I have a confession to make. I suck at presscons. Absolutely suck at them. I am quite possibly the worst blagger to invite to these things. For some insipid reason or another, I keep on missing them. Either my car gets a flat, I'm assigned OT work or I have some family thing. There's always something going on. I have like a 10% attendance rate, and sooner or later I'll be declared persona non grata by race directors and PR people alike. I never get em goodies. Sob.
So you could just picture the smile on my face when they told me that the presser for the upcoming San Mig Coffee Bay Run Dash for Health ( okay that was long) was at Congo Grille at El Pueblo. That's like... .. two blocks from my house. Yessssss. Finally. No way I'm missing this.
I wonder who's that runner?
One more miss and goodbye presscons foreverrr. Scheduled at 7pm, I cockily thought to myself, Nah its a 3 minute drive from my place. Why rush? Of course, in a move reeking of sheer time management genius I totally forgot that it was Friday uwian. Smart. So there I was , stuck in bumper to bumper traffic going to a resto that's roughly a kilometer and a half from my house. Great. I still have a Nat Geo hangover.
Oh the horror. So after like nearly 20 minutes, I finally get to the place. And guess what? Much to my consternation evil manong guard curtly stonewalls me at the entrance with a "Ser, pono na poh and parkeeng dito. Weeting na poh dito, weeting." Weeting for parking would have entailed me adding to the already ginormous traffic jam. Apparently, Mr. Murphy has a secret crush on me and follows me around wherever I go.
Shunget ni koya.
So to make a long story short, I brought the car back home and tempo ran from my house back to the resto, a vain attempt to somehow temper my unexplainable tardiness. Of course, I had to run in jeans, leaving my poise on the pavement in the process. Good thing a lot of familiar faces greeted me when I came in, denizens of the running blogosphere in full force.
The faces behind your favorite blags
Que, Gail , and Vimz of Kulit on the Run with hubby Art So let's cut to the chase. After having way more than my fair share of sisig and chicken, the presser proper unfolded. Takbo.ph first lady Que did the honor of introducing the GM of San Mig Coffee, and he gave the requisite welcome remarks. Kind man. I wish I had him as a Tito.
Que in the house!
Tito saying something about San Mig
Soon after, things were turned over to the comely Marketing Manager ( or so I think, the exact title eludes me) of the brand and she gave a quick primer on the product line. Three things I learned : 1. The San Mig Coffee "healthy" line is tops in its market segment 2. Good ol' Piolow is no longer their endorser, thus visions of a grand showdown dissipated into thin air quicker than it was conjured, and 3. Presenting to a rowdy, predominantly male blogger crowd is an exercise in restraint. Lol.
Deep breathly. I can do this.
Soon after, it was a pleasant surprise to see that Ian Alacar would be assuming Race Director duties for this race. Absent from the mainstream scene as of late, it was nice to see him around for a change. For long-time followers of this site, you may recall that Ian was the race director when I first conquered the ultramarathon distance at Botak awhile back. Fun guy.
Happy mems with Ian and Sideshow Bob
So what are the essentials you need to know about the race? It's going to be held on May 23rd, Mall of Asia grounds. But before you dismiss it as just another MOA race, hold your horses. It's being touted as the first race to have a route that actually cuts through the Manila baywalk. 3k and 5k distances cost P450 a pop, while the 10k and 15k races are at P550.
Race is actually bang for the buck, you get a fancy Unibersidad-made singlet that would probably cost as much as the registration if bought as a stand-alone. And the cool part about the whole thing is you could order your race kits over the phone, delivered COD by WWW.express. The number to call is 795-1777. Niiice.
For you freebie/perk hunters out there, I'd rather that you find out for yourselves what's in store for you during race day, but to give you a quick heads up there would be photobooths, bottomless coffee, loot bags, seminars, and dare I say, free massages?
So there you go. Registration starts April 17, 2010 to May 19, 2010, call the number I mentioned earlier for more details. If you've never run around the bay area, this is a good race to actually try out the local scenery. Hope this helped everyone, I'll see you on the road!
Requisite Gingerbread photo-op with Ian and Marketing gal.
Hi gang, been awhile. Hope you enjoyed the BDM series I put out for you, it was so crazy I thought it would never finish writing it. Believe it or not, I typed out the last part of that article at about 12 midnight at a Mcdonald's branch in a seedy part of Kuala Lumpur. The free WiFi was worth the "You want lady love you long time?" catcalls while attempting to grab a cab home. Eeek.
Anyway, I'm running this just because I felt so guilty for missing the presser, my car arrived late and so that's that . In a nutshell, wat's the spin on this? Out of town, flat course, sunset race. Nuff' said.
I wanna run this...
I'm hopeful that the ITBS injury I sustained during BDM would be completely healed by the time this race comes around. It sort of has sentimental value, as it was maiden race was my first ever 21k. You should have seen me. Check out this passage from an ancient blog entry of mine :
Get a nice Running Shoe! Believe it or not guys, after all these races I have been running on a 1998 retread cross trainer with the heel replaced by (gulp) Mr. Quickie. At the 14k point my toes and heels were burning, and who knows the crummy shoe may have been the reason for my injury. Mr Quickie! (shudder). Before kasi I'd just use it to run 2km outside my condo, no biggie. Never thought I'd be this hooked into running. Now, I need to buy! I feel I'm losing so much efficiency because of it.
With matching trucker cap, basketball shorts and weird shoes.How fast time flies. I think I finished my maiden half-mary at 2:28 that day, then I could barely walk after. Lol. Anyway, here are the details for the race. Seems pretty straightforward. And just in case you have never ever been to Enchanted or Tagaytay ( fun life you lead eh?), I put in a map of how to get there for good measure. Sunsets sound good. See you all there!
Greenfield City Sunset Run 2010 Sta. Rosa, Laguna April 24, 2010 500m / 3K / 5K / 10K / 21K
Registration Areas: Regular In-Store Registration: March 22 to April 11, 2010 – Planet Sports – Trinoma – New Balance – Glorietta and Shangri-la Mall – Athlete’s Foot – Alabang Town Center – R.O.X. – Bonifacio High Street, Bonifacio Global City, Taguig – Greenfield City Sunset Run Booth – Paseo, Sta. Rosa, Laguna
Late In-Store Registration: April 12 to April 17, 2010 – R.O.X. – Bonifacio High Street, Bonifacio Global City, Taguig – Greenfield City Sunset Run Booth – Paseo, Sta. Rosa, Laguna
It's sorta near EK and that cold place with Bulalo. Yum.
Those last few days when winter blows. Harsh, unpredictable… unforgiving. Make you realize that although spring is hovering nearby, winter will not give up yet.
Winter is upon us, snow flakes larger ending up on the ground than any others we have seen all season. White ground, frozen water, gloomy skies. And then suddenly it will change. The sun will come out, snow melts away. Birds sing with such a force it’s easy to disbelieve that winter was even here. Outside the doors, a feathered orchestra tunes up, each player trying to drown out his competition. Harmoniously out of tune… bird song is never harsh.
Flying, hopping, fleeing, jumping, dashing, spring is in their hearts. It’s made them mad, and not in anger. A cacophony of trilling, cawing, calling, chirping, singing. Cat’s roam, they know that the birds are careless this time of year. Sullen eagles perch on dead trees, all the better to see you my dear fine feathered friends.
Hawks visit feeders left alone the rest of the year. Deer search the yard for green grass, and are as disappointed as I. But the feathered ones sing, call, and hope. Winter may be upon us, but spring is waiting.
Spring seeks to fulfill it's potential. As s now blowers hibernate, and neighbors appear. Heavier, older, happier.
Trees stretch, bees swarm in harmonious black clouds, honeyed splendor in a wooden crate. Fields thaw, flood, fill. Dust flies, buds swell. Ducks speckle the fields like crumbs of a cookie dashed to the floor. Cat stricken with unknown fever, rolls, runs, jumps, and suns as birds watch from trees.
Window cracked. Open Sounds of nature's symphony crawl in through the screen as night comes on to fill it's shift.
Tiny frogs croak, calling to mountains that glow with the last light. Geese, and ducks, honk, quack in formation, carried on the soft breeze. Spring arrives softly.PS: Just in case you missed it, I'm moving from Blogger to Word Press at the end of this week. So Muddy Boot Dreams new home will be at www.thelightlaughed.com. You can read about it here. I really look forward to seeing you there, and hope that you will come along to see my new home. Maybe I can get you to help unpack some boxes when you come to visit. And have you seen our new FaceBook group, The Over 40 Blogging World, that Laura from Simple and Serene Living, and I created? The response has been overwhelming wonderful. It's a great group of friendly bloggers getting together for support, and learning. Please check us out. Jen .
Remember grade school Valentine's day celebrations? Rough textured construction paper, white sticky glue in a plastic bottle. Dull scissors squeaking as their metal blades clashed against each other. Cutting out giant heart shapes. Stinky felt pens carefully filling in hand drawn letters.
Scotch taped paper pouch"mailboxes" that hung off the edge of your desk at school? The faint hope of it being so full the next day that it would burst. Anticipation, giggling, and the worry that you would be one of those kids who only got a few valentines, mostly from the teachers, and no one else? Tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. You carefully inscribed your name onto the back of 30 brightly colored, gender very specific Valentines, because your Mom insisted you be nice to everyone. When the red tinged, heart shaped day dawned you found yourself counting, and comparing totals with your classmates. Delving deep into the rough corners of the paper mailbox in case any errant Valentines went uncounted. Gazing enviously at the"popular" girls with their overflowing mailboxes, some so full their Valentines were cascading onto the dusty school floor, slipping out the stapled sides of their pouches.
