B has the Soprod, a Swiss automatic movement with 25 jewels that beats at 2.8.kbph, features a 42-hour power reserve, is anti-magnetic to DIN 8309 and anti-shock to DIN 8308. Both of the T2Bs I’ve owned ran within a few seconds/day with little positional variance, so no complaints on my end about the movement.

Some watches are described as strap monsters — watches that look great on almost anything, be it bracelet, leather, rubber, NATO or anything else you can imagine. The Omega Speedmaster and Rolex Explorer come instantly to mind. The Sinn T2B? Not so much. After buying more straps that I care to admit, I’ve come to the conclusion that the Sinn T2B works on exactly three straps: a Sinn titanium H-link bracelet, a Sinn silicone strap, and an admiralty grey Phenomenato strap. That’s it, at least in my eyes.

Let’s focus on the two stock options: Sinn’s H-link bracelet and silicone strap. The bracelet is extremely light and comfortable. It simply melts on the wrist and is a pleasure to wear; the H-link style is almost synonymous with Sinn at this point and it’s the combination I’ve worn more than any other. Unfortunately, at the >$3,000 retail price, the bracelet is undoubtedly a let-down. That’s mainly due to the clasp, which is simple, stamped titanium. In addition, the diver’s extension is weak and tends to pop open every time you take the watch on/off. The deficiency of the bracelet clasp is especially poignant once you’ve worn the Sinn silicone strap with the large titanium clasp, which is a solid piece of milled titanium with excellent tolerances and a secure push-button closure. In other words, Sinn knows how to make a stellar clasp, they just choose not to include it on their bracelets for some bizarre reason.

I acquired a blue Sinn silicone strap a few weeks ago and, simply put, it’s fantastic. I’ve already noted the excellent large, titanium clasp, but a compact butterfly clasp is also an option. The curved and fitted “end links” give the watch a finished look and feel and the strap is extraordinarily comfortable… if you happen to have the right wrist size. The clasp has no micro-adjust holes, so you’re stuck with cutting strap and hoping for a close fit. Luckily, I ended up with a spot-on fit on my 6.75” wrist, but if you cut the strap a bit short, you’re stuck buying a new one — luckily, replacement straps are also sold without the über-expensive clasp. I’ve haven’t taken the silicone strap off since it arrived, and I have a feeling it will stay on the T2B for the summer.

If we consider alternatives, there are plenty of tool divers to choose from, but there’s simply nothing quite like the T2B. First up is the newly-released Sinn U50. Coming in at a similar 41mm case diameter, the U50 features a submarine steel case and bezel and a more attractive starting price of $2,180. The U50 features Sinn’s more classic and severe design language but lacks the much of the proprietary tech for which Sinn is known (plus, no blue colorway — yet, anyway). The other option, albeit in a larger 44.4mm size, is the $2,300 Tutima M2 Seven Seas: Titanium, blue dial, H-link bracelet, and a familiar overall aesthetic. Plus, I can attest that the bracelet and clasps on Tutima watches are fantastic. Last, but not least, there’s the T2B’s big brother, the $3,440 T1B. For the larger-wristed, the T1B gives you everything you get in the T2B, but in a larger 44mm case size.

The Sinn T2B is not a watch for everyone. You either love it or you just don’t get the appeal. Obviously, I love it, and, frankly, part of the charm to me is the fact that this is a watch that not everyone will like and it’s a watch I’m unlikely to see anywhere else, especially now that it’s been discontinued. The Sinn T2B was a daring departure for Sinn when it was first released, and it’s simply unlike anything else in the brand’s lineup — or anything else at all for that matter. The Sinn T2B retailed for $3,240 on strap or bracelet and a few straggler pieces can still be found new, though, depending on where you live, you’re likely going to have to look to eBay and the secondary market. These are not easy to come by, but it’s worth checking eBay for the broader Sinn T2 and keeping an eye on it. More information on the Sinn T2B can be found at sinn.de.

The post No Longer Made: Sinn T2B (EZM 15) Watch appeared first on Wristwatch Journal.

