As I attempt to write this, one glance at the clock reveals I have exactly 25 minutes to somehow pull this off before lunch break ends. Aaaah... . trappings of the harassed yet decidedly sanguine corporate warrior. 24 Minutes. Yikes.

Why hello old friends. Did my five fans miss me? Running four months without a single article, I find it hard to fathom I could go on that long without any output. Alas, that's the reality I dwell in nowadays. No articles, no presscons, no fluff pieces, no nothing. My last official piece of written work was the cover story I did on Ani De Leon for Frontrunner, and even that I only saw about a month after it came out on stores. Contrary to popular belief, I have not retired nor have I been holed up in some cave. What happened was... .. I got a new job. Goodbye academe (at least for the meantime) and hello corporate life. Anyway, the long and short of it is that I'm suddenly encumbered with an exponentially more challenging gig coupled with the fact that my workplace is now on the other side of the map. The flexibility that living 5 minutes away from your office has brought for the last couple of years is now a distant memory.

It's a new way of life, yes. Somehow lost in the muck was the fact that I'm still actually training for an Ironman. Or rather, the Ironman 70.3 to be held at Camsur this August 14th to be more accurate. Oh my. Training? Ano yun? From being in the best shape of my life several months ago, I am merely fighting to finish at these races. I can only cringe at not being able to pull my weight for my Quest 825 Tri Team, more so with so many synergistic partnerships on board for us. Robbed of all forms of mileage, each step towards that finish line is more akin to a test of the human spirit rather than a competitive test of fitness. Sigh. How much I envy this dude.

Nevertheless, you guys know I'm as game as anyone out there so I'll still give it my best shot. I've hacked out my last two races on shameless guts alone, because to be very honest with you, I don't have much of anything left. Foolhardy perhaps, but somehow I always have this crazy notion that I could pull it off. And while the results haven't been pretty, I'm still hanging in there. A sub-3 hour target finish at the Olympic-distance Subic International Triathlon turned into a 3:08 debacle with an unexpected implosion during the run portion. Lack of training? Check.

Hanggang porma na lang. Next in line was the Tri United Matabungkay triathlon, a 2k-60k-15k humdinger that serves as the warmup race for Camsur. A lingering back injury (I'll explain later) rendered my bike leg into pretty much a leisurely spin, and once again cramps did me in over the final 5k of the run portion. BDM 160 champ/Quest Tri buddy Wilnar even barbequed me with a kilometer to go despite gaining more than 30 minutes on him from the swim. Yeah, that bad. Lack of training? Um, check. I was even compelled to do pushups at the line, a consequence from a friendly bet the team had for the bottom three finishers. Wilnar owes me a drink. Not that I'm complaining though - in spite of all the crap that went down I still somehow managed to hit the elusive qualifying time for the Timex 226 triathlon in Bohol by the skin of my teeth. Timex 226 is the first full Ironman distance (3.8k-180k-42k) race in the country over the past nine years so its a big honor just to make it there. And with thirty-four seconds to spare, it could have gone either way. Whew.

Which brings me back to Camsur. It's supposed to be the far reaching goal, the big shebang. And suddenly I'm on the hook for an even greater challenge this December. In a season where I also finished my first 160k race, this seemingly perverse proclivity towards pain and suffering is starting to ignite deep, burning questions within myself. Like, "WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?" But hey, it's a fun life and we only live once right? Might as well go through it with a bang.

With roughly a 70% reduction in training hours and mileage, this one goes out to all the corporate warriors out there - how the hell could you reconcile a microscopic training window while training for a long distance triathlon without your wife kicking you out of the house? Here are some rudimentary tips I have cobbled together. I'm not saying they would necessarily work for you, but I think what I'm trying to say here is you pretty much don't have a choice. Smirk.