Times have changed. Valentine's Day doesn't have to hold the key to your heart, you don't need to be married, in love, a kid, or a sweetheart to enjoy this day. And isn't that wonderful? Freeing in a way. Life is so much better now. I heart that we have learned to encourage people to break free of the more traditional thoughts that Valentine's Day is only for those in passionate relationships. We can bake cupcakes for our neighbors. Give our dog, and cat pet cookies, craft homemade cards for our friends, and send happy emails of loving thoughts to everyone we know! It's the perfect holiday…pink, and red, charming, and cute…and you get to eat sweets. No construction paper required. I heart Valentine's Day. So I'm wondering are you planning on spreading a little V day love around? Cupcakes, cookies, warm socks? Kitty treats, doggy donuts?
Dough you say it's so! If you're not into sweet stuff…there is a"todiefor" recipe on my DoughyGoodness MBD Pinterest board. It's a simple recipe for potato buns from Crazy for Crust. Of course I had to make sure it was as good as I thought they might be before recommending them, and you know what? They are even better! Her recipe uses potato flakes instead of potato water, rising into a bun that is soft, and splendidly moist, with a butter infused delight of a crust. I brush them with melted butter, then sprinkle Parmesan cheese, garlic powder, rosemary, and a dash of sea salt, before baking them in my cast iron frying pan. I heart homemade potato buns! Happy Valentine's Day to you.
During the spring anyone can take a good photo. There are unlimited options for subjects. Point your camera, press the button, it’s a masterpiece. Hang it on the wall, post it on your blog. Flowers grow with abandon, springing up from brown ground in never ending waves. Each morning brings a new carpet of blossoms, as if pulled from a magicians hat like a bunny. Sparkle, light, fresh, green, new.
Summer’s golden days add a radiant glow to everything, burnished dusty textures that could not be seen before, bleached, faded denim, rusty metal, metallic glint of bugs eyes, powdery wings of butterflies. Water sparkles and flows, trees glisten with a coating of light rain, people bathed in sunlight pause at your request, laughter, and joy floats down streams. Autumn shines in it’s own way, l ight changing to create dramatic backgrounds, storms work part time as light shows. Clouds appear to be floating pearly puffs, nostalgia fills the air, as trees change color. The novelty of bare branches, stark wet black stems contrasting the colourful puddles below. Christmas overflows with lights, ornaments, boughs and presents, children’s faces lit up with wonder.
It’s the winter months afterwards that challenge your creativity. Pushing you out the door unwillingly wrapped in scarves, and mitts so dense you wonder if you will be able to bend. Worried you won’t feel the camera slip from your frozen grasp before it’s too late, you hang on tighter, less willing to let go. It requires effort to move, to shift your body out of the vehicle you have folded yourself into. Icy breath fogs up the viewfinder, batteries fade, enthusiasm wanes. Winter is when you earn your shots, every single one of them. Learning to look at a pile of white snow covered fields and see more then just cold feet. To glimpse under the flowing skirt of a icicle looking for a reflection. Skies grey, sprinkling white dandruff you gaze longingly for promised sun, disappointed too many times, a blind date that never shows. Short days, long nights, cold all the time, hot chocolate, and frozen toes.
If you spend the time, learn to look, winter will reward you with shots of beauty. Sometimes you need to look closer, stand further away, dream bigger, think harder, but it is possible to see something more then white, brown, and dead sticks. White looks good on everyone, soft and cuddling mounds, bare branches silhouette birds of prey flocked in trees, not normally seen during months of green leaves. The garden grows bumps, and humps, skeletons in the gloom.
Winter gives up it’s tale of midnight visitors easily, tracks of paw prints, those tiny bird footsteps leave messages like Morse code. Bring more seed, bring fresh water, dot, dot, dash, dot. Take that shot, you’ve earned it, winter has made you work for it, but it’s worth the effort.
My world on a Wednesday a gathering of scattered fragments, and moments bundled together into a small fraction of the day when life doesn't intrude. It's the microwaves turn to hum. Keeping time. With the drips from the roof. Handle spinning around like a carousal, the frothy milk threatens to bubble over the glass container. Homemade yogurt for breakfast tomorrow.
Hot pan, butter scented sizzle crowds the kitchen. Cat pushes past my leg, hinting, hopeful, long ago fed, big eyed stare, he wins. And accepts his treat with a smirk of feline triumph. Declines a cuddle, heads for the heat. Fickle creature. The sound of the Eagle's keening comes through the open door. Kitty plays the role of indoor cat for now, fly by dinners should be feathered, not fur. Through every window a scene of Winter's latest gift of snow lays. Like a discarded white jacket, one size too small. Bulging out over the landscape where it is torn. Leaving us longing for a fresh coat to cover up the disarray. January is a messy month. Camera clicks. I love that sound. It makes my heart sing. Dishes clink, light shines, fades, moves throughout the rooms. Candy hearts scattered on a painted board tempt. Tea brewed, poured, photographed, and drank in antique cups.
Days stretch, drips fall, light lengthens. For now it's enough to wait for the light. Dash outside to catch the sun. Walk the country roads, and catch my breath as the sun sinks far away. Coating the f olds of the mountains and their fog shrouded valleys in a shimmering light. A stunning patchwork quilt that tucks them in for the night.
Fields white with snow, shiver against the dark silhouettes as the light drops. Stoic and bare, the trees stand guard feet frozen into the soil, tips golden with delight from the long limbs of the sun. My heart sings Feet crunch the gravel. Headed for home.
Contains: 100% Canadian content. All images and text original to Jane Vandervoort
Writing a blog post takes time, energy, thought, and preparation. You might start with a original idea, or a burst of inspiration. If you are the prepared type, a plan, editorial calendar, post it note, or book of ideas. Some know exactly what they want to post.
There are those of us who are sitting down, and writing as we go. One eye on the clock, the other mentally urging our computer to download photos faster. Whatever works. There can be great blog posts dashed off in 15 minutes. I've written posts in mere minutes, by the seat of my pants, my favorite TV show was coming on…and I wasn't going to miss it. Just don't tell the blogging police. Then there are other posts that seem to take days to show up, get themselves organized, and written, and rewritten, and done over again. One consistent aspect in blogging will always be that good content, and images are going to be be something that your readers will want to engage in. To read, to comment on, to share, to enjoy. While each of us is unique, and has our own style, setting our own personal standards there is nothing wrong with challenging ourselves to do a little better. We all have our favorite bloggers, the ones that speak to our hearts…they have a great sense of who they are. We might like the way they write, love their photography style, or are interested in the subjects they cover. They get their unique voice by constantly improving their writing, and photography. Great content means tweaking, and improving before you hit publish. Blogging is not a matter of how many words to write, or how many photos to include. You can have the shiniest, fanciest theme, tweaked by a designer…but it's a beautifully wrapped present with nothing inside the box if the content is poor quality.
The amount of followers your blog has, tens, hundreds, thousands, whether you post on Word Press, or Blogger, is no where near as important as the content. Good content stays around…it resurfaces, it's pinned, and tweeted, shared on FaceBook. And although it can be challenging sometimes to do it, it's well worth it in the end.
100% Canadian Content All images and text created and copyrighted by Jane Vandervoort 2015 If you enjoyed this post, please consider clicking on the share buttons below, I would greatly appreciate it.
Somewhat of a late share, but getting it out there nevertheless. Runnex habitue and ANR UP Team Lead Sir Rene Villarta sent this over the grapevine. It's a really unique race in Laoag City to be held this February 26th, too bad I couldn't make it because of BDM 160. You get to race through the city's famed sand dunes and other landmarks. They had such a cool time when they went last year, pictures were nothing short of spectacular. Unknown to many, I was also offered an invitation to join on that very same trip but had to decline because of another race (not sure if it was for Conquer Corregidor) Anyway, they had such a blast and I'll be missing it again this year shucks. Maybe next year. But hey, if you ain't doing BDM (or supporting for it) go ahead and give it a shot. It will be well worth the trip.
Here's the official presser for you guys and gals.
After the huge success of “Run Ahead, Raising A Roof” Run held in Laoag City last December of 2009, Triathlete/Runner & Race organizer Faivo Bartolome brings another unique event up North, the “Taray Pamulinawen 2011, Laoag Sand Dunes Challenge” to be held on February 26, 2011 and will start and end at the Laoag City Hall. This race, hosted by the Laoag City government will be a first of a kind wherein runners will be running in the Sand Dunes of La Paz, a municipality of Laoag which is well-known for being the setting of well-known foreign films like Tom Cruise’ “Born On The Fourth Of July”, Mel Gibson’s “Mad Max” series and local films like Nora Aunor’s ”Himala” and the “Panday” series of the late Fernando Poe, Jr. Also known as “The Desert Of The North”, the Sand Dunes of La Paz offers a very challenging terrain not only with its varied uphill climbs but also for its arduous surface which is like threading on very soft and deep desert sands and would be twice as difficult to traverse whenever strong gales coming from the Pacific Ocean blows the sand away and is quite painful once the sand gets into your eyes.
