Actually, "not a fan" is an understatement. Ever since I started running a couple of years ago, the apshalt, concrete and grass always seemed to beckon with a certain openness. The trails seemed to always reject me much in the same way that Lebron rejected the Cavs. Okay maybe not that harsh, but you get the idea.
Ever since me and Abby drudged our way through the New Balance Trail Adventure at Nuvali, people have always been asking me "Why? Trails are awesome!". And as much as New Balance and race director extraordinaire Neville Manaois did a spectacular job in organizing the race amidst a spectacular backdrop, it just seems that one man's pleasure is another's poison. Let me count the ways... .
What Fun...
Trail shoes... . or the lack thereof. It's like the veritable chicken-or-egg debate. I constantly whine on trails because my feet hurt in the absence of a serviceable pair of trail shoes. A poor flat-footed lackey like me will surely struggle with the treacherous terrain. But then again, I never really got about to buying a pair... .. for the simple reason that I practically never run trails. Hmmmmm.
This little piggy wore badminton shoes to the trail... ..
I don't like getting my feet wet in bacteria-infested swamps
Usually, wet feet and wet socks equate into wet blisters for me. So I sort of abhor any form of liquid on my shoes. Last time, I literally had to plunge my entire foot into the murky looking brook/swamp thing. And while I am not as mysophobic as Emma from Glee, wading through seemingly malaria-infested waters is sorta not my thing. Although it seems I'm a tad bit maarte for my purported Gingerbread tough guy image, I guess I grew up watching too many National Geographic specials on PTV-4.
Germs! Germs!If I wanted to climb rocks... .. I would have been a mountain climber, and not a runner. I didn't know that the words "trail" and "climbing" would somehow go hand in hand. I had to make hawak the yucky rocks and eewy ropes. So kadiri. :P
Cleaning the mud off my shoes right after is not my kind of thing Once again, in the absence of trail shoes I use my standard lighweight road shoes. Being totally immersed in mud, the cleaning part right after doesn't exactly enthuse me. And somehow, even after a day at the cleaners, there's this weird notion that the shoes are never the same again. Much akin to a person who was subject to a harrowing event and was traumatized for the rest of their life. Why do I get the notion that my shoes go through the same thing? I refuse to put my plush road shoes through any form of psychological trauma that would scar them forever. Case closed.
Shoes look great in muck. And last, and probably most importantly... .
I'm speed bagal in trail runs
Not that I'm necessarily fast, but I don't like going slow either. During the latest New Balance trail gig , I believe we finished the entire 16k race in just over an three hours. Three hours! For a 10-miler! What fun! That's if you equate drudgery with fun that is.
Ayaw na...
In all seriousness though, comparing road and trail runs would be like looking at apples and oranges. They are distinctly different, and all appeal to a certain running palate much in the same way that some of you may not have the stomach for that certain 102k race we completed awhile back. But isn't that the beauty of running? You can always find your own niche, be it a 5k sprint, a 102k ultramarathon or a 16k trail run. Happiness is relative, and running will always give you that option.
So you read the header and it's gonna be one of those reviews again. Yes, it's one of those write-ups that would hinge on my verbose and completely un-expertlike opinion. But before we talk about this... .
Let's go back a couple of years... ... .
OBMC High. 1999. As I had mentioned before, was never really a fan of Adi Dassler's creations. Okay maybe I was . Once. I took the plunge a long time ago, from a time and place that seems to have been relegated to the far recesses of my mind. Wore the Kobe Bryant KB8 "Feet You Wear" shoe during my senior year just because they looked so different from any basketball shoe that was on the market at the time. It was the new "in" thing. And in high school's ever changing lexicon of social stratification, different + new = social status level up.
My ticket to high school social status nirvana Lord I'm such as sucker for effective advertising (x_x). I thought they were the coolest things ever, bragged about them incessantly, could have sworn they improved my standing from "freaky tall geek" to "he's just really strange don't mind him he has cool shoes anyway".
Geeky GBM got a boost with them chickies
But then the real test came when I had to play ball with it. With a lot of confidence, I went up for a fancy "tapboard" (people who played high school ball could relate), made my best Kobe impression and BAM I fell with a thud, breaking my ankle in three places. Strangely enough, my juvenile incarnation blamed the Adidas shoes for that, swore it to high heavens, and never wore another pair again... ..
Until now.
Flash forward to 2009, and lo and behold I have a pair of Adidas Adizero Tempos staring me in the face. Literally begging for a shot at redemption. Like a scorned lover acceding to one last shot at reconciliation, I took a leap of faith and went for it. Did it work out? Let's see how my 3-week dalliance with an old flame has worked out so far.
What's on the label :
It is a lightweight running shoe designed to give runners comfort and support over long distances. ForMotion stability adapts to the ground for improved handling and stability and the pro-moderator medial support device prevents overpronation. The TORSION SYSTEM gives midfoot integrity and adiPRENE in the forefoot maintains propulsion and efficiency.
The air mesh upper gives maximum ventilation and the perforated EVA tongue gives additional lightweight comfort and breathability. The dual-layer anti-microbial adiLite-respoEVA sockliner controls odor and gives added step in comfort. Finally, the adiWEAR outsole offers the ultimate in high-wear durability.
Dazed Reader, through SMS : WOAH. BLAH BLAH BLAH. You're talking Greek here! What the fudge was that all about???
Okay, okay. Let me give it a shot.
What I understood of the Adidas jargon mumbo jumbo :
The cushioning system of the shoe is backstopped by its hyped- up Formotion technology utilizing Adiprene 45 . The logic behind it is that you have a well-cushioned heel but not enough to make it bounce around during hard runs. Note, too much bounce = pain and suffering . Some more seasoned runners may view this as completely "babying" heel strikers, but that's one of the reasons why the Tempo is quite enticing to newbie runners.
In addition, mild overpronators can count on the shoes aptly named pro-moderator system to negate the level of pronation, utilizing two plastic heel plates that slow side-to-side movement.
And if just to avoid more jargon, the shoe has features which make it very breathable inside and minimize stitching, while providing good forefoot touch-off cushioning for the fast people out there.
Pedigree
The Tempo has been touted as the "performance stability" shoe in the Adizero series, providing the benefits of a lightweight racer along with enough stability to prevent you from blowing up your plantar or ITB. To those relatively unfamiliar with the Adizero line, these have been touted to be the lightest in their class, and have the distinction of being the shoes running legend Haile Gebrselassie used when he broke the marathon world record at Berlin.
Haile on Yellow Adizeroes en route to the WR
Weight Implication - Injuries, Training and Racing Its main selling point is that at barely 300 grams, the Tempos are nearly a 100 grams lighter than my old light stability shoes. Upon wearing them, you would barely feel that there's any resistance there at all. You can accelerate without the weird clunky feeling. At first, I was very apprehensive to try these out, as they look like the eye candy shoes you would wear to the mall and it seemed to me that any form of running on these would blow out my knee. Initially thought that these were limited to neutrals, but after nearly a month of using them, the injuries have thankfully been nowhere in sight. And to think I was coming off a bout with ITB. Whew.
Still look good despite taking a beating from the rain
After a few weeks on this, an attempt to use my old light stabs gave the feeling of having ten-pound weights on my foot. The difference was very noticeable. How noticeable? A good example was my tempo training on consecutive days. Same splits, same level of fitness, different shoes. With the old shoes, my best split was a 5:10/ km. The following day, same thing, I miraculously lowered it to a 4:40. I highly doubt I could have shaved 30 seconds off my split in a day. Was it the shoes? Placebo? Whatever it may have been, happy camper right here.
Racing-wise, two weeks later I set a 10k PR of 50:14 with the Tempos, shaving nearly a minute and a half off my previous best. The time was good enough for 26th place at Ayala Eco-Dash, which made me an even happier camper. Pertinent factors to keep in mind : No changes in training, weird level of fitness coming off an injury. Could it have been the shoes? You be the judge of that.
Other stuff that you need to know, just in case:
These are NOT wide shoes. When you first slip into them, coming from say a Mizuno or New Balance, your feet would feel constricted and with no wiggling room. I'm a US size 12, and these usually afford sufficient toe allowance. These ... did not. First time I ran on them they were so tight that I got near blisters on my toes.
I was about to completely give up on them and sell them to the people at Takbo.ph (even if I knew that they're going to ask for a ton of discounts) when the pain started to... disappear. Now I don't even notice it's there.It took about two weeks worth of break-in to get the job done. So for the well-endowed people out there, either you adjust your size or break it in well before racing it.
Final Take
Overall I find this to be the quintessential, aesthetically pleasing shoe that strives to synergize both form and functionality. For neutrals to mild overs looking for a highly serviceable speedwork or raceday shoe, this brings significant eye candy points to the table with decent stability to boot. Should you fall under this category, this is a very strong option right here.
So how would I evaluate the three-week reco with my old flame? Love affairs come and go, that's the nature of the beast. As one leaves for greener pasture, another comes in to fill the void. Everything that happens in between? Oftentimes forgotten. But sometimes, all it takes is a single spark to reignite the connection.
I hated Adidas. They broke my ankle.
But after three weeks of PR's and good races...
Guess old flames aren't so bad the second time around.
Before we even start with this, I'll be blunt - I was never really an Adidas kinda guy. My last Adidas shoe was the Kobe shoe shaped like a foot during the late 90's. Got injured bad with it. Thought it looked cool though. Thus I was armed with this intrinsic, subliminal (albeit unrequited) disdain as I entered the Adidas AdiZero presser.
Up for the challenge?My curiosity was piqued when Quincy of Greenbulb PR emailed me the invite, a hotwired "challenge" built in to the event. The spin is that the Adizero series is the lightest in its class, so bring your running shoes, if it's heavier than 265 grams they'll give you a 20% discount. By default you would think that they'd give you a discount if it were lighter, but hey we're getting ahead of ourselves. Just think of it this way - if these shoes would allow Takbo.ph head honcho Jinoe to beat Haile Gebrselassie in a 10k, they're worth giving a second look right?
Eat my dust Haile!But before the whole thing started... .. GBM (at the entrance of Greenbelt 3 fronting the pond) : Manong , where is the Adidas store located?Manong Guard : Ay wala na ho dito yan, nasa Greenbelt 5 yan.GBM: Huh, my contact person specifically said Greenbelt 3.MG: Ay wala na nga ho yan, matagal na. Dati nanjan ngayon wala na.GBM: Are you sure?MG: Oo nga, kahit pagbaliktarin mo pa to, nilipat na nga.GBM: Okay hmph , okay I'll take your word for it.
Crabby GuyGBM (at the Greenbelt 5 entrance) : Boss, where is the Adidas store located here?Fancy SG : Oh no sir, we don't have that store here. It is actually in Greenbelt 3.GBM (woah) : Um, seriously? The guy in Greenbelt 3 said it was here!FSG : I do apologize for that sir. It happens with the goofs over there. They have... slightly different training from us. Do you want me to personally escort you to the Adidas store?GBM: Oh that won't be necessary , you guys sure do things .. differently here in Greenbelt 5!FSG: You betcha sir! Have a wonderful day, and don't hesitate to approach me should you have any other concerns.GBM: !!!!
Greenbelt 5 guards are... differentGBM(Back in Greenbelt 3) : The guard at Greenbelt 5 said it was here!SG: Wala nga dito! Kahit saan ka tumingin dito, wala dito!GBM: (walks about 40 feet from entrance, sees Adidas store to his left, goes back to guard)So what do you call that ginormous Adidas store about 40 feet from where you're standing?SG: Ah, eh, um, Ehhhhh. Bago siguro yan! Bago! Ngayon ko lang nakita yan! Wala yan dati!Senior Security Guard : Ser, first day lang ho niyan pagpasensiyahan ninyo na... .GBM: !!!!
Uh, er, hehe, um SORRY ser?The Launch Proper Once I finally extricated myself from that mess a wee bit perturbed, I made my way back to the store. Among the blogging luminary sightings (:P) Takbo.ph bossing Jinoe , Jaymie/TBR, idol Vener, and sir Rene/Jazzrunner were among the early birds. Bromance buddy Rico/Sheer Will, Sam The Running Ninja, Running Diva Roselle and Jay/Prometheus Cometh along with Marga/Alaskadora got there a little bit later. Nice store, impeccably decked out. Was warmly welcomed by PR guy/erstwhile textmate Quincy. Turns out he was about 5 batches lower than me in DLSU. Oh the trappings of old age.
Yes it's lighter!
Dreaming of how it would be to run in these shoes... .
Jinoe and Jaymie hanging out before the "weigh in"
Sam and Roselle catch up with the gangThe Products Youthful looking Adidas marketing boss Xavier was on hand to explain the nuances of the different products. Touted as the lightest in their class, these shoes were the same ones worn by Haile Gebrselassie when he broke his own world record at the Berlin Marathon, the first sub- 2:04 marathon time in history. There are three main models in the series - Aegis, Tempo, and Boston. What do these have to offer? Let's take a look.
"Back when I was in college, which was like last year , I always thought Adidas was the best"Adizero Aegis
The Official Word :A faster, sleeker lightweight trainer which is designed with ForMotion upper and a ground-adapting 3D Formtion unit for smoother, more natural touchdowns at high speeds. Airmesh provides maximum ventilation. A moulded respEVA sockliner for greater step-in comfort while an extended Torsion System bar gives heel and midfoot stability.What that means : These are shoes which would provide the speed of a typical racer while providing much needed stability for midfoot strikers. The advantage? It's reputed to be lighter than anything else on the market within its class hence you'll be faster. Follow the logic?Adizero Boston
The Official Word : This is a competition long-distance running shoe intended for serious runners. Once again, the air mesh upper gives maximum ventilation while the dual-layer Adlite/respoEVA sockliner give great step in comfort, an extended Torsion System bar gives heel and midfoot stability, and adiPrene in the forefoot and heel provide max cushioning.What that Means : Essentially, it's the model in the series built for longer distance runs as it provides more cushioning and stability. Planning to run a marathon at 2:57 pace just like Haile without developing plantar fasciitis in the process? While that's pretty much unrealistic, if you're a competitive runner who's looking for an edge then this is the shoe for you.AdiZero Tempo
The Official Word Without a doubt the lightest in its class, the Tempo provides all the benefits of the two others in the series, only difference is that the midsole is built around two plastic heel plates that slow side-to-side movement, giving the shoe additional rearfoot support. A firm section of foam in the shoe's forefoot provides a solid base for toe-off.What That Means : Quite simply, all the benefits of an ultralight racer for the faster paced, high- arch people or for the neutrals who need a tempo run/speedwork day shoe. Very light, and provides enough stability for good measure. The Weigh In As niceties were exchanged, we were ushered to the main area by the emcee's well-modulated (promise) voice. The official "weigh- in" challenge was to commence. Among others, Jaymie put up her Lunar Glides and Jinoe his Mizuno Ronins to the test. Both shoes were , as the well-modulated guy put it awkwardly, "DEFINITELY Lighter" than the 265 gram challenge weight. Okay. As that made for some unneccesary weirdness, nice guy Xavier qualified the whole thing by explaining that the Ronins and Lunar Glides were classified as flat racers, and that their claim was only limited to within its class.