Don't let it happen.
The Art of The Three-Hour ,Er, Sleep

With so little time on your hands your first priority should always be to fulfill all family duties and work you bring home, keeping the missus (or mister) plus the kids happy. Where does that leave your training regimen? If you're a zero work flexibility dude like me, it's usually the first to get wiped out. The solution? Learn how to sleep on three hours so you can still wake up at 4 am in the morning to do your 60k-15k brick at MOA.
Now, if you end up falling asleep at your board meeting, load up on two bottles of Cobra beforehand. Drink it. Straight. Bottoms up. Everything. Better to be a doped up zombie than a sleeping fool.

It never hurts.

Lunch Out... . To Run With every minute ever so precious, try to sneak in some much-needed heat training mileage for the Camsur "Energy Lab" by eschewing lunch altogether. Screw food, gels are cooler. While everyone is engrossed in water cooler chatter and tsismis step out of those Van Heusen' s (or high heels) and discreetly step into those K-Ona's. Wear a visor low to render you unrecognizable to a potentially lunch-outing boss. Once done, rush to the office john and splash on as much water as you could on your face, then come out whistling "ang init, sarap maghilamos no?"

Pasimple lang. Maximize your weekend. Understatement of the year. If you work half-day Saturdays like me, that leaves you with roughly a six-hour Saturday window and a half-day Sunday window (if you actually go to church. Or have a family. Or a semblance of a life. If not, kindly ignore. In the most anti-scientific manner possible, cram all three sports plus a gym workout into that window. It works great. promise. You can finish your race if you don't mind extreme discomfort, pain, suffering, agony or the specter of some random injury popping up. During the weeks leading up to Tri United and during the race itself, my back had as much pliability as my octogenarian grandpa. As i said, I don't necessarily endorse this. It sucks, it really does. But to theeveryday working dude/dudette out there, do we really have a choice? See you at the line in Camsur people, I sure as heck hope that there are no more pushups waiting for me there. And if I may add, it feels mighty damn good to be blogging again. :)

Editor's Note : This is coming in about two weeks late, but what the heck I got busy. Again. Anyway, enjoy the fruits of my forsaken lunch break.

For most newbies to the sport, the annual exodus to Camarines Sur to compete in the only Ironman-branded triathlon competition in the country is much akin to a rite of passage. Get the shirt, get the photo-op, get the fancy sticker on your bike. Bask in the glory of "ayan na si Ironman" (and all the lame Tony Stark jokes) at the office water cooler. Hang out at the neighborhood pool and revel in the " Pare musta Camsur mo?" conversation with the batak dude on the next lane. Hey, make it worth your $250 right?

Seriously though, it's still the biggest multisport event in the country. And with its third incarnation in the bag, it just became bigger with more than 1,000 athletes gathered in the water that morning last August 14th. Why bother to tri? People have different reasons. Some join in for the heck of it. Some are in there to just see if they could stack up, a personal test of will if you may call it that. Some have enough chutzpah to make the race their first triathlon, which ends in either a personal Everest conquered or a painful crash back to reality (or the pavement. And hopefully not the bottom of the lake).
So we have our reasons, that's a given. As for myself, if you've been following my site from the very beginning you should know I'm a gamer when it comes to these things. A recent accounting check showed that I have been spending a ridiculous amount on races, gear, logistics, etc. I don't know about you, but I can't swallow that amount and leisurely trot around races with the pure intent of merely surviving the cutoff. I have to take my training seriously and make this count, lest the motivation for getting a fancy, technologically advanced six-figure bike is relegated for pure japorms purposes alone.