Imagine running through this... The Taray Pamulinawen 2011 sand Dune Challenge is envisioned to become one of the North’s biggest and unique running events that will highlight the City of Laoag as a major tourist destination and an investment mecca. The route will cover some of the most scenic spots in Laoag like its centuries old churches, pristine beaches and some of the old landmarks of the city. The race will feature a 10-mile trail run (which will include the sand dunes), a 10k Road Run, 5k Road Run, 3k Family Run and a 750 meter Kids Dash. Registration fees are as follows: DURATION Jan. 3 – Jan. 31 Early Bird Registration Feb. 1 – Feb. 19 Regular Registration Feb. 20 - Feb. 23 Late Registration CATEGORY 10 mi. Trail Run Php 350.00 Php 400.00 Php 500.00 10km Php 150.00 Php 200.00 Php 250.00 5km Php 150.00 Php 200.00 Php 250.00 3km Family Run Php 150.00 each Php 200.00 each Php 250.00 each 750m Kids Dash Php 100.00 Php 125.00 Php 150.00 DURATION Jan. 3 – Jan. 31 Early Bird Registration Feb. 1 – Feb. 19 Regular Registration Feb. 20 – Feb. 23 Late Registration CATEGORY 10 mi. Trail Run Php 350.00 Php 400.00 Php 500.00 10km Php 150.00 Php 200.00 Php 250.00 5km Php 150.00 Php 200.00 Php 250.00 3km Family Run Php 150.00 each Php 200.00 each Php 250.00 each 750m Kids Dash Php 100.00 Php 125.00 Php 150.00 For other details and to download registration forms, please visit www.laoagcity.gov.ph or call/text 0917-5530050 (Faivo Bartolome).
For the purpose of illustration only, I am using the Realtor photos of our condo that I took this spring. But this post does not in any way refer to our condo, which was solidly built, and well maintained. “It’s almost perfect for us.” Just take out this wall, redo the kitchen, bulldoze the yard, and level it off… then it’s our dream home. Did you find yourself mentally redecorating, or renovating the home you are viewing? The ability to see beyond the current decorating scheme is a important one when house hunting. Just follow me around and listen to how many times I say to myself, “it’s only cosmetic, it’ can be changed.” it’s not a deal breaker. But there are cosmetic changes, and then there are renovations. We have come to the conclusion that we really don’t want the work, and mess of a renovation in order to make it our dream house. Of course that can be done, and starting with a clean slate is tempting. But we know that we are not quite that handy, and frankly we don’t like the mess. So we are trying to find a house that has a nice enough kitchen, and yard, built solid, and dependable. Kind of like the Maytag repairman, a good value for the money would be nice too.
It seems kitchen Reno's are all the rage out here. It’s the first thing many homeowners do, after which they work on the bathrooms, and the family rooms. Sometimes a wonderful interior tries to hide hideously cracked foundations, or rotting roofs, and shabby windows. Seems to me that instead of spending the money on cosmetic changes, such as new laminate flooring, marble countertops, or dashing paint colors, you would spend it on the maintenance of the home first.
It’s almost like a bait and switch, notice the shiny new brushed nickel taps, and the matching door handles throughout the home. Don’t look up at the roof, it needs to be redone. And what ever you do, don’t look too closely at the windows, that’s mould, and dry rot under the new coat of paint.
Obviously not all homes are like this, but it seems we have seen a fair number of them that are absolutely adorable inside, and it’s only after you look closely that you see the wrinkles. And those are the kind of cosmetic changes we are avoiding. Buyer beware, be really aware. Jane @Muddy Boot Dreams
My Mom reaches her arm through the opened door of the cupboard returning with a round black object in her hand, turns toward me and asks me, “do you want this?”
I reach for the quietly ticking sphere and feel a sensory memory flooding my brain. “Although it’s been decades” Since I last saw my Grandfathers pocket watch, it carries inside of it a cache of wonderful memories. Memories of fragrant, spicy scented chewing tobacco, his snuff tin living in the chest pocket of his cotton plaid shirt. Of it perched in the palm of his opened hand as he stood outside pondering life. Waxed cardboard, short, stubby, old fashioned writing on it’s side. The shiny tin lid clattering on the kitchen table as he opened it after his dinner. Whiskers prickling my face as he hugged us hello while we stretched, emerging from our truck and camper, a day long drive through mountains, across provinces. Tears welling in his aged face the last time I was to see him alive. Cancer from the chewing tobacco he consumed every day taking it’s final toll.
His little Datsun truck, seated up to two adults and a fortunate child, the trip to town a treat. Small tires bumping down narrow, dusty, country roads. Closely lined with popular trees that threw cotton at us in the spring, russet leaves in the chilly fall days, drifting like confetti at a big city wedding. His watch, small, round, black, self winding, a magnet sticking it to the dusty dashboard of the truck. Ticking off the lengthy minutes for our trips to the little town. “The drive felt like hours.” Gravel side roads leading to highways finally meeting up with flat unending Alberta pavement. Straight lines unfamiliar to our coastal eyes.
My last visit, seeing the farm through the eyes of a adult, those long driving minutes seemed so short. The outskirts of their small town creeping closer. Familiar landmarks, and buildings that had loomed so large in my memory, dilapidated, small. Now as I stood in my parents home, holding my Grandfather’s pocket watch, “I was filled with fond memories.” “Yes Mom, I would love to have this,” I told her. “It means a lot to me.” My Grandfather’s watch is tucked into the family treasures on my shelf. I will stop when I pass by, pick it up and give it a quick shake. Holding it up to my ear to hear it ticking off it’s memories as the self winder starts it up once again.
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The first snowfalls in the land of the big skies are magical. Cloaking the world around us with softness, wiping clean the memories of last winter. Winter welcomed with open arms. The anticipation of Christmas, the joy of the season, it’s enough to keep us warm. We pause to take a breath and be fully immersed in the novelty of snow fluff.
The soft glow of the sun as it tries to climb out of the clouds infuses every inch of the outdoors with pearly tones. Come outside, it’s not as unforgiving as it looks, it lies to us, and we believe it. Anything to see beyond the four walls of stifling indoors. Fingers numb, toes cold, skin bracing, nose prickling, it’s well worth the effort to bend limbs stuffed with multiple layers into jacket sleeves in order to capture this frosty glow. We are pioneers, we are strong, we lie to ourselves, look at us dashing through the snow, camera in hand, how brave. Look no mittens. It’s a winter wonderland, fence posts laden with snow like candy canes, and sugar plums to our eyes. See that tree, the bare branches piled high with white, the road even looks like sugar dust. Click, and hold the camera to our warm bodies as it’s battery dies down… just one more shot, pleeeease.
The warning signs of frostbite, numbness in the button pushing bare finger ignored as worth the cost of agonizing tingles to come later. We are tasked with capturing brown branches sprinkled with white garland, a dusting so light it blows away with our breath. Click as the birds soar above our heads, everything looks magical in this light. We are in danger of shattering with the cold, clouding over brings a chill unwelcome, but we must capture the light… and then it’s gone. Hidden behind a cloud, it cries tears of snow as it goes.
Warm memories of heated rooms, and purring cats draw us home. Sleigh bells ring, are you listening…
As I write this the late afternoon sun is pinging off of the edges of the glass in the window of my house. Circling the room, like a bird in flight let loose from it’s cage. Dancing off of the walls, scattering gems and prisms of glittering colors that cling to the ceiling and slide down the walls.
Out past the window the swaying sun beams filter through branches of towering fir trees. Laying a scorching bright light that is bent off of ice patches without melting anything. Soon the sun will be sinking fast into the cold, snow covered dark blue mountains. I want to wave, lift my hand, and wish it a good trip, but something always holds me back. My brain forms words that my mouth won’t say. Please stay for a little while, each day you leave earlier. You’re a good friend who’s short visits are never long enough at this time of year. One who is walked to the door with that air of regret wafting in the cold air behind them because they couldn’t extend their stay. Not like some. Those who overstay their welcome, such as Winter. It’s return visit booked a few weeks from now, like a unwanted guest, we can’t truthfully say that we would like Winter to stay as long as it intends. Oh sure, we will primp the guest room, after all courtesy demands that we at least maintain a certain level of welcoming smiles, and happy greetings. All for a guest who keeps the hot water too cold, and leaves a ring of frost around the windows in the morning. It’s not that we don’t like this season, it’s just that Winter overstays, won’t leave, despite all of our gentle reminders in February, and rather pointed comments in March. Can’t Winter take a hint?
We are not running a Bed and Breakfast for the Seasons, move on, hope that you have enjoyed your stay. Hope you enjoyed your stay, come again… just leave your next visit for a while. Sun going down signifies the time when the ground feeding quail, and cooing doves move to the feeders. A frantic dash from front yard to back, pecking and darting swiftly from overloaded dish to dish. It’s a feast legendary among birds. a small price to pay for the enjoyment we get out of watching them. Even Phil the flirting pheasant graces us with his occasional presence, holding court without his hens, royally coloured glamorous feathers gleaming in the setting sun. Suet cakes high in wire cages, rough bark catering to those with clinging claws. Fence posts below to act like inanimate air traffic controllers, a place to land, hang around, to wait in a holding pattern of whirling feathers until it’s your turn. A winged hierarchy disobeyed only when daring flying feathers and much squawking. No one hangs around here after dusk, too many predators, it’s eat and run, then hide, hope to survive both the cold, and the hunters. We indiscriminately feed all and sundry, be they feathered, or fur covered. Bright orange squat pumpkins waiting in the garage for the signs of visiting deer who's first visit is the composter for a appetizer, before dining delicately on bird seed in the front.