It's definitely lighter!
Not again!He explained that the Adizero Rocket would be the equivalent of these shoes. Much like P.T. Barnum playing to the crowd, the Rocket was propositioned for a weigh-in. Lo and behold, it came in at a Liliputian 190 grams, sending shocked murmurs amongst those present. I doubt if those present have ever heard of a shoe that light. The running denizens were definitely impressed.GBM Takes on the Challenge I brought my own size 12 NB 848 light stabs just for fun. It looked so um, big compared to the Adizeroes. How much did it weigh against the 265 gram standard? 375 grams. Eeek! :) But Rico pointed out that his shoes were even heavier, so I guess the Adizeroes really blow away all competition in the "lightness" genre. So if you're part of that school of thought who equate lightness = speed = better times, you know where to go.Adidas has an ongoing promo from July 17 to September 22, with their Greenbelt and Trinoma flagship stores involved. Three packages to choose from -
Package A- Get 15% off when you buy a running top + bottom and receive a FREE adidas marathon diary.
Package B- Get 15% off a pair of running shoes (includes mi adidas) and receive a FREE adidas marathon diary.
Package C- Get 25% off when you buy a running top + bottom + shoes (includes mi adidas) and receive a FREE adidas marathon diary.
I'll see if I could give you guys a more comprehensive review of the AdiZero line in the upcoming days. Watch out for it!
Epilogue
GBM (on the way out) : Boss, may I know where the men's room is?
SG: Ah wala hong CR dito, sa Greenbelt 5 pa ho ung pinakamalapit.
GBM : Oh Lord not again... ... ..
That's All Folks!
Phlippine Blog Awards Verification Code : PBA096337q4p
Much has been made about the "gait analysis", a hitherto unheard of term for me before I started running. However, once my running injuries started to pile up one after the other, I realized it isn't quite as simple as slipping on the fancy looking pair out the window. Here's my post on my gait analysis experience at Second Wind, a specialty running store located in Quezon City :) Okay, so finally I have had it with my injury-causing Mr. Quickie shoes that caused me to have an agonizing Greenfield Run. I have been using an Accel lying around the house as a very poor replacement. Well at least they didn't cause me blisters. But after running it during the MOntalban LSD and using it for my regular training runs it's like I was getting more aches and pains around my quads and calves, even the heels. I decided that enough was enough, and that I had to go and get a gait analysis just to know what precisely was going on. Highly recommended was Hector Yuzon of Second Wind. Second Wind is a newly opened shop located in Teacher's Village, QC. An accomplished ultra runner himself, he told me that his shop is envisioned to be one for runners by runners. He could train salespeople to talk about sizes and specs, but it takes a real runner to get to the crux of the matter when customers ask very specific, experience-based questions.
So without further ado, we began with the analysis. You're supposed to run with your current shoes, and I was embarrassed when he told me that that Accels were actually badminton shoes
I was made to run on a treadmill, and actual video stills were taken. It showed that I was essentially an extreme overpronator with my left foot while my right was normal. I also learned that I was a midfoot striker which is good for long distance running. Apparently , there's an acceptable degree of variance when your leg hits the ground, and my left leg was way out there. This was the reason why I get injured often. So to combat this, I was referred a stability shoe to correct the problem. Hector offered 5 choices from best to good, then had me test them on the treadmill after. I ended up getting the New Balance 848's, and they worked like a charm during last Sunday's race, helping me set a new 10k PR
Overall, Hector's amiable demeanor and encyclopedic knowledge of all things running related helped me immensely in making the right choice. Happy customer here, and I highly recommend his shop. Lots of singlets, shades, shorts to choose from aside from of course the shoes.
Check out my gait analysis here guys. It's by appt by the way, just give his shop a call
Click to zoom and drag to navigate! Open publication - Free publishing - More gait analysis
Bikes. They have been around since time immemorial, pretty much as ubiquitous as they come. For this formerly indifferent running dude, everything is pretty much all the same on two wheels right? I mean, come on, it's just a bike right? Two wheels, you try not to fall, and everything's cool! Little did I know that there lies practically an entire canon of technical knowledge in what turns out to be a highly sophisticated enterprise. It is within this mindset steeped in naivety that our brave new undertaking begins, my running relegated to the background temporarily.
Tricked out racer here
Being a 90's kid, I grew up going to CCP and the Ortigas area where you could rent them for about P25 an hour. Sigh. Not exactly one to have perfect balance, I had to start with every kid's safe haven- the ever-lovable sidecar. If it was any portent of things to come a decade later, I already had too much pride to ride one with training wheels. Even as a pre-pubescent Gingerbread lad, the machismo (perceived or otherwise) was already emanating. I would rather be caught driving those Barbie jeeps you could buy at Plaza Fair or SM Toyland (cue in... . SM toyland is the place to go, lots of toys, g.i.joe ... .board games, laser guns, so mom, dad let's go to toyland... .we got it all for you! )
Cheers to a bygone era
As I had inferred in a previous article, I had a laundry list of problems on two wheels as a youngster. A foray into the world of multisport suddenly necessitated a real-time crash course on all things biking, which was somewhat of a challenge because I was never really the handyman/let's-get-our-hands-dirty mekaniko type. Heck, I could write about them but to do it myself? Ah now that's an entirely different story. I'll try to relate to you as much of the experience from a total newbie perspective.
Not my sorta thing
Frame Well, a bike frame is supposed to be self-explanatory right? It's well, uh, a frame. I mean, it's a bike. Just ride it for crying out loud. Apparently, this simpleton thinking didn't hold water in the highly technical cycling world. The frame's top tube has to be just the right size for you , or else you'll be setting yourself for a wide variety of aches and pains. There are common fit guides easily googable, or have one done at your friendly bike shop. My first one was at least one size small for me, hence me feeling like crap after every ride. How much is a frame anyway? The spectrum is wider than one could think. If you're more of the "assemble" type, you could the manong-style bakal bakal ones for as low as P5,000 . Depending on the brand and where you actually buy it, lightweight carbon-fiber frames could range anywhere from P40,000 to more than P100,000. Also, custom-made titanium frames could set you back a cool $2,500 or more. Cheap thrills.
Looks weird but could probably send your kid through college
"Grupo" Apparently, a bike's groupset is as integral as any other component towards the whole thing. It all seemed Greek or Parseltongue (sorry, couldn't resist the Potter reference) to me when I first got my bike. In common parlance, this is more or less defined as a bicycle component manufacturer's organized collection of mechanical parts. This pretty much includes your brakes and gear shifters (for Shimano {a well-known brand. Wow, parenthesis in a parenthesis, my Grammanazi 7th grade English teacher would be turning in her grave } branded components, this is called an STI, or Shimano Total Integration. Because of Shimano's popularity, "STI" has come to be accepted as a common noun of sorts for gear shifters, like "Colgate" even if it comes from a different brand) , chain, crankset, deraillers (the thing that moves your chains from one sprocket to another to accomplish gearing) et, al. Collectively, these serve as the "engine" of your bicycle, and enthusiasts/serious cyclists pay premium price for any possible technological advantage they could muster.
It's complicated.
There are numerous brands, with perhaps Shimano being the most ubiquitous. I'll try to give you a quick, layman's look into it. The Shimano brand offers different groupset lines, which purportedly cater to anyone from the amateur cyclist to the touring professional. The 2300 is an 8-speed groupset which to be very honest with you I didn't even know existed before I wrote this article. It's probably in the bottom rung of the foodchain, and most professionals will find an 8-speed set lacking for their, well, professional needs. The Sora is a 9 -speeder, and it's a very decent groupset specially for those starting out. It's also what's in Ultramarathoner Abby's roadie, random trivia.
Next in line is the Tiagra, which someone once compared to a Toyota Vios or Honda Jazz if you want to quantify it in car terms. . Noooot sure if that's completely accurate. The 10-speed 105 is probably the most commonly used, a very decent groupset you could go to war with. Is this the equivalent of an Altis or Civic? No idea. My groupset is a well-worn (aka old) 9-speed 105 from a forgotten era. It hasn't failed me so far. On the upper end of the spectrum are the Ultegra and the Dura Ace. A brand new Ultegra set is more expensive than my entire first bike (named Bob, check the old article), while a brand-new Dura-Ace set could either buy you a 2nd hand Honda Hatchback or serve as downpayment for that dream home of yours. Whew.
Car... .. or bike parts?
Aerobars/Seatposts Since most of do bike within the context of multisport, aerobars are more or less a must-have. Ever see those ultrafit triathletes crouched in that weird but cool-looking position? The aero position is designed to save your legs for that run portion and if executed correctly, propel you faster through the magic of aerodynamics. Thing is, the bikes your Ironman idols are riding on those Youtube clips are made specifically for triathlon. Meaning, they're specifically expensive. Not too uncommon to find P250,000 Italian-made tri-bikes around the corner. While that's a tad bit unrealistic for commoners like you and me, the tipid meals solution would be to buy clip-on aerobars ( cheapest would be about P2,500 a pop) combined with a fast forward seatpost ( anywhere from P2,500 - P5,000) for your road bike. The fast forward seatpost changes the seat tube angle frame from 73° to 78°, effectively moving the rider 38 mm forward in replicating the fancy tri-bike's geometry. Note, without the fast forward seatpost it would be quite difficult to maintain aero position, so these two add-ons usually come hand in hand.
You could put a down on that house already.
A practical fix.
Wheels
Same thing with wheels. High-end brands like Zipp or HED which specialize in deep, lightweight, aerodynamic wheels that are more or less made to make you go faster. They spin a lot faster too. Maybe that's why you go faster. Smart. Smirk. Anyway, the eye candy factor notwithstanding though just to get your head out of the clouds these are very painful to the wallet. The set that Olympic champion Fabian Cancellara was using in the photo in the previous paragraph could easily north of P120,000. Fun. On the other hand, if you could care less about aerodynamics and just want your bicycle to run, a decent pair could be had for as low as P3,000. Hmmmm.
I'll get my bling bling one day.Sniff.
Helmets
Whaaaat? Even helmets? It goes without saying that helmets are there for one thing - to prevent your brain from becoming mush on the floor in the event of some horrible accident. Cool. Of course, leave it to modern technology to somehow figure out a way to "pimp up" your standard issue helmet. While a basic helmet could go as low as P500- P1300 depending on where you get it, a tricked out aerodynamic helmet that "makes you go faster" with matching water vents to boot could set you back a cool P10,000 easy.
He's faster already
Cycling Shoes/Cleats
The quintessential newbie rider's rite of passage. People speak of it in hushed, even fearful tones, like it was the Loch Ness Monster or something. Some riders go on for months still wearing sneakers, avoiding the big jump at all costs. Why the fuss? These shoes have cleats that latch on to a special kind of pedal, allowing for a more efficient stroke and the added power benefit of an upward pull. If utilized correctly, these make for probably the most immediate improvement in terms of performance.
So if bike shoes are such a godsend, why do newbie cyclists speak of them with relative dread?
Well, there's always a caveat, and here's the rub. Once on bike shoes, you're practically "glued" to your bike, and you could only disengage by doing a nifty outward twist move. That nifty move takes some time to practice, and that extra half second it takes could be enough to niftily knock you down in the classic "semplang" move - even while you're still attached to the bike. Without the benefit of just putting down an emergency leg for leverage and balance, things could turn ugly in a hurry.
Face the fear As it is, the thought of having no safety backup is mortifying to a lot of novice cyclists. It's just one of those things that's easy to procrastinate over, but at the back of your head you know you have to face it eventually. It was with this mindset that I decided to get my first pair, "just to get it over with". This little conversation at the bike shop where I bought it from did nothing to assuage my fears :
Bikemann : First time mo ba mag cleats? GBM : Yes pohz Bikemann : Ah ok. Sesemplang ka. GBM: !!!!!!
And indeed, the deadpan oracle had spoken. Ironically, over several months on no cleats I had done a treacherous 120k road race, a duathlon and triathlon with no incident whatsoever.
Got home, tried on the shoes, and cleated up downstairs in the garage.
BANG. Less than 5 minutes in, I'm sprawled on the ground. Still attached to the bike. Sob. Muscle memory apparently gives way to a lot of bad habits, and it reared its ugly head in real time.
Much like a fallen gladiator recovering from a devastating blow, I staggered up and gave it another go
3 minutes later, same result.
My confidence shaken and knee banged up, I went back upstairs to regain my senses. Alarm bells were anxiously ringing in my head. Is it reaaaaallly that hard? I am really not meant to be a cyclist? Do I really suck at this?
Let's just assume it hurts. But then again, as that old adage goes it isn't about how many times you fall but how many times you get up right? The following day I was at it again, convinced I could do it. I rode for 20 kms along my familiar training jaunt, so far so good. As I pulled up near the back gate of UA&P, I dismounted to check if everything was in order. Cool. Went back up, did a u-turn, and before I knew it was hard on the ground. This was a really hard fall, much harder than the previous two ones. My STI was jarred to the point of misalignment. To make matters worse, my students had seen me and were prepared to laugh over that silly cyclist until they saw it was me. Oh the horror. Did I mention I was still attached to the bike?
Where's that adage when you need it? I limped home, tail between my legs dragging my bike with me. This was really depressing. All that fuss about fancy frames, groupsets, wheels, and helmets - yet here I was, couldn't even manage to keep myself off the pavement. That in turn invoked perhaps the single most overused line in the history of cycling, hence I'm going to use it again -
It's not about the bike. Kuya Lance Armstrong probably knew what he was talking about. First time I ever got wind of these figures, I could hardly believe it. Turns out there are two sides to this bike thing - both the competitive side and the hobby side. And maybe somewhere in between where the two sides converge. You could see people spend hundreds of thousands on the aforementioned items, but they're nowhere near competitive. As they say, if you can't perform, japorm. Sometimes, going through the fancy bikes at multisport or cycling events it's easy to see that the sport is also somewhat akin to a grown man's Tamiya . You get the best components, put it all together and talk about it with your buddies over a beer or two while planning your next salary burner.
I have a borderline mid-range bike at best, and I would be lying if I told you that I didn't take some lurid form of satisfaction in overtaking them italian-made, Dura-Ace equipped bikes on a race. On the other hand, how many times have I been lapped and overtaked by manongs with bakal bakal bikes that seem to have been used and abused since the 80's. No aerodynamics here, just sheer brute strength and athleticism. I shudder to think at what they could do with all this fancy technology at our disposal.
Which brings us back to the immortal words of Mr. Armstrong. Truly, it really isn't about the bike. The best bike in the world will be utterly useless in the wrong hands. Or legs , for the matter. You can spend all you want, but these advancements will only be noticeable if you actually bother putting in the requisite saddle time. The competitive athlete is both well conditioned and utilizes technology with maximum efficacy. However, if you could care less about competition and are just thrilled with the science and intricacies of putting it all together, well and good. We'll gawk at your fancy toy during the next race.