Thing is, what if there's well, nothing to take seriously? As I mentioned in my previous article, the high-wire act that most age-group triathletes take in balancing these significant training hours with the other aspects of "normal" life is probably more of a challenge than the race itself. If you're a regular 9-5 corporate warrior who actually relishes having more than four hours of sleep or possesses some semblance of a social life, this is incredibly tough to execute. Something has to give at one time or another. With the specter of a new job on the horizon just as short-course season was about to end, I opted to focus on the more mundane trappings of each pencil-pushing suit out there. And yet, the fight never really left me. An attempt to squeeze as much juice as I could out of my limited training hours resulted in a rash of nabigla injuries and ego-deflating training sessions as I vainly tried to keep up with my superbly conditioned Quest 825 teammates. With my performance slipping with each race, the goal of competing in the Timex 226 full Ironman distance triathlon this December seemed but a foolhardy afterthought. Stringent qualifying times notwithstanding (at least with my current fitness level), my "secret" endurance sport dream of completing the Bataan Death March 160k Ultramarathon, Ironman Camsur 70.3 and Timex 226 all in one season couldn't have been any farther from reality. Pop that bubble and go back to signing memos you fool.

Wishful thinking never hurt

But then with a stroke of luck and a dash of inspiration, the fates smiled on us once more at the Tri United long course triathlon held in Matabungkay. Even as a crippling back injury rendered me a virtual crash-test dummy during the run leg, the splits were just good enough to have me qualify by the skin of my teeth. Thirty- four freaking seconds to spare before the 4:45 cut-off, considered the tougher of the two qualifying standards given ( the other being a 6:45 for the Camsur 70.3)

A miracle can happen... .

That, in a nutshell, gives you the context of my race in Camsur. With the pressure of qualifying out of the equation, I was in a more relaxed state and was even feeling good about the prospects of a good finish.
But before we even go there, let's try getting therefirst, shall we? Which, as I came to realize, wasn't exactly a walk in the park.The Long,Long Winding Road

Eight hours.440 kms. I don't think I have ever driven that far. For the record, I don't think most of us have either. With Ultramarathoner - turned -design maven Abby keeping me comfy company for the duration of the ride, the endless route seemed liked a prelude to the mental tenacity necessitated for the race. Passing through scenic yet creepy trails such as the famous Bituka ng Manok zigzag road in Quezon kept me on my toes, given the seeming predilection of cars to run into accidents there.

It's tough.

Ironically, it was actually heaping doses of Cobra that kept me going. Hmm, maybe it does make sense for them to sponsor the race. But really, try tasting the stuff. It's probably the next best thing to shabu in keeping you awake. Along the way, we were so hungry (with such few stops in between) that we swore that we ate the best siopao ever at a stall at the Quezon-Camsur boundary. Yum.

This is the place, a long way from Ayala eh? After what seemed like an eternity we finally got to our hotel in Naga City, which would serve as our home for the next couple of days. Roughly 10kms away from CWC, it's a pretty smart, cost-efficient move in lieu of the pricey (and pretty much sold out) rooms at the complex. We got first-hand taste of some terrific local eats - Biggs's Diner for a late casual lunch and Chef's Doy's for a fancy (yet shockingly cheap) dinner.

Yummy casual dining at Jollibee prices

The team with Chef Doy himself
Bike Check In

Once the dust had settled, we had to check in our bikes at what would be the transition site. This is somewhat of an unfamiliar experience to the uninitiated, with the prospect of leaving your bike overnight a slightly perturbing thought. Season partner Bikezilla was kind enough to send their top wrench guy/fun friend Dave along with the team to ensure that our bikes were in tiptop shape before the check in. After negotiating a line that resembled your neighborhood lotto pila when the jackpot balloons to P100 million, I was finally off.

The ol' battle chariot locked and loaded

Let's Shock The World

Amidst the bedlam that was happening in the days that preceded the race, I found myself enraptured within an almost eerie calm that belied the pressure generated by an eventof this magnitude. It's already a given that I'm primed for a marginal finish on this race. But inexplicably enough, I was feeling strangely good about my chances. I really, honestly thought that I would shock the world. Spot-on premonition or shameless wishful thinking? It would be fitting to see how it would all unravel come race day. But then came the signs. Signs that broke an otherwise tranquil calm... ..

