My Way of Living [Search results for Story] 

I’m feeling a wee bit homesick, not for the green grass of my previous home, but for the ocean, it’s 5 hours away. The winter ocean, with it’s chilly wind swept grey gravel beaches, and tides that go out forever. The off season ocean where you can walk for ages before meeting another soul. For the sensation of warmth, and a whiff of sea salt that envelopes you when you get back into your car. The brisk wind whipping your hair into messy waves, as if trying to recreate the ripples on the beach.

I am homesick for the ocean, the waves, the water, and the seaweed with the occasional dead crab washed up on the beach. The sound of the gulls as they ride the air currents, the wings snapping to keep up with the breeze. The crashing of the white caps on the footings of the pier, don’t slip, watch your step on the wet wooden planks.

Homesick for the sea glass, broken, sanded sea jewels, that were added to my treasure pile. Glistening wet shards that can be found in piles of washed up seaweed. Pebbles, shiny in the weak winter sun, rounded, smooth, each one different with a story to tell. I brought one home from each beach visit, and placed them in the space between the bricks on my patio. Who reads their stories now?

Crashing waves, keening gulls, and tangy scents of sea water. Will the falling snowflakes here make me forget the ocean that was so much a part of my life there?

A chapter ended, and a new story begun, maybe this time I will collect pine cones in a basket, building up in a pile at my door. Each spiky cone containing a different tale, telling the story of my new life, washing away the homesick feeling, like the waves that gently lapped at our feet.

White Rocker’s are dealing with a small inconvenience, but it’s one that could easily make anyone with a compromised immune system very ill. Since we are one of the only communities in the Lower Mainland not to chlorinate our water, and it looks like a animal or bird has gotten into the reservoir, they have had to drain, and sanitize everything. White Rock is under a boil water advisory, because of the increased e-coli count. And everything from restaurants, to hospitals, to homes are affected. Bottled water is flying off the shelves. It takes a lot of water to rinse your veggies, bet you never thought about that didn’t you? Hot water doesn’t do a really great job of washing lettuce, it wilts it, so all the boiled water has to be cooled first. Part of the advisory states that the water is still safe to shower with, well I guess that’s a good thing right? Could you imagine, 20,000 stinky people? We would all have to go down to the beach for a quick dip in the only slightly cleaner ocean each morning. The beach would be packed with everyone trying to scrub a dub dub, before leaving for work. Hey, who stole my soap?

Brushing your teeth? Don’t forget to use boiled water, rinsing off that luscious piece of just picked summer fruit? Don’t reach for the tap, bring out the boiled water. It’s only a slight inconvenience, but it certainly does make you think that we take the water from the tap for granted. There are many communities in British Columbia that have been under a boil water advisory for years. We are lucky that this only lasts for a little while. And still, we are under the mistaken knowledge that we have one of the purest waters around. We made the front page of the 2nd biggest paper in Canada. And we were the leading story on many a day last week. While the fervor had died down a little, taken over by another “hot off the press” story, it’s still showing up on the news. And it looks like that story is old news, since we will have this advisory until at least next Monday. So White Rock, you are famous.

Only problem, it’s for all the wrong reasons. Pass me the bottled water please!

It’s everywhere, and it’s contagious… A fresh start, a new year, goals, new ideas.
In the air, I’m loving the aura of possibilities.

Of what is to come. There are words being chosen to describe what we would like our upcoming year to be. It’s all there for us, new, blank, open to anything. “Possibilities abound.” Facing forward, being the best Blogger you can be. What will my story be? Will I write it, or will I let it be written for me? Like a field of fresh snow… there are no footprints to mar the surface. It’s all ours. And that’s so exciting isn’t it? A blank page. A chance to write our own story, for a new year. “What will your story will be?” I sincerely do want to make some changes in the way I blog, but here I am writing this post, once again at the last minute.
Photos lost, found, Internet up, Internet down. Running out of energy, and battery.
Sitting down for only a minute. Determined, frustrated with the delay, thoughts flying, fingers fumbling.
Eyes peering into the screen.
Changes are sometimes the very thing that resist change.
But with time, all things are accomplished.
Aren’t they?
I’m pondering a move to Word Press, been thinking about it for a few years now. Truly I am on the fence over that one. I’m restless… there are other things… but maybe we can talk about them later? Are you thinking of making changes? Doing things differently?
What are your thoughts?

The conversation still resonates vividly in my head on that balmy afternoon a little over two months ago. I was going about my business at home, chillin' to 90's tunes on my Grado SR-60's when the call came.
Jonel : Are you free to interview Piolow for our next cover story tomorrow at 4 pm?
GBM : Huh? Er, uh, Piolow?
Jonel : Yeah. The Piolow.
GBM: Uhhh, errr, okaaaaaaay?
Jonel : Great, I'll have the Timex gal get in touch with you.

Numbness. Is this for real? Not that I'm a screaming fangirl or anything , but I knew why Frontrunner EIC/Tatay/BDM Ultraman Jonel Mendoza got me for the story. Think of all the tension when the online pseudo-rivalry would come to a head. The Piolow finally meets the Sub-Piolow in the flesh. What fun.

To those who came a tad bit late into the scene to remember the entire ruckus that happened, read and go back to this piece to get a grasp of what we're talking about. It's as close to a cold war as one would get in the community. It was presscon fodder, and the "feud" was showing up on a completely different front. You should have seen the day when my site was inundated with heavy traffic (hostile no doubt) from Piolopacual.net. Smirk. Eventually the entire episode simmered down, but always remained as sort of an urban legend amongst old running hands.

I had practically forgotten about the entire thing.

Until I received that fateful phone call.

A gazillion things immediately raced through my head. How was I to approach it? Would he be hostile? Snooty? Would the "interview" last 2 minutes while he was being made up for his next show, alalays in tow?

I get a message from the Timex gal coordinating with us. It said something like :

You'll interview Piolow while he's being made up in the dressing room before his next rehearsal.

Ulk. This makes it interesting. I had prepared like ten questions, how am I supposed to pull that off now? For some reason, I was starting to conjure visions of a cranky prima donna surrounded by a burgeoning entourage.
The following day, me and Abby met Jonel at the lobby of his posh Valero condo in Makati. The plan was to ride convoy to the Aliw Theater where he was a guest star for Pokwang's concert. Slight Complication. Apparently, he was stuck in Bulacan, and would be late for what was anticipated to be a 7pm interview. Given that we had plans after, I thought this was a goner. Bummer.Maybe it wasn't meant to be. Maybe next time. What if there won't be a next time?

As we dejectedly started to head for the door, Jonel had a startling piece of news. For some reason, there was some confusion with his handler, and he was actually already at the venue. Sheesh. We were on the road before you could say "Noah"

We parked right in front of Star City, that last bastion of early 90's fun (anyone aside from me remember that show they used to have on channel 9?) I was pleasantly surprised to see that people were actually lining up for her show. Cool. The handler would be out in a few, so we took the time to grab some coffee (which was really more to calm my nerves). I've done a lot of interviews before, but given that this was on such short notice I felt horribly unprepared.

A few more minutes and his handler finally came out. The affable, soft-spoken lady didn't exactly fit my notion of a "handler". Was half-expecting either Ogie Diaz or Lolit Solis to start thumbing down a clipboard in my face.She secured VIP passes for us to gain entrance, somewhat even apologetic that we couldnt just waltz in. "Stricto sila eh, full house kasi ngayon." Pokwang? Nice, strike while it's hot.

The Aliw Theater was much more bigger than I had expected, first time to ever enter. Both me and Jonel were comically fumbling with the digital recorder as we were waiting for Piolow to come out. We checked the
batteries at least four times lol. Oh the nerves. Apparently, our earlier fears of a madalian/pinilit interview were unfounded - we'd be doing the interview right there at the auditorium.
Thankfully, before I could complete a 10k just through pacing around Piolow finally came out. Here's an excerpt from the story, just to give you an idea of my thoughts at that precise moment (consider it a teaser haha.)

“Hi, I’m Piolo. Nice to meet you.” The Man strides into a soon-to-be filled up auditorium with a warm aplomb typical of seasoned showbiz types. Channeling a cool, relaxed vibe, in an alternate universe he could have been anyone. A gym buddy perhaps, or that next door neighbor your sister is crushing on. To the cynical, it’s a generic put-on pieced together by a well-oiled publicity machine. Surprisingly though, the bubble burst as soon as the lights went on. The smile actually seemed genuine. The handshake felt real. Posture and countenance conveyed a refreshing enthusiasm towards the discussion at hand. For the jaded sports writer who was conjuring visions of a snooty, prima donna superstar with several alalays at their beck and call, this guy was redefining whatever preconceived notions we had.