He has a pointThis bike thing. It's a fun, crazy thing, and it appeals to a whole wide range of personality types with hugely contrasting goals.
Did I mention I never fell from my bike again after that embarrassing episode ?
It's early, dark, and cold. The weather man has predicted clear skies, and this seasons first frost. Heading down a steep hill towards the ocean, your brakes screech. You hope that they are not loud enough to wake the sleeping houses that you pass. Other than the occasional reflective striped jogger, and dog walker, there is no one else populating this eerie world. The sunrise colors the sky to the east, casting a dim glow that makes it hard to see the slippery frost covered wooden pier that you are walking on. You give up on the pier, and head over the frosty sea washed stones of the beach. There you quietly crunch down towards the water, making your way across the low tide beach.
Walking slowly, due to the lack of light, you do not disturb the sea birds, and the the absolutely huge and magnificent blue heron, The warbling wonnnnnoook of the Canada Geese, makes your breath catch in awe. The light evens out, and it is time to take photos. As you pick your way through the increasing light, you realize that leaving the rubber boots in the car trunk was not a good idea. Because the numb feeling in your hands may be from the frost, but the coldness in your feet, is from the incoming tide that has just washed over your shoes. Avoiding the large translucent mounds of jelly fish marooned on the sand, you easily mistake a coating of sand for frost. And marvel at the utterly alien shape of them. They have not been picked clean like the unfortunate crab shells scattered around.
Suddenly there is a slight warmth in the air, and a very bright ball of light. You come to the conclusion that this is the reason they tell you not to shoot into the sun. Besides blowing out the expensive sensor in your camera, latent sun spots in your vision make it hard to see the sand. And harder to avoid the puddles of seawater that have now seeped into your last good pair of shoes.
All this doesn't matter as the heron takes flight, disturbed by your movements. You try to capture his flight on film, but he proves too powerful and fast. The sun rises so quickly over the trees, that you can actually see it moving. It makes you feel like you are on a camera expedition in some exotic location. The sea birds chirping, and the whirling of wings creates a lump in your throat. You are grateful that your shoes seem salvageable, and your camera still works. You also know, that this may not be a exotic and unusual place, but it is a special place, and it is home.
I know i know. First article in over a month and I come up with a presser? Sucks eh? But no worries, my annual world tour (okay fine nationwide tour) is practically over and we will try to slog through the backlog of articles for your lunchtime enjoyment. But before that, let's tackle for today's menu the recent Vibram Five Fingers launch, held at the Metropolitan Club near Rockwell.
As I got there, I realized it won't be your typical launch. The beautiful people of mass media were there, and local distributor Barefootwear Inc. pulled out the stops in bringing VFF to the public consciousness. Old hands in the running community are pretty familiar with the brand as it had been used by enthusiasts for several years now, but this was the first time it was actually taking front and center on the big stage.
The main point of contention, well at least from my viewpoint, was to somehow to prove to the public that a seemingly novel item could play an integral role in one's everyday activities. To the skeptical mind, a typical query would dwell on how a piece of footwear that mimics having well, er, none at all provide enough support for intense athletic pursuits?
Is it, um, hard?
VFF's philosophy is predicated on the notion that wearing shoes is much akin to putting your foot in a cast. We've just been mind conditioned to wear them since birth, so we don't really notice it. The key word is to de-evolve in terms of how we approach our footwear, given that our caveman ancestors survived eons without them right? If you gave them a Gel Kayano, they would most probably try to whack some bear on the head with it.
The rest of the tribe did not exactly approve of Peach es' new "toy". In an attempt to showcase this theory, a multisport coach was brought to explain the theory behind the science, along with a quick demonstration.Well, supposedly that was the idea... . too bad the treadmill wouldn't work. In related news, the event manager was seen taking shots at the nearest bar right after.
Hey, is that a mini Shaolin pony? Highlight of the event was when VFF unveiled their "ambassadors" (for lack of a better term, I forgot what they were called exactly so sue me). These were all top athletes who espouse the use of VFF's in their respective disciplines. Among others, there was a yoga master (former model Corey Wills, who seemed to have lost a ton of weight from his yoga gig), a top surfer gal/commercial model, a Capoeira guru ( whom I recognized as one of the guys behind that cool Score Card we featured a few months back), and a kettlebell instructor who was channeling Gov. Arnie ( didn't know what kettlebell was before this presser, but throwing around a gigantic bowling ball with a handle seems like fun).
However, in spite of their star power it was two-time BDM vet and Team Endure buddy Ronald Declarador who stole the show with his Tagahlohg spiel amidst the sosyness . And why wouldn't he? He's the only guy to ever complete the Bataan 120 kilometer race! (sorry Reema Chanco, I couldn't resist.)
Idol Ronald hits the big time Seriously though, if someone deserved the raucous applause, it was Ronald. He was already hyping VFF's to us years ago, way before it even became a cool niche accessory. When we were gasping for air at BDM amidst the 41 degree heat, I was almost floored when I saw him wearing them. From a marketing perspective, you couldn't find a more compelling pitchman to would -be clients from the running community. Why? In this day and age of pronation, stability, and motion control, we are fussier than a cranky Persian cat when it comes to the "protection" we get from our shoes. But once people see a guy finish the country's longest solo road race on them, the naysayers are automatically turned into believers.
If you listen to Ronald, he'll say "Screw your foot type". "The shoes won't adjust to you. You adjust to the shoe". Hmm, interesting.
Pique your fancy much? If you expect me to copy paste the entire product line from the press kit here, that makes you a 10 on the GBM Laziness Meter, 1 being a hummingbird and 9 being a three-toed sloth. So do yourself a favor and pay their website a visit at http://www.barefootwearinc.com/ , you may find something suitable for your lifestyle.
I asked Grandpa Nick (we call him Pops) what he thought of this "newfound contraption" that mimicked how people walked around when he was a teenager (smirk). " These are great, I can feel my blood flow and it feels so... . free. I think I can bike 3 minutes on the stationary with these babies. I feel like its 1920 all over again! They're the greatest thing since sliced bread. By the way, can I have these?"
Arbor?Another day, another new believer. Now if only I could uncurl em' toes... ...
and wet shoes you know that smudges, drips, and splotches are inevitable. Our front door does double duty as the main entry way and everything comes through those doors, snow groceries, wet shoes kitties with dirty feet and visitors. I usually use our steam mop and it does a great job of getting rid of any marks or splotches on the floor, but sometimes I just don’t feel like hauling it out.
So this simple hint I found on Pinterest from Nature’s nurture’s blog is super easy to mix up, and easy to apply. Just mix one cup of rubbing alcohol, one cup of vinegar, one cup of water and a few drops of dish detergent, and pour into a spray bottle. Mist floors and clean with a microfiber cloth… or micro fibre mop like I use.
And it can be used on stainless steel, countertops, faucets, mirrors… and other hard household surfaces. She does mention if you find the smell of vinegar too harsh you can add some essential oils to mask it… I just cut the vinegar down slightly.and it doesn’t bother us too much. I find that all natural castile soap, and oxygen bleach also make great cleaners and are environmentally safe. And I will tell you all about them another day… it’s late, I am writing this the night before and I… am… falling… asleep.
how to achieve your personal goals on the internet, it’s amazing how much information you can find in-between Pinterest pinning, and searches. One site suggests telling everyone your goals, write about it, tell about it, share about it… I guess the next time I am standing in line at the grocery store I will point to a magazine of a overweight celebrity and tell the person standing behind me that one of my goals is not to end up looking like that.
So in order to achieve my goal of balance, [remember I don’t do words for the year, but if I did, that would be my word… ] I am choosing to tell all of you my goal, and to ask for your help in staying on track. We all know how easy it is to get off track.
I want/need to get into better shape, just exercise a little a lot more, I won’t be claiming to enjoy it half as much as my husband does but it seems sensible not to have anything jiggling. Now that’s a sensible goal for someone who just turned 50 isn’t it? I suppose I could ask for spanx for Christmas, that would solve the slightly jiggly bit, but I would really like to put a effort into this.
We bought a treadmill, now the real reason for purchasing what I hope isn’t to be a very expensive cloths hanger like some people have [and I won’t mention names, but you know who you are] was so he could run all winter, he loves to run. With the rather large accumulations of snow we are getting it’s hard to get out there everyday. Did you know that donuts can accumulate on your hips? I had no idea, hmmm I should create a calorie free donut, woman all over the world would thank me.
Apparently the treadmill was also bought with the idea that I use it, and this is where you come in. One, it needs a name… got any ideas? I am thinking Frankenstein… Franky, seems appropriate for someone who really doesn’t love exercising, but please feel free to suggest something. And two, the most important, please hold me to exercising, ask me about it in the coming weeks, remind me I need to do it because donuts have calories.
It’s not my goal to give up the occasional donut, so Franky and I have to make friends. Maybe not BBF’s, but at least during the long winter months we had better get to know each other a little bit better. Hey Frankie, prepare to meet some donuts. Yes, those are shiny new shoes… and I took photos of them the first day I got them. But they will stay shiny, because of my allergies they will not be worn outside, they will remain indoor shoes. Jane
We are still out there actively looking for our perfect “dream home.” House hunting continues for us whether there are snowy roofs, or above normal temperatures. Of course the Christmas season has slowed us down a little, but we were back at it yesterday.
Honestly, I have a hard time touring peoples private enclaves [houses]. I know that they are up for sale, and I need to envision myself living in the space, but I have found that a uninhabited house is easier for me. It makes me uncomfortable to see people’s Christmas trees, and pressies all laid out there. I feel a little like a voyeur, touring the bedrooms, and ensuites especially of those whose people let it all sit out on the counters. I try not to look too closely, after all, I am not interested in what kind of deodorant they are using, but in what color the bathroom sink is. How do you feel about this? Or is this just a quirk that I have?
Some of the houses we have looked at are perfectly staged, music playing, heat on, lights on, and the most important part, clean floors. Oh to have clean floors, and not worry about what you have picked up on your socks. I guess I could get those little slip on blue booties… but it’s the norm to take off your shoes. Some of the places, well let’s just say that taking off your shoes should be a option, you are more likely to get dirty socks, then dirty the floors. When we get home the first thing to come off is my socks… ugh. I hate dirty socks, and dirty floors.
It seems if the yard is perfect, then the house isn’t. If the house is a good fit, then it doesn’t have any privacy. We have looked at so many houses that they are starting to blur into one big smozzle. Our Realtor had a great suggestion, take a feature and identify it with each house, kind of like giving it a nick name. Maybe next time I will tell you about the “dog mess house,” and the ice house.
Holiday cheers to everyone! So how was your Christmas? Got the gift you wanted? Gained 10 lbs worth of holiday blubber just in time for the next race? Let's take a look at some random stuff you guys have been sending in over the Yuletide season.
Were you naughty... ... or nice?Mr. GBM, Merry Christmas! I was just curious, what's your Christmas wish for Piolo? - Maya S. Hi Maya! Happy Holidays to you! Hmm, what do I wish for my favorite celebrity foil? I wish him the best of health in 2010, a couple of blockbuster movies here and there, and since he has accomplished all there is to this running thing, move on to the next level - Ironman 70.3. No really, this running is going to be super boring for him. He should leave it behind, lest he pull a muscle or heck even develop ITBS. Multi-sport, oh yeah that's the way to go.
(Santa, I've been a good boy this year... ..)
Looks like so much fun Piolo, running is boring. Right? Right?
Hi GBM! Came across your blog last week and I'm liking your posts. My friends and I aren't in any way acquainted with the basics of running. I hope you can blog about what runner-wannabees like me should know including the basics like what to wear, what to bring when running, warm up and cool down exercises, shoes, places to run, gadgets and such. Am I asking for too much? Hope not Ü - Lilly C.
Hey Lilly thanks for the kind words, it inspires me to come up with more fun stuff for you guys :) Anyway, as for your request, there is a volominous amount of information on the net that could help you out. If you want to make your way through the clutter, log on to Takbo.ph and check out the numerous threads that would cater to your running needs :)
As for your other queries, in a nutshell here's what I could give you. :
For Warm-up and Cool Down Exercises, you could check out this link. I Googled it and in 2 seconds this is what came up. For the right shoes, that sort of depends where you live. If you live down south, you could check out Runnr at Bonifacio High Street, and their knowledgeable staff there will do a gait analysis to find out what's the right shoe for you.
If you stay at the QC or Pasig/Mandaluyong/Marikina area, there are Second Wind branches at Teacher's Village and Ortigas Home Depot which offer a similar service, and you could chat up shoe gurus/ultrarunners (meaning they have ran distances longer than a marathon, which means they're beyond cool) Hector Yuzon and Neville Manaois for a personalized consultation.
As for the others, either I come up with an article about it or I'll email you, because I'm... holiday lazy :P
Holidays have rendered moi into lazy Gingerbread blubber Ginger, I just want to know if you running the Condura Marathon? And if you did, how long do you training for it? I am planning to join the skyway run. Tnx. - Aris N. Thanks for dropping by Aris. Yes I am doing the full 42k this time around. It's THE running event of the year and it's a cant-miss. I am actually in the middle of a 12-week program for it, and am set to taper about second week of January. If you are planning to run across the Skyway, you should be joining at least the 21k. Am wishing you all the best and hope to see you there!
I can hardly wait. Kamusta Kuya GB. Tatanong lang po, sana mas magupdate po kayo, tenbits kami ng utol ko. Ang huliing takbo po namin ay yung Celebrity na 5k. Pabati nga pala po kay Kuya Hernan dito sa Tandang Sora. TY po. - Ramil M.
Ramil, salamat sa pagbisita. Minsan kasi sobrang busy ko I only have time to make one article. Depende din yang kung madaming races or presscon. Pero promise, try natin iupdate more. Bagal ko kasi magsulat (x_x) Kamusta Kuya Hernan, salamat sa suporta! (para tayong radyo ah hehe)
Hi there Luis. I'm trying this out just to see if you will actually publish it online. Long-time lurker of your site, even when you had that logo with the man stretching and magulo pa siya. Laki na ng pnagbago niya, saludo ako. Was just curious, sa mga dati mong stories lagi mong binabanggit si Gingerbread Gal. Ngayon wala na. May... . nangyari ba? Haha sorry ha napansin ko lang kasi, you don't have to answer kung personal - Patricia G. Hi Patricia, um, next question please? Haha kidding lang, thanks for the visit. Wow you were lurking even back then? You mean people actually read that crap I used to post? Woaah. I don't even have a backup copy of that template, but for those who never reached it, there are some thumbnails of that bygone era here.
As for your question, oh gaks how showbiz :P (preps for showbiz answer) Ehem. Well, since you pointed out her non-inclusion in our body of work, I guess you have your answer right there :)
This is... . embarassing :P
That's it for the holiday mailbag folks! Keep on running and watch those waistlines everyone :)
Shoes. Nothing piques our fancy more than a nice new pair to break in. From time to time, I'll be running shoe reviews, depending on what comes in the mail. Expect these reviews to be brief, concise, and coming from a very practical runner's perspective.