Sign #1

I guess it would be fair to mention that I slept for only two hours before driving to Camsur because I ransacked my entire apartment looking for my trishorts. Of all the god darn days that I could lose it. Possible reasons:

1.The dog ate it
2.The dog hid it in his super secret hiding place for future chewing purposes3.The dog ate it.

I blame the dog completely. He must have eaten it. There's no other way. I'm positive.

I didn't do it

Sign #2

After the team did a Thursday photo-op at Lago del Rey with The Batis Project CEO Ricky Ocampo(We're carrying the highly regarded hotel and balneotherapy resort as our title sponsor for the season), my K-Ona's were soaked and got inundated with sand and rocks. Abby took due prudence in drying it out at the aircon hatch of our hotel as there was no other way of going about it. Much to our horror, the following morning the right insole was gone. It could have gone anywhere, but it just vanished into thin air. You're probably thinking "it's just a freaking insole" but good luck on finding any triathlete who would willingly run without it. Luckily, our team captain Deo (the brains behind the old school Tri-Pilipinas board) had an extra K-Ona with the same size as mine, so I pretty much ran the race on a borrowed insole. Lucky break, but dyahe.

Signs. Premonitions. Tri-short eating dogs. Let's get this over with, shall we?

D-Day - Lago Del Rey, about 5 minutes into the swim

Dammit. I got punched. Or whacked by those damn breastrokers. Any other way, I think I'm starting to panic now with my goggles practically off.It's the first time I've ever been hit in a race, tough it had to happen here. Heard lots of stories, at least now I have one of my own. But it's a story I'd rather not tell. Oh great I got hit again. Ugh, while I'm trying to fix it I'm incessantly getting run over. It's like I'm in Omaha Beach at the Battle of Normandy, and I'm one of the first casualties.

Chaos is an understatementI eventually catch a second wind and did good time at the small lake, only to get stopped dead in my tracks after swimming right into someone kicking furiously. You know how cartoon characters see stars when they're punched? Never knew that was a case of art imitating life right there, it really freaking happens. Lucky me didn't get the memo about the water being so murky that you couldn't see your hands doing the strokes. After what seemed like an eternity of playing Takeshi's Castle at the small lake, I'm out of the water in 51, nearly 52 minutes. Missed my time target by two minutes, but still ahead of the "worst case" goals I had made for myself. So far.

Somewhere in Camarines Sur, about 35km into the bike

Go Go Ironman! Go Go Ironman! The playful chants of the Bicolano children reverberate in my ear as I speed past this drenched countryside.Why do I get this weird feeling that their teacher would flunk them if they didn't show up for this?Lol. Everyone was prepping for the heat, praying for cool weather - and we get a deluge instead. Approaching a sharp curve, I need to overtake this lady in front of my lest I be called for drafting. It's nothing special, routine pass. Holy crap my wheels lock, the angle is too slick. As I'm about two seconds from losing control and crashing, a collective gasp could be heard from the crowd... ..


But thankfully, I didn't. The sporting gods finally let me catch a break. I was able to regain control at the last minute, a look of both relief and partial consternation on my face if you could actually see it through the downpour. So I'm liking my chances now. I'm averaging about 31-32 kph, with the intention of pouring it on during the homeward trip. However, after doing their good deed of the day with me, the sporting gods decided to call it quits. At which precise moment I hit a very hard bump on the road, misaligning my saddle several degrees. This forced me to hold an awkward, yoga-like position that put a lot of strain on my balky back. It didn't take long for the pain to come. As much i try not to be a girly man about it, I guess only those who have had lower back injuries and attempted to race on a bike could relate. And so my personal Calvary began.

My pace slowed to a ridiculous crawl. Teammates, friends, strangers were passing my demoralized shell left and right. It was Matabungkay all over again, only this time I had to work with the pain for about 50 more kilometers. I dismounted about 5 or 6 times to stretch, with bystanders chiding me "Koya okay kay lang ba? Gusto mo ng sopdrink?" I forced a smile. With about 20 kilometers to go, I wasn't quite sure if I could even make it to the run portion. Maitawid na lang. Each kilometer took what seemed like an eternity to complete. As I entered T2, the full rack of bikes confirmed the sobering realization that I pretty much threw away my race right there. A fat,juicy, 3:15 split was staring me in the face. With my "pet" discipline up ahead, I guess this is make or break for me. Question is, how much did I have left in the tank?