I have tarried longer then I thought while writing this, the house cooling down quickly, a parting gift from the sun. I would much prefer wine, chocolates, or even some seasoned sea salt. The cat snores most indelicately under a warm blanket, completely comfortable with my absence, no warm body needed after the addition of a hot water bottle. Spoiled, you might say? Not him, our chaser of feline dreams. No fan of our winters up here, wishing only for the front door to be opened, and then quickly shut when he realizes that the long memories of warm summer days spent lapping up heat are just that. Once a outdoor loving, snow tolerant, fur bundled kitty, he is now a happily domesticated lap cat, as long as there is somewhere warm to sleep, and a full dish of food. A small price to pay for warmth, and constantly attentive doormen. Today we celebrate our 3 year anniversary of arriving in the Okanagan to live out our Muddy Boot Dreams. One large moving van, one small SUV, packed so tightly there wasn’t even room for a sneeze, lots of sad goodbyes, and one sleeping on my lap all the way up here kitty. A cold weather welcome into the warm hearts of our family, and a snowfall the next morning to welcome us home. It’s something we had dreamed of for such a long time, what a wonderful feeling to be on this side of the waiting, to be where we have always felt was “home.” This is simply the most beautiful place to live, and I am grateful that we are able to be here with family, and friends, furry and fleshed. A dream come true. Thanks so much for coming along for the journey, and as it continues…
The poor thermostat in this house, it goes up, it goes down, and then it goes up again. I’m cold, he’s hot, and the Boo, well lets just say he hangs out where the heat is. It’s cold here, inside and out. We have a different idea of what a comfortable indoor temperature consists of… so I bundle up, and he sweats, that way both of us are happy to complain how hot/cold it is to the other. To stay warm I make sure to layer well, walk outside when the weather permits, drink lots of hot tea, and make tasty homemade soups. On a cold day, hot soup tastes really good.
Anything that warms you up when your toes are freezing is great. You can thank Dr.Oz for being the inspiration behind this quick, and easy soup that I made the other day. He mentioned how good it is to drink a glass of water, with lemon, grated ginger, and a dash of cayenne pepper in it. Supposed to do everything from make your wrinkles disappear, to get your heart racing, or something, I am not sure, it’s Dr. Oz what can I say. That got me to thinking of soup, I don’t know how… it just did. I put together some homemade chicken broth, you could use prepared one if you liked. A cooked chicken breast, leeks, carrots, potatoes, ginger, lemon, garlic, and cayenne. After sautéing the thinly sliced [wash them well] leeks, and half of a onion, and the garlic, in a little dash of butter, I added the carrots, and potatoes cut into small bite size chunks. This is called sweating the veggies, and brings out the flavours… just imagine how tasty my hot husband is when the thermostat creeps up past 18C. That’s 64 F barely above freezing for my US friends…
I heated up the broth, added almost tender veggies to it, squeezed in some lemon, grated some ginger, and added a careful dash of cayenne pepper for seasoning. It’s a delicate tasting soup full of flavour, layered with good for you heat. And it saves you money on your heating bill, because hot chick-a-leekie soup will warm you from the inside out. Give it a try, just don’t go too heavy on the cayenne pepper unless you are taste testing as you go along, that stuff packs a punch. Here’s the recipe, kind of, I’m not just a seat of your pants blogger, I’m a no recipe kind of girl too. I’m always making up recipes on the fly, by imagining how the ingredients would taste together.
Chick-a-leekie soup 3 cups chicken broth 1 chicken breast cooked, cut into strips, or cubes, or you could either sauté it before the veggies, or boil it in the broth. 1 leek, washed, thinly sliced 1 potato cut into bite size chunks 1 carrot cut into bite size chunks 1/2 cooking onion 1 inch of fresh ginger, finely grated 2 cloves of fresh garlic juice of half a fresh lemon, or less to taste dash or so of cayenne pepper to taste Sauté veggies, onion, leeks, and garlic in olive oil, or butter until almost tender. Add chicken breast cook one to two minutes to heat. Add to heated chicken broth, stir in grated ginger, lemon juice, and cayenne pepper. Simmer for a few minutes until veggies are tender, and flavours have meshed. Serve hot and prepare to feel toasty.
Yes, Yes YES! Those were the words ringing in my head as I was sprinting to the finish line at yesterday's Philippine International Marathon 10k race. Not prematurely as was my folly in the numerous times I have faltered in the past - I made sure the celebration came when the mat was right in front of me. I took time to savor the moment... and sought to retrace the twists and turns leading up to it.
Finally! Yay! What's the big deal? To some, a sub-50 finish may not seem like a particularly big deal. But to me, it takes on a certain measure of significance as it represents the pinnacle of a particularly tough climb from the recesses of an unhealthy downward spiral. Not to mention finally getting past a mental hurdle that had incessantly gotten the best of me. I was actually so close to giving up on it already. Just let it go man. It ain't meant to be.
Not in the blood Why was this the case? I was thinking, maybe I just don't have it in me. You know how some people are just natural athletes? Introduce them to running, and right off the bat they could run a 45 minute 10k split with no training at all. I was never one of those people. Not even close. Blame it on poor genes. I have had the benefit of having totally unathletic parents, unless you consider competitive eating a sport. In high school, could never run the fastest, nor jump the highest. My friends could touch the basketball rim. I could touch the ... . board. I even tried killing myself with Jumpsoles, ever remember those things? Nah, didn't work. Not in the blood I guess.
My Dad could take this dude any day, name the place Humble BeginningsMy first 10k was a 1:28. In what was to be a precursor to my positive split strategy, I started out really fast... . only to bottom out during the 2nd half. I had no conditioning to speak of. I was also um, fat. 205 lbs. Gak. I was so conscious of my pata that I wore jogging pants. Yeah, the baggy type that was all the rage in the 1990's. I seemed to have been passed by every Tom, Dick and Harry along with Jane. Depressingly, I nearly threw up at the finish line. Yeah. Talk about being out of shape.
Grandpa beat me fair and square
Getting Ambitious Long,painstaking hours of lonesome training later and I found myself clearing the sub-60 and sub-55 marks in rapid succession. Hey, I like this. I'm actually... getting to be good at this. Admittedly, I'm a competitive running junkie. Don't know if that's a good thing, but I constantly benchmark against the very best runners in our group. I want to force myself to get better. Wanting to take my game to the next level, I discovered that lowering the bar from 55 - 50 was becoming exponentially harder.
Wanna go up the ladder? It's harder than you think.
Breakdown City
My best shot came at Ayala Eco-Dash. Let you in on my thought process during those crucial final moments :
They say that running is just as much mental as physical, sometimes even more. I completely agree, 100%. Here I was , on the cusp of beating one of my biggest running goals, and I was doing a completely chokejob. Mentally, I was messed up. I was freaking out and panicking. Prematurely celebrating, I was even thinking of a title for the blog post already. ... and ended up missing it by 15 seconds. Damn. Oh the heartbreak.
Breakdowns put you in esteemed company This is It? In an attempt to finally slay the ghosts of 10k breakdowns past, I had resolved to join this year's Philippine International Marathon. Good friend/"doping like effect coach/Conquer Corregidor head honcho Edward Kho told me "this was the flattest course I have ever ran". Knowing that the route would take me across Roxas Blvd, I said to myself,hey, maybe I'll get lucky this time. I rushed to get to the venue as early as 3:30 in a lame attempt to meet Sir Jovie aka Bald Runner to get my 1,000 Km club shirt. No such luck. I was there 3:30, took me about 40 minutes to find a parking slot. By that time they had already gone off for the start of the 42k. Boo. Maybe next time.
So in short, I waited for several hours until the 6:00 am gun. Former President FVR actually dropped by, gave us runners in the front rows a quick pep talk. He seems like a nice guy. In hindsight though, don't they all?
Panic Mode As the race began, I was a little off-tangent because everyone next to me was sprinting like a madman. You sort of get caught up in it. Or maybe that's just the sheer lack of conditioning, nursing flu-like symptoms all week. Took me some time to get into any rhythm whatsoever, and the splits showed it - 4:13. 4:35, 4:55. Oh no. It's not supposed to go down that fast . Nooooo!!!! Breathe. Relax. And just as I felt I was getting my bearings back, i ran right smack into the last thing I wanted to see - a flyover. So much for a completely flat course. Noooo. I felt my sub-50 dreams evaporate right then and there.
What a waste. I lost pace with those two flyovers. Tried pushing it, but knocked the wind out of my sails right after. Losing pace rapidly. And my woes were compounded by the 5k contingent at their turnaround point, as I had to labor through a veritable "Alay Lakad" crowd. At the 8k mark, I had a 5:17 split (worst of the race) with no relief in sight. I could barely breathe. Legs weren't there anymore. Call it a day. Game over.
Freaking out was more like it. Digging Deep Then I thought to myself. Here I go again. At Eco-dash, I gave up mentally. I just threw in the towel. Then came the realization - just 10 more minutes of agony for the glorious satisfaction of victory. I once read a quote that said "when it starts to really hurt, that's the time to push it even harder" You have no idea how much those little snippets actually helped. Digging deep, I went headhunting and went after a really speedy guy wearing a KOTR 2007 singlet. Setting aside the pain, I went for broke, knowing each second wasted brought me farther and farther away from my dream. The 9k split was starting to look encouraging. 44:10. I can do this! I ran like there was no more tomorrow. All of those days training in the rain, in the heat, at 4:00 am in the morning - this was what it all comes down to. Right then and there, you had to leave your blood and guts on the road. There simply was no other way. You HAD to want it. It wasn't going to present itself on a silver platter. And upon hitting the line, I was numb at first. Then it registered. 49:12. Oh yes. Yes. YES. I finallly did it! I finally breached the sub-50 mark!!! Yahoo!!!
My mind drifted to all those past failures, those past trials. The inherent lack of athleticism. How the goal had seemed so lurid to begin with, and steeling yourself for the eventuality that maybe you just didn't have it in you. Just let it go man. It ain't meant to be. It probably never will be. Basking in the glow of victory, i was happy, overjoyed even, that for one day at least... .