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easonholck8-blog · 6 years

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genruns · 7 years

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VMM 2016 - A Mountain Marathon to Remember

Hanoi and Sapa, 21-27 September 2016.

Like most runners who never learn, the memories of pain and suffering from past races somehow give way to stronger cravings for new goals and adventures. Despite the hiatus I promised myself after the UTA in May, I found myself signing up for the Vietnam Mountain Marathon (VMM) in September. This was a 42km event in the mountains of North Vietnam, a beautiful place called Sapa.

I signed up for this with Danny and Vince. This would be Vince's first trail race, and he had only started seriously running barely a year ago. His last marathon was 10 years ago. I admired his bravado and secretly thought him mad. We were joined by Eus, who signed up for the 70km, having done the marathon event the year before. Andre signed up for the 100km race to obtain the remaining points he needed to qualify for a ballot in his dream event, the 170km Ultra-Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB) in 2017. In comparison, my running aspirations are considerably meeker. I am content with taking part in and completing 50km races and marathons. For the foreseeable future I do not see myself going beyond this milestone until I feel that I could clock a reasonable timing for such distances.

Hanoi

Visiting the city of Hanoi was an event in its own right. When I first set foot there, so much about the city offended my sensibilities as an urban planner, and derailed my senses as a Singaporean. This was a city governed by basal human instinct and a ruthless desire for making a beeline for one’s destination. Elements of civilisation such as sidewalks, traffic lights, pedestrian crossings, one-way lanes, double yellow line markings are but mere physical presences that mean nothing to the locals. The sidewalks are, if not rendered completely inaccessible by multitudes of parked motorbikes, plied by multitudes of speeding motorbikes. One can never tell if a lane is meant to be single or multi-directional, because motorbikes are going left, right, diagonal - you name it. It is easy to tell which pedestrians are local, and those who aren't, from the way they cross the road. Locals tread the tarmac with an instinctive feel for the speed of oncoming cars and motorbikes, expertly weaving through the confounding mess of vehicles and incessant honking. Foreigners take a brave step out onto the street, falter and freeze as five motorbikes nonchalantly hurl their way, fall back onto the safety of the path, mumble a quick prayer, and nervously start afresh. By the second day, becoming more familiar with how things work here, I felt that I would never have a problem jaywalking at home again. I learnt that the moving vehicles were already primed for pedestrians who blazed through the traffic adopting a fuck-all attitude, and that in order to survive this concrete jungle I had to, similarly, appear 'fuck-all'.

Traffic and a blatant disregard for rules and possibly human life aside, Hanoi holds a third-world charm that is perceptible from its architecture and vibrant street life. In the French quarter, remnants of its colonial past can be seen from its buildings. Views from some of the wider streets even bear vague resemblances to Paris's tree-lined boulevards. Women donned in traditional Vietnamese dresses and straw hats heaving up loads of street food and other wares on sticks walk the streets. And it is amusing how us Singaporeans often rave about al-fresco dining being a strictly western luxury ("It is just too humid here!"), when all over Hanoi, roadside stalls spill out onto the sidewalks where masses of people sit on puny little plastic chairs and eat at just as puny tables. Some lay back on their chairs, enjoying cigarettes as they watch the maniac traffic scene before them. Can it get more al-fresco than that? Here we have it, the established western principles of what is considered to be good urban planning: density, vibrancy, street life, diversity.

Of course, one has not been to Hanoi if one has not sampled their street food. To be honest, Vietnamese cuisine had never inspired me much - Pho felt to me rather bland and comfort food during a cold at best, and bahn-mi - my limited experience of them was from the little restaurant next to my apartment when I was living in London, i.e. expensive salad-filled baguettes proclaiming their authenticity just because they added sour chilli sauce and some rice noodles. Boy, was I wrong. In Hanoi, we had the most mind-blowing pho in an unassuming little restaurant. The broth tasted like it had been steeped in spices for a long time. One mouthful was all it took to dissolve in the burst of flavours, herbs and spices (beef, coriander, basil, spring onion, lime...ahh). On this trip, I learnt what proper street ban-mi was meant to taste like. Pate, with a heap of spices and herbs and delectably seasoned meat, sandwiched within toasted fresh baguettes, made all the difference. And yes, we had to go the bun-cha restaurant made famous by Obama's visit.