Playing through the pain

Just before the rice cooker, 10km into the run


I'm doing this. I'm actually doing this. Spurred on by an incredible rush of adrenaline, I was calling on every single ounce of fight left in me to pull this off. I lost 25 minutes on the bike, but I figured if I could gain that back on the run then all would be well with the world. I ran a sub-25 5k , and just cleared a 58 minute 10k. I have a real shot at redemption here, and why not with the wonderful weather relegating the feared rice cooker into mushy lugaw. I was passing people left and right, each tuhog serving as a boon to my broken body and exhausted spirit.
Alas, it just wasn't meant to be. Too much to ask I guess. The back tightened up real bad somewhere around 13k, and it was both a mental and physical struggle from that point. I never stopped fighting though. The final stretch saw me trudge painfully through a 7:00 pace performance, but I still kept on passing people. Cramps caught up with me sometime around 20k, may pahabol pa matatapos na nga lang. As I finally crossed the line, the look on Abby's face was one of both joy and relief. Apparently, she was worried sick wondering what had happened to me. But hey, I made it! My self-inflicted journey of pain and suffering was over in six hours and 37 minutes, and would you look at that I'm still in one piece.

Never say never, it's always possible.


Epilogue

It's pretty obvious that this wasn't my best race, not by a long shot. But I take solace in the fact that I overtook 107 people on the run leg, even with what I consider a substandard run split. There were a lot of positives to be taken from the race, I was happy with how I fought back when it was so easy to quit already. Overall, it was quite the experience. I'd willingly do it again next year and come back strong, wherever it may be.

But this time, we're taking the plane :)

As I glanced anxiously at my 305, the grim reality was sinking in. Unless I pull of an Usain Bolt, there was absolutely no way I would be hitting my goal. I need to leave everything out there. Right here. No tomorrows. A final push, one last heave for glory netted a 4:53 final lap... .

And I missed it by 15 seconds. Damn.

Thank God for Google Images

But wait, we're getting ahead of ourselves. It all started on a stormy Saturday night at Glorietta 4 ... .

GBM: Miss, may I register for the 10k? Thank you.
ECO-Dash Counter Girl : Eto po. 300 lang.
GBM: Hmmm. Where's the singlet?
EDCG: Ay, naubos na po, nung Sunday pa.
GBM: Aaah, ok.

(walks away, opens race packet, goes back)

GBM: Miss, why do you have two bibs? That is quite... unconventional .
EDCG: Ay Sir, ung isa para sa harap, ung isa sa likod. First time niyo ho ba?
GBM: Uh... . It's actua..
EDCG: Okay lang ho, kaya ninyo yan, basta hinga malalim lang.Nauso na nga yang ranning na yan eh. Nga pala sir, rain or shine yan tuloy!

So for 300 bucks I ended up with 2 race bibs, a bit of a weird conversation... . and that was pretty much it. Not that it actually matters - I heard a lot of gripes about its "minimalist" design - but I was hoping to get more bang out of my 300 bucks. Internet legend Tito Caloy was supposed to grace us with his presence, but was apparently caught up deep in training for the San Mig National Drinking Finals. So I went out on a dreary Sunday morning, in hopeful anticipation of the great unknown, what with so many intangibles put into play.

"Secret" Training
If you have been following this blog from time to time, then you're probably aware of my well-chronicled struggles against the menace that is ITBS.