Face off? Pleasantries were, er, pleasant. As I had written, we were coming into the interview with every superstar stereotype on a short list. None of it ever cropped up. Either this guy is a tremendously good actor, or it just shows how warped our showbiz preconceptions are from the outside looking in. He had pretty good memory too, he even remembered a random conversation he had with Jonel about BDM at some race they ran some months prior.

Ano Piolow, we'll train you for BDM!
IMHO, the interview was exponentially better than what we had expected. No time pressure at all, we were able to run pretty much the entire gamut of questions over the span of nearly 30 minutes - quite generous for someone who was going on stage in less than an hour. The interview reflects rare insights on perhaps one of the most polarizing figures we have today, and showcases that burning competitive spirit oftentimes glossed over by the showbiz fluff. Perhaps the lasting impression I got from the whole thing was that if we existed in an alternate universe where he wasn't an actor, he could just as easily be your next door tropa or training buddy.

Ultramarathoner Abby gets in on the action
So did he stare me down after learning I was the guy behind the Sub-Piolow? How does he balance a crazy work sked with training? Will he ever do BDM? Want to know how he felt during his first duathlon on no cleats?
Get the special Christmas issue of Frontrunner to find out,now available at newsstands and bookstores nationwide :)

p.s. It's a collector's edition double cover issue, with a batak Sir Jovie/ Bald Runner on the other cover. That I believe is already worth more than the price of admission :P

T he runners were all hyped up and ready to go, the excitement and anticipation of months of training reaching fever pitch. As the organizers counted down the seconds, you could feel the palpable tension amidst the..

81 runners. How many will make it?

Wait.

We're getting ahead of ourselves.

There's always a story behind the story. And isn't that the interesting part?

Prologue

Gingerbreadman with Gingerbread Driver, 4 pm Saturday.

GBM: Let's go to Libis, I need to buy a blinker from a bike shop.GBD: Okie ser! You go biking biking?GBM: Nope not biking, the blinker was just required for my race, it's at 1 am later.GBD: Ah! So you go biking biking at 1am? Dat is so eeshcary!GBM: We're not going biking, it's a run.GBD: Yes ser, biking run!GBM: No, I mean, running, two feet.GBD: Ah! JAGGING! Wow ish so erly por jagging ser!
GBM: Quite a long jog indeed, about 50k .GBD: WAW! R U SERYOS SER??GBM: GBD, Magtagalog na lang tayo... GBD: Hay salamat ser! kamao pala kayo mag Tagalog!GBM: Teka, iba na un ah... .

Sleeplessly Anticipating

"Excitement" would be an understatement as I counted down the seconds, minutes, and hours before the single greatest challenge of my relatively nascent running career. During the time I was supposed to be sleeping, I was frozen in a zombie-like state. Everything seemed to be moving in freeze frame. I was glued to my laptop, the Takbo.ph shoutbox a looming rhapsody in motion, all but frozen in time. I was bored. Antsy. Couldn't sleep. And everytime I did try to sleep, the Gingerbread Dog was all over me. Bad dog. His birthday is coming up by the way, 2 years old this August 21. I'm planning a CLP and all of you are invited. Yeah. As I said, I'm antsy. Next paragraph please. Sorry for the 30 seconds of your life you'll never get back.

I'm just trying to help! HBD to mehhh! You're invited! 8/21!

Of Support Crews and the Ultimate Emperador Sacrifice
On the path to fulfilling my dreams, I ran into a major obstacle - who the heck would support me? No way I could survive the distance without any form of help. My college friends are either getting married ( Note to self : Tick tock... . Tick Tock... ) or being stationed abroad. No way could they support me. I don't wanna hassle Gingerbread Gal, that's too long of a grind. So looks like I need to call on the last people on my list, the ones that I really didn't want to bother - the Gingerbread Dad and no less than internet legend/favorite uncle Tito Caloy. They had given up their commitment to support me on the journey, and Tito Caloy cancelled his Emperador LCLP with the kumpadres. Sob. Imagine, he gave that up for me? Must have been torn. Poignant moment right there.

GBM : Thanks for helping me out Dad.

GD : No problem son. I will just bring you there and meet you in the morning, am no spring chicken anymore . Tito Caloy will take over.

TC : Gigimik lang yan... ...

GBM : !!!!

TC: Gano tayo katagal dun?

GBM: Max of 9 hours?

TC: May chicks ba dun?

GBM: !!!!!

Gingerbread Dad and internet Legend Tito Caloy all set

Official Gingerbread Support Car

Yellow Cab, 11:20 pm Saturday

I am nervous. Really. I mean, I am gunning to run a distance that I have never tackled before, not even close. A lot of people would not subscribe to that. But hey that's just me. It would kill me if I didn't try. Classic Gingerbread hard-headedness there. Meeting place is Yellow Cab Julia Vargas and the two elder Gingerbread folk are early. Early but... . they ordered a Pizza! Whaaa? It's 11:30 already! We might be late! Gingerbread Dad bought like 40 Gatorade bottles along with oreos, chocolates, and ... pizza. You'd think we were going on a children's party or something instead of an ultramarathon. Children.. hmm. Just made me remember a conversation with Gingerbread Mom over the phone while chilling from her lofty perch.

GBM: Yes Mom I'm running a 50k ultramarathon. I may even go for 100 if I'm still alive.

GM: Aww that's so great son!

GBM: Uh, yeah? It's running from UP to Commonwealth then SM Fairview then retrace the whole thing back to UP! It's a big deal you know! I'll be famous!

GM: Awww that's wonderful! How long will you be away?

GBM: I'll be running for 8, 9 hours straight! Very few runners are crazy enough to do it!

GM: Wow, very nice! Very nice! Make sure you won't run come nightfall it's dangerous!

GBM: Ugh, its at 1am Mom.

GM: Well then make sure you're home in time for lunch! It's Sunday and you rarely go here! Take care! Do you have money?

GBM: (The way our conversation is running you would think I'm just going out to the mall to watch a movie or something. Old people. What fun. )

Starting Line , 12:59 am

T he runners were all hyped up and ready to go, the excitement over the culmination of weeks and months of training reaching fever pitch. As the organizers counted down the seconds, you could feel the palpable tension amidst the crowd. There was a definitive buzz. Neville and Ian had given last minute instructions, car stickers and banners already distributed. Class pictures were taken. Niceties were exchanged among the brave souls, a pall of both uncertainty and anticipation slowly falling over the group. 81 have come to defy the odds and enter the hard-knocks, no-frills world of the ultramarathon. As the starting gun went off and the group started going en masse past the utilitarian starting line banner, you get to think... how many of them would be here to cross the finish?

Newbies getting tips from the ultra vets

Sir Ronnie aka Runnerforchrist and Takbo.ph running bud Doc Sherwin pre-race

They will keep us safe

Pat's lucky charm

Race directors par excellance Ian and Neville for last-minute instructions

The starting line beckons... .

Kilometer 10, 2:10 am. What's the Rush?

Amidst the helter skelter start, me and TNF 100 vet/ Takbo.ph buddy Pat were left bundled together for the first 10km of the run. For some insane reason , we thought we were way behind the pack. And for an even more insane reason, we ran the first 10k in 70 mins. Apparently, for runners of our skill level, that is tantamount to a virtual death knell in ultra terms. As you see the story unravel, the implications of such a brazen move would have significant ramifications on the two of us as the race wore on.

I can do this...

The bunny is the key

The 1st and 2nd placers of GIG Run pose for a bit

Km 11 - 20 , 3 am. The Endless Roads of Commonwealth Ave.

The route looped back to base camp at Ylanan before we set out to go to Commonwealth. I was starting to think that this breakneck pace was not prudent at all if I was to go the distance. So I signaled to Pat to leave me behind. As I went out to Commonwealth, I realized that the road to success would be a solitary one.

Mundane sights on a road that doesn't end
The very same route I have traversed endless times in the past by car didn't seem like it would end. An interesting twist was that I had to pass by the Quezon CIty circle as well, going through the overpass twice.

The sight that greets tired wannabe ultramarathoners
I never realized that thing was that long. Once you had completed that part, you would be passing what seemed like a never ending road. Twists along the way - Tito Caloy finally tracked me down, gave much needed support. I was expecting him to look sheepish or bored to death, but he looked genuinely concerned. Naks. Scene after Tito Caloy had given me some much-needed refreshments :

Unknown Oldie Runner : May tubig ka b a diyan?
Tito Caloy : Ah, eh, meron
UOR : Pahingi naman
TC: Ah, eh, cge eto
UOR: Gatorade meron?
TC: Um, oo, pero... ..
UOR: Pahingi na din. Baon. Malayong bakbakan to.
TC: !!!
GBM:!!!

(runner speeds off)

TC: You're welcome!
GBM: What the fudge was that all about?