On today's menu is the Adidas Supernova Sequence 2. While not as glamorous as the Adizero series , its precursor was known as a good stability shoe for moderate pronators (yeah, not the exag overpronators like me) that's somehow gives off the vibe of silent effectiveness.
Underappreciated?
It's main upgrade from the original series is that Adidas has now included a new "geofit" feature, a collection of padded areas inside the shoe that help out areas which receive the most pressure. The Sequence 2 has a lightweight sole with blown rubber coatings, and is supposed to be durable. The outsole also uses the "ForMotion" feature that helps to adapt to different angles or types of terrain. The shoe is supposed to be versatile, and Adidas suggests that it can be used for numerous different running styles.
I took it out for a quick spin on a leisurely 14k. Immediately noticeable was that it was heavier than my trusty, BDM-scarred Adizero Tempo. As the run progressed, I felt that it corrected my stride a lot more (maybe because of all that fancy" geofit material". OOooh.) and that it afforded a lot more stability. Better yet, my ITB didn't give way at the end. Amazing. Speedwork doesn't seem to be affected all that much by the incremental increase in weight. In hindsight, it's even lighter than my New Balance 848.
Style-wise, it's alright. As I said, not as glamorous as the Adizero line, nor doesn't give off the the vibe of a Asics GT. However, it has a workmanlike yet versatile excellent for everyday use and is excellent for those non-exag overpronators. I'd recommend it :P
Some days, you wake up and you feel that it's going to be a wonderful day. On the flipside,some days there's just a dour aura of gloom pervading around you. For whatever it may be, I was lucky that just two Sundays ago it was the latter that came into play. The ATC Southern Run had a terrific setting, there was barely any heat around, and it seemed like the perfect day for a race. Here's my take on what happened as previously posted on the Takbo.ph forums : Ako I must admit I really had fun with this race. The venue, the whole atmosphere seemed very relaxed and highly conducive to running. The course itself was rolling up and down, which provided somewhat of a challenge to the fatigued
Started the race up front with ultraman PAt ( my goodness elite na to, 46 mins 29th place) Natz (another Takbo elite 47!!!) and Boss Jinoe (52 I think, new PR too lupet!) . I tried to pace with PAt, and suceeded in doing so for like 500 meters. He was like Usain Bolt out of the gates. The blazing start took me out of my rhythm. Wrong mistake. I learned that attempting to pace with someone way above your league isn't exactly the best thing to do. Although that first kilometer attempting to catch up with PAt amounted to a 4:40 lap, it took me out of my comfort zone and I need about 3 K's t0 recover. Boss Jinoe caught up with me at 4k mark I think, we paced until the 7k mark which was when broke away na. I was planning on making my move at the 8k mark, wasn't too confident if I could sustain a neg split pace that early. At the 8k mark I picked up the pace na, from a comfortably hard 5:40 I lowered it to 5"20, and last K was 5:05. My goal for the race was a sub-55 finish, which was somewhat of a stretch. Sabi ko kahit madaplisan lang ang 55 okay na ako. But perhaps a combination of real running shoes (goodbye Mr. Quickie! Not PINK NB's!), a 305 to help me strategize and more mileage helped me immensely. I was so happy to cross the line at 53:40, a time that once seemed like an impossibility for me. My first 10k race I finished at 1:28. I'm so happy. It's like all the hard work, the "getting roasted in the sun because you started your 20k run at 5am" sacrifices were all worth it. And it made me believe na it's possible pala for average athletes like me to realistically lower PR's over time. Dati kasi I used to think it's either you have it or not. Of course, hanging out with the Takbo.ph gang made it all the more special. The kulitan pictures and the camaraderie truly made it worth the long drive. Happy runner here
Congrats everyone
I'd upload my run but MotionBased aint working now
It’s the first day of summer, and that means warm days, and warm nights… no more rain in my garden? The first day of summer should be a celebration, full of the kicking off of shoes, walking on the grass in bare feet, sipping lemonade kind of day, and watching the flowers grow in the garden.
This will be the first summer in years, decades almost that I have my very own lawn to walk on in bare feet, my very own garden. Can you imagine the feel of delicate grass tickling your toes… the smell of fresh cut grass wafting in through the windows? Watching the flowers grow in the garden, happening in front of your eyes, the blooms, the colors, the green.
The first day of summer is always so full of promises, the grass is always greener this end of summer, and the skies are bluer. The garden is sweeter, the flowers prettier. I won’t think about the end of summer, or the winter today, because today I am living in a summer garden. With grass tickling my toes…
I don’t want to see Autumn peeking around the corner on Pinterest. I have no intention of pinning pumpkins, and fall colors, yet. Leave that for those who must always be one step ahead of the the pack. I will linger behind picking leftover blossoms, and blowing fluff into a setting sun.
It’s much nicer here than there. Pinecones, and bare branches can wait until the frost. I am not ready to toss my summer annuals, they still look lush, and full. Glassy eyed, and slack in the heat. I’m purposefully looking the other way when encountering those colorful orange, and russet displays of clothing in stores, heavy woven fabric, constricting jackets. Cute they are, but not for me… yet. I’m thinking “ back to school” are three of the nastiest words to utter right now, I don’t want to move forward… yet. I am not ready for Fall, there are no sweaters in my closet, socks, jeans, coats are not what my dreams are made of. Summer mornings with slight hints of a crisp fresh breeze, hot days, and glinting golden highlights through leaves as the sun shines bright. Watermelon crisp, cucumbers on the vine, squash ripening in the garden. This is my reality, my only focus. Leave Autumn for those that look ahead, plan for the future, think too much. I am hanging on, enjoying, savouring the light, and the soft bouncing end to summer. Hot days, cooler nights, this is my favourite time of summer. Hay bales stacked in Lego mounds, wheat golden shimmering, birds song in the trees once again.
Not for me the harsh goodbye, a final farewell before it ends, these credits are not rolling, the circle keeps on spinning. There is a time to every season, and this is not it. Yet. I’m lingering in summer for as long as I can.
Splashing in sprinklers, gazing at skies, grateful for the bounty. My flirty skirts, and bare legs will not be covered yet, my shoes are still hidden in the back of the closet. I refuse to give in gracefully, there is still time. I don’t want to be prepared. There are 8 months to prepare for winter, more then enough. Give me my full four of golden glistening light, skies that soften as the dark approaches, evenings that awe. Give me green, in every variety and shade that nature can create. Blue, yellow, purple toned greens. Don’t give me burnished bronzes, browns, and dried and decay just yet. Send me postcards from the edge of summer. Glinting off of the sand, glowing in the evening skies, whispering more days to come, soft sunlight, and flowers never ending.
Today’s Monday meet and greet is Lisa from Fresh Eggs Daily. Lisa, is the Chicken Queen, a delightfully real person, and fountain of information for everything Chicken, [and duck] from newcomers, to seasoned flock owners. If you have ever dreamed of what your world would be like with the addition of daily fresh eggs, laid by contended chickens, check out her blog for great tips, and ideas.
When my body gives out and my head tells me to quit, my heart compels me to struggle on. At some point, however, my head and my heart get in 'cahoots' with each other. They both demand I stop. That is when my spirit soars and their protestations are of no avail. I am propelled by a force unseen, drawn to a potential I have yet to realize. I shake off the burden of the physical and wake up to experience my dream. At last I am free... .
Some have dubbed it the final frontier. Well, for the moment at least. The fact of the matter is, right now there is no longer road race in the country. The Bataan Death March 160k Ultramarathon is in a league of its own, and dwarfs all comers to the table. Nothing even remotely comes close. Participants are either honored in hushed, reverential tones or maligned as foolhardy and ignorant.Maybe even stupid. Save for a trifling number, after KM 102 pretty much everybody would be entering the twilight zone. The first ever 100-mile race in the country sticks out like Everest on steroids to the hungry masses, the novelty of the great unknown drawing these inquisitive endurance athletes like moths to a flame. The appeal to be part of history ups the risk/reward scale on an unprecedented level, and athletes will be tested as they have never been before. How long should one soldier on, and when should one know when to quit? It is the quintessential paradox of a discipline that is fueled by blood, guts, and an indomitable will to make it to that finish line. It is a paradigm that will be revisited in recurring snippets as the tale unravels.
The few and the proud...
Prologue
"May invite ka na ba pre?" That was the prevailing water cooler topic for ultra running denizens a couple months back. As for me, the answer was a resounding NO. I wasn't too surprised though, and already had already somehow come to terms with it. After my maiden stint last year with BDM 102, I never really did anything that could be remotely considered "ultra" anymore. While my contemporaries had joined practically every "mid-distance" (if one could consider 70k as such. Really now.) ultramarathon race that Sir Jovie Narcise (better known in running circles as the irrepressible Bald Runner or just plain BR for short) had put out there, it was no big secret that I have been dabbling into multisport and cycling for the most part and had pretty much been out of the scene. So it was really no shocker. I would be lying if I said it didn't bug me though. Just to be considered for the race is a big honor already, and after all I did apply for it. Thing was,we had absolutely no idea what the criteria was for selection. Rumors abound that supposedly only 15 hour finishers would be considered. But then as the initial wave of invites came out, people who were right around my finish range were getting golden tickets, which pretty much added to my anxiety. Perhaps it was my inactivity with the PAU (Philippine Association of Ultrarunners) that contributed to it. Maybe it's just not in the cards. Sigh. We all move on... ...
Then one day, as me and Abby were walking around BHS , i get a buzz on my Blackberry. Thank God for instant email. When that header said "Jovenal Narcise", my heart skipped a beat. When I saw the subject line " Letter of Invitation to the BDM 160", I let out a yelp of joy in the middle of the walkway. Okay maybe not, but you get the idea. Abby got hers at pretty much the same time.And why shouldn't she? I'm probably the only guy in the country who has a girlfriend who runs 102 kilometers faster than he does. Happy night.This was what I wanted right? Right? But... .. I haven't had any long-distance training. Nada. Zilch. Farthest I've ran in a year was 21k. Oh my. With one fell swoop, suddenly the ball was in my court now.
Decisions, Decisions
When the announcement first came out, the race was actually meant to be BDM 151, 151 kilometers representing the cumulative total distance including the train ride of the Death March prisoners to Camp O' Donnell in Capas, Tarlac. However, there was a clamor to increase the distance to just over 160 kms to make it the official 100-mile race in the country. When BR acceded, the wheels in my head were suddenly turning. I suddenly have a shot to cross one off the old bucket list. After a prolonged period of soul searching (that took roughly about 30 minutes) I had made my decision. Obviously, you know what that decision came out to be. The die had been cast. No turning back now.
Forming the Crew
Perhaps unbeknownst to many, the support crews that you tag along for these races aren't of the prototypical cheerleader rah rah kind, which is a common misconception. It's not fun and games, it's not a street party. If at all, the support crew may even undergo more stress than the runners themselves. They are awake during practically the same time frame, and undergo constant anxiety on their runners well being. The crew has to be part inspirational leader, part drillmaster, part nutritionist, part nurse and part driver. They are perhaps the most integral supplementary element to the success of the race, and their relative efficiency could provide the final difference in toeing the fine line between life and death when push comes to shove (I'm not kidding).
Last year, I got my buddy AJ, my internet legend uncle Tito Caloy and random/seasonal friend RV (by virtue of six degrees of separation he somehow got ensnared into this) whom I met just on the day itself. They were all somehow under the impression that this would be a fun, all-night drinking session with me somehow running in the background. Of course, given the shock and stress that they were suddenly, unwittingly subjected to, they forever hold a "BDM card" on me, that they can pull as they wish. Warning to BDMers - this is prone to general abuse, so choose your crew wisely. Smirk.
This year, Abby agonized over the decision on whether to run or not. She was one of what seemed like only ten women who had qualified for it, and the chance to make history was tantalizing. On the flipside, while she was in phenomenal shape she scarcely had any run training. Crucial year in setting up her business, and I guess at one point we all just have to draw the line with priorities. With much trepidation, she decided to hold it off for next year and I hope to make it up to her then. With her addition though I finally have the benefit of not just a seasoned runner on the crew, but an veteran ultrarunner who knows what it takes to get to that finish line.
I've been bugging AJ, who worked harder than anyone last year in keeping me alive out there, to once again be part of my crew. After incessant faux rejections ( no way in hell he would turn down the possibility of two BDM cards to pull), he finally "caved in" after my assurances that this would be the "last". Which was what we said last year. Hihi.
Internet legend Tito Caloy (old Takbo.ph joke, just google my old material) wasn't supposed to be part of the crew this year and was an 11th hour callup because we needed the extra hand. He had all but retired from the running scene and promptly returned to his competitive drinking roots. His son, my cousin Mel (but we call him Shtuey, go figure) was ostensibly going to crew me, back had to back out at the last moment due to his slated thesis defense. I told him "yung thesis pwede naman ulitin, eto once in a lifetime lang to!" Bad Kuya GBM.
The final piece of the puzzle was Duart, who along with myself and AJ have formed a decade-long triumvirate dating back from our days as gangly freshmen at DLSU. He was crestfallen at missing my maiden campaign last year, and was determined to make it up this year. My energetic buddy not only signed on in a jiffy, he even provided the Innova which would become our support car.
The only crew that matters... .With everything in good stead, now all we could do was wait for our date with destiny.
The Briefing
The race briefing is an annual tradition wherein everyone makes the pilgrimage to Camp Aguinaldo to hear last minute instructions from BR. It is also the last chance for you to take hang and socialize with your "batchmates" in a somewhat lucid manner, you may be even lucky to snag a helping or two of lechon. The whole thing is pretty and cut and dry, but one slide of BR stood out to everybody that night.
Don't blame the RD!
D-Day
The advantage of having the race start in the morning is that your body clock is not out of whack. You can sleep like a normal human being and you don't have to be a zombie the first leg or so. With the rest of the team following after office hours (too bad it wasn't an official holiday pfft), me and Abby hitched with TPB bud and BDM 102 partner Mark Hernandez along with soon-to-be marathoner/TPB wifey Bea. While waiting for them at our pre-arranged BHS meeting spot, we see an Audi TT roadster park just in front of Rox. Oohhh fancy. Oddly enough, the silhouette inside was waving to us. Was someone trying to pick up Abby in broad daylight? Que Horror. Amusingly, it turned out to be none other than our good friend Rio with his new toy. The afro gave him away. Soon after Mark and Bea would arrive, and we were well on our way. Last year, I wasn't too happy with our place. This year, we decided to check-in at the MC Lodge, highly regarded by practically everyone and much nearer to KM 0. Place was cool, rooms were just slightly smaller but much cleaner and with better appointments. Of course, I pretended not to see the "295, Aircon 3 hours special" sign outside. Groovy.
It's the place to be We had time to burn, so we scoped out the place for landmarks for the crew and made sure all the gadgets were charged up. Thing I love about the place was that there were like 7 sockets in such a small room. FTW. To "relax" me we were able to set up a mini-DBD on my laptop and I was able to sneak in an article in there (hapit). Around 6 pm Saturday, we had many different choices from their five-star chef for our last supper of sorts.