Gone for good?
Forced to drastically cut down mileage , I put in a couple of duds at some of our recent races. I was already thinking, Am i done ? Is that it for me? Visions of a surgically repaired Samboy Lim and Shaun Livingston looking like ghosts of their old selves haunted me. What if I'll never regain my old form? Through the thankful intervention of a higher power, I have been running relatively pain free for the past several weeks. That's when I decided to flat out just go for out it. Serious training for two weeks, harder than I ever trained before. I was going to secretly target a sub-50 time for this race, if I fail I could just say I was "pacing" someone. So what did I do exactly?

If I told you, then it wouldn't be a secret anymore, right? :) :p

The Case of the Missing Ipod

In an extremely weird twist of fate, I lost my beloved iPod the day I learned that my quest for that elusive Master's degree was finally over. Ahh. My life seems to be in bittersweet symphony right now. But what should I do? I find it extremely hard to run without music, I seem to be grossed out by my own snarly breathing.

Will give dog for ipod
Thankfully, I found a weird-looking Mp3 player lying around the house, the type you could get for 500 bucks at the mall. 256 mb, no song randomizer, weird shape. Sold! At this point, I would have brought a Walkman to the race if need be.

If you ever ran with one of these, thanks for visiting my blog Master!

The Race Itself

Okay, let's be practical. Due to the nature of this belated post, by now you should have already read a plethora of blog entries outlining how drenched we were, how there was a lack of marshals along Bayani, et.al. Obviously, I won't go there - your time is more precious than mine. Instead, let's go straight to the crux of the matter, punctuated by the precise songs blaring from my cheapo Mp3 player in homage to my newly departed and dearly beloved Ipod.

Kilometer 1 - Dreamgirls Theme (not a word)

Jesus Christ and Mary it sure is cold! I don't think I have ever started a race at this temp, it's even colder than when we did Botak Baguio. Oh shoot , crappy Mp3 player auto adjusts its volume everytime you turn it off. It's .. it's not loud enough! I still hear my own breathing! Crap. Where do they make this thing anyway? Rain is pouring down pretty bad, I don't have time to get it out of my hydrobelt. Yes it's that pathetic I need to squeeze it into my hydrobelt. Opening pace is at 4:29, think I could have gone faster but the rain is slowing me down. Just passed a runner who is complaining about the rain audibly. Hmmm, chess isn't so bad once you get used to it.

All you got to do is dream...

Kilometer 2-3 - Do You Believe In Magic - Loving Spoonful

So I got out of the bane of all runners this side of town in one piece. The Kalayaan Flyover was my first major hurdle, and I did a 4:44/5:03 on it, first time I ever hit a sub-5 split on it. People walking all around me. Yes, it does get the best of you. Given that 82.67% of all Sunday race routes pass through this point, I'm guessing it doesnt have too many fans.Much like an untamed beast in the wilderness, oftentimes you can but just hope and pray you live to tell the tale. Relatively unscathed, I come flying downslope. Current total pace is at 4:45. So far so good.

Yup, never heard of em' either

Kilometer 5 - VST & Co. - Sumayaw Sumunod

Wow, these drivers are crabby! You woulwd think that they'd be more relaxed on a Sunday morning. The honking was reminiscent of Edsa Dos. Unfortunately, seems that we're the subjects of their profanity-laced tirades. They should go to the Kanye West School of Charm.

It's just like rush hour traffic, only on a Sunday. Why so angry?

Completed the halfway point at 23:48, that may just possibly be my best 5k split ever. Route reminds me of my Globe Run for Home debacle. Is this my day of vindication?

Sumabay sa mga bagong tugtugin ngayon... .

Kilometer 7-8 - Eraserheads - Huwag Kang Matakot

As much as I would like to imbibe the E-heads spirit on this, the pressure was so intense it was hard not to be. The homeward bound Kalayaan Flyover won this round, dropping me to a 5:22/5:34 split, breaking both my body and spirit. The pressure was getting to me , and I was starting to panic inside. Total pace had dropped to an even 5:00, which meant that I would be missing my target. More panic. I need to make up time. But I'm zapped out. Must... soldier... on. Just 2k more... ...