Sight for sore legs

Generous Guy Tito Caloy having a drink. No not that kind.
Along Commonwealth I also repeatedly ran into veteran ultra dude Kiko (who actually went on to finish the 100k. Kept on offering him an Oreo or Gatorade. Or something. Refused every time. "I'm good, thank you." Classy, nice guy. Ultra Marathon tips on-the-go that I got from him :

1. Walk the inclines. Always. Don't even think about it.
2. You should have no injuries or funky feelings at the 50k mark. If you do, don't even think about it.
3. Eat real, whole meals. Planning on eating Oreos and chocolates the whole time? Don't even think about it.

Sage advice from ultra vet Kiko helped me surviveI took his advice to heart... . thus I ended up not thinking at all :)

Km 22 - 30 , 530 am. The long uphill to SM Fairview.

Upon reaching the very end of Commonwealth and hitting the turn to SM Fairview, evil voices in my head were slowly picking on my psyche in the dark solitude of that fateful Sunday morning.

You gotta be crazy dude. This is a route that BUSES take. You are so far off. You're alone. It's so dark you could get mugged. In your excitement to maintain an "ultra pace" your friends are at least an hour ahead of you. You're slow. Just quit and get back to your pampered , softie lifestyle. Go... go ride your support car and go home to Daddy.

Thankfully, I did my best to tune out these thoughts that would make Norman Vincent Peale turn in his grave. And Tito Caloy was resolute in not letting me rot on the road. He would show up every 10k or so, and just the mere sight of someone to talk to would sustain reanimate me. Thank God, he didn't desert me! Blood is thicker than alcohol! I've been running for nearly 5 hours straight already. Must not quit.
Just as I was completely losing my sanity, I ran into the group of veteran ultraman and Takbo.ph buddy Ronald. Was a big group, and we ended up pacing until the aid station at SM Fairview where cold water and camote nourished us. The last sigh of fresh air before the final push. Its much akin to that slight lull before the Battle of Helm's deep in LOTR.

SM Fairview will never look the same again

Brief respite before the final push
Km 30 onwards. What happened??

The events of what happened from this point on were all a blur to me. It's like a lucid dream. A real, live one (to the younger readers, kindly google "Vanilla Sky"). Essentially, the absurdity of a quick start combined with running for what was to eventually be eight hours began to catch up with me. Laundry list of what happened to me until the finish line :

1. Cramped up both legs at 35k mark
2. Knees tightened at 37k mark
3. Couldn't run well at 37k mark
4. Lost Tito Caloy until QC Circle Part Deux. He was ensnared in a running conversation with an old lady along Fairview on magnets (huh?) and he couldn't extricate himself. Ugh.
5. Was escorted by two scooters at 35 k mark. Seriously thought I was the very last runner. For someone who takes solace in the fact that he cracked the top 60 of his last 10k race, this was a terrible blow to the psyche that added exponentially to the mental strain he was already going through
6. Ipod went dead at 40k
7. Voices in head became louder at 40k
8. Saw Mcdonald's icon Grimace running in front of him at 41k mark

9. Openly considered quitting at 41k after seeing Grimace
10.Became fast friends with two gentlemen of an advanced age who were ditching the 100k ultra because they couldn't go on any further . Sakit ng tiyan ko hijo, masakit!
11.Quick fist pump at 42k mark. First full marathon. Wohoo! Oh great 8k more to go
12.Received encouraging phone calls from Takbo.ph pals Rico, Rod and Edu at 42 mark,
reviving me from a semi-comatose state
13.Decided with finality that shooting for a 100k would land me in the hospital. I need the money from my job. Hospital would TAKE money I don't have away from me. Easiest choice I ever made.
14.Tito Caloy gives encouraging advice to call it a day with a smile.
15.Met by the most raucous ovation one could ever ask for at the 45k mark from the Takbo.ph family. I almost cried. Oh wait hold the tears. 5 more kilometers to go.
16.Bromance partner Rico aka Sheer Will paced me for the longest 5k of my life. Would possibly wilted if I was alone.
17.Best finish of my relatively nascent running career - screaming friends, a medal, parent and fun uncle in the crowd. Tons of cameras clicking away. With the racket going on you would think I won the damn thing. Felt like a gazillion bucks.

Eternally grateful for the 5k push

A final, painful run for glory

Happy Gingerbread Dad

Tito Caloy comes through for the Gingerbread Clan

It was all worth it... .

Because of these guys and gals

So there. Whew. That's my story. A dichotomy that unraveled as the layers of my soul were stripped down to its barest, purest form. A guy who yearns to be on top of the list ends up on the bottom. One who yearns to be fast ended up taking it very slow. Who went through the entire journey in independent solitude, only to rely on the kindness and thoughtfulness of others in order to finish.

I came in to test my limits, to prove that the mental faculties of an individual trump the physical every time. I came in with a chip on my shoulder, to show that I have the ability to go over and beyond what people expect of me. I came in... . with lofty expectations.

81 hopefuls. 47 made it.
In the end, when everything was said and done, amidst the warm company of family and friends...

I was just so happy to be there and savor the moment with them.

There's always a story behind a story. Isn't that the interesting part?

I’m a big fan of bird houses, in fact I rather love them… they were scattered all over the condo when we lived there, all made of unfinished wood, lovingly crafted by my Dad. It was a symbiotic relationship, he made them, I put them on display, we are both happy. He isn’t in any kind of shape to make them right now, but he is trying. A hip replacement on a aging body that already has to many other problems will knock you right back every time. He has determination though, and at his age, mid 80’s that’s a good thing. I have seen too many elderly people just give up, and lay back… it’s hard to bear. It’s also hard to think that one day, that might be us.

He managed to get mobile enough to go to his woodworking shop, and gave me a few birdhouses for our new yard. Each one has a story, a life, a dream built right into it. Many of them are one of a kind, unique, all are unfinished… a hope still to be painted. When I got back to our house and started to look around, I realized that many of his bird houses reside in my home, there are some duplicates, some unusual ones, all are loved…

So I decided to tackle them and start the painting process, the quality of workmanship in such a small treasure is unbelievable. A legacy that I hope will last many years. I mentioned to him that they were too nice to put outside in the weather, and ever practical, he told me that’s what they are for. There is a moral to this story, somewhere in here I am sure, I just can’t see it for the tears. The realization that he isn’t the person he was, that aging will catch up to all of us. And that the bird houses will go on for a long time, even if the production won’t. That’s a hard lesson to learn.

We have had our fair share of laughs on this site, as that's what most of our material on here aims to do. But it would be hard to goof around after the tempestuous events of the past 24 hours. Tropical Storm Ketsana, more popularly known in local parlance as Ondoy ( yeah, go figure) breezed through the country and pumped in a month's worth of rainfall in a mere 12 hours .

Not a pretty sight. Wait, is that a bus half- submerged?
And while a good majority of the populace escaped relatively unscathed, the aftermath left a lot of our friends, family and acquaintances in dire straits. Friends losing homes, vehicles, appliances to the deluge. I would like to think we are a tight-knit running community when push comes to shove, no matter how fractured we may be at times. So I'll be featuring some of the altruistic calls for relief spread throughout our running community.

Bald Runner's Team Hardcore To Run For Andoy Victims

As taken from ultraman extraordinaire Jonel aka Bugobugo's Facebook entry :
Team hardcore will make ENDURUNS 4.5.5 and the Laguna 200k relay a fund-raising activity for the victims of Ondoy.

For every kilometer we will run (250 kilometers) for October(Milo/QCIM/Subic42, Adidas21) and november (PIM42, Timex21) and the Laguna200(each runner does 40k),we ask that you donate 1 peso per kilometer. A collection booth will be set up sa Octoberun sa Sunday at the ROX parking lot. Thank you.

So there. Worthwhile cause, and our resident hardcore ultramen will do the heavy lifting for you. Kudos to Gigi aka The Fit Mommy for the breaking news.

Second Wind As A Hub For Relief Goods

First read this on Timmy aka The Kenkoy Runner's blog. Then I realized Hector of Second Wind emailed me the same thing. I should really check my mail more often. I'm just sorta sick of being bombarded with "YOU WON LOTTERY" emails. Anyway, here's Hector's announcement :

Greetings friends in the running community.

In light of the typhoon that has left most of us emotionally drained, we would like to encourage the running / multi-sport community to pitch in and help out.

Kindly help us spread the word that we are extending help to our friends who were affected by the typhoon ondoy. Lets maximize however we can help, announcements in your blog, multiply, tweeter, or your status in facebook will be greatly appreciated.

Secondwind will be accepting donations:

- blankets

- singlets, jerseys or shirts

- old footwear

- food

- other items that can still be used

we will be accepting until Thursday (end of day) and will donate to ateneo thru Neville Manaois, PUR team principal, secondwind teammate and ateneo professor. Volunteers to pack and help transfer goods on Friday will be most welcome.

Maraming salamat in advance sa lahat ng tulong na maaari niyong mabigay.