Bon Apetit! Finally, some shuteye. The crew (and I expected nothing less) got lost and arrived close to midnight. After what seemed like a couple of hours we all had to get the ball rolling. The pressure was mounting. More pressure came forth (my blood pressure,that is) when my crew told me they had a P600 peso dinner. BDM card, BDM card. After what seemed like an eternity, we left the lodge and went on the starting line.An almost unmistakable cornucopia of anxiety, excitement, and fear was distinctly palpable within the car's constraints. I had worn my exact finish line outfit from last year as some weird pamahiin. Out with the old and in with the new, and in a few moments we would be seeing history unfold before our very eyes. The calm before the storm The pre-race events usually consist of a bunch of souvenir photos,some scattered well-wishes and a lot of prayers. Now, there's also the annual rendition of the US and Philippine anthems. Last year, BR gave a "soulful" rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner, (much to the enjoyment of the crowd and much to his chagrin after all the ribbing he got after lol) and this year it was US Armyman Gilbert Gray's turn. Pretty straight up, stoic but no doubt amiable fellow. Remember when we all saw Robocop without the mask? This guy is a dead ringer both in looks and demeanor. I was hit by a sudden burst of nostalgia. It seemed just yesterday that I was here, a greenhorn to the entire enterprise. Sigh, how time flies. After the requisite "class picture", the 59 brave souls on that fateful Saturday morning were off at right around 6am. Destiny and glory were waiting, now the onus was on us to do our part.
With the crew at KM 0.
I hope to replicate this pose at the finish line
The Endure Multisport Ultramen Let the madness beginThe race with no equal started off without much aplomb, with runners trotting warily in lieu of blasting off on all cylinders. Surely, these veterans knew better. Some were setting a faster pace, and only time could tell if they could hold it. After all, this was the biggest battle of our lives right here. I opened the race with buddies Mark Hernandez and OJ Giron, a couple of familiar faces that I hoped would make the journey a lot more meaningful. And in hindsight, hoping that once we enter our own Battle of the Bulge, our own private Normandy, we would all be there to keep each others sanity in check. They had a fairly ambitious goal though- finish the race in 24 hours or less. While I felt that was purely wishful thinking for me given my fitness level, the plan was to just hang with them as far as it takes me. I mean, these guys were in phenomenal shape. OJ coaches nearly full-time and Mark has been on a tear on the running circuit as of late. I would have my work cut out for me but I couldn't allow myself to be left behind.We start out conservatively, alternating a brisk jog and walking the entire 4k incline. Many are passing us at will while BR passes by in a van and chats us up. Our man is in a good mood this morning, in stark contrast to last year's drillmaster barking on a megaphone. Ordinarily, a competitive junkie like me (and I'm pretty sure these two have that same genome in them) would go nuts at being passed so... . effortlessly. But this wasn't a 10k. The reality was, we had 153 more kilometers to go. Just the thought of it scares the hell out of me. What did I get myself into again?
Just out for a weekend fun run with friends... .The Lolo Diaries
At one point, we run into a group led by the "grand old warrior" himself, the ageless Victor Ting. If you see your old man lounging around in the sala watching TV or discovering this fascinating thing called "internet" while forwarding you funny emails (just as we did in well, 1999), this guy puts them all to shame. Imagine, his apos must have it good. No way they are losing an eh ang lolo ko mas magaling sa lolo mo argument. Like, "eh ang lolo ko tumakbo mula Bataan hanggang Tarlac" End of conversation. The ageless wonder somehow had it in him to drag his 66-year old legs across a hundred miles side-by-side with runners young enough to be his grandchildren. Mark told me he could never catch the old codger during the test runs no matter how hard he tried. Thing was, he was maintaining such a ridiculously efficient, no-stopping strategy that it was practically impossible to keep up with him. Perhaps in utter embarrassment at being shown up, we finally caught up with him eventually. And here are some snippets of what I got from a living legend.
" Dati may 100k na , diyan sa may Burnham sa Baguio. Bata pa si Jovie, alam niya yun. Tumakbo ako dun! Paikot ikot nga lang kami."
"Mabagal lang tayo. Sanay tayo sa mabilis pero dito mabagal lang tayo malayo layo pa to"
"Nung 1981 sa Manila International Marathon sub-3 yung marathon ko"
"Nag two bottles pa kami ng Red Horse kagabi"
Hmm, maybe that's his secret. Damn, you mean our very own "super lolo" was a sub-3 hour dude the year before I was er, born? I suddenly conjured visions of myself running in 2041, with a young buck chatting me up at the 31st Runrio Trilogy Anniversary Run
Kid : Lolo, sigurado po ba kayo na kaya nyo pa? Tubig po? Malapit na lang, wag po pilitin. Lolo GBM : Bah. Alam mo ba noong araw eh natakbo ako mula Bataan hanggang Tarlac?Patakbo yun ni Presidente Narcise dati kada taon Kid : Um, er, ah ganun po ba? Waw. Talaga lang ha. Sige lo, init lang yan. Inom ka na lang ng tubig nagdidiliryo na po kayo. Lolo GBM : Totoo! Anong akala mo nagbibiro ako? Eto ipapakita ko pa ang silver buckle ko bilang katibayan (lifts up singlet to show buckle) Kid : Yuck indecent exposure! DOM! PEdo! Security!!!!!!
Talo Lolo mo sa Lolo ko. Kids. Pffft. As I was snapping out of my misguided daydream, I realized that the urge to do the number two was somewhat compelling enough to tell the crew about it. Abby texts back, we found one in 1.5k, that ok? Of course that was okay. I was thinking, the earlier I get this out of the way the better. Last year was an utter nightmare, first try I was shown a hole on the ground, second try I had to run nearly 1k inside a subdivision just to make it to their clubhouse and I nearly fell asleep inside. They even thought I passed out. This year there was no such problem as the crew found a very nice spot right around the 20k mark ... .. inside an Iglesia ni Cristo church. As Abby assured me that my presence there wasn't bordering on anything sacrilegious, I was successfully able to execute probably the fastest and most efficient pit stop ever. Thank you INC, I owe you guys one.
Isolation Therapy
During that break, I had lost Mark and OJ. I kept on looking back, and I asked a Team Ungas van where they were and I was given the impression they were far back. So I was all alone. Felt like I was making good time though, pace at a rock solid 7:30. Much to my consternation, it turns out that they were actually ahead of me. Finally back with my buds, it was supposed to be all smooth sailing from here. It didn't last long though. One pit stop later and the group was once again splintered. What I couldn't understand was why was it that I was the one getting ahead when I'm the weakest runner in our group by a mile. Perhaps, was I doing something wrong? Going too fast? Not even. With no sight of my, I just had to trudge on.
Me, Myself, and the Long Winding Road.
All by myself... . don't wanna be. All by myself... .. anymore.
As the bars of the seminal Celine Dion classic rang through my head, I was thinking, this wasn't how I wanted my story to unfold. It was supposed to be packed with stories of guts, glory, and the will to continue. Of camaraderie and an unspeakable bond with brothers who share the same iron-clad mindset in helping each other succeed through seemingly insurmountable odds. It would have made for great drama, the piece that would finally nail me my first Philippine Blog Award win... .. a tale of hardship, friendship, and sacrifice through... .
Wait, who am I kidding? It's just me, myself, and the road. The sheer drudgery is getting to me. It's pretty much... . mundane and er, unexciting. It's a microcosm of your typical countryside life, and it's a change passing by here during the daytime. Aside from regular contact with my crew and the occasional chit chat with other teams, it's pretty much me and a bunch of nameless faces along the road who keep getting me engaged in this incessant cycle that never gets old :
Bystander : Koya, san kayo galing? GBM : Mariveles Bystander : San paponta koya? GBM : Tarlac Bystander : !!!!!
Enter Celine Dion chorus here I think in my frustration, I was speeding along faster than I had intended to. As I was approaching the 32k mark I had already passed Frontrunner EIC/Ultra strongman Jonel and the super lolo Vic Ting group. I also saw a focused Pat Alcomendas seemingly struggling, the mere fact of which seemed to blow my mind. He prodded me to go on, was worried if any nagging injuries were manifesting. A quick check on the 310xt, 7:04 pace. Eek. Much faster than what I had intended to hold, and fearful I might gas out later. Relax. Breathe. Malayo pa to.
Manong pacing me to Tarlac. He lasted 30 seconds.Crew check The gang was pretty impeccable at this point. Abby would send me inspirational messages from time to time (hihi) and that never failed to give me a boost. AJ and Duart were on point, although Duart was like a man possessed perhaps in his haste to make up for lost time last year. AJ was mostly chilling. Tito Caloy, was , well, being Tito Caloy. His moral support is invaluable to the endeavor, let's just keep it at that. As I would learn later, Abby was garnering a certain following amongst our provincial folk with her "eye- popping" running outfit which would seem more at home within the comfy asphalt of BHS rather than the concrete jungle of the Bataan countryside. Hey, it's comfy!(rejoinder for fear of future retribution) Warning Signs As I was nearing the marathon mark I was beginning to slow down a little. Ill effects from a fast start? Five hours and a half into the whole thing, my left foot was beginning to feel sore. Also noticeable was that I kept on doing a really weird overpronation move with my left foot, for some reason it would pronate inward and the sole of the shoe would keep on hitting my right ankle. I noticed this mechanical flaw would only come out towards the latter part of anything north of a marathon. And now I'm slowly flagellating my right ankle. Fun.Rule of Thirds Amidst the madness, I decided to divide the race into three parts to keep my head in there - 0 -50, 50 - 102, 102- 160. Within each division I would chomp them up into bite-size and easily digestible 10k portions. That way you don't lose yourself mentally, it's easy to get overwhelmed and deflated when there is too much emphasis on the big picture. I have seen many of my comrades fall by the wayside when this kicks in, and all of us are susceptible at any given moment. As I was doing my mental calculations, the man who had taught me these valuable lessons just caught up with me. It was Jonel! Finally, company! Part-mentor/Frontrunner slave driver, he was coming on strong and as we approached the 50k stretch in Abucay the conversations we had invigorated me. I reminded him that I still owed him breakfast for losing a bet with him on Condura ( I had a lame 4:14, he dropped a 3:47... . after doing a test run. Incredible.) We run into Robocop Gilbert Gray, who must have been bored with our pace and left us soon after. He would eventually finish 10th in a steady, methodical, um, serious performance. We reach the 50k mark around six and a half hours in, BR and Mrs. BR were there to greet us. As we would later on discover, we were both in the top 20 at this point. So far so good. I take the opportunity to stretch out and sit down a little, I actually arrived ahead of my crew. Learning from last year's lessons, I didn't spend too much time here, heck didn't even wait for a costume change. Jonel had an even faster T1 (if you would consider it as such tri-geeks) and was already ahead of me by several minutes. "Just" 110k to go, it should get interesting from here. An Accidental Bromance Back to my lonesome. I don't if growing up alone is a key factor to some deep psychological crap inside of me, but I hate being alone. I hate eating alone, I hate going to the mall alone. Ironically, although I usually train alone I'm not exactly thrilled about it. So sue me, social being here. So once again, it's driving me nuts that I'm by my lonesome. At this point, Jonel was long gone already and was too strong to chase down given I'm going through the motions of a swoon already. So back to the drudgery. My left foot is starting to bother me already and it's starting to get hot already. Many have lost their way on this national highway, and I had no intention of succumbing in my solitude. That's until I notice a semi-familiar face going back and forth with me. Semi-familiar because I knew that dude was Paolo Osmena, a veteran who is no doubt exponentially stronger than me. Someone also said he had the legs of a female supermodel. Of course, I deny all allegations that this came from me. Anyway, for what seemed like a 15k stretch we would settle into this bizarre pattern where I would surge ahead of him after running 1.5k straight, then once I rest with the crew he would come surging back and establish a big lead then the cycle replicates itself. While I felt I was pacing better than him as it seemed he was in some sort of pain, his advantage was he would only stop every 5k. Does that mean I'm a Gingerbread sissy for stopping as often as I did? Probably. Soft-baked mush. But at this point, at the back of my head I was trying to conserve as much as I could, long ways to go. Eventually, this seemingly "cold war" was driving me crazy. I ran up to him ( he was favoring the opposite side of the road) and struck up a conversation. And he turned out to be a very affable albeit tired fellow. His plantar was killing him, but more than anything he was questioning why was he feeling a notch short on probably his most important racing day of the year. He felt he had more than trained for this, so many long runs and hours put in, and yet here he was feeling exhausted less than halfway through. In retrospect, this same malaise may have struck a lot of my fallen comrades. But then again, we'll never really know. Every runner out there has their own unique story, and the entire gamut of emotions that are transmuted into one ethereal body of work make this journey unlike any other.I tried to boost my newfound friend's flagging spirits by telling him that even if we were feeling horrible now, we were still well-entrenched in the top half of the draw. And as much as we felt that we were sucking, those who are still behind us must be sucking too. Of course, that wasn't necessarily true, but I had to say something. He was asking if we walked from that point to the 160 line, would we make it? Perhaps, maybe. But we have to make it to 102 first. Obviously, we wouldn't if we did. But it takes an ultrarunner to know anothers suffering, and at that point you do what you could to help them go forward. On a downward spiral Somewhere nearing KM 70, I was really beginning to feel exhausted. Nearly nine hours in, I was slowly tapering off. Either I left my newfound buddy somewhere or he left me, but I just lost him at a certain point. I was really slowing down and my pace had plummeted to 8:30 cumulative. After what seemed like ages, finally I saw glimpses of different souls. Which was great. And they were passing me left and right. Which wasn't. OJ came out of the woodwork after what seemed like an eternity and was still dropping 7:30 pace effortlessly. I tried latching on but I was already slowly fizzling out. Don Ubaldo was making a rally from behind, he soon passed me as well. And buddy Mark passed me as well, looking fresh as ever. So this is all it would come down to. Just as with all my races, just as with my marathons. A very promising start only to choke at the end. It's a recurring theme, a recurring problem. Maybe ... maybe there's something wrong with what I'm doing. Maybe the problem is... . me. There is no greater dagger to one self-confidence than when one is getting passed left and right by your fresh-looking colleagues. It exacerbates a malignant notion slinking in the shadows. While racing the biggest race of one's career, the last thing you would want to happen is for self-doubt to creep in. Extraordinary circumstances call for an extraordinary effort, and no way are you going to pull that off without a certain modicum of self-belief. But isn't that what ultra running is all about? When both the will and the body have been broken, do you have enough to bring you home to that line?I want to puke. I'm dizzy. Maybe I was just being too brash. Who was I anyway, thinking I could just step in here and do a 100 miler without any serious long run training?These guys have been training for a year now. I didn't belong here. I knew I was in decent shape but I guess that just wasn't enough. I'm in pain, everything is painful. Maybe I should quit now and just suck it up later. Oh great Argow just passed me again. He does that every year around these parts. He's very strong. I wanna puke again. This was a big mistake. Where's Tito Lito Lapid? Maybe I could start to rally here just as I did last year. Finally, the crew is here. Maybe I can show them that I am still strong, get something good energy going. Good thing I have shades on. They can't see a defeated man's eyes.