Sapa

We spent a day in Hanoi before the 5-hour journey to Sapa. I learnt on the way that Sapa is dominated by the Hoàng Liên Son range of mountains, which forms the eastern end of the Himalayan range. i had no idea that I was going to be running in the Himalayan range! That thought got me really excited. Arriving in Sapa town that evening at about 9pm, we were in for a pleasant surprise. All except Eus who had been there the year before (for the 42km event), we had been expecting a mellow mountain town. Instead, we found ourselves in a bustling lively town with neon lights and street life. It was an interesting blend of tourists and Hmong tribespeople adorned in their traditional headwear and clothes, selling their wares on the streets. The streets were alive with bustling roadside food stalls with all sorts of meats and seafood grilling on coal barbecues, and there were touristy bars crowded with people. Many persistent tribes children were touting their handmade crafts to tourists, following us closely as we walked.

The next morning, we had breakfast in the hotel and were presented with a spectacular view of the mountains. It was exciting though a little nerve-wrecking to think that in less than 24 hours, we would be running up those staggering slopes. We boarded our van for a jerky one-hour ride from Sapa Town to the Sapa Eco-Lodge, where the finish line would be. It was extremely beautiful scenery with perfectly sculpted rice terraces sloping down from the Lodge, and it gave us an idea of how exhilarating the finish would be. However, I wasn’t having a spectacular time as for some reason (probably due to the street food from the past 2 days), I was having the runs. We did not linger there too long, and travelled back to town immediately for some rest before the race. That evening, I sent Andre off for his 100km race.

The Race

I suppose it was the adrenaline but on the morning of, I felt pretty good despite having about 4 hours of sleep. Breakfast at the hotel was meagre, with a plain baguette and some butter and jam. It was a blessing in disguise that the chronically late Vince forgot to switch his clock one hour back. He had been up an hour too early, and met Danny and me out on the street just on time. After a 45-minute bus ride, we arrived at the race start. As usual I was too charged with adrenaline to be able to snooze. The race start was a track road flanked by hills. Many of us took off to empty our bowels in watermelon farm which everyone mistook to be a designated dumping ground thanks to a misleading “WC” sign (which we eventually realised pointed to proper sanitary facilities about 500m down a curved road).

Not long after, the race started with only a 5-minute delay (that is pretty punctual from experience). It started with a 2-3km hike upslope. We turned past a rubbish dump, and straight for a 3km downhill stretch. This stretch was strewn with huge and slippery rocks, and the runners were reduced to a single long trail, each and everyone single-mindedly focused on the task of not slipping on our bottoms. We had lost Danny by this point. The guy was too far ahead to be seen, which really impressed us as he had not trained in the months leading up to the race due to a foot injury. When I stopped to use retrieve my trekking poles (an amazing carbon fibre light-weight pair - a gift from Andre - that I soon realised were key to my survival in this race) from my hydration bag, I lost Vince as well. Having trained largely in a country where ‘off-road’ meant paved nature trails, I was really not used to this terrain. However, images of runners from the past year struggling here knee-deep in mud and terrorised by heavy rain did make me feel grateful for the wonderful sunny conditions under which we navigated this narrow trail.

Exiting this horrendous labyrinth, we found ourselves embarking upon more beautiful mountain scenery, where we confronted numerous switchbacks, hills adorned with wild herbs and flowers. When I was about 9 or 10km in, I ran into Danny and from there we kept a close distance to each other. However, I was feeling weak during the whole time - possibly due to the tiny breakfast (I am very much fuelled by what I eat), and the runs from the day before. To make matters worse, I could not stop sniffing. My nose was running like hell; I had not fully recovered from a bad cold I’d caught a week ago, and I felt awful. Nevertheless, I persevered on, distracting myself with thoughts of an early pre-20km race withdrawal, and a self-dignifiying image of myself attaining enlightenment on what was important in life - good health and a strong state of mind, not a mindless rat race to the end! This did not happen of course, but the thoughts did serve its purpose to distract me from my despair. 12km in, I remembered I had tailwind on me. God. How could I forget.. I took a swig; the miracle formula enriched me and I inched on towards the first checkpoint at the 14km mark.