Salamat.

So everyone, do help Hector, Neville, and Mickey, some of the nicest guys I have ever met, in this noble pursuit of theirs. Remember, deadline is on Thursday, and any volunteers on Friday would be awesome.

Helping out our Takbo.ph Friends

Okay, this is a bit more personal for me because two of my good friends from Takbo.ph were severely affected by this calamity.
Story #1 : Cherry, better known by her handle Chelly had her house completely submerged, lost everything, and she had to seek refuge for several hours at the roof of her neighbor's house just to survive. As I write this, we're not even sure if she is already safe as we lost contact already. We can only imagine how traumatic and harrowing this experience could have been for her. Support of any kind would be most welcome to a fellow running denizen subjected to the punishing forces of nature.
Story # 2: Edu, or Ed as I fondly call him, is another one of our board regulars in bad shape right now. Floods swept away his house, and last we heard he was hanging on for dear life at a bedspacer room at the back of his house. We eventually lost contact so we have absolutely no idea what happened to him. We are all hoping and praying for the best.

If you want to help out, just check out the thread started out by humanitarian good guy Rico/Sheer Will.

So if you're thinking " Hmmmm why should I help, too bad life sucks bad break boo hoo ", let me remind you of the thin line between disaster and safety :

Because a bad break here, a weird touch of circumstance there, and you never know what could happen... .

So everyone - be thankful that we are all in one piece, and let's give a helping hand to our comrades who desperately need support right now.

Funny how things stick in your mind, and perch there like a small chirping bird. At least until you make them fly to another branch to stop the constant noise. Sometimes a idea for a blog post will just hop right into my mind, and it won’t budge until I do something about it.
This was one of those ideas, so to keep it quiet, I wrote it into a blog post title. Unfortunately I didn’t bother to expand it as far as the story line goes…
So now we have “Blogs for Breakfast” a title of a post, and no story.
I was looking at the title, trying to remember why I would write anything like that, and came up blank for a little while. But then I remembered a few weeks ago when it seemed that each and every person I spoke with was the inspiration for another blog post. Love those times, when something triggers creativity, and it just flows like water from a hose. The water spreads to the garden, and flowers bloom, grass grows, and it all just seems never ending.
Until the hose gets turned off, then there is a drought, and everything dies… including all of the original ideas. I don’t like it when that happens. No one does.
But the reason for the blog post title has come back to me. I remember leaving a comment on a blogger’s post one morning. I like to spend some time during my breakfast, looking through blogs, reading them, and leaving comments. So I jokingly called it “blogs for breakfast.” It was a reference to the fact that we are very much into routines, and one of mine is to turn the computer on first thing in the morning. And I doubt that I am alone, it’s fun, and a great way to start your day.
So what’s your favourite blog reading time, after work, before work, during lunch? Anytime?

Somehow I went and did something wrong… now it’s sciatica.
Didn’t we just go through this a few weeks ago? Apparently, and then just as I got better I forgot to move the right way.

Sciatica sucks… and the stretches are not helping. I’m not playing for sympathy… just frustrated with this whole thing, it’s cutting into my computer, and gardening time. I can’t sit, can’t stand… you remember the story.

I am still gardening, even though at times I am reduced to doing it on my hands and knees… which is probably the way I should have been doing it before all this happened.

So what’s the story on beautiful blooming shrubs that just happen to hang over your fence, can you snitch a lilac bloom?

My backyard neighbour has a stunning lilac hedge right next to him, and every spring he cuts it back to the fence line… if those were my neighbours… I’d let it grow, and much snitching of flowers would be occurring.
I can only look backwards towards his neighbour’s lilac hedge and dream… because now the good neighbour gate is wired shut, [thanks a lot Bootsie] I can’t even sneak in there to take a photo.
Is it snitching if it’s on your side of the fence?

"Orienteering is the sport of navigation with map and compass. The competitive athlete can experience the exhilaration of moving through the woods at top speed! If you love maps, exploring, and the great outdoors, try orienteering. You'll be hooked for life!"- US Orienteering Federation Website

Hooked for life. Hmmm . These thoughts resonated within me as I browsed through the link that buddy/restaurant magnate Bong Z sent me. Still in ITB recovery and saddled with a heavy workload, I have been embroiled in a new hobby search to serve as a temporary outlet. I'm willing to try practically anything. Even... orienteering. Whatever that is. So how did this picture come about, and why do I seem to have a certain level of angst towards this sign?

I not likey you CP2But hey, we're getting ahead of ourselves. It all started with this conversation... .

Bong Z : Yo GBM, wanna join our adventure race team? Me, Eo and Joyce are in already.

GBM: Adventure race? Like The Amazing Race? Woah!

Bong Z: Er, yeah! Only with map and compass!

GBM: But I don't know how to read no map and compass! I don't even know how to use GPS!

Bong Z: I'll take care of it! I read a couple of websites!

GBM: You READ a couple of websites?

Bong Z:Yeah! It's pretty simple really.

GBM: Uhmmmmmmoookay. What are we going to do exactly?

Bong Z: Dude, I have absolutely no idea. But it should be fun!

GBM: Er, okay. What time we leaving?

Bong Z: 4 am! :)

GBM: !!!!!!!!

Bong Z and GBM to follow in their footsteps?

And with that, ou r story unravels. Here's more or less what happened (save for some things , okay a lot of things that I completely made up) as told by members of the team itself.

Mcdonald's Buendia-EDSA. 4:00 am. GBM

Oh god it is so freaking early! How do I get myself into these things? I have like 2 hours of sleep! Bong Z just called, where am I? Where am I? It's 4 am! I should be in bed! Fair-sized Takbo. ph crowd here already. We all look like zombies. And, woah, is that our bus? Hey cool! It looks like we're going to do a Mexican border crossing! We're going to Tijuanaaaa!

Where's the Korean Tourist coaster when you need it?
Coastal Road, 5am. Eo.
Been training with these guys from time to time, nice to join them in a non-running setting. Nice to get those ITB thoughts out of the way for once. Glad mine's much better. GBM's ITB? Different story. Did you see him at Kenny? Dude was huffing pretty bad. Horrible. He eat my dust. Harhar. Hmmm. Just realized I'm the elder statesman of the group. Well, with my nice tan I hope they think Bong Z is my older brother. Well isn't this swell. It's raining cats and dogs. Is it still on?

I dont like dark, rainy places... .
Matagondon, Cavite Town Hall. 6 am. Bong Z.
Wohoo! Adventure here we come! I can't believe I talked that shmuck GBM into joining this! Even if he whines a lot, maybe I could put him to good use!Hahahaha.He thinks it's some adventure race! But the reality is ... the reality is... . Er, the reality is I have no idea what I'm getting ourselves into. I'll just try to remember everything I read in that website . and will try to get away with it by playing the cool leader dude part! Great! We're here on time! And... we're the only ones here. Where's everybody?

Belo? Who's that?Matagondon, Cavite Town Hall. 7 am. Joyce.

This is going to be a good day for me. Nice adventure race, good weather - what could possibly go wrong? Being the only girl in this group, it would be easy to underestimate me. Little do they know that being an Ayala Mountaineer since 2001, I may very well end up saving their hinds out there. But hey, being in the company of eye-pleasing, "mature" men, I'll gladly play the "clueless damsel" role to stoke their ego. Wohoo!

Clueless Damsel? More like 3 clueless guys!

Matagondon, Cavite Town Hall. 830 am. GBM.
Oh god this is so freaking boring. What's taking so long to start?We should have just come later . PoorTakbo.ph gang. Everyone has little to no sleep. I think we've zapped out our batteries taking so many pictures. People are sleeping on the floor, some may even be going insane. Some are... playing patintero?

Boredom does... .. things to people

Matagondon, Cavite Town Hall. 930 am. Bong Z .

People are getting awfully bored here. I have no sleep at all! Too excited. At least they're starting the orientation already. Sounds pretty interesting. Apparently, they delayed the race because the water levels were too dangerous for us to cross. See, they think of us! This guy is making it sound way too easy... . I'll just call him "Chief" because he seems to be the head honcho around these places. There's something about him... hmm..

Why do I get the feeling he'll be my favorite guy by the time this is over?
Maragondon Town Proper, 11:00. Eo.
After what seemed like an eternity we are finally off. We all agreed that we would sprint this first part while we are still in the city. GBM and Bong Z are off like madmen! I need to keep Joyce company, these dudes think we're doing a 10k or something.We need to find this place where Bonifacio was tried and get a map from there. How... historical.

Coolness.

Beloved leader Bong Z signing us off

2nd Hanging Bridge, 11:30, Going to CP1. Joyce
This is way beyond cool. After getting a bit lost, we're well on our way to Control Point 1. First of eleven we need to meet. We took the wrong hanging bridge first time around. This is the right one! Tremendous view! Eo is hanging on for dear life while we're taking pictures. Aww he's so cute!