Put up or Shut up From KM 70 onwards I was a dead man walking already. Abby was getting increasingly agitated and worried. My left foot was bothering me severely and I could barely move without significant pain. The crew was taking turns massaging and spraying, and ice cubes on my face seemed to help. I had to stop every kilometer, and finally we just changed my fancy Adidas socks into less fancy Adidas socks which were much more laspag and looser.
Which at that point I felt was what I needed. I had lost a lot of ground and this was all really getting to me. The competitive nut in me had wanted to do well in this race, showing everybody "it could be done" on a cross-train base. I had a chip on my shoulder if you would call it that. However, at this point that chip could have been easily mistaken for a heavy cross, as I was in heavy suffering.More stops. More pain.
Tirik mode. At that monent, I could never put a premium on the value of having an experienced ultrarunner like Abby on my crew. Her relentless approach last year worked wonders, and left my whiny self eating her dust. While everyone was sort of freaking out at my disheveled state, she was resolute in whispering to me "Tiis lang babe. Not too many breaks. You can do this. Just keep on moving forward, sayang time. I took solace in that and soldiered on. If I couldn't be strong, at least someone was being strong for me. And I could feed off that. And the journey continues... . Of Pain and Detours As my slowly deteriorating carcass was slowly marching through the dusty Pampanga highway, without a doubt I was a broken man both mentally and physically. I had a losers mentality and was already looking for reasons to quit. Km 80 could have been a world away and i wouldn't have known the difference. My pace had plummeted, my strategy out of sorts. What had started out as a promising race was going down the drain on account of a left foot that was swelling ridiculously. Each attempt at running was rewarded with pain, pain, and more pain. Masakit na. Ayaw na. What exacerbated things was that the crew took a left somewhere, ostensibly for a 1k detour. That 1k detour turned out to be 3.5k of hell without a support crew. No drinks,no nothing. Much to my consternation, turns out they could have just gone straight and ignored it, all the rest of the support cars were there. I was down and out. Suddenly, nightfall was approaching. How could I even dream of hitting 160k when I'm running on nonexistent fumes here? As I finally catch the crew after nearly four kilometers of non-existent support, it seemed like the end of the line for me. Battered, exhausted, I sat down somewhere near KM 80 and nearly collapsed while sitting down. Abby was very concerned already. She kept on muttering Just keep moving forward babe, you can do this. I believe in you. AJ and Duart were searching for inspirational quotes from their bag of tricks as well.Somewhere, seeing such a concerted effort from my team ignited a long recessive notion from within. In my frustration, I suddenly came to the realization - why the heck am I acting like such a sissy? I had already done this before! I'm a vet for crying out loud. Let's get this done! My swagger, which had somehow taken an inopportune time to take a VL, came back just in the nick of time. With renewed vigor, my head back on the right frequency, I went back out there with that predator's mindset that had been sorely missing for several hours now. Pain is just a word One slight problem. Energized as I was, the pain was slowly bordering on "enough to make me yelp" proportions. My form must have been god-awful. Anyway, I kept on whining like some lame greenhorn until I sort of just got fed up with myself. This was a war, and if I was going down I'd do so on my shield. In a journey not wanting of inspiration, there are some times that you just had to get the job done yourself. If some other people along the way saw me angrily muttering to myself, here's the inside scoop on what that was going on. Wimpy GBM : Ouch. Aray. Ang sakit na talaga. DNF na tayo koya, uwi na tayo please? BDM Vet Hard Core GBM : Ano ka ba?! Sali sali ka dito tapos aangal angal ka jan? Bwiset! Wimpy : Waaaah but it hurts so baaaad and I'm soooooo tired =,( Hard Core : You joined this stupid, the pain is to be expected. Duh! Do you seriously expect to run this long with no pain? You have got to be kidding me! Suck it up chump! You a tough guy or a wimp? Wimpy : Sungit mo naman... .. Not that I've degenerated into schizoprenia, but I needed to kick it up a notch if I had any intention of getting through this. I entered Km 80 a man possessed, suddenly I was hitting 8:00 pace with ease. The foot was extremely bothersome, but my mind and psyche were clear. Just keep moving forward. Dammit man. Get it together. Fighting for the fallen I had hit upon a fantastic formula that worked wonders for me and allowed both for enough rest and enough traction towards the goal. The support car would be there every 1k, so what I would do was that I would run for 1k, rest or sit down for a bit once I reached the car , walk 300 meters then run the next 700. It worked so well that it seemed that I could sustain for extended periods. Somewhere around the mid-80's I was shocked to see Bea and Dan around the route. But... . Mark was so far ahead of me right? She told me he had fallen behind a little to rest. As I probed what happened, I was told he was just tired, that's all. Ah, the typical swoon. But we all go through it and he would no doubt bounce back from it. I told Bea that I would be waiting up for him, a reprise of last year's end-game partnership seemingly forthcoming. My sudden resurgence suddenly catapulted me back into the thick of things. I ran into Singaporean ultra runner Kelly Lim, who told me she didn't know the way and was lacking in supplies, apparently her support crew was way behind. I instructed the gang to give her whatever she needed. I told her she could hang with me if she wanted, but her pace seemed way too strong for my injured left foot and methodical strategy.She thanked me and went on her way. The curious thing about the entire exchange was when she told me she was measuring her pace in steps. Not sure if that's a culture-specific thing, but I found it to be quite the novel approach. In the dark recesses of the land where tocino and sisig are king, the pain was considerable but I was sticking to my 700-300 run walk strat. Eerie headlamps defined shadowy figures identifiable only by their reflectorized vests, as we traversed a Kapampangan neighborhood that seemed to be comfortable in blithely ignoring us.Still, every time I would see a runner closing in I would ease up and check if it was Mark doing one of his trademark comebacks. Alas, it was another unfamiliar face marauding in the darkness. Where the heck was he? The crew was surprised at what seemed like a strong second wind from me, as I was arriving faster at our stops than what was previously trending. As I approached KM 90 in that tricky poblacion area that drove us nuts last year, turns out they were buying dinner at Jollibee and only AJ was left in the van. Before I could even ask him what our foodies were, he let go of a grim, tersely worded statement that rocked me to the core. Nag DNF na daw si Mark ... .. I couldn't believe it. Nearly 14 hours in, emotions were running high already. I was crestfallen, heartbroken. Like I could feel his pain myself. It was as if the enemy had successfully shot down one of my own. My lips quivered. This was my buddy, we had willed each other to the line last year. AJ even massaged him towards the end (he never let me forget). We were supposed to replicate that success this year. We've been in many wars together carrying the TPB bannerall season long and he was in phenomenal shape. He had trained so hard for this, as well as anyone I knew. I was at a loss for words at how that could have happened, more so that I knew how much he would fight to keep a DNF off his record. I was beside myself, I felt I let a friend down. Maybe if I were there I could have implored him to go on, helped him out bit by bit till he regained his senses and strength. Suddenly, sadness turned to worry. It had to be really serious for him to stop at that point. I implored AJ to give me more details, he didn't know either. Mark dropping out put a quick check on my own mortality. Reports would later come in that more and more friends were falling by the wayside. In my exhausted, sleep-deprived state, the pull of our close-knit fraternity dropping like flies emboldened me to push on. If there were an ultrarunning version of that scene in 300 where the captain goes berserk after his son gets decapitated, this was probably it. I hit 7:30 on my 310xt for a kilometer split at a time when the cumulative average was already around 8:40.
NoooooooooooooooI had to go on. For Mark, for everyone who had their dreams dashed by fate's cruel, unfeeling turn. It could have been me, could have been anyone. But I'm still around for a reason. This is for them. I have to take it home for them. Now let's get it done.
Let's do it for them. Just Get It To 102 At this point last year, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Just a wee bit more. I wrote : The pain in my left knee grew in intensity with each pause. My crew was pulling out all the stops to ensure that I made it. The pain was incredible. But to quit this near, after all that you've been through? No way in hell. If you told me that I had to roll down the road just to finish, I would have. This year, while I was presumably in better shape I was already slowing down significantly as I went past KM90. The adrenalin from my rallying cry around the plethora of DNF's had faded and the exhaustion was creeping in. As I marched on into the night, I was reminded on just how ludicrous the entire enterprise was in running the equivalent of nearly four marathons in 30 straight hours. Last year I barely made it in one piece to the line. This time around not only do I have to clear 102 kilometers, I have to run all the way to another province just to finish, 58 long kilometers away. Seriously. Who in the right mind would do this? I was dwarfed by the magnitude of the task at hand. As I was going through another late swoon, Wency, Chito and a couple of other warriors caught up with me. With differing run/walk patterns, we would alternate bursts of small talk along with taking the lead. I was weakening at this point, and I felt all alone . Mentally, making it to 102 meant the safe haven of a warm meal and the prospect of resting for more than the couple of seconds I had been giving myself for practically the entire journey.I kept on muttering just get it to 102, all will be well after. With pacers allowed 102 onwards, I was counting heavily on Abby, AJ and Duart to get me through in one piece. Before I could get there though, two pairs of shiny eyes suddenly hit my lamp. Dogs. Wild Dogs. Before I could even react, these uncuddly canines were chasing after me like I was a steak on two legs. At this point, this is truly the last thing you need. I just froze and walked calmly as their agitated, bloodthirsty growls resonated along the grim highway.Lucky.
Bad Doggie.As I allowed my blood pressure to settle down a few notches, I just realized that I still remembered quite distinctly each nuance this final stretch had to offer..I remember everything - my shuffling gait, the left to the eskinita, the cheers, the hug from BR. Everything is all still so vivid. Even amidst being embroiled in all this physical suffering, the reassurance of being in somewhat familiar conditions was invaluable. Soon, we would be leaving the comfort of these toiling grounds for a stab at the twilight zone. I check my watch. I actually have a shot at a 102 PR. In what was probably not the smartest move to do at that point , I yearned for a strong entry into KM102 so I "tempo ran" that final kilometer going as low as 7:00. At I approached the famous eskinita Abby, AJ and Duart were there to ensure I didn't get lost. I ran strong into the train station sixteen hours and 30 minutes after I had began to a cacophony of cheers from the remaining crowd, an hour erased from last year's finish. 102 kms done. 58 to go. Last year, this was the scene of our greatest triumph. Now, it is where we begin our greatest battle... .
A sight for sore eyes at KM102
Just like the good ol' daysPrelude To The Pain Finally, some semblance of "real" rest! I had worked long and hard for this so I would savor each second of it.I took off my shoes, got to stretch amd lie down for a bit, wolfed down a Burger Machine "double longga burger" for good measure. I heard some of the other warriors took a quick snooze as well. The 310xt got a fresh charge on Endure Multisport buddy/creative whiz Gerard Cinco's (of dimsumandsiomai fame) car charger. He was also kind enough to lend me his Garmin 405 to bridge the gap. Eternal thanks bro!
We put Salonpas on the throbbing upper arch of my bothersome left foot, some on the calves. Otherwise, I was okay. Or so I thought. Coming in at around 16:30ish, I decided to burn 30 minutes to simulate a 17 hour split , which more or less gives me 13 hours to complete that final 58k. I had fulfilled my short-term goal to bridge it to my pacers while keeping my sanity. Now the real challenge begins.
First up was AJ, my de facto crew chief from my BDM 102 campaign and eternal buddy. The plan was for him to cover anywhere from 5-10 kilometers while buying Abby some valuable shut-eye before she came on.. While not exactly a regular running denizen, AJ was a former UAAP Volleyball MVP and could count on his natural athleticism to take over should push come to shove. He was hyped up and raring to go as a strange new world awaited us out there.
BDM Card #2 right here.But before anything else, a couple of hiccups. First, for some incomprehensible reason I couldn't get my laces to stick.Perhaps the tender left foot had something to do with it as I was being OC with the tightness , but it took us at least five minutes to get the whole thing right. Talk about a momentum killer. Second - just get the heck out of the train station. Fast. We had traversed all around it, amidst what seemed like an abandoned rice paddy. A dog came right out and threatened to attack us. We were warned about the dogs, but seriously this was ridiculously way too early in the ball game. Much like the guardian pacer he was, Hasa bravely shooed the rabid dog away with his "shout and make gulat the doggie move". He would later confess that his cajones were being seriously compromised already, but he had to at least "pretend" to be strong in my severely weakened state. Thank God it worked. We finally were able to navigate our way around the labyrinthine area... only to wind up about 100 meters from where we had started. We could even see Sir Rene and Camilla Brooks from where we were. They probably thought we were messing around. Sheesh.
Apparently, it wasn't as simple as we thought.Crash Into Me We had wasted an inordinate amount of time just getting out into the main road, and I was deathly paranoid of getting lost at such a crucial juncture. My absence at that crucial, final test run was now coming back to haunt me. On the way to Macarthur Highway, I had AJ ask practically every manong if they saw runners along the route. Even if the answer was always in the affirmative, the eerie absence of support cars was agitating me. After asking like thrice, Hasa was like Ano, satisfied na? I probably muttered something unintelligible as a reply.
I tried to get on with the 700-300 formula that had worked so well for me, but after a solitary kilometer I felt sick. I was crashing. Hard. Again. Could the strong push leading to 102 drained my last reserves? I was hitting more than 17 hours of the road already. I guess the relative unfamiliarity of the terrain all added to this notion brewing in my head . Once I hit 103k , I was in no man's land. Pessimistic realities were beginning to form in my head. Damn, ang layo pa. Wala na akong ibibigay pa. I implored AJ that all I could do was walk first. All of a sudden, it seemed like I was in a daze. Parang high. To make matters worse, our support van was nowhere in sight. Apparently, Tito Caloy went freestyling on the route and insisted on the "Macarthur Highway" route that he knew... . which was going to Bulacan. Apparently, I wasn't the only one bonking. Try as I could, the legs were not responding. I was doing the tukod move at a higher ratio than at any point in the race. I almost even fell into AJ at one point. We were barely moving. Once again, fears of a late game choke were getting to me.Good thing that this was an all-too-familiar sight for my friend, having seen me buck injury and dehydration during the previous campaign. He still had his mental notebook full of pre-memorized inspirational quotes, but he didn't pull a single one. The one he did drop though, was probably the one that mattered the most. Kung sa akin nga lang pap, kung kaya lang kitang samahan ng 50k gagawin ko. A poignant moment in a journey made possible not by one man's singular effort, but by the collective sacrifices of those who share a single-minded determination to tow him to that finish line. Infused by a sudden stream of positive energy, it was just the thing I needed. Habol ng Habol Big steps lang. I tried running but gave up seeing that my "run" and AJ's walk were roughly around the same pace. So what's the point. Our progress was miserably slow. After close to an hour, me and AJ had only covered four ridiculous kilometers using this tactic and time was slowly ticking away. I was trying to get myself together by convincing myself that this hour long walk would serve as the much needed "rest" to help me once Abby came on. In pretty bad shape though. Ironically, AJ was somehow relieved when Duart offered to take over pacer duties. Apparently his surgically repaired knee was acting up, a heroic effort for a friend in need. Too bad I was too preoccupied battling my inner demons to fully appreciate it at the time
Hasa gutting it out after 5k
Duart raring to step up to the plate Once Duart had donned the official pacer's bib, we were off. He was jacked and amped up, perhaps a little too much for me in my rapidly diminished state. Given the horrid start to this final leg of our journey, we somehow had to make up for lost time. Around 19 hours in, I was fading badly and I sore in too many places than I could describe. My buddy, who was always the smartest guy in our class a decade ago, was hellbent on helping in any way he could. Some useless trivia : He once missed AJ's UAAP championship game, and was so disconsolate about it that he attended every single game the following season. Now that's what you call friendship! I am lucky to have him on my team.