There, I was happy to find Vince waiting. Danny caught up soon after. The villagers sold refreshments - soft drinks, bananas and sweets. I ran into some of the guys doing the 70km run here - runners from higher race categories never fail to impress upon me as a different breed of humans. They ran the bumpy terrain like I pounded the pavement from the MRT station to work, spurred on by my impending lateness at a meeting. After filling up my hydration pack, the 3 of us were off.

Whilst the feeling of lethargy had not left, I was feeling much more motivated having hit the first checkpoint. This next section was an interesting one where we followed an undulating road track which led to a beautiful karstic landscape. Here, the ground was awash with naturally sculpted white-grey limestone, spaced between little narrow streams that flowed within fissures widened from years and years of erosion. Here, it was extremely slippery and tricky. Runners would call this terrain “technical” (which basically means it’s not very runnable - people like to throw in some jargon now and then for the heck of it). Several people slipped and fell here and I remember this fellow racer who did, laughing, “Yeah, I get it now!” It was funny at that time because the landscape, though beautiful, did indeed feel punishing.

The trail then brought us running along the thin edges of the terraced paddy fields, where we had to keep our balance to prevent ourselves from falling headfirst into the flooded fields. This was fun and extremely scenic, but I found it extremely difficult to keep up due to my overpronation issue. A probable result of bad walking posture that accumulated over the years since my childhood, it has been difficult to correct the tendency of my feet to land, with more force than is efficient or safe, on the inner soles. This makes it difficult to keep my balance and run efficiently on bumpy and soft ground, and I felt like tipping over many times here. It definitely slowed me down, and I was overtaken by several runners at this point. After ungracefully pounding through the rice fields, I finally reached the road where we were drawn through several hills before we hit the second checkpoint at 20.5km.

Here and again, I met Vince who was lounging on a plastic chair and eating a banana. Apparently he had been there 10 minutes before me. The race volunteers were serving instant noodles, which I happily downed for all its warmth, salts and (some) carbs. We spent a bit too much time here chatting and filling up our hydration bags, and it was 15 minutes before we left the checkpoint. The road after was a 6km-long continuous uphill with >300m elevation gain. I actually felt really good from here on. Maybe it was the noodles and the MSG (hey, it’s not always a bad thing), but damn I felt on a roll. It took me 20.5km before I finally felt right again, and I definitely wasn’t about to quit now.

Even though it was all uphill, I really enjoyed myself at this stage. The months of training were paying off, as I scaled the mountains with a sense at last that I might prevail. I overtook several runners and luxuriously took in the breathtaking scenery, even snapping pics at one time on my iPhone (i never ever do that during races). Apart from several short downhills, it was just uphill all the way. I felt marvellous and while in pain, I was in control of that and could manage it. As compared to the weak tingling feeling I experienced earlier, this was a real boost. Vince (that guy overtook me again) was almost always within sight, while Danny was close behind me. It was a little over an hour by the time we got to the third checkpoint at 27km. I was thanking God at this stage for having brought me this far. This time, we were efficient with the checkpoint - we always learn this too late in the race! - spending just five quick minutes on a brief rest and filling up the hydration bag.

We were now led to a steep and continuous 7km of downhill route (total elevation loss of 400m). We broke into a run here. Though my ankles and legs were tired, I felt liberated from the non-stop uphill trudging and gave into speed. I probably overdid on the hard running at this stage, and promptly sprained my ankle on soft soil. This happened in the middle of a forest path, where there was a construction tractor digging up the soil (don’t ask me why). The two workers standing close by grimaced as I sprained my ankle, and kindly sat me down at a soft spot. Though it really hurt, I knew this wasn’t going to last for very long. My ankle had been weak since I sprained it years ago in school (during a soccer game). Spraining it during races seems to be a mainstay (it happened two years ago in Rinjani as well). Still, the two workers looked concerned, as did a group of Singaporean runners whom I’d overtook not long ago. I assured them I was fine, and would take a rest before going any further. After about 5 minutes of stretching, I felt fine again, bid my thanks and goodbye to the workers, and carefully continued my way to the next checkpoint. This period of stopping, resting and slow-walking after spraining my ankle slowed me down a lot, and probably affected my final timing quiet a bit. By the time I got to the fourth checkpoint, Vince was nowhere in sight. Nevertheless, I did not feel demoralised as I knew my aim was not to finish with an impressive race time, but to end in one piece within the cut-off time.