I'll eat insects or balut but this is way too much for me!

2nd Hanging Bridge, 11:31, Going to CP1. Eo.
I HATE HEIGHTS. WHY ME LORD WHY ME?

Just one step... . one tiny step... .
CP1, 11:40. GBM.
Wohoo this is awesome! Locals are egging us on, kids playing with us, I feel like my Amazing Race dreams are being realized! And guess what? We're currently in 2nd place! Yeah! Don't count out these newbies!

Planning our next move.
I'll cut the recollection there because my pseudo narrators are getting tired, that's one of the last times that we actually smiled during the race , and I don't want to bore you with an epic entry.
So you'll have to make do with my quickie synthesis here .

CP1 to CP2.
This was the hardest part. A lot of teams were stumped looking for this "mythical" control point. We spent an unfathomable 4 HOURS looking for it. We had already given up at about lunch time. Bong was washing his face in the river and had kept his compass. Joyc and Eo were chilling. Then we ran into our aformentioned buddy, "Chief". He was dropping hints that we were "nearby" already, and that no team had found it yet. "Nearby" meant another 2 hours of seemingly endless dense foliage in a veritable Amazon rainforest. In a decision of sheer stupidity, I had worn shorts. This made me fair game to all sorts of creepy crawlies and thorny bushes. This made me very crabby. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally found it in a hidden place that no one in the right mind could have found off the bat.We were too dead tired to celebrate. In order to find CP2, we had to...

Pass through bamboo bridges ... .

Cross through streams...

Contend with creatures of the wild... .

Pass through insane uphill muddy trails... ..

Survive lush itchy foliage

All for this.
CP2 - Finish
This was pretty much elementary. CP3 was about a kilometer from CP2, and after that we decided to call it a day. We were with Chief by this time, and he urged us to go for at least CP4 because "malapit na lang". By my estimate, it took us more than 30 minutes to get there, and it was turning dark already. I was dead tired. A branch fell on my head, probably Mom Nature's revenge for whining about her kids the whole time. From that point, me and Bong sprinted to the finish line, relieved that the whole experience was behind us.

Night beckons... .

Epilogue

Coming back, the battle-weary Takbo.ph crew was smarting from the DNF. As runners, a DNF is like a source of shame that we would do anything to avoid. Of course, this wasn't our turf. But our competitive nature remains. Gab and Cindy's team actualy took 3rd , and Pat, Doc Eire and Bryan gutted it out till the end. The exhausting, punishing setting was ripe for drama and discord, and I am proud of my team for sticking through the whole thing. The trip home was a relaxing one, a nice opportunity to bond and share a laugh with my running friends in a non-running setting. And strangely enough, despite spraining an ankle, getting a branch fall on my head, insect bites and bruises galore, barehand-climbing a rocky hill, and falling into mud too many times to remember - if you told me that I'd be teammates with these folks once more ... .

I'd do it all over again :)

So, are you hooked for life? See you next year! Malapit na yun! :)

We’re all story tellers, we bloggers, we like to tell our story, we like to read about others stories, it’s kind of what makes us tick. And as bloggers who read other blogs, we sometimes forget that those who read us, haven’t been along for the ride the whole time. It was pointed out to me in a comment,[thank you!] that the new readers were wondering how I got from there White Rock on the West Coast, to here the North Okanagan, in the interior of BC, Canada. If you are a long time reader, please bear with me, and maybe just look at the pretty pictures. But if you are a new reader hopefully this will explain how we finally are living our dream.

Years ago as newlyweds we thought we would move up to the Okanagan months after marrying. But life had other ideas, and we had commitments, so we stayed in our condo in White Rock. Muddy Boot Dreams was born one day when I needed a name for my photography business, it perfectly described our dreams of muddy boots, and a farm. Last spring we put our condo up for sale, and it took months to sell, that’s not unusual in the Vancouver market that is flooded with condo’s for sale. We sold it at the end of November 2011, it was one of the only ones in it’s area to sell. We needed to be out in two and a half weeks, and had nowhere to live. Thankfully my Sister, and my BIL, let us stay with them on their farm while we went out house hunting. Our search is documented in the house hunting series… and wow did we find some interesting houses. You can read about the search by looking under the tab called house hunting, it’s just underneath my banner.

One spring a few years ago severe environmental allergies surfaced for me, and we decided to change our dream from a farm, to a house on a large rural lot. This works for us, there is no way I will be able to farm during the spring season.

We have only been in our new home for a week or so, and we are unpacking boxes, and still trying to find the things that seem to have been misplaced. But we did find the frying pan. Our dream of having a house, and living up here has been fulfilled, and I have more dreams to aspire to in this new place that we now call home.

Soon as we finish unpacking the mess, we are tackling the… ahem… decor. After all periwinkle blue is a great color for a flower, but not so much for my living room.

I had nothing to do with any of this.
First, this post is about a spider, [a honking big spider]. Secondly, there will be no spidy pics for you to get squeamish over, and by the end you will understand what the title means. Thirdly, I think that I am working on my arachnophobia, because I didn’t scream when this happened. Wow, that’s quite the accomplishment for me. Seriously. I am the woman that made her sister suck up a huge spider with the vacuum when she was 9, because I was determined that it would somehow crawl out and get me. They can do those things you know. So to fully understand this story, just insert your current phobia in place of any spider words, and you will fully understand what I am talking about. It started the other night when Bootsie came in filthy dirty, the kitties like to hang out in some “filthy under the shrubs” place and smoke stolen kitty cigars. Then they saunter back home with smudgy paws, and track dirt all over the carpet. He needed a bath, and I used our towels in the bathroom, which I had to launder, and dry that night. They were still warm when I hung them.
Can’t a cat hang out with his friends and smoke cigars once in awhile?
The next morning when I stepped out of my shower, and grabbed a towel, something skittered across me, and then flew into the tub. Thank goodness it went into the tub! A honking big spidy, I mean at least 2 1/2 inches across, and it had been hiding in my clean towel all night. Uggggghhhhh shiver. See, you are shivering already, I can see you. So my husband’s not home, and I can’t pick this creature up for love or money, it’s running around the tub, and there is no way I am going to flush that baby down the drain after writing that other blog post. What to do? What if it escapes from the tub, I will never sleep again. Seriously, would you if it was a mouse/bug/rat/snake?
Can you believe she’s scared of spiders?
I call my walking buddy, no go. She’s not coming down to help, she’s on her way out the door. I called another friend for whom I shall be forever grateful, and she came down in her bathrobe, [see it helps to have friends in the building]. After I open the patio door, clear a wide path through the garden, and open the gate, she released it into the wild. Hereby known as the area just outside of our patio. “Run free big honking spidy, run free.” I, of course am saying this from a very far away, and safe vantage point, up on the kitchen chair. And I swear there was the theme song from Born Free playing in the background. This is certainly the time when you don’t want to remember that 70’s poster, “If you love something set it free, if it comes back it’s yours… NO, no, you do not belong in here. Don’t cue the theme song from Born Free… NOOOOOOO! Well I survived, and so did the spidy, of course I am going to have to bleach that tea towel she used, or maybe I should burn it? And my husband certainly didn’t understand this story until I substituted the word snake, for spider. That made him shiver, teh hee. As for my towels, I will be shaking them out each morning from now on. Wouldn’t you?

When you garden on a deck, space can be a issue. Thankfully my deck is quite large, and I am on the ground floor. This becomes a important issue when a tree has a unexpected growth spurt. Well, who reads those description labels anyways, obviously not me. I suffer from a sort of gardening denial that thinks the tree is never going to get that big, because it is in a pot. So very, very wrong, and I don’t seem to learn. Remember the Parrotia tree saga, [Wanted, three strong men], now happily living up country, at my Sister’s farm. It completely filled the back of that huge pickup truck. And yes it started out really small also.

The other day I was visiting the adopted home of a few of my trees, and I was shocked at how much they had grown. One started out as a mere stick of twisted willow from a flower bouquet, was now a billowing, 10 foot tall mammoth taking up a good chunk of the yard. The famous crashing Katsura tree, is almost taller then the 3 story house. Even planted in the biggest plastic pot available, this was one tree that was determined to reach beyond the second story windows at my place. And given the slightest wind it would topple down onto the patio. It got so big that nothing could hold it upright. Not bungee cords, ropes, or bricks.

I had even given away my Viburnum Summer Snowflake, and it is much happier now in the ground. Parting with them was hard, and I miss them, but they are so better off now reaching for the sky. Jane

When I first thought about starting a blog.
Before I even tried to figure out how to start a blog.
I thought, whom am I going to be?
Will I be the fashionista?
Would I be the politically oriented, scientifically thinking, intelligent glasses wearing professional?
As if.
Would I try to pretend, and pass my self off as some type of expert on something?
My mind very quickly ran through a million or more scenarios, and quickly tossed them out the window.
It does that at times. Smart of it to do so.
It’s tempting to wonder what persona we should take on, if we should be someone whom we might think would be more successful then being ourselves.