One of their last albums before calling it quits

Kilometer 9-10. Amy Winehouse - Rehab.
They say that running is just as much mental as physical, sometimes even more. I completely agree, 100%. Here I was , on the cusp of beating one of my biggest running goals, and I was doing a completely chokejob. Mentally, I was messed up. I was freaking out and panicking. Prematurely celebrating, I was even thinking of a title for the blog post already. Physically, I was spent. Blatant lack of training. A quick, anxious glance at the 305 showed 45:00 with a little over a kilometer to go. Running on fumes, a blatant attempt to let it all hang out was hatched.

However, the grim reality was sinking in. Unless I pull of an Usain Bolt, there was absolutely no way I would be hitting my goal. More panic. I need to leave everything out there. Right here. No tomorrows. A final push, one last heave for glory... .

And I missed it by 15 seconds. Damn.

Gut-wrenching. I broke down mentally that last two kilometers. Got caught up in the moment so to speak. Wasn't able to deliver. On the precipice of success, I blinked. And in that nanosecond, I missed the bus. At the highest echelons of all sports, this is what separates the men from the boys. The winners from the pretenders. It's that requisite mental toughness designed to take you to the next level.

I think I need to go to rehab after this

Overall, it was a bittersweet moment. I still set a new 10k PR at 50:14, lopping of a minute and a half from my pre-injury best. Was a tremendous day for Takbo.ph denizens Sam, Vicky, and Argo as they all set new records on their 21k times. Tremendous improvement. Keep up the good work guys!

PR people with podium gal Carins

John Lloyd an d... Luis?
In retrospect, this race taught me a lot about myself. Getting so near, only to falter in the end inspires me to do even better next time around. To quote William Ernest Henley, "my head is bl oody, but unb owed". Indeed, we all live to run another day.

And sometimes, in the greater scheme of things

That's all that really matters.

Editor's Note : Results just came in, wanted to add that this performance was good enough for 26th place amongst 532 runners in the category, my best finish ever :P

Why hello there old friends. It's been nearly two weeks since my last entry. I don't think that's ever happened. Ever. My inactivity is but a testament to the volume of work that I have been putting up lately. I've been doled up in the Gingerbread Cave, doing boring, tedious Gingerbread research, even going 38 straight hours without sleep. Yes, it's a sad Gingerbread life. I am so out of the loop. The stress has rendered me a sunken, disheveled shell of my former self.While taking my ITB recovery one step at a time, good ol' GBM is relegated to finding a new hobby to take his mind off things. ANY hobby. I'm desperate. The search begins now... .

The Competitive Drinker

Ranked #4 in Barangay Hulo
In my solace, I considered visiting the hunting grounds of an old, familiar foil - beloved Internet Legend Tito Caloy. Equally renowned for both his longevity in pulling out 27k LSD's as with his propensity to obliterate entire Emperador bottles , he pitched me into entering his "realm", a place where there were no limits, where your mind could take you wherever you wished. As much as that sounded like my running dictum, a bottle of Johnny Walker Black in full view jolted me back into the absurdity of the situation.

Yum?

Uncle Bob's Spartan Regimen

I was introduced by Tito Caloy to the undisputed champion drinker of his barangay, a luminary who goes by the monicker Uncle Bob. The current Philippine record holder in the 10 liter Wines/Spirits category, legend has it he once drank 2 kegs of Red Horse just for fun.Apparently, he would be grounding me into the wonderful world of competitive drinking.

Coach Teteng : How many bottles can you drink in one session?
GBM : I can drink 5 bottles max I think.
CT: Seriously? You drink like a girl.
GBM: Um, I'd like to think I drink more than a girl.
CT:You need more training! You're a disgrace to the family name! Your uncle is a tremendous drinker!
GBM: Ugh, I'd like to think that I don't really drink because I run and I...
CT: Oh whatever just drink this its good for you!
GBM: !!!!