Crossing the final checkpoint at 34km, I arrived at a steep uphill forest track. This was at least a 40-degree incline. I wryly imagined congratulating the race organiser on a job well done for leaving the worst bit to the last, as I ascended the trail slowly with aching calves and crying quads. This was a punishing 300m ascent for 3 kilometres, with no break or downhill in between. I made a Vietnamese friend along this trail, who was also attempting this race for the first time. We continued together, and chatting about the race and why we were doing it lifted my spirits and egged me on harder. It felt like ages before we arrived at a pseudo, non-official checkpoint at 37km. I wasted no time here, and taking just the amount of water I needed, went straight to finish the remaining 5km.

From here on, it was a beautiful downhill run to the end. Just like UTA, the last 5k never feels like 5k. Winding down and around the never-ending switchbacks, I gave it my all - pounding the tarmac racing downhill even though my legs felt incapable of any further stress. I passed several on this final stretch. Though hills and villages on the other side were visible from the track, I simply could not make out where the finishing point, Sapa Eco-Lodge was. I gave up and focused single-mindedly on the objective to end the race. I was really proud of myself for persevering even though my legs felt like stinging lead - I had no clue where this energy and determination to push my battered body came from, but man I felt in control! During the very last few hundred metres, I crossed paths with finishers wearing medals around their necks, and knew I could not be too far off. A finisher warned me that a slight uphill lay ahead, but at that time I could not be arsed to worry about anything. I was so close to the end. Finally, the route took a slightly steep turn to the left, and lo and behold, I was confronted with a familiar row of manicured trees and country flags flanking both sides of the path. We were just here the day before checking out Eco-Lodge. This was exactly the last 100 metres or so of the race. I was feeling amazing - while completely battered - as I sprinted the final few metres past the finish line. 9:59 was my timing - Damn, just one minute to 10 hours. I know that I could have done better without the cold, and had I not felt hungry and weak at the start of the race. Still, I gave it my best shot given the circumstances and that was what mattered.

The first face I saw was Winnie’s, Danny’s wife, who cheered me into the stands. The sun seemed to be a few minutes from setting then, and was I glad to not have run into the night! Winnie told me Andre was not done yet, and we were still waiting for Danny. Vince was already there with his wife Charlene and 6-year-old daughter Sarah. I ran over to hug and congratulate him on finishing his first mountain race, and also pretty much out of this new-found sense of camaraderie of having suffered together, and seeing each other at our worst. (Though, yes, to be fair, he was mainly the one witnessing me ungraciously blowing my snot into my wrist buff throughout the race. I still claim that was done out of pure ethical reason - I could not and would not blow my snot onto the ground!) Sarah whispered conspiratorially to me, “I’m not supposed to tell you this but I got you flowers.” I didn’t think much about what she was talking about and simply chuckled in response because she looked so cute when she whispered.

Ten minutes after I crossed the finishing line, Andre did. There were tons of cheering and applause from the crowd as apparently - and I would find this out later - my boyfriend came in 6th place in the 100k category (18:46)! Rushing to meet him at the finish line, the familiar feeling of relief overwhelmed me. (Even though this was his 3rd 100km race, I still could not help but worry about his safety en-race.) We hugged briefly. I'd expected a longer and more affectionate embrace and then a beeline for hot food - as it usually turned out. However, he seemed fixated on one thing - getting a photo taken at a good spot before sundown. Puzzled but too tired to clarify, I followed his lead.

How I Got Engaged

By the time we found a scenic spot for photo-taking (which seemed the priority of the evening really), Danny had completed his race - turned out we all did within ten minutes of each other. Andre steered me to stand next to him, while our friends just stood on the other side taking pictures of us. Besides feeling completely exhausted and sweaty, I was really puzzled as to why we were the centre of attention. I thought we were supposed to take a group photo. I was also beginning to feel a little shy and self-conscious, even a little selfish as to be ‘grabbing’ all the good light before the sun set.