At the time I was deeply entrenched in my Garden Center jobs, and plants were my passion. I was no more a politically oriented, fashionista fascinated scientist then I was an astronaut.
Photography was starting to take a edge over the blossoms, but it made perfect sense to read and think about garden blogs. I joined a Garden bloggers community that posted my blog to it’s members, exposed me to other great garden bloggers, and all seemed fine for awhile.
Much as I loved being part of the community, I felt fenced in when I realized that I was expected to write about gardening all the time.
Every time, each time, and I was trying to post every day.
This was great during gardening season, but during the bleak, wet winter, how can you wax eloquently on foliage, and be beatific on buds if you can’t take photos in the rain.
There were only so many things I could say about gardening much as I loved it. But I lost my words, my voice, my way. I struggled on not knowing that the lure of success was tempting me like a brilliant flower just out of reach.
It started to droop, and fade.
I dreaded having to post.

One day I rebelliously wrote a post describing the awe I felt at seeing masses of washed up jelly fish on the beach in the cold and frosty morning, it was a magical moment for me. I got real comments from that post, not just “nice shot.”
I felt good about writing it, it felt real.
I started to write for myself, describing how I felt, telling a story, being real, and I saw changes in the way my blog was reaching out to my readers.
Sure I couldn’t tell a great story every time, trust me there are still some cringe worthy posts in my archives, but I was trying, and sometimes succeeding.
It’s all been worthwhile, I feel like I am being me, I write about what I love, I write about life, and light as I see it. And I am seeing growth in my blog, my writing, my photography.
I’m not knocking communities, they are wonderful, but they didn’t work for me, I needed to write posts that have some sort of meaning as I grow and change. One reader commented that her blog has evolved past anything it used to resemble. I can completely understand that.
I think mine has too.
So write meaningful posts, blog as yourself, it’s worth it in the end.

Some of you have said that you are not sure which direction your blog is going in, your direction will come, be patient, don’t give up. Others have said that they don’t have that many readers, v isit other blogs, comment, build that village.
They will find you. It might take some time, but they will.
Grow.
And blog on.

Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole. I thank whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul.
- From William Ernest Henley's Invictus

While this seems like the start of something special... .

There's always a story behind a story. And isn't that the fun part?

Prologue

D-Day ,7:00 am.
As the rest of the brave Bataan Death March 102k Ultramarathon warriors were already on their way to Mariveles, Bataan for a full day's rest before the madness begins at midnight, I was, er, in Ateneo. Giving a talk. Yup. gotta love undelegatable work on a Saturday. Which just so happens to be the day of the biggest race of my life. Aaah. Ce'st la vie.

The Support Crew

After some last minute vacillating and a lot of hemming and hawing over supplies, me and my support crew finally left Manila. As I had mentioned in a previous post, my ragtag team was led by best buddy AJ, who they used to say was a dead ringer for Christian Bautista (when he still had hair), immortal internet legend Tito Caloy, and AJ's friend RV. Who at the time, I did not know personally. A near-stranger helping you out on a life experience? Awkward! Suffice to say, he's a tremendous, stand-up guy. And given the circumstances, if you told me that Grimace was to be my support crew, I would have said yes.

Team GBM!

How about meh? =,(

Somewhere in the middle of Pampanga, 4pm

AJ : Just to put things into perspective, from the Petron where we started in Mandaluyong up to this point, that's 102 k already. Ganun kalayo tatakbuhin mo.

GBM : !!!!!!!!!! (x_x)

Villa Imperial, Bataan. 6:30 pm.
So we finally made it to our hotel, if you want to call it that. Most of the Takbo.ph gang were there already. I had Googled the hotel a day before, and it said it "wasn't DOT accredited". I should take these portents of things to come more seriously next time. I had made arrangements with "General Manager" Susan in the crudest way you could imagine (through text, duh. What online reservation?), and told her we would probably get there at 2pm. Given that we got there nearly 7pm, I asked the affable and "machika" caretaker (the only "Hotel" "GM" I've met in pambahay and tsinelas) for a discount.Gave 50% off. Pero secret lang daw. Well, guess the secret's out then. :)

The accommodations were well, yeah. I'd rate it a half star. There was an orchestra of flies in the room, making it a veritable malaria trap. "Babaygonan" na daw muna. I promptly made a beeline to Abby's place to seek refuge with her team while AJ and the team went out to buy some supplies.

With ultra monsters Dennis and Vener upon arrival

Fun before the storm?

Villa Imperial, Bataan. 8:30 pm"Babaygonan" essentially meant that our room would turn into the virtual Auschwitz of flies afterward. They must have thought that it was better to run BDM 102 with me. I tried lying down, was sneezing within 30 minutes. Visions of that creepy crawlie hotel scene in Ocean's 13 came to mind instantaneously.

We'd rather run BDM!
Villa Imperial,Bataan. 9:00
About to leave. Tito Caloy sort of wanted to loosen up. And we all know what that means. The rest of the crew promptly acceded. Gak.

Pangparelaks muna!

Na relaks nga!

Just what I need, a wapaked crew chief.

KM 0, Mariveles, Bataan. 10 pm.
We arrive at ground zero without much aplomb. Souvenir photos at the line and with BR were being snapped incessantly as one could sense a palpable feeling of nervous anticipation in the air. Just a couple of hours more!

With the one and only BR

Ominous sign of things to come? Tito Caloy could care less.

142 brave warriors. How many will make it?
KM 0, Mariveles, Bataan. 11 pm.
As promised, given that BR had dubbed this an international race, the national anthems of the participating countries were played. Nope we didn't have Martin Nievera or Charice Pempengco singing. Instead, BR gave us a full-throated rendition of not only Lupang Hinirang, but the Star-Spangled Banner as well. Raucous applause followed. For the record, no one volunteered to sing the Japanese national anthem.

BR beats Martin any day.

Km 21, Somewhere in Bataan. 2:13 am.
Okay. Still a bit surreal. After talking about this race everyday for several months now, I still couldn't belie ve that I was actually doing this. Was running under the pretext of making good time while under the cover of night. I took great pleasure in doing my best Sir Amado Castro impression in race walking the first 10k uphill. I was actually outpacing some dudes who were running, much to their consternation. Funny, I ran into them later and they resorted to race walking as well. Fun. Was occasionally bolstered by Abby's crew ( Joni, Z, Carins, Pepsi and Carina) screaming "Go Sweetie!!". Such sweet gals. P.S. It was dark. Really dark. The blinkers that we had bought for P149 from Ace Hardware were working perfectly. Steal of the year. P.S. #2 : Tito Caloy is shnoozing in the car while AJ and RV were busy recording everything I drank and ate. Joyride much?

P149 blinkers are the bomb
Km 42, still somewhere in Bataan. 5:31 am
Hit the marathon mark at just over six hours. This is usually game over for most people, myself included. It's a little bit hard to fathom that I'll have to do it all over again plus a near-half mary. I shuddered at the mere thought. But I got myself into this, now I have to back it up. Dhen z and Sam had just passed me somewhere, both of them au naturel in full Bataan Superbods mode. Slight cramps were coming up from time to time, and I had to rely on several efficasent oil rubdowns from AJ.
Up to this point, I had ran a good portion of this stretch with BDM 2009 veterans Ronnie de Lara/ Runnerforchrist, Raiza Tulan and Odessa Coral. Amidst the eerie silence, the casual conversation helped immensely in keeping me sane. Some fun sound bites :

GBM : So Raiza, how did you train for this?
Raiza : I was in Boracay yesterday, sunbathing.
GBM : !!!!

Sir Ronnie : So how come I don't see you listed on TopBlogs anymore?
GBM: Well, I had mine removed. Loads of those sites are SEO-driven, Google-ad moneymakers that don't even remotely resemble blogs. So what's the point right? You could try Alexa though.
Sir Ronnie :Is that a free service?
GBM: Of course, you just type in your site and it gives you your ranking in the whole world. You can even download a widget to put in your blog. Fancy, eh?
Sir Ronnie : I can't believe we're actually talking about this after running for 6 hours.
GBM : Me neither. We're weird.

Raiza : Hello there support crew friends. Are those jellybeans?
AJ: Er, um, they're Skittles...
Raiza : But I like jellybeans!
AJ: Um, but we don't have jellybeans...
Raiza : I don't eat Skittles!
AJ : !!!

Raiza likes her jellybeans.We were also jarred from time to time by an ambulance-riding BR barking out "THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING", Robocop-style, to runners ahead of us who weren't running in single file. Whew.