Uncle Bob during warm-up
Uncle Bob told me to do a warm-up "lap" of 3 bottles of San Mig Light before proceeding to our training session. Listen newbie, I will be training you to be the best of the best. I hate mediocrity. Let's start with the secret of every competitive drinker's success - the LSD. LSD?? Yes, the LSD. Stands for Long Slow Drinking. As you aim to increase the tempo and intensity of your drinking sessions, you need to build your base tolerance first. Concentrate on adding more and more bottles per session to develop your BO2Max (Maximium Bottle Overload). Add base bottle mileage by at least 8% every week and you will be on your way to reaching the level of your uncle. Do you know that he has a pace of 2.4 bottles/min at Max LC (liver capacity)? Tremendous drinker. So many tambays here strive to be just like him, such an inspiration.

Either the "warm-up lap" got me drunk or I just really miss running that much , as I could have sworn that Uncle Bob was channeling beloved Takbo.ph mod Coach Pojie right then and there. Saddened at the mere thought of my erstwhile lifeblood, I thanked Uncle Bob for his time, told him it wasn't for me and while absorbing his stinging "you're a disgrace to your family" diatribe (he was on his 3rd Johnny Walker B. by this time), slowly found my way to the door... ... .

Running. How I miss it.

(sigh)

(to be continued)

I just had the busiest week ever with no relief in sight for the next 3 weeks. Sample Gingerbread Day :

6am - 73o - Travel
8am - 10 am - Lecture10 am - 12nn - Meeting12nn - 1230 - Rushed Lunch1230 - 230 - Meeting230 - 400 - Lectures/Consults400 - 900 pm - Training for students900 pm - Gets home and falls asleep while still wearing barong

Of course, not once do you see the words "Running" or "Training" there. With the Globe Run for Home Race holding running denizens captive with the prospect of a chip-timed race, here I am working 13 hour days while the rest of the gang is busy training and strategizing! I was barely able to haul my carcass over to the Runnr launch last night to get my new Takbo.ph singlet and the race kits for myself and Tito Caloy. Couldn't stay long because had to bring Gingerbread Gal to watch Harry Potter (it sucked if you don't read the book BTW)

So in relative comparison :

Usual Gingerbread Mileage - 65 km

This week's Mileage - 0 km

Usual days with Gingerbread Gal - 5 days

This week's mileage with Gingerbread Gal - 2 days

Which brings me to a more serious question - How do you guys and gals actually train and hope to race somewhat competitively when your work is taking over your life? How do you squeeze it in? Reconcile your schedules? And yet hope for a somewhat half-decent time come raceday Sunday? Please do enlighten me. I am so busy that I am only giving myself 30 minutes to complete this entry. Yes, it's that bad. So come give me your inputs, let's discuss this pertinent matter which I think a lot of us could relate to.

0 km. Wow. Surely not the best way to train for a big 21k race.

Let's see how it pans out in a few hours.

Editor's Note : This is a work of semi non-fiction. However, the names of the protagonists have been modified for purposes of confidentiality and artistic license. Or rather, because it would make it hella awkward to refer to myself in the 3rd person. Enjoy.

The View From Within. 3 days to go.

Elvis woke up in a cold sweat, the uber firm mattress of his ramshackle hut shooting a distressed signal to his lower back - a signal currently shared by his uber throbbing head. Am I really doing this? The requisite round of self-doubt that comes at the fortnight of every major milestone haunts him continually. In the world of brash, semi-competitive sports replete with fancy coaches and six-figure equipment, weakness is a word that is often regarded with general disdain. Like an unwritten code. The figures who move around the transcendental discipline of triathlon are considered by some to be the fittest people on the planet, an elite fraternity who have mastered the operational synergy of competing in three consecutive yet radically differing sports.
If triathletes comprise less than 1% of the population, then probably just 1% of that number would ever do a full iron-distance race. And as much as popular culture would continually lionize the