Hi. Kamusta mga repapips? Ako nga pala si Tito Caloy. Sa mga hindi nakakakilala sa akin, ako ang binansagang "internet legend" ng pamangking kong si Mike. Tawag niyo sa kanya Luis, o kaya naman Gingerbread, o kaya GBM. Minsan JBM. Ewan. San ba pinagkukuha yang mga pangalan na yan. Balita ko kung ano ano ang pinagsususulat ng bata na yan tungkol sa akin. Kung may naisulat man ho yan, malamang totoo yun hehe!
Inggit ka parekoy? Ayos!Ako'y nadawit sa pagtakbo nung sinama ako doon sa Botak na pagkainit init. Naalala ko un, hinimatay ung isang tropa dun eh, ung doktor ba un. 5k ang tinakbo ko nun. Aba'y di man lang ako pinagpawisan. No tsallenge men! Kaya noong nagkaroon ang mga tropa ni Mike ng takbuhan sa Tagaytay, tignan mo nga naman naka 27k agad ako! Elibs ka ba? Sumunod na takbo ko sa Globe, ung dumaan ng Ayala at kung san napilay si Mike, banat kasi ng banat tigas ng ulo. 21k nakang naka eh! Ang ganda ng pacing ni Coach, di man lang ako napagod! Parang wala lang!
Di yan pagod, pumosing lang!
Nageenjoy talaga kong kasama etong mga tropang taga Takbo.ph. Kaya nung sinabi saking na pupunta daw ng Subic para tumakbo, aba nilabas ko ung mga panalo ko sa tongits at nagpalista na ako sa 21k. Okey na yan! Baka mabatak kung 42 tayo agad. Kaya eto, kwento ko sa inyo ano nangyari.
Sa Unang Pagkikita
Nagkita kami dun sa Jollibee sa may Shaw mga bandang ala sais. May amats pako, tumira tayo ng pampagana nung kinagabihan. Nauna ako kaya't wala akong nakilala. Aba, ako'y nagulat at kilala pala ako ng mga tropa. Tito Caloy! Okey sa olrayt to ah!
Da Gwapings! Lakad Na! Dun kami sa oto ni Eo. Disenteng disente. Pero may tinatagong kamandag din pala! Pati si pareng Bong andun din, ung instik na gwapings. Ang dami palang babae nun pasimple lang! Alangyang mga kaibigan ni Mike mga loko din! Di tayo makasabay, clean living tayo eh. Pero kung sakaling mapalaban, makakatikim yang mga yan ng taktak maragondon, halukay ube ni Tito Caloy!!!
(Editor's Note : Kindly forgive my uncle, in his inebriated state I guess you will have to make do with this cacophony of unabashed ramblings dashed with a sprinkling of shameless innuendo - GBM)
Kainan Muna Tigil muna kami doon sa may Kenny sa highway. Ayos libre nanaman ako!Hihihi. May mga GC kasi si Mike, may syota ata tong taga Kenny dati kaya meron. May nasagap pa kaming mga chix, sarap talagang tumakbo ganda ng sights.
Ang ganda nila noh? Tambay Taym Ang ganda ng tirahan namin, Forest View ba yun. Siyam na kalalakihan. Sarap ng buhay. May oto, may puesto, mahangin ... .sarap manginom dito. Ay di pala pwede, sasalang na tong mga to! Halos lahat babanat ng 42k. Si Mike iba sasalihan, 10k lang ata. Excited na ko! Excited nako na masolo tong lugar namin wahehehe.
Sarap ng buhay no?
Simula ng Kalbaryo Onting tsibog , onting dasal, at hinatid na namin ang mga tropa kung saan sila susunduin ng bus. Aba ordinary ang bus na susundo sa kanila papuntang Floridablanca! World-class nga! Daming mga mag 42k, ung isang nakita ko parang namumutla, kabado siguro. Kulang sa balut. Nakasakay na ang mga tropa, sana okey kalabasan. Si Mike muntik pang makasama sa bus kodakan blues pa kasi. Natawa tuloy ung isang Egoy. Sana okey naman sila, mukhang malalakas naman ang mga pwersa nila eh.
Mga macho papa, yakang yaka 42k!
Nako si pareng Bong ang daming babae nito...
Naknang isa pa to si Eo, madaming napaiyak nong araw to...
Ang bilis siguro nitong BulaKenyan na to
Nasa Bus na , pahabol pa!
Teka, na nosebleed nako sa pagsulat ko dito, di naman bayad to! Makaisang round muna kami ni pareng Vino Kulafu. Abangan niyo na lang ang susunod na kabanata! Out na muna ako! GTG Pips!
Editor's Note : This is well, um, about a month late. By the time you read this me and the Quest boys are already on our way to the Tour of Subic, our final multi-stage race of the season. But hey, just read it and hopefully enjoy it nonetheless, I probably spent more time writing this than I have been training. Due to recent changes in my work flexibility, expect a steady stream of backlog features on my recent races trickle in with the week. In chronological order. Cheers.
Quest 825 recently competed at the Pilipinas Cycling League's Immuvit Race Against Time Tour of Clark leg, held in, uh, Clark. It was a three-stage humdinger spread over two days and the team acquitted themselves decently given this wasn't our "base sport" if one would call it that. Here's an inside look at the pain, the agony and the glory behind this particular bike tour.
Prologue
Executive Cycling is one of those "hobbies" that I had gotten into as part of my multisport training. While triathletes in general are expected to go on long training rides to augment their preparations, not everyone has the cajones to join these multi-day, multi-stage races that would require one to ride and latch on, Tour de France-style, to a peloton ( or in the simplest way I could explain it, a big bunch of skinny guys riding their bikes at full speed separated by about hair's width from each other). Why even bother going on to this blatant invasion of personal space, where the slightest human error can cause everyone to crash like a deck of cards in a chain reaction ? We are all familiar with how drafting benefits cyclists through blocking the wind, that's why it is outlawed in most triathlons. But try hanging out with about forty other guys as a big pack, and your speed and efficiency jumps exponentially. It is a highly taxing discipline that requires both aerobic and anaerobic aptitude. Obviously, the inherent risk factor is part and parcel of the whole enterprise.
Alas, a strong bike split race target usually necessitates either superior genetics (dream on) or a solid cycling background ( you have a shot). Given that I am sure I wasn't blessed with the former , I have thus embarked on a journey of self-improvement on two wheels. This is my first full season competing on the executive cycling circuit, having debuted last year at Bike King's Tour of Matabungkay and participated in several other one-day races and tours from that point. Given that Quest actually started out as an executive cycling team, our participation in this race was a no-brainer.
On the day itself, after a late departure from Shell NLEX at around 5:30 am the determined gang scurried off to Clark for the tour's first stage, a 47.7 km Team Time Trial race.
Stage 1 - Team Time Trial. Bittersweet Symphony.
The Team Time Trial event or TTT is usually considered the glamor event of each tour leg. Given that cycling is more of a team-oriented sport vis-a-vis the rest of the multisport disciplines, the TTT is taken as a consensus of any given team's strength and caliber. Such is the importance of the event that rumor has it that some teams intentionally rest their members through earlier stages to preserve their legs for this relatively short event.
According to a passage I blatantly stole from Wikipedia, "the main principle behind a TTT is that a few riders can ride at the front of the formation slightly above their aerobic threshold while others draft behind these riders. The riders then rotate, allowing some riders to recover while drafting behind fresher teammates. A rider who is riding at the front is said to be taking a pull. Accelerations require harder efforts, and therefore it is desirable to have a smooth, steady pace. Different riders have different power outputs, lactate thresholds and aerodynamics. In order to equalize the efforts in order to not burn some riders off too early, the weaker riders take shorter pulls and stronger riders take longer pulls, all at the same speed to minimize the change in pace. A rider finishing a pull usually rotates to the very back of the formation, and the rider who was formerly behind this rider takes over. " Hmm, sounds complex. But the idea is, the team who could sustain the fastest pace without burning each others guts out is the winner.
Over here at the local scene, the TTT event is usually dominated by powerhouse club Fitness First. As for us, the team had steadily improved from last season. To give you some perspective, these things are usually an hour or less of lung-busting, intensely anaerobic, invective-filled fun. There's usually a minimum of five riders and a maximum of nine with the fifth rider to cross for the team coming in as the time to count. Thus, in theory the more people you have on a team the better the chance for your team members to conserve their energy. The thing with our team was, we had more than nine eligible riders, so we split into two teams. I was bundled with Team 2. On my side was team captain Deo, team manager and Ironman 70.3 World Championships finisher James, Army Col. Bong, veteran endurance athlete Ronald, TTT newbie Karlo and myself. All were capable time trialists in their own right, and ultimately this stage would all come down to teamwork and execution. But the paceline was beset with problems from the very beginning... .
A Shaky Start
Right off the bat, we were beset by unforeseen problems. With some teams a no-show for Stage 1, our release time was pushed forward by several minutes. This was exacerbated by the fact that we arrived late at the venue. To make a long story short, we barely made it to the release time and Ronald was caught up with something, forcing him to ride with Team 1 who had a later release. Thus we had one less comrade to stifle the wind and down to five riders, we were left with no room for error. We had been in a similar position at last season's Tour of Matabungkay, and the pressure- wracked, nausea-inducing experience was not exactly one to relish.