I just realized that Robocop was also bald... .. KM 50, still somewhere in Bataan, 6:45 am
After more than 7 hours of running, I finally reached the first and only pitstop. BR had prepared some goodies for the runners. It was a fun scene actually, because it resembled more of a camp. Carina was cooking noodles for Abby, who was about 5 kilometers away. People were making a beeline to take showers. I was thinking, no freaking way. It would be hot soon, and people here were chilling. I couldn't stay too long here, am not as strong as these people. So I made a quick wardrobe change (into my Botak Ultra singlet, just for fun) changed socks (no blisters, thank you BodyGlide!) white nyort nyorts (homage to OJ Giron) and promptly sped off.

Nearing Km 50... .

Quick wardrobe change at KM 50 camp... .50 down. 52 to go. The sun was slowly making it's way up the early morning horizon. This is it. This is what would separate the men from the boys. I'm bracing myself for the pain. The suffering.

Little did I know, it would be coming much sooner than I thought.

(to be continued)

As the Gingerbreadman vainly tried to fight off overly emotional baristas and egotistical, surly flight attendants, his tribulations soon got lost as he entered the airspace of the world's largest city, a southern paradise beckoning to him like a sub-zero Coke on a sweltering summer afternooon.

So before it came to this... ..

He had to pass through this... ...

Davao Cab from Airport. GBM. I can't believe I'm finally here. Haven't been here in a year. It's been too long. Last time it was work work work. Now I want to have fun fun fun. Cab driver is conversing with me in the vernacular. Only my proficiency in Cebuano is equivalent to that of a 3rd grader. Okay he's frowning now I think I just said something offensive. Why do I even try? I'm here early, stupid Cebu Pacific had no flights nearer to my boat ride. Wow they still have non-airconditioned taxis here. How... arcane :) Wha.. What's that Mr. Cabbie? Dapit na dong? What's a dapit? What's a dong? Are you cursing me? !@$%%

I find t hese Manila people to be extremely strange With nothing to do until 1:30, GBM was prevailed upon to check out the local sights to burn time. Quickly googling "fun davao spots" unfurled the premiere shopping place in Davao... . Aldevinco Center, GBM Wow, what will I do with sarongs and earrings? And tribal headgear? Next! This is not my place... . Further queries brought about Crocodile Farm, a sortie which did not quite pick his fancy because he had already visited the previous year. In addition, an inherent disdain for 1,000 lb crocodiles ensured that no return trips would be commencing in the near future. Running out of options, a familiar jaunt emerged as a safe haven amidst this unfamiliar land. SM Davao, GBM Wow! I'm in civilization! The SM here looks so... . so... .. the same! So many Mang Inasals! KFC! Kenny! Just like... .. Manila. Hmm... . Nothing spectacular here. Well at least it ain't hot here, it's sweltering outside. Hey they have bottomless greaseless chicken! Did you hear that? Who would have known there was such a thing! I AM IN HEAVEN (@,@) It's the greatest thing ever! I am not making this up. Yum. I heart Davao. *burp*

Best Deal in Town

YUM YUM YUM Davao Marina, 1:30 pm. As the hour neared, his belly filled with greaseless chicken amidst the respite of a cool summer breeze, our protagonist reached the designated pick up point where he would be taking a boat ride to his late summer getaway. A simple wharf was expected, but instead this was the sight that met him... .

Great, they have their own mini-resort as a holding area. Amazing. Very impressive. Okay so now the boat is here. Not a yacht, but the speedboat aint bad at all. So now the journey to paradise begins... .

UA&P, GBM's desk. Present- Day Hi there my dear reader/friend.This is Luis right here. Yes, Gingerbreadman. GBM. Whatever. And yes, I'm talking to you. Breaking the 4th wall again. Thanks for the support in following the story up to this point. I know your time is precious and valuable, that's why I make it as entertaining as possible for you. As you're immersed in our narrative, you do know that here in The Gingerbread Report we try to do things differently. We try to share experiences in unconventional ways. So what usually happens at this point is I would relate how wonderful my vacation was, or how awesome the beach was blah blah. Yeah. That's the norm. But hey, just in the spirit of differentiation that we oftentimes espouse, I'll just stop there. I won't bother telling you about our living arrangements... .

Or their fancy floating bar...

I will not regale you with stories of how close the beach was to my place...

Nor will I bore you with canned anecdotes about how awesome the scenery was... .

I will not even attempt to tell you about that cool electric cart we used...

Or share something irrelevant, like how I am a new infinity pool convert... .

I will not even BEGIN to say how much it rocked to just bum around.

And above all... .. How much it rocked to run on the beach...

I won't even go into any of these things, for the simple reason that... .. It would've been infinitely more special if you were there to share the experience with me. :)

Last Sunday, all roads led to The Fort as the heavily anticipated New Balance Power Race was finally coming to fruition. Ondoy's onslaught had postponed the race from it's original Sept.27 playdate, and this gave me an opportunity to get myself a slot. As some of you may know, much to my chagrin I had missed the original registration cut, which then compelled me to make the infamous "Hitler finds out he didn't make it to New Balance" video.

I approached the race with a lot of enthusiasm as I would be joining a pace group for the first time ever. This emanated from a conversation on the Takbo.ph shoutbox, which sort of went like this :

GBM : Target ko mga 1:55 ayos nako dun. 1:57 ung PR ko, medjo sagad na.
VVinceth: Kaya yan sub 1:50. 1:45 pa nga. Even splits lang tayo, 5:10 pace lang yan!jix_jixee : Uy ayos yan sama ako!markhernz: Ganun ba? Kaya yan! Game!
TheRunningNinja: Game ako kahit saan, walang inuurungan!GBM: !!!!!!

Meet the Gang
And thus, this ragtag pace group was born. I was hoping that running within a field of excellence, I would be prevailed upon to deliver a performance far beyond the realm of my capabilities. Hence, without further ado, let me introduce you to the members of my NB PAce Group :

Pat aka VVinceth/ The Running Safety Pin

With Bunnyyy
Our de facto anchor, Pat is easily the fastest and best-credentialed runner within the group. 45 minute 10k's and sub 1:45 minute 21k's are a relative walk in the park for him. It was with his relative optimism that we were actually enjoined to gun for a time that seemed to be way beyond my capabilities. Likes long walks on the beach and bunnies.

Jix aka Jix_Jixee
Another known Takbo.ph speedster whose relative pace is always about 5 minutes faster than my own, it is intended that his speedy ways would tow us to victory specially in the latter stages. His favorite movie is "The Notebook", and has an inherent dislike for Piolo that science alone could not explain.

He not likey Piolo either... Mark aka Markhernz/Running my Mouth
In just a few short months, this naturally athletic dude has not only jumped from a 5k to a full marathon, but has posted times most people only dream of in their lifetime. He has a penchant for not finding baggage counters, and is a full-blooded Lasallian (useless trivia)

Masel Man Mark
Sam aka TheRunningNinja
If other pace groups have celebrities like Jaime Zobel deAyala or Tessa Prieto, we have our own celebrity! And he is none other than... Sam the Running Ninja! One of the most recognizable faces in the blogosphere, it never hurts to have him around :P He likes fast cars, and doesn't like motorcycles, hospitals, and Gas station restrooms.

Celebrity Ninja

Starting Corral
Excitement was milling at the starting corral as the 21k runners were herded en masse. I was quite happy that Extribe was enforcing the "no check-in, no-entry rule", much in the same way that Condura does it. This makes for a much more orderly assembly. +1 brownie point to them. As Mark, Sam, and myself squeezed ourselves towards the front of the pack, we realized that Pat and Jix would be banditing the race. Sweet.

Brownie point!
Fun Starting Um, Horn?
As people were revving up for the starting gun, the runners spontaneously burst into laughter as the start of the race was ushered in by... a foghorn. Ooooh. Good vibes.

Foghorns = Quick Laughs

A Blistering Start
The first 10k was highlighted by Pat's even split strategy reaping dividends for our group, as we covered the first 10k below 50 minutes. This had me questioning my positive splitting ways, as I essentially achieved the same result - without feeling like dying after. We gradually lost track of Mark after the 6k point, and Sam was startling the crap out of us with his "fartlek-the-hills-then-grunt-like-the-Olympic-hammer-throw-champion strategy". Apparently, this primal act (like any other) zaps the energy out of even the best of them, and by the 10th kilometer turnaround our celebrity buddy had dropped behind, leaving Pat, Jix, and myself to carry the cudgels for our group.

Primal screams... are fun.

Surpise Surprise!

In a minor shocker, speedy Jix was fading badly at the onset of the Bayani Road inclines. When one of your best runners starts to labor with the route, oftentimes your thought process would get inundiated with self-doubt. Hey, if he's fading, I've got to be next. Which brings us to the next portion of this paragraph, the "Why Did Jixee Fade At NB" contest.