In the middle of all this photo-taking, Andre turned to me and said, “Thanks”. “For what?” Well, okay.. not quite sure what I did in the last 10 hours except suffer entirely for my own benefit.

“For everything.” Huh? Strange time to be so emotional.

Friends still snapping pics away on their phones, Andre suddenly did the completely unprecedented.

He got down on one knee, and holy moly it is happening. NOW? I feel so unprepared. I don’t even smell right. I am so effing tired.

All those thoughts completely arrested my response and when he said, “Will you marry me?” I stood there, stunned. Completely unprepared for this. I knew the proposal would take place at some point in time, but I just never thought it would be September 2016, Vietnam. This was a quick local race we would get into 2016 to obtain the remaining points each of us needed for our targeted races the following year. Of course, that was why he had been so anxious to get a “good spot for photos” right after completing a gruelling race. I just thought he would have proposed at some spectacularly romantic moment on my birthday that December, or perhaps even during the trip to New Zealand we would soon go at the end of the year with his family. I would be dressed up, looking worthy enough to promise a lifetime of marital bliss. Not covered in sweat, mud and not to mention, my snot (all ten hours’ worth). Then again, this is so typical Andre. Making me work and run 42km before I may manage to get engaged.

I realised I had been quiet far too long thinking these thoughts, when he nervously piped, “Uh, so will you?"

Feeling simultaneously unrehearsed and guilty for making him wait so long, I replied, “Of course!” The answer was always a yes, yes and a yes. Yet, the usually effusive person that I was had stumbled for a reply to this simple question, managing to fudge it up with such a fickle-sounding response, and even giving him the wrong hand to put the ring on (it is so unintuitive to reach your left hand out as a gesture of acceptance!). Even when the immensity of what had just happened - truly a life milestone - dawned upon me and triggered a twitch in my tear glands, no real tears could come to my eyes as I was truly dehydrated from 10 hours of racing. To hell with the picture-perfect proposal scenes you see on movies. This is real life!

Still, it was a truly beautiful scene. Where we stood, the mountains were serenely shrouded in blue mist behind us. Next to us were beautiful straw cottages. What a perfect setting for us both. And it was a quiet spot, with no one apart from our friends and ourselves. Our friends cheered and clapped as I accepted his proposal and ring. Sarah came up to me and gave me a lovely bouquet of flowers. Apparently some wits and charm had been deployed to acquiring those - she had gotten the rose from a restaurant manager by sweetly asking for it, while Charlene cleverly matched it with a bunch of small yellow wild flowers she’d retrieved from some bushes near her hotel. I later learnt that Winnie had safe-kept the ring from near the start of our time in Sapa - Andre had inconspicuously handed this to her through our adjacent balconies! - and nervously transported it from the hotel to the race finish point. I also later learnt from Andre that prior to asking my hand in marriage, he had tried to make a little speech (“Gen, you’re the one...”) - to which I had callously waved him off, saying “Can we leave that for later please?” (I recall looking very much forward to a shower at that time.)

That evening, heading back to our hotel on a very bumpy ride in the van, we joked about how both Andre and I nearly came close to giving up during the race, and how he would have then to come up with a Plan B. At the same time, I had so much to think about and to thank God for. For seeing me through the race in one piece, and for emerging victorious at the finish line not only with a finisher’s medal, but also with a new status as Andre’s fiancée. I felt proud, and marvelled at the determination of Andre and my friends who all did so well during the race. At the same time, a certain pride extended more deeply within, knowing I was now engaged to this beautiful, wonderful man. I guess I had never fully appreciated the weight of the terms “engagement” and “marriage” - having always viewed it as a rite of passage, some kind of mandatory process of social labelling - till that very evening, when I truly felt the simple significance of the little piece of metal (and very nice rock) secured to my finger.

In more ways than one, Vietnam 2016 will always be a sweet memory - of a race well run, and a very important engagement well made.

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