Completely out of sync for starters, we struggled to maintain the paceline. With no actual practice but having a general idea of what to do, the team eventually settled down with our speed hovering at about 35-36kph. So all's well and good. Problem was, Karlo was straining under the frenetic pace and it showed through his pained look specially through the inclines near the Fontana area. Now, we all knew that it didn't matter if the four of us kept up this pace - it was the fifth guy's time that would count. So we had to slow down. Frustratingly enough, we were passed by about three teams while going through this process. But this was a team effort, and no man could be left behind.
Man down... ...
At about the 40k mark our paceline was terribly falling behind our target already and was pretty much broken apart. With no breathing room to spare, each of us weren't taking way-too-long turns towing the line and it was starting to show with the suka pace that we were maintaining. Captain Deo and James had valiantly went back to provide the needed support for Karlo, but the effort had gassed them out. With but a few kilometers to spare, we were all running on fumes. The cycling gods finally decided to spare us a break and with about 500 meters to go the entire team managed to get intact in crossing the line with a 32.14kph ave, good for 23rd of 25 teams. Apparently, Team 1 was beset by their own troubles in finishing with a 35.29kph average for 18th place, seemingly below par for their capabilities. These results in no way did us justice at all, and essayed that even if our individual riders were quite capable on their own, there needed to be a strong degree of teamwork at play to maximize our results. Having less riders also exacerbated the situation. Drained and searching for answers, the Quest gang all set off for a quick lunch at SM Clark before stage 2 was due to commence in a few hours. Yep, you read it right. A few hours.
Wasted, rowdy, hungry bunch after TTT
Stage 2. Circuit Race. Lost in space.
The Tower Burger I had eaten from KFC had not gone down yet, but we had to go. Once again, this proclivity towards being late had us on a mad rush. The dour weather conditions were not helping at all, conjuring visions of crashes amid slick roads. Stage 2 was a 60km circuit race, which true its name counts several loops across the same course. In a stricter sense, some use the term criterium interchangeably to describe similar races, although those are usually shorter in nature and involves removal from the race once you get lapped by the leading pack. As a newbie cyclist last season, I haphazardly joined one of these crits which was stockpiled with old pros and looked more like a laughingstock more than anything else. The manongs watching were heckling me miron-style as I trudged along as the last cyclist to be removed from the course.. I'm guessing the aero helmet did nothing to help my case. Oops.
Di halatang newbie.
A year and a couple more thousand kilometers under my belt, I revisit the concept of the circuit race. At the very least, I hope to get the helmet part right. Anyway, going back to the race. Massaging my still sore thighs, the peloton set off amidst a moderate climb in Fontana that was the highlight of the course. The climb was fine, but having to do it several times over at full speed zaps out your legs one way or another. The first loop was designated as a friendship lap, presumably to serve as a weird form of warmup. Once that was over and done with, the cyclists went on a mad dash that would require every bit of anaerobic juice (at least for lackeys like me) on you to keep up. So I was able to latch on to the main pack, albeit the tail end of it. Predictably enough, my suspect conditioning gave way and I splintered with a group of about five riders, by my estimation about ten seconds behind the main packing. And here's where the fun started. Just as I was gaining some semblance of a rhythm, the guy towing us along took a wrong turn, bringing us all along with him. In the fifteen seconds it took us to get back on the course, the lead pack was out of sight. Great. I was slightly perturbed by what happened and I was left with one other guy. So while rushing to get back in it, at an intersection the marshal was signaling to turn right. Or at least I thought so. Turns out his hand gesture was connoting a "stop" to the other cars (geez how could we mix that up. But yeah we did) and I was off-course again. This was a longer distraction, about 30 seconds. By the time the entire thing was sorted out, I was all alone on the course, deflated and demoralized at such an unseemly turn of events.
I thought of abandoning the race altogether, but then again I'm not a big fan of DNF's. Sot suffice to say, it was like riding an ITT over the final couple of laps, a lonely, solitary route that most would not even bother completing. I even saw a crash along the route, which as I would learn later on involved national triathlete Kim Mangrobang, who was due to compete at the Elite Under-23 ITU Asian Championships in two weeks. She would later share that one of those hyperaggressive junior riders cut her, resulting in a crash on those slick roads. Sort of reminds me that in order to be successful in cycling, you just have to be plain fearless in taking risks. I guess it's still something I have to learn over time.
Loner...
I eventually crossed the line in what seemed like forever, much to the bewilderment of my teammates who figured I'm slow, but not THAT slow. Adding to my chagrin, when the results were released I was mistakenly placed in Excutive A, registering as the last rider to arrive in the division of the strongest executive riders. Oh the horror. Once everyone was accounted for, we all headed back to our hotel to freshen up and reflect on the day that was.
The Lighter Side
After a hearty buffet dinner prepared by the PCL people, the team retired to our comfortable villa at Fontana. We later indulged in the company of veteran elite triathlete Rayzon Galdonez and top executive cyclist Makoy Almanzor. You often see these guys in the heat of athletic competition, and it was refreshing to hear them dispensing race advice in equal doses with classic wisecracks. Here are some of my personal favorites :
Rayzon : Yung nakasabay ko sa run na elite na foreigner na babae nung Camsur, tinanong ako, "Are you Okay?" Ang sagot ko, "No, I'm not Okay. I'm Rayzon. Rayzon Galdonez pleased to meet you what's your name?"
Makoy : Panalo talaga ang Red Horse. Pag sa Red Horse, puro Tama, walang Mali!
With hearty laughter resonating from our living room, I quietly retired to my comfy bed, knowing that we would be in for the long haul for the Stage 3 road race the following morning, the longest leg in the tour.
Yum.
Stage 3. Road Race. A Valiant Effort.
An early breakfast at the nearby Mcdo served as preliminary fuel for the 118 km race that would pretty much replicate the TTT route, only it adds a relatively tough stretch on the outskirts of town to make for several 23k loops. We even ran into my Team Powerpuff Boys buddy and ultramarathon star Junrox Roque ( who's starting to become a force to be reckoned with as well in the short-course triathlon scene) hanging with his executive club Aboitiz Power, a team loaded with strong, veteran riders. For one, at least we all have knack for sausage Mcmuffins early in the morning. Having had our fill amidst the friendly banter, we make our way back to the hotel to get geared up.
We're Late Again
As you may have noticed throughout this feature, this is starting to become somewhat of a recurring theme. For some inexplicable reason, even with considerable lead time, we somehow end up rushing towards the starting grid, making it with less than five minutes to spare. As the peloton was finally released for the conventional "friendship" lap, my thoughts were drifting towards the specter of somehow churning in a creditable performance with my thighs already beaten down from the previous two stages. Word was going around pre-race that last year the peloton took it "easy" during the first few laps because of the relative toughness of the course. With this in mind, I was thinking perhaps I had an outside shot at keeping up this time around.
The friendship lap was relatively brisk, and it comforted me that I was pretty much within the same line as the main pack. So far so good, the whole gang was in sight and I was getting a good feeling about this. The rolling course was not easy though, and I pondered on how I could keep up with the frenzied peloton once they released us. The rain had gone away and the sun was slowly starting to beat upon us. Long ways to go for this.
As my luck would have it, the peloton was released just before the Fontana incline. Great. The funny thing with cycling is that the barometer for success and failure is measured in seconds , seemingly indiscernible nuances spelling the difference between victory and defeat. About a second or two before the peloton was released, my mind inexplicably wandered to some mundane subconscious trapping. And before I knew it, poof. Everyone had at least a five second lead (a lot) on me, and by the time I managed to get my bearings I was speeding along at 45 kph in a vain attempt to catch up. I passed by our team captain Deo and screamed "Habol tayo Kap!!" knowing very well that the slightest let up and we kiss this race goodbye. I raced uphill with cajones-shrinking gusto, and before I knew it I was converging with a fairly-sized group who dropped from the lead group. The pace was frenetic, right around 35-36kph during the early juncture and my lungs seemed to be bursting from the sudden rush. As we stretched out into the highway, a familiar uniform pulled up next to me, and I was overjoyed that Kap had mustered enough to make it into the safety of the chase pack. Save for the TTT, I have been working mostly as a loner for the entirety of the tour so this was certainly a welcome development.
Hanging On
The middle laps saw the chase pack dwindle from a high of as many as twenty to roughly about eight or nine guys. The tough course was unforgiving and the heat and humidity were starting to bear down on us. On the flats we'd hit it in the 45's, then would be focused on the low 30's in a bid to conserve. Slowly but surely, we were getting there and actually putting in a creditable performance by our modest standards. As we were lurching towards the halfway mark , we were quite surprised to see Col. Bong struggling alone against the crosswinds. A strong, consistent rider, we were not accustomed to seeing him get dropped by the peloton . He hung around with us until the feed zone, at which point we just lost track of him. We would later find out that he dropped out of the race after feeling the aftereffects of flu-like symptoms from the week prior. With our reserves slowly being depleted and the sun beating down heavily, it was an interesting proposition to just drop out as well and call it a day. But maybe we had enough to still hack it out... .
Going Down Swinging
As we approached the final lap, our original group had pretty much dropped like flies one by one, and with roughly 20k to go it was just me, Kap and two other dudes. We would take turns on the trangko in a bid to conserve energy, but from this point out it was pretty much all guts and glory. Me and Kap would alternately fade out from the group, then claw back with every ounce left knowing that getting dropped at this point could pretty much mean a knockout blow to one's aspirations of a good finish.