Could it be :

1. He had a hot date the night before who made him mutter "Running Sux" 100 times
2. His date promised him "favors" if he accomplished #1 while finishing an entire bottle of Patron in less than 30 minutes
3. In offering the proverbial olive branch, Piolo offered to hook him up with his Kapamilya friends if he stopped pacing this GBM character, if only to make his future 21k target a lot easier.

Send in your entries, correct answer gets a prize. I'll ask Jixee the answer... ... .tomorrow.

Piolo has done it again!

And Then There Were TwoWith Jix gone, it was up to me and Pat to navigate the course. Having ran with Pat numerous times in the past, including the Botak Ultramarathon, this was not unfamiliar territory. As pacers go, it's terrific to have someone like the Energizer Bunny to drag you along when you're starting to slack off. The heat was starting to set in, and I needed all of the help that I could get.

Keeps going... . and going... and going... .All By Myself... .
Heading up to somewhere around the 13th or 14th km, cruise control mode was suddenly jarred when Ultraman Pat said "Una ka na". I thought, this was bordering on absurdity. No way Pat could fade, I mean, this is a guy that eats 100k for breakfast. I comforted myself in thinking this was a ploy with deeper profound meaning. In retrospect, I should have kept in mind that Pat was tapering for his Singapore marathon the following week. But at that point, with the heat of the sun beating down on me, this took me off my game plan. I had my work cut out for me then.

What's up Master Pat's sleeve?The Exag Hills
From that point on, I would only see Pat one more time. He would fartlek to me, then fade back. Still no idea why he was doing that at the time. But i was steeling myself for the long haul. We had built enough of a cushion that I was on pace for a 1:49 or 1:50 finish if I kept my act together. But then... . the hills happened. Wow. These people know their stuff. What were they thinking?

Cut scene to Extribe Route Formulation Meeting over drinks

Extribe Person #1 : Why not at the end, let's add one loop around Mckinley?
Drunk Extribe Person #2 : Weeeeeh. That's sooooo generic. Make it two! Bwahahahaah.
Sadistic and Drunk Extribe Person # 3 : Whatever! I ain't running anyway! I hate athletic people! Make it three! Bwahahahahaahah!
Chorus: Bwahahaahahahahahahaha!!!!

Scene at Extribe before finalizing race routeSo to make a long story short, they saved the hardest part of the race for last. We did practically three loops around that hilly area in Mckinley stretching to the British embassy and Enderun. Ugh. Under the beating heat of the sun,I surrendered three fat mid-6ish splits towards the end, and our hard-built lead was gone. Thankfully, it was still still substantial enough to snag me a 1:54:01 finish, good enough for a new 21k PR and 111th place amongst a very tough field of more than a 1,000 half-marathon runners. If we had hit out target 1:50 or below, that would have been good enough for somewhere around 70th place. As I said, tough crowd... because at QCIM my 1:57 was good for 47th place. More training! :)

Exhausted Gingerbread folk near the finish courtesy of the irrepresible BR blog
Overall, kudos to Extribe for a good, albeit sadistic job on this race.Seriously though, I had no complaints whatsoever, this was as good as it gets in terms of race organization. Better known for their multisport events, Extribe is slowly building strong brand equity in the running scene. All of their races that I have ran so far have been very good. I know there was a slight snafu with the 10k route, a mystery that has since been solved.
With all things said and done, I'm pretty sure good ol' Hitler is churning in his grave now for missing one heck of a race. :P

By the time you have read this, a lot of us running denizens still haven't quite recovered from the shock of the untimely death of Remus Fuentes in the recently concluded Milo 21k Eliminations. Fingers have been pointed, tributes have been offered, politicians have requested for inquiries. Some naysayers have even went out on a limb in professing that the incident may spur the downfall of running in the country. While that's extremely far-fetched, it sure got a lot of people thinking, specially those of the too-much-too-soon breed (I was a prime specie btw). I mean, if an able-bodied, intermediate-level runner could tragically succumb so close to the finish line, does that mean all of us are at risk?

Hank Gathers was destined to be the #1 pick in the NBA, then without warning he collapsed and died on the hard court.

Given all the training we put in for these races, we obviously feel awesome. But is that a guarantee we'll all come home safe and sound? A study made in a top clinical journal stated that the risk of a runner succumbing to a heart attack during or after a race is roughly 1 in every 50,000. Another study, this time based on twenty years worth of research, says that 1 in 67,414 runners succumb to sudden death (representing 1 in 2,000,000 miles run). That means that marathon running is really no different from other daily activities.

But the deaths persist. The last one in Milo prior to this was in 2007, just before the boom that's why it barely garnered any media attention. But don't think this is an isolated case. Just last year, two runners died from the New York Marathon, and three runners tragically died at the Detroit Marathon (which pundits say is more of a coincidence than anything else).

So the question is...

Are these all just flukes, or a truly morbid reality of our sport?

Scary.

During that fateful race, I ran in the same 21k category as Remus. Was gunning for a sub 1:50 21k PR, but for some reason or another was terribly sluggish that day while pacing with TPB teammates Ace and Jixee. As I would only get to know later, we had a 100% humidity reading that day. I'd like to think that I'm in pretty good shape, but with the heat in play, at near the 18k mark my heart rate went into overdrive. Rapid, crazy heart thumping action so much to the point that I could feel the vibration already. Slight pain on my chest. Okay, maybe not so slight. I had to slow down. What the heck was happening to me? I took GU Roctane awhile back, but I've trained with it at tempo pace and no such effect. Was that the reason? Still no relief. My head was starting to hurt pretty bad. I can't breathe well. Oh no.
At just the exact time that I was about to completely panic and stop at the side of the road, the chest pains stopped. After composing myself gingerly (no pun intended) I finished the last 3k awash in cold sweat, the anxiety of the chest pains happening again nearly numbing me to a crawl. As I crossed the finish line, the disappointment of completely missing my target was dwarfed by the magnitude of that quick scare. What the hell just happened?

Who would have known the burning within?I shakily kept this incident to myself, partly in part to preserve my macho Gingerbread image. In all seriousness though, I was quite in denial. Antsy even. Actually, just writing about it right now is taking a lot of chutzpah. The whole incident was supposed to be locked away in that box that you keep in the far corner of your brain, never to be tapped into again... .

Until I got word that Remus passed away.

It suddenly dawned on me that this was a guy who ran the same race I did. Same category. With that little "incident", and all the internal histrionics that came with it, it seemed like I was just a hairline away. Really now, what was the difference between me and Remus? A bad break here or there and I could have easily been that person sprawled on the pavement. For someone who had finished a 102km Ultramarathon in 41 degree weather, this was like a quick reality check on my mortality. And it got me thinking paradoxically.

Do we really push ourselves that hard? Hard enough that it may one day cost us our lives?

But then again, if we don't push, how will we ever improve our times? If we don't "dig deep and give it your all when there is absolutely nothing left" (quoting Paul Tergat), how can we ever expect to keep on improving in this highly competitive sport of ours?

I have raced a decent debut duathlon and a record-setting 10k in the weeks hence with no incident.

But still it's always there, lying in the dark recesses of my subconscious. What if... . it happens again?

Because while flukes happen all the time... .

You never want that fluke to cost you your life.

I have always loved historical sites, and as a child, we visited Barkerville, a turn of the century cariboo gold rush ghost town. Townspeople dressed in costumes, there were restored heritage buildings, and daily shows of the hurdy gurdy girls, kicking up their heels.

It was all fun, but what really fascinated me was the graveyards. The handmade markers telling a story, many of them tragic. I was especially fond of Scotch Janeny, a woman killed when her horse and buggy startled and overturned. There were rumours that her ghost would drive up behind a unsuspecting tourist, hoping to startle them.

My sister, Turf Toter, lives in the Okanagan, near a very old cemetery. With some of the grave markers dating back to the early 1800's. We visited it a few times, respectfully, walking through the paths, wondering who these people were. There were many people that died at one time, and it was a mystery that haunted me for many years.

While visiting friends that live in the Cariboo Interior, I mentioned my fascination with the mystery to them. We found out that his family being one of the founding members of the town of Enderby, had many relatives buried there. They showed me a old album, full of newspaper clippings, photos, letters, invitations, all memories of a lives lived. It had been passed on to him, and was a historical treasure. In it were the clues to all the mysterious grouping of deaths. Original newspaper clippings, and photographs of the disaster. A fire roared through the turn of the century town, killing many inhabitants, including a family that hid in a well to escape the fire. Many residents took shelter in the bank vault, surviving the blaze. Enderby rebuilt, and suffered another fire, and a flood. But to this day it still stands, a tribute to the pioneer spirit.

Me, I still have a fascination with old cemeteries, and gravestones, so look out, this is the spookiest week of the year.

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