He was listening to my instructions as much as he could while dropping the occasional motivational line, and we were making some semblance of progress. Pap, mental lang yan. Bumibigay na ang katawan pero it's all mental. Not sure if I got it verbatim but that's pretty much what I could remember.We had another mad dog episode, and he was brutally honest in telling me he wasn't exactly too thrilled with them wild doggies. A noble effort from my bud to keep me in there, but it was clearly bothering him. In short, at this point where my brain had pretty much short-circuited, I scarcely had any energy to to help him out against any anxiety as much as I wanted to. I needed to be carried, not the other way around. Another point of concern was when he told me he suddenly became dizzy, no doubt a byproduct of the sudden stress put upon his sleep-starved system. As much as Duart was shrugging it off, a glance on my watch was telling me we weren't trending well.
If only them Tarlac doggies were this cute At this rate, once Abby came on we might be too far behind already. But Duart still had 5k to go, and he seemed quite enthused with it. As much as I wanted to have my bud finish his full leg, the reality was that I needed Abby in there both for the physical and emotional boost, and I didn't think I could hang on for 5k more.As rhythmically disjointed as our current little sortie was, I was hanging on to the hope that once she came on, everything would fall back into place. I labored heavily with each run, my pain-wracked body slowly being battered into submission. At only 115k in, we were nearly 20 hours out there. 10 hours for 45k? In this state? I pushed the panic button and told good buddy Duart we had to cut short his stint. Always the proud warrior (he's already planning his own BDM 102 stint for next year. AJ is his support crew chief which rocks, problem is AJ doesn't know yet.), he seemed visibly bothered that I had cut his stint short. I scarcely had the energy to explain things, just muttered that it was all about "strategy"whatever that meant amidst his half-serious protestations. Once Abby saw her number called, she shifted to work mode instantaneously and snapped on the bib and my hydrobelt with baon gels. With one of the best ultrarunning pedigrees amongst all the pacers, she's a tremendous boon to my campaign. In the middle of the night, in some unknown highway, we had some serious catching up to do. Both literally and figuratively.
Super Abby to save the day Longest. Date. Ever. As we ventured into the great unknown, the "reserves" that I was storing during AJ and Duart's combined 10k stint somehow helped. The more I realized that we were running into Angeles City (yes, Angeles City. And yes, I started in Bataan, 20 hours ago.), all the more that the enormity of the entire experience was getting to my head. Each step was heavier, every breath more labored than ever. We started out strong thanks to Abby pushing the pace, but alas I couldn't ride out the heavy fade. My mind was starting to play tricks with me already. If there was such a thing as a "running pseudo lucid dream", I was probably doing it already. It felt like my brain was kicking into " dream mode" - while I was still running. Seemed like a bizarro mix of both a dream and a hallucination at the same time, and the line between fantasy and reality was severely blurred at this point. No idea if I was dreaming or not anymore.
Sabaw I regain a semblance of reality to the faint sobs of my worried girlfriend, who had been rock steady and strong the entire time. Apparently, I was already lying down the concrete pavement at some Angeles City bridge, my submission to mortality compounded by a suddenly biting wind. She was at a loss for words, the complexity of being a pacer tasked to bring you to the line intersecting with that of a petrified loved one. Diliryo. Yes, that's what they call it. I want to quit already. So many people have fought the good fight and called it a day already. Maybe I should do the same. ...
An emotional turning point... .A Walk On The Dark Side Somehow, Abby's resolute pleadings got me back on my feet again. However, as we plodded our way to Tarlac it was becoming harder and harder with no relief in site. The thermostat suddenly dropped out of nowhere and I started to shiver uncontrollably, to the point that my chest began to hurt already. I was forced to wear the only warm thing available - Tito Caloy' frumpy windbreaker. As much as this was the last place where you could be judged for a fashion faux pas, I took it off the moment I got warmer. Smirk. At this point I could only run for about 200 or so meters before stumbling around the dark, dusty abyss en route to Tarlac. It was a painful, arduous process. I would beg for a chance to sit down. Abby was adamant. Sayang time. Kaya pa yan. What a whiner. So many of our fellow warriors had passed us already, some I haven't seen since the start of the race. Gosh, I must have lost so much time already. Two enigmatic, shadowy figures emerge from the woodwork, plodding ninjas who had seemingly lost their way. Turns out it was the veteran ultra duo of George Dolores and Ralph Salvador, battle tested warriors who were likewise succumbing to their demons within. Aabot pa ba tayo?Di na namin gagawin to uli, kalokohan to! Seeing two proud veterans fighting their demons to the very end seemed to embolden me. If they are still in this... . no reason I shouldn't be. You know how they say that in a marathon your second wind kicks in just when you need it the most? I had used mine hours ago. That third and fourth? A distant memory. I'm running on empty here as we were approaching the 130k mark. A quick glance at the trusty 310xt. Not good. Not good at all. At this rate, there would be no way would be finishing within cutoff. I felt my dreams slowly fading, dissipating before my tired, weary eyes. The body had given up, the pain too immense. My spirit a meek spectator to the entire spectacle. Abby was slowly getting exhausted trying to coax something out of me, to no avail. But inside of me, a different storm was brewing. So that's it?This is how it's all going to end Luis? You just plain gave up? You bothered so many people, spent so much money, put yourself through this much pain, only to fail at the end? Think of how the Facebook statuses would come out tomorrow, how people would be sympathetic to your stupid excuses. Keep this crap up, and you will fail. Are you content with the whole "just making it to the start line is a victory" crap? You came here with a specific goal in mind. You want that buckle right? You want the cynics to shut the hell up right?? Are you going to quit on Abby? On Hasa and Duart after everything that they have done for you? On the five people who will read your story on your crappy blog? What a damn lousy story that would be. More than anything, do it for yourself. Do you want to be remembered as a quitter forever?
On life support and needing a miracle Desperate times call for desperate measures. When all else was failing, I swung for the fences with nothing left to lose. How? Simple, really. I pissed myself off. Yes, you read that right. I was trying my darn best to piss myself off. Before my brain decided to shut itself down completely, I had this bright idea that the only way to save my race was for my adrenalin to go into overdrive. It's the fight or flight paradigm at play, and I gave it one final heave. If this failed, there was nothing more I could do but accept that maybe this wasn't really meant for me. It's a sober reality that I would probably deal with for the rest of my life. Everything was hinging on this. I couldn't fail. I REFUSE to fail. Luis : NO!!! I CAN'T LOSE! I PUT TOO FREAKING MUCH INTO THIS!! QUIT?? NOW?? YOU GOT TO BE !@#$ KIDDING ME!! LET'S GO!! Abby : ???!!!! The result was nothing short of spectacular, For one completely inspired, ethereal stretch, everything just clicked. The adrenalin was overflowing. All the pain disappeared., not a trace. I was running like I just started on one of them BHS races. Abby was shocked out of her wits, but kept pace as much as she could. We were passing the others at will, and it was just an incredible turn of events. At a time when we were covering about 4 kilometers an hour tops at around 15:00 min/km pace, we zoomed to an unfathomable (given the circumstances) 5:50 min/km pace. Even I myself was shocked. In plain and simple terms, we had earned back that extra hour that we had lost earlier with the effort.
And in one fell swoop, we were back in the game.
Cruise Control
We had to slow down eventually and fall back into a run/walk pattern as it was Abby's turn to bonk. The sudden speedwork zapped her, and our support car was nowhere to be found. AJ and Duart were plotting our trends in between naps, and they had missed out on the sudden surge. They were at least 5 kilometers away and couldn't seem to find us in their best Keystone Cops routine. Abby was running out of water and Gato as the sudden anaerobic spurt was getting the best of her. With the national engineering boundary for Tarlac in sight, it was somewhat my turn to keep her in there. Eventually the groggy gang caught up, likewise shocked at the little stunt we pulled off.
The adrenalin had worn off and everything was starting to hurt again, but at least Abby was better. As we soldiered on into the wee hours of the new day, we were comfortably settling into a pattern that we had first used when I paced her for the original Rizal Day 32k. It entailed choosing targets from within the prevailing landscape and run to that with no excuses. Let's run to the green house. Waiting shed. 2nd big telephone pole. From this point forth every second counted, each second running providing us a bigger buffer for what promises to be an explosive endgame.
Twenty Four Oras
Set a target. Run.Walk. Rest. As we were nearing the 24 hour mark entering the Tarlac capitol, I was fighting with everything I had. I could scarcely believe that I was still here - alive, standing, running and with a real shot at taking this home. Good vibes. Even the boys were egging me on. Let's do this pap. Let's take this home.
Hitting the 24 hour mark was a poignant, goosebump inducing- milestone. But it wasn't over. Not just yet.
Daytime Shocker
Shocking, because I was still here. Because Abby was approaching 30k pacing me with nary a sign of fatigue. But the single most shocking, absolutely mind-blowing thing that jolted our senses was seeing a crumpled, hobbling figure on the other side of the road. It was Tatay Jonel. I last saw him just after the 50k mark and had figured he had finished hours before.. He looked deathly pale, and our attempts to ask what was wrong were met with some semi-lucid hand gestures, presumably gesturing us to go ahead. Another dagger straight into our hearts. .If I were Daniel- san, he was Master Miyagi. If this were a war, that was our general right there. And right now our general was telling me to leave him and let him be. Reluctantly, we had to pass him, taking painful solace in the thought that this was his battle to face, his mountain to conquer. Just a bit more, and glory would be his.
Hopefully, it would all be ours.
100% Pure Guts
Digging Deep
The sun was starting to beat down and the pain on my left foot was off the charts. Any form of movement would generate a certain level of pain that seemingly only a shot of morphine could negate. Nevertheless, the excitement was building, and we were trending well as we were entering the 140k mark. I could sense it in Abby's voice. We got this babe!! Just a bit more!
Meanwhile, the crew was on chillax mode. A supremely confident AJ was already looking at breakfast plans while Duart was doing a little premature celebrating
Breakfast, anyone? Wrong Mistake
I was trying to amp up every step as we were hitting the right turn that was supposed to lead us to the Capas National Shrine. Pain was mortifyingly bad, I've run out of adjectives to describe it. If my Garmin was correct, we just had 13 more kilometers to go to glory. You know how towards the latter part of a marathon, say around 40-41k, you just attempt to block out everything in an attempt at a strong finish? I was trying to pull off the same thing here. In my head, we got this, let's get it over with. As we reached the crossroad, me and Abby ran into Coach Rey Antoque for the final pangtali which serves as your time stamp (they have a knack for just appearing out of nowhere). I asked him how much further, 12k na lang daw. But my strategy was thrown into disarray when veteran ultra dude Ron Sulapas, still very much in the game, told us it was more like 18k out. 18k??You have got to be kidding me. Coach just said 12k! Abby was getting pissed off because we couldn't seem to get a clear picture of much further we were going. Even AJ and Duart weren't quite sure. Thankfully, Doc Art somehow managed to catch up with us, and he seemed to know the way. Amidst the last-minute chaos, a glanced at my watch. If it were 18k more... .
I need to start running. Now.
Malayong malayo pa Kuya... .
It's getting to be hot. Really hot. Once again, the lack of a test run couldn't have been more evident as we entered the busy, winding streets going to the shrine. For someone who had made it to to this point relying heavily on pace, distance and time projections... . now I didn't have the slightest damn idea where we were going. Or how far we were. Abby was starting to look a little bit wasted, but was tremendously effective as a drillmaster/inspirational leader. The pain, oh God I don't want to think about the pain anymore. I knew that they were all blistered up, but at this point that was the last thing on my mind. Just wanted this over and done with. I tried asking a tricycle dude how far off we were from the shrine, and was met with an incredulous reply that serves as the header of this paragraph. Digging into what seemed to be my 7th wind already, I was spilling my blood and guts onto that pavement already. Malayo pa ba... ..
Panandaliang Ligaya
AJ and Duart were scrambling to get distance projections and to give nearly per kilometer support for us. This was the final stretch. Winning time baby. I had gone through so many up and down cycles that I had lost track already. The term "threshold of pain" has been redefined several times already that I may just end up giving it an altogether different meaning after the whole thing. Quite truly, it takes a different animal to tame this distance. I would whine incessantly, the lack of a clear goal bothering me. AJ kept on trying to explain the projections but nothing was entering my brain. Both me and Abby were at the mercy of the elements, and right now it wasn't showing that much.
After what seemed like an eternity of pain, the gates of the Capas National Shrine beckoned. Me and Abby were going nuts, the joy was impossible to contain. She kept on telling me that she was proud of me. But wait, there was a catch. To successfully complete the distance, we had to do an extra loop past the monument and back to do a full 100-miler. We were all told of this beforehand. Problem with me was, in my semi-delirious state we thought it was pretty near. I could swear that someone said 5k na lang! Malapit na!
Rule #1 : Don't listen to strangers.
Rule #2 : Never, EVER take "malapit na" at face value.
Rule #3 : " 5k" is relative .
The Final Showdown
Pain. Suffering. Guts. Determination. It's been such an emotional rollercoaster for us and I couldn't stop thanking Abby for willing me to this point. We got news that there have been only been less than twenty finishers, maybe I could even crack the top 20. So all we need to do is cruise, relax, game over. We couldn't have been more mistaken about the entire thing. You know that feeling when you know the race is over and your levels start to normalize? Then all the aches and pains come in? Of course it's normal.
My problem was, it happened to me just a couple of kilometers early.
AJ and Duart were intentionally withholding it at that time, but they knew that the full route was a 4.5 killer uphill and back to cover the missing 9k from the original 151k historic route. Our first inkling was when we saw TPB icon Junrox Roque looking spent, probably the first time I ever saw him him in that state. Argow, OJ, Kelly Lim, I haven't seen them in hours and yet there they were on the homeward journey. Two things. Either they had all slowed down like crazy... . or that final stretch was so far out and difficult that it took them forever to get back. I wasn't about to put my money on the former.