With about 10 kilometers to go entering the homestretch, I felt like I was bonking big time. The other dude fell behind and Kap was still going strong. I told myself, I fought so hard to be in this thing all morning, why give it up now? I figured, might as well go down swinging. As your body bottoms out its reserves and gradually starts to shut down, that's where one's mental fortitude is taxed to its utmost. So with as much effort as one could muster, my battered body was somehow able to throw down 37kph for about a 2 kilometer stretch to catch up with Kap, who I gather didn't even noticed that I was gone. Crossing the line together in 4:06 with the last of the Mohicans was as gratifying a finish I ever had in a cycling event. Checking my race data, the finish time was a bit misleading because of all the long stops we took at the feed zone, and the actual speed we maintained was practically 30kph over a distance that mirrors a Manila-Tagaytay roundtrip. None too shabby I guess for someone with marginal, intermittent training at best. Yipee.
Made it.
Epilogue
Overall, the team had a very creditable finish. Erick stuck with the Executive A main pack in all the road stages, which is highly indicative that he is racing at an extremely high level right now. Cycling main man Julius showed his worthiness to be promoted to the "A" level by nabbing 2nd runner-up podium honors in the 35-39 division of Executive B. The rest of the team all showed traces of significant improvement from the last time we raced here, so we all went home happy. A somewhat unfortunate accident during the last stage marred our good vibes though as Wilnar crashed in a freak accident with only a lap to go, bringing down three riders with him from within the peloton. He suffered a nasty gash on his forehead, but in typical manner he played it down even if he looked like one of them WWE wrestlers who open wounds on their forehead with their hidden razors.
That notwithstanding, it was a creditable effort with tons of room for improvement. As for me, it's back to the drawing board on how to get back into top form. Maybe I'll grab a Red Horse while I'm at it. Puro kasi tama diba, walang mali. :P
Looking back,I was never really a swim kinda guy. You know how kids get sent to all those cool summer camps? Swim camp, tennis camp, basketball camp, anything to keep you preoccupied while school's out. I got... .. French lessons and exotic coin collecting.Great. I firmly believe that my overprotective mother was so concerned that I would get "injured" in this "big strange world" out there that instead of doing 500 meters at the pool I was downing 5 gallons of ice cream. All while watching Wacky Races on the i-Channel with this newfangled Sky Cable thing.
Poor kiddo.So to put it succinctly, I never had the benefit of those summer camp skills. I was pretty good with a Sega Mega Drive though (don't you just love all these Senti Sabado 90's references). Never really thought much of it... . much of my teenage and college life you could always just fake it by sort of wading in the shallow part and yapping it up with the gang during those sembreak trips to Bora.Thus... . not knowing how to swim didn't really matter. I rarely did anyway. I grew up. Got a degree. Went into the corporate world. Gained 40 pounds. Swimming was the farthest thing from my mind. It's like the staple party trick that you just couldn't seem to pull off but could care less if you could, like tying the cherry knots with your tongue or blowing plastic bubbles from little Chinese-made tubes.
That's hard.You know what happened next. Fat guy gets into running and loses 40 pounds. Fat Guy is no longer fat after running 102 rounds. Not-so-fat-guy bought a bike and tried this duathlon feat.And then one day he woke up and decided he wanted to be a triathlete.
The impossible dream?Suddenly, my early childhood deficiency came to the fore in a bad way. Triathlete? Maybe more like a Try-athlete, as klitschy as that sounds. Obviously, a triathlete who doesn't know how to swim is somewhat of an oxymoron.So what the crap was I supposed to do?The easy way to go about it was to just let go of the dream. Heck, maybe we're simply not meant to do certain things. Some people freeze up in public speaking, and some can't sing to save their lives. I can't swim to save my life either, so maybe I should just stick to what I know.Maybe it just wasn't meant for me.
Decision TimeI gave it a long hard look. I'm never one to back down from any challenge, but trying to do something that sent shivers down my spine, and at a competitive level at that, seemed a bit of a stretch for me.But then again, that would mean walking away from the dream... ..Pros. Cons. Contemplation. The setting Ortigas skyline cast its gentle shadow on me as I stood on my terrace, my gaze trailing off into the sunset. Should I play it safe? Could I withstand a lifetime of regrets and what if's , all because I never bothered to try?What would you do?
What pill?I chose the red pill . Time to face my fears and man up.Let's give this swimming thing a shot.Home-cooked "training" Emphasis on "training", because quite frankly, I had no idea what I was doing.
Duh.I'm more of the self-help kinda guy. Even with running, I took pride in the fact that I was a self-made man. Not that I abhor any form of outside advice or input, but it just seems that I do better when I learn on my own. So with much bravado, I set out to find as much material online as I could to learn this swim thing.Turns out, swimming is nowhere close to running. And learning on my own was easier said than done. I tried watching countless YouTube videos from all these online "gurus" saying conflicting things. Became part of countless swimming mailing lists, which I came to realize was merely an avenue to spam you with their products. I even downloaded the fun Mr. Smooth animation that supposedly allows you to emulate a "perfect" stroke free of any idiosyncrasies.
He doesn't smile too much.The end result of all these efforts?Epic fail.The info overload from differing viewpoints was a little hard to take in. I mean, for running, you just well, er, run. Once you can ride a bike, it's pretty much muscle memory. But I realized that swimming is a discipline that focuses a lot on technique. Technique that this stiff-armed Gingerbread character did not possess. The quick, rapid improvement that I was supposed to shock everyone with never saw the light of day. Sob.To further exacerbate things, the competitive nut in me got me in trouble again. The Dean's Cup is a UP Law-organized tweener sprint distance triathlon comprised of a 750m swim, 20k bike and 5k run, and for some reason there was this crazy itch in me to join.
With an initial foray into duathlon, there was a certain comfort level with the bike, and the run part is a given. But that 750m of swimming seemed more daunting than 102 kms of running to me at that time. Nevertheless, the "how will you ever learn if you don't bother to try" paradigm got to me again. And before I knew it, I had deposited my cool P1,250 reg fee and was on my way to either multisport glory or the bottom of the pool. (Ulk)Slight problem - Date of Payment : July 22, 2010.Date of Race : August 1, 2010.Sheesh.
Habol ng Habol. With barely two weeks left to prepare, I was scrambling. If I were an egg, I'd be the farthest thing from an easy over. I mean, ano nanaman ba tong napasukan ko? Some people wait months, even years before going for it. Yet here I was joining on another whim. I've come to realize that there are two kinds of athletes within the late adopter bubble- those who want to join with the best training possible so that they could rock it out, or those who join just to see if they can finishand set a yardstick for themselves. Obviously, I belong to the more daring (and should I say foolhardy)latter group.Palawan Chicken Swims In utter desperation, I was fortunate to have friends to help me out. Takbo.ph/Endure Multisport buddies Rico Villanueva and RJ Bumanlag helped me out at the Ultra pool one rainy Sunday afternoon. It was my first time to swim at Ultra, and I was daunted by the size. I had never swam 50m straight before in an Olympic size pool, and it was quite an experience of the lung busting kind. One lap was enough to knock the wind out of me. And you're telling me I had to do this 15 times during the triathlon? Whaaaaat??Significant confidence was still gained though, though I think my stress level shot up a couple of notches. We celebrated a good swim by partaking of sumptous Palawan chicken at Tiendesitas, one of the best dishes I had tried in a while.Waitress : Ser, may kasama na poh na apat na kanin yan... RJ: Ay miss baka sobra yang kanin, tatlo lang kamiRico: Oo nga, baka pwedeng kanya kanyang kanin na lang?Waitresss : Ay di na poh pwede ser package na poh yan. (15 mins later)RJ: Miss, isa ngang extra rice!Rico : Er, uh, ako din miss!GBM : Make dat three!
You have got to try this, take my word for it.One Step Forward, Ten Steps BackWith this newfound confidence, I ventured out(perhaps a bit too haphazardly) to further strengthen my swim skills albeit with poor rudimentary form. A quick visit on a stormy night at the Army pool near Mckinley proved to be a serious speed bump, just when I was gaining momentum. Visibility was next to nil, couldn't see crap. And as I would get to learn later, the pool was shaped in such a way that bouyancy was greater, making for a much more difficult swim.Right smack in the middle of a lap I felt that the pool was so heavy. Soon enough I was tiring rapidly, and before I knew it I was hyperventilating. Meaning I couldn't breathe. Which meant I was freaking out and drowning. Yes, drowning. I tried hanging on to the lane dividers or buoys. Crap! There weren't any! Flailing, panicking. Oh boy, what a disaster. I finally managed to make it to the shallow part of the pool quite shaken and shaking, but more bothered that I had lost my nerve just days before the race.Whatever faux swimming mojo I had before that session just flew out of the window.I couldn't get myself to a pool in the days after. I considered withdrawing from the race altogether, just give up this stupid nonsense. How can I be a triathlete if I can't swim?Once again, maybe it wasn't for me... ..More soul searching. The decision was agonizing. I didn't want to be labeled a quitter. Maybe I could never forgive myself if I bailed. But what if I drown again?With time running out, I ended up with the its-up-to-God move.(it sounds better in the vernacular)I leave it all to a higher power now.
Drowning is not a fun thing.D-Day Race day beckons. Armed with zero confidence and a goosebumps at the mere sight of water, I entered the transition area for body markings at UP with much trepidation. What if I make a monumental fool out of myself in front of everybody? What if I drown well, die? My would- be career would have been over before it had even started.Add in the pressure that this was my first official race under the banner of Endure Multisport, and you have an idea how my brain was functioning before the race. What if I mess up? Would they fire me? Eeek.
Smiles beforehand a mere facade to the anxiety withinSplash So here we go. Moment of truth. Like a salve to sooth my nerves, we were advised that the 750m swim portion would start at the deep, 10 foot part of the pool. Oh great. No one told me the salve came from the makers of chili plaster. I hung on to the pool ladder for dear life and kept to the back of the pack while waiting for our wave to be released.For me, this wasn't just the focal point of the whole race. It was make or break time.
