#26 Putrajaya, Federal Territory Of Putrajaya


District: Putrajaya, Federal Territory Of Putrajaya
Last time I was there: Usually there every couple of months for makan or just passing by

The story:
Mention , and this memory still comes rushing back. Fifteen years ago, I received one of the hardest phone calls of my life. Moments after finishing Malaysia Hari Ini, I was told that my dear friend, Kharis -- known fondly among us as Tuan Senang Besar -- had passed away after collapsing while jogging near Kelana Jaya Stadium. Just hours earlier, at 5.52am, he had BBM-ed me. We were supposed to run the Putrajaya Night Marathon together that very weekend. I remember staring at that last message in disbelief, struggling to accept that he was gone. Al-Fatihah, my friend.

In the days that followed, my emotions were all over the place. The event was still on, but I wasn’t sure I had the heart to run. Friends encouraged me to do it in his honour, and eventually, I decided: 10km for Allahyarham Kharis. We started calling it “Run for Tuan Senang Besar” -- not an official campaign, just a spontaneous act of remembrance. That night in , I pinned a tribute sign to the back of my running vest and made my way to the start line, late and flustered, with no warm-up -- just determination.


The run itself was far from easy. Barely a few kilometres in, my left leg cramped badly, forcing me to slow down. Along the way, I was joined by Adit, one of Kharis’s closest friends, and together we walked, jogged, and talked -- about Kharis, about that final morning, about the messages we each received. Strangers came up with quiet gestures of support; many, I later realised, were his friends too, wearing their own tributes. Small moments -- a medic offering ice, a fellow runner stopping to take a photo of my sign -- carried me forward when my body felt like giving up.




Crossing the finish line that night in wasn’t about timing or personal bests. It was about friendship, grief, and keeping a promise. I like to think Kharis would have smiled, patted me on the back, and cracked a joke -- probably about Liverpool’s form. All these years later, I still think of him every time I lace up my running shoes. Some runs are measured in kilometres -- others, in memories.


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