That last 4.5k uphill stretch ranks as probably the greatest physical and mental challenge I have ever faced. After 150 kilometers of running over nearly 27 hours , an extended uphill stretch is the last thing you would ever want to see at that point. Everything was sinking in, my system rejecting everything. I was puking out the gels, and even Gatorade was nauseating. The heat was simply unbearable. I wanted to collapse. Every labored step would elicit a pained yelp from me. If I were to capture a microcosm of the suffering and sacrifice of the actual Death March, I was going through it right there. Abby was compelling me to move forward, but she was in tears as she could see, feel my suffering so near the goal.
Mybody and mind have both shut down. I have squeezed every last ounce of humanly strength that I could. There is... . nothing more. To the last drop. The uphill climb seems to be endless with no relief in sight. Going up the hill with my eyes closed, I nearly fall over Abby. My battered soul lets a blood curdling yell, a final testament to the flawed limits of human physical endurance. Truly, why did I ever subject myself to this anyway? When will it ever end?
Alas, I refuse to be denied. This is it. This is my moment. When all is gone, the spirit will always remain. I am running on utter fumes and Abby is willing me to that line. Because as one would realize when doing ultramarathons, , this " war" that I've been harping about since the very beginning is not fought on a battlefield with guns or soldiers or generals. It is fought in the inner recesses of your own mind. Drawn out into the outer fringes of your own heart. YOU are your greatest enemy... .. and greatest ally at the same time. It is a dichotomy that has no equal, accessible only to the chosen few who dare tread that fine line.
Suck it up. Pain is temporary. Glory is forever.
Everything is just a blur now, unraveling in my head as some high- definition, stop-motion slideshow. That final agony of running downhill. Running into Cebu ultragal Haide Acuna who was going strong as she entered her own final battle. Entering the monument while running at full speed, tears streaming down our cheeks as the magnitude of an accomplishment that couldn't have been farther from reality was slowly sinking in. The unbridled, once-in-a-lifetime joy of finally crossing a finish line 29 hours and 30 minutes after I had left its counterpart a hundred miles away. Hugs from the man who gave me a chance to show my mettle when very few believed I could do it. Hugs from a crew who didn't have to do it, but did anyway for the sake of a friendship that has stood the test of time. Hugs from the best girlfriend in the universe, who gave so much of herself to the endeavor and whose unshakable, iron-clad belief in my ability when even I myself had lost faith proved to be the winning quotient.
I said it once, I'll say it again - BDM is not for the faint of heart. But for those who dare, it will provide that introspective journey that life in general is largely bereft of . It affects you. It changes your emotional blueprint, and shakes the very foundations of your self-belief at its most visceral level. It's a life's experience's life experience, providing you with tall tales of glory and determination meant to be passed down from this generation to the next.
To those who are wondering if I will ever subject myself to the same, er, unique experience in the future, the answer is a big resounding NO. Never. Never ever.
But then again, wasn't that the exact same thing I said last year?
Let’s go for a walk, round the big block, yes it’s a country block, but that’s what makes it so appealing. Fresh air, wildflowers, birds, and farmers taking in the crop before the next rain shower.
Let’s walk past the horses, and the chicken barn, can you smell that? Yes, fresh country air.
The sheep are up in the top field, good thing I brought my camera. They are not always around by the road. The lambs are getting so big.hard to believe they were little just a few months ago.
This always makes me realize why we love it so much here… look at Mount Rose Swanson in the background. I climbed that last year. Can you believe it? I know, me either, but it really wasn’t too hard… now don’t laugh at me.
The blackbirds are nesting, we should hurry by, they don’t like it when we stop, you should hear them chattering away. Well, who builds a nest by the side of the road?
Look over there, the last of the late lilacs, don’t they smell sweet?
Just one more big hill to climb, and it’s downhill all the way… Isn’t this the cutest driveway you have ever seen?
Almost home… PS: Some of the comments have questions that need to be answered… not my shoes, but I love those laces, and not my driveway. Our place is just around the corner, and much tidier. Jane
A foggy morning, cold and damp. We head off to Fort Langley, the birthplace of BC. The site of the original Hudson's Bay trading post, and now a national park.
A lovely small town atmosphere permeates this quaint and historic little village. Most of the newer building following guidelines to maintain the continuity. It is a coveted place to live.
We drove by the antique cemetery, with the fog rolling past, perfect for a Halloween month.
There is a restored train station complete with a caboose.
Antique stores abound, with shoes stores, restaurants, coffee shops and churches all lining the streets. You might even recognize the Fort Langley Hall, from various movies on TV.
During my college years I worked weekends at this tiny building, in exchange for watercolor lessons. Every time a train passed by, not further than 3 feet from the walls, I would have to run and grab all the pottery falling off of the shelves.
Fort Langley remains a favorite place for us to slip back into time, and always offers some great photo opportunities.
Our friends at Sunrise Events, Inc. headed by it’s President and Chairman and also Alaska Milk CEO Fred Uytengsu – the same people who have brought to us the Cobra Energy Drink Ironman 70.3 race in the Philippines for two years in a row has again brought to Philippine shores another world-renowned sporting brand. Xterra, said to be the “de facto world championship of off-road triathlons”. Cool stuff.
Xterra Philippines has just recently held it's initial offroad race, a biathlon called Putik Pare last month at Nuvali, Sta Rosa, Laguna. This January 30, 2011, Xterra Philippines is set to hold it's trail running race dubbed as Pang Rave Run, with venue at the Tagayay Highlands.
Don't you notice their penchant for fun kalog ( does anyone still bother to use that nowadays?) names for their races? First Putik Pare, now this. Must be a fun place to work at.
Anyway, here's the presser. To trail fans out there, this seems to be a can't miss.
Did you enjoy XTERRA’s Putik Pare biathlon (I didn't know there was such a thing lol )held in Nuvali? Are you in search of a different and thrilling run this time? Do you want to experience an extraordinary physical rush? If your answer is yes, then we bet you’ll enjoy even more XTERRA’s unique and rare Trail Run entitled “Pang Rave Run!” this coming January 30, 2011 at Tagaytay Midlands. Join the most enjoyable, root slipping, mud hopping, tree ducking and hill climbing race in the country today! Take the challenge of running on a mountainous terrain while enjoying the breathtaking view of Taal Volcano and feeling the cool breeze in Tagaytay. Exciting cash prizes awaits the winners for the Male and Female Categories! Register now, book your hotel and slip on those running shoes for the most action-packed trail race adventure! Travelling to Tagaytay Midlands was also made easy for you! Check out the shuttle service schedule below and reserve a seat now! Be raved! Be thrilled! Be fired-up! XTERRA’s “Pang Rave Run!” is definitely the kind of run that you’ve been searching for! RACE DETAILS:1. REGISTRATION PERIOD: - December 1, 2010 to January 23, 2011 (both online and in-store registration) 2. REGISTRATION VENUES:ONLINE: http://www.xterraphil.com (MAJOR CREDIT CARDS ACCEPTED) IN-STORE: - RUNNR - Bonifacio High Street - SABAK SPORTS Unit 401 Auto Precinct, Westgate Center Filinvest, Alabang, Muntinlupa Cit - SECOND WIND uNIT 03A Ortigas Home Depot Julia Vargas Ave., Pasig City 3. REGISTRATION FEE: 10K - PHP 1,000 Inclusions: - Race Bib - Finisher's Shirt made with Technical Material - Buffet Breakfast - Loot Bag - Xterra Race Belt 21K - PHP 1,500 Inclusions: - Race Bib - Finisher's Shirt made with Technical Material - Buffet Breakfast - Loot Bag - Xterra Race Belt - Xterra Visor
Free stuff
I want one. 4. SHUTTLE SERVICE - A round trip bus service is available to participants for a minimal fee of PHP 250. Details of shuttle schedules: A. Pickup from Bonifacio Global City going to Tagaytay: 1st batch – 3:00 AM 2nd batch – 3:30 AM B. Leave Tagaytay back to Bonifacio Global City: 1st batch – 11:00 AM 2nd batch – 2:00 PM 5. ASSEMBLY and GUN START TIMES ASSEMBLY GUN START 21K - 5:00 AM 5:30 AM 10K - 6:00 AM 6:30 AM 6. OTHER NOTES: *21K Race Participants are advised to bring head lamp *for further inquiries, please contact: secretariat@xterraphil.com
Hey gang. I took a week off due to a very hectic schedule, but otherwise here's the latest lowdown on all and and sundry in the running and multisport communities.
Multisport aficionados are buzzing about the country's participation at Ironman China on May 29th, with the Philippine delegation presumably campaigning under the "One Pilipinas" banner. The full Ironman distance will be held on May 29th, and this early the country's top triathletes are already ramping up for what promises to be one of the most highly anticipated multisport events of the current season.
The year's edition will be held at a completely new venue in Jixian, Tianjin province. The race takes advantage of the perfect late spring weather of the locale, and people are scrambling to look for wetsuits as temperatures during the swim leg ( to be held at a clean water reservoir) are expected to be in the low 20's. Among others, Endure Multisport's ITU Level I Coach James Dulalia is expected to compete in the 70.3.
2012 goal : IM China. Smirk. Wait, I need to learn how to swim a wee bit faster.I timed myself swimming 500m and the average was 3:18 per 100m. Wow. Any recos regarding a coherently structured program?
One of them more hilarious threads in Takbo.ph has someone creating a firestorm amongst running denizens by stating that he's aiming for a 4:30 marathon with 6 weeks training. He's an admittedly newbie runner with a 2:15 21k pr. 2:15 x 2 = 4:30. Makes total sense (x_x). While I can't discount the possibility that he may be a genetic freak blessed with iron will, truly there is nothing scientific about this approach and leaves a lot of room for long term injury. Seems that there's an obsession with distance amongst the newer runners, like some sort of prestige thing. I can't blame them, I was once in their shoes. But latest news through the grapevine is that a lot of the newbies who rushed into buying a 42k slot are "downgrading" due to injury. Conventional wisdom (or lack of it) wielding its ugly head? Don't say we didn't warn you. Oftentimes we all feel invincible until it actually happens to us.
Congratulations to my TPB fellas for snagging three of the top 10 slots during BR's first BDM test run. Why do I get the feeling you guys raced it like a marathon?
On a happy note, congrats to Takbo.ph head first couple Jinoe and Que for welcoming their first- born , cute baby Gab. I think this early, they're already having him undergo heat training :P
Heat training this early never hurt
"Holdapan" is on the rise with both road and mountain bikers very susceptible to syndicates on the prowl for expensive bikes. To all our fellow cyclists out there, extra prudence and vigilance. It's good that Senator (and sometimes cyclist) Pia Cayetano has actively sought out the help of the PNP in thwarting these so-called bikejackers. These bikes represent a massive investment on the part of their owners, and this announcement somehow alleviates the growing concern brewing in the community. Even if the skeptic would say that it is only political grandstanding, a placebo never hurt right?
Last I checked, using a gel during a race was never considered "cheating". Let me check again ha.
To cyclists : does using Viagra during a race really help your performance by as much as 40%? Wouldn't there be a little, er, stiff discomfort down there?
It works. It really does.
If I have Team Powerpuff Boys for running, I also have a newly formed dedicated cycling team! Say hello to Quest 825 Cycling :) It's a mixture of cyclists from different multisport teams, and we'll try to give the pros a run for their money.
Quest 825 Cycling at PCL's Jala-Jala Classic
Okay, maybe that would take a little more time . Having previously completed Bike King's Tour of Matabunkay (dubbed as the premiere multi-day road race event for amateur cyclists) in god-awful conditions, I had a certain amount of confidence coming into this race. The team had spent the past couple of weekends toiling around the proposed race route at a strong pace, and regular speed work with the pro peloton at the Mall of Asia had us pretty hopeful for this race. A more discerning eye could even call it subliminal swagger. Fate had other ideas though. A late assembly caused us to reach the start line at Pililia barely 15 minutes before the race was about to start. Suffice to say, all that last minute rushing didn't exactly put us in the most relaxed state of mind. My eerie observation was that there were barely any triathletes around. This seemed to be a pure cycling event where we were virtual noobs from the outside looking into a close- knit fraternity. The peloton breezed through a fast-paced neutral zone for the first 40k, but even then the rough roads of Jala-Jala were taking its toll. I've never seen so many cyclists get flat tires. A portent of things to come? Just as we were prepping for the start of the breakaway, a guy was avoiding a ginormous crater on the road and tried to cut left. Unfortunately, in perhaps a split-second loss of focus, he missed out on speeding pros who were catching up after the requisite jingle . Hard break. My tire hits his tire. I uncleat. Some guy hits me from behind. I fall over.Pain. Guys to the right ram right straight into me while I'm on the ground. Wheel straight to shoulder. More pain. At that point it was sheer machismo that had me prop straight back up, but damn my knee and shoulders hurt like heck. I haven't gone 500 meters when I was pulled over by a marshal, turns out my transponder was bent to the point that it was nearly hitting my wheel. By the time I had sorted everything out, the road was as deserted as high noon at the OK Corral. The pain was not deathly, but bad enough to add to the aggravation of doing an ITT over a hilly 110 km course. Thoughts of just calling it a DNF day constantly swirled through my head. Entering the 8k climb at Mabitac, my overcompensated left leg started to cramp up bad, and I was forced to dismount several times (rubdowns from our teammates supporting were a boon) After a draining mental battle, I finally reached the hilltop finish and almost instantaneously cramped up on both legs. As I would learn later, it was a tough day at the office for nearly everyone. Endure powerhouse Erick Guieb ( the only Cat 3 rider on the team) also crashed and lost significant minutes off his target. Multisport vets James Dulalia and Ronald Declarador DNF'd. Strong riders Emil Ancheta and Julius Dela Rosa both succumbed to cramps and exhaustion. If any,mercurial Jason Dela Rama made up for a string of shaky performances by finishing strong and bullstrong Wilnar Iglesia's better-than-expected time were bright spots, but in general the team had a tough day at the office. Back to the drawing board, but there's nowhere to go but up.
Preparing for two big events spanning two disciplines (PCL and Condura) is tough, and somehow I feel burnt out. A 130k ride/32k run combo on successive days left me sluggish for the entire week after.Once again, back to the drawing board.
As we welcome one new life into the world, sadly another one is snuffed out in the cold of the night. Yesterday, the entire multisport and ultramarathon communities lost a member of the family in J Cu Unjieng, who succumbed to a severe case of pneumonia. I'm not completely in the know with regard to what exactly happened, but word is ever since he collapsed at a Cebu race he was never the same. We both have regular columns with Frontrunner magazine, and I got to run with him for a good 20-30k during the last edition of BDM. There was a time I didn't know a lot of these fancy triathlon people, and he was one of the first to make me feel welcome in the community. Always self-effacing, I last saw him during speedwork at MOA two or three months ago. The vicious abruptness with how his disease progressed was nothing short of shocking. The world will miss your talent and wit my friend, may you rest in peace.
Massive loss for the community. Anyway, bittersweet news for this edition. Alas, we soldier on. See you all next week, catch you on the road.