And the chaos begins... Adrenalin pumping through my veins, the first 300 meters went by smoother than expected. But even then it was a struggle. My poor form resulted to a lot of wasted energy, and at the halfway mark I was relegated to resting at each half way mark. Which meant standing up at the shallow portion. Embarassing somewhat, but better than drowning in a public setting.At the 650m mark I was really really gassed. My heart rate was off the charts and my swimming form was less Michael Phelps and more like that superhero dog. Shouts of encouragement from friends and teammates kept me going. I took solace in the fact that I wasn't in last place. There was one guy behind me. Yess!!! I don't suck that bad! Some guy sucks more at swimming than me! However, I didn't take solace when that guy turned out to be UP Colllege of Law Dean Marvic Leonen. Aww shucks.
Sob.A final heave, and I was finally done! 750m in 33 mins, how awful. But still, it felt like the weight of the entire world was lifted off my shoulders. I trotted off to the transition area, which was like 300 meters away, my mind set on one thing - making up for lost time.Mash A super slow T1 didn't help at all, and in my mindless zeal I nearly went out with everyone zooming by at full speed. The course was the Acad Oval had an extended, slight downhill followed by a false flat on the other end. I tried going out with guns blazing, but alas I'm not that strong of a biker yet to make it all up. I was passing people, but not as many as you would think.The exhaustion of the swim along with the heat were also getting to me, and was slow up the inclines with no cleats working for me. I overestimated my biking ability and thought I could take it in 40 mins. Not even close. I limped home to T2 in 55 mins, which meant I was barely above 20 kph. Eek.
Speed BagalDash Having no bike shoes has one lame advantage - it makes for a fast T2 transition. I took off my helmet and sped off, according to my teammates, "like a man possessed". Gigil na gigil daw. And for good reason. After trudging through a survival swim and a lame bike, here I was at core discipline. I couldn't wait to get out there. I run a high 21 minute 5k, maybe I could make up for lost time. Of course, we all know that ain't happening. My body had been beaten down severely at this point, and the heat was scorching. Legs felt like they had weights strapped on to them. Managed to pass several at the back end, but not enough to make a dent on my time. As I was sprinting towards the end and my entire team was egging me on, I came to the realization that Hey, I'm actually doing this! I survived!
Just a little more... As I crossed the line with an otherwise pedestrian 25 minute run split for a 1:54:16 total, the sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. Didn't matter that I was last on our team to finish, 56th place overall and 9th in our age group. I was particularly proud that although I utterly sucked out, I won my battle against the water. The phobia was messing with my brain, and I'm happy I stood up and fought it.The route I took was unconventional, and some if not most may not subscribe to it. But to the competitive people out there who wish to take a stab at something new, always remember that nothing is impossible if you only bother trying. If a guy like me with no prior swim skills (and who first encountered an Olympic-sized pool two weeks before the race) could hack it, so could you.
Happy guy.I'm a happy guy. I faced my fear and won a staredown with it. And I'm back to actually tell all of you the tale. My first try at my first tri. Always special the first time around eh? And to think it all came oh so close to never happening... .No what if's here.It matters not how straight the gateHow charged with punishments the scrollI am the captain of my fateI am the master of my soul - from William Ernest Henley's Invictus
So you read the header and it's gonna be one of those reviews again. Yes, it's one of those write-ups that would hinge on my verbose and completely un-expertlike opinion. But before we talk about this... .
Let's go back a couple of years... ... .
OBMC High. 1999. As I had mentioned before, was never really a fan of Adi Dassler's creations. Okay maybe I was . Once. I took the plunge a long time ago, from a time and place that seems to have been relegated to the far recesses of my mind. Wore the Kobe Bryant KB8 "Feet You Wear" shoe during my senior year just because they looked so different from any basketball shoe that was on the market at the time. It was the new "in" thing. And in high school's ever changing lexicon of social stratification, different + new = social status level up.
My ticket to high school social status nirvana Lord I'm such as sucker for effective advertising (x_x). I thought they were the coolest things ever, bragged about them incessantly, could have sworn they improved my standing from "freaky tall geek" to "he's just really strange don't mind him he has cool shoes anyway".
Geeky GBM got a boost with them chickies
But then the real test came when I had to play ball with it. With a lot of confidence, I went up for a fancy "tapboard" (people who played high school ball could relate), made my best Kobe impression and BAM I fell with a thud, breaking my ankle in three places. Strangely enough, my juvenile incarnation blamed the Adidas shoes for that, swore it to high heavens, and never wore another pair again... ..
Until now.
Flash forward to 2009, and lo and behold I have a pair of Adidas Adizero Tempos staring me in the face. Literally begging for a shot at redemption. Like a scorned lover acceding to one last shot at reconciliation, I took a leap of faith and went for it. Did it work out? Let's see how my 3-week dalliance with an old flame has worked out so far.
What's on the label :
It is a lightweight running shoe designed to give runners comfort and support over long distances. ForMotion stability adapts to the ground for improved handling and stability and the pro-moderator medial support device prevents overpronation. The TORSION SYSTEM gives midfoot integrity and adiPRENE in the forefoot maintains propulsion and efficiency.
The air mesh upper gives maximum ventilation and the perforated EVA tongue gives additional lightweight comfort and breathability. The dual-layer anti-microbial adiLite-respoEVA sockliner controls odor and gives added step in comfort. Finally, the adiWEAR outsole offers the ultimate in high-wear durability.
Dazed Reader, through SMS : WOAH. BLAH BLAH BLAH. You're talking Greek here! What the fudge was that all about???
Okay, okay. Let me give it a shot.
What I understood of the Adidas jargon mumbo jumbo :
The cushioning system of the shoe is backstopped by its hyped- up Formotion technology utilizing Adiprene 45 . The logic behind it is that you have a well-cushioned heel but not enough to make it bounce around during hard runs. Note, too much bounce = pain and suffering . Some more seasoned runners may view this as completely "babying" heel strikers, but that's one of the reasons why the Tempo is quite enticing to newbie runners.
In addition, mild overpronators can count on the shoes aptly named pro-moderator system to negate the level of pronation, utilizing two plastic heel plates that slow side-to-side movement.
And if just to avoid more jargon, the shoe has features which make it very breathable inside and minimize stitching, while providing good forefoot touch-off cushioning for the fast people out there.
Pedigree
The Tempo has been touted as the "performance stability" shoe in the Adizero series, providing the benefits of a lightweight racer along with enough stability to prevent you from blowing up your plantar or ITB. To those relatively unfamiliar with the Adizero line, these have been touted to be the lightest in their class, and have the distinction of being the shoes running legend Haile Gebrselassie used when he broke the marathon world record at Berlin.
Haile on Yellow Adizeroes en route to the WR
Weight Implication - Injuries, Training and Racing Its main selling point is that at barely 300 grams, the Tempos are nearly a 100 grams lighter than my old light stability shoes. Upon wearing them, you would barely feel that there's any resistance there at all. You can accelerate without the weird clunky feeling. At first, I was very apprehensive to try these out, as they look like the eye candy shoes you would wear to the mall and it seemed to me that any form of running on these would blow out my knee. Initially thought that these were limited to neutrals, but after nearly a month of using them, the injuries have thankfully been nowhere in sight. And to think I was coming off a bout with ITB. Whew.
Still look good despite taking a beating from the rain
After a few weeks on this, an attempt to use my old light stabs gave the feeling of having ten-pound weights on my foot. The difference was very noticeable. How noticeable? A good example was my tempo training on consecutive days. Same splits, same level of fitness, different shoes. With the old shoes, my best split was a 5:10/ km. The following day, same thing, I miraculously lowered it to a 4:40. I highly doubt I could have shaved 30 seconds off my split in a day. Was it the shoes? Placebo? Whatever it may have been, happy camper right here.
Racing-wise, two weeks later I set a 10k PR of 50:14 with the Tempos, shaving nearly a minute and a half off my previous best. The time was good enough for 26th place at Ayala Eco-Dash, which made me an even happier camper. Pertinent factors to keep in mind : No changes in training, weird level of fitness coming off an injury. Could it have been the shoes? You be the judge of that.
Other stuff that you need to know, just in case:
These are NOT wide shoes. When you first slip into them, coming from say a Mizuno or New Balance, your feet would feel constricted and with no wiggling room. I'm a US size 12, and these usually afford sufficient toe allowance. These ... did not. First time I ran on them they were so tight that I got near blisters on my toes.
I was about to completely give up on them and sell them to the people at Takbo.ph (even if I knew that they're going to ask for a ton of discounts) when the pain started to... disappear. Now I don't even notice it's there.It took about two weeks worth of break-in to get the job done. So for the well-endowed people out there, either you adjust your size or break it in well before racing it.
Final Take
Overall I find this to be the quintessential, aesthetically pleasing shoe that strives to synergize both form and functionality. For neutrals to mild overs looking for a highly serviceable speedwork or raceday shoe, this brings significant eye candy points to the table with decent stability to boot. Should you fall under this category, this is a very strong option right here.
So how would I evaluate the three-week reco with my old flame? Love affairs come and go, that's the nature of the beast. As one leaves for greener pasture, another comes in to fill the void. Everything that happens in between? Oftentimes forgotten. But sometimes, all it takes is a single spark to reignite the connection.
I hated Adidas. They broke my ankle.
But after three weeks of PR's and good races...
Guess old flames aren't so bad the second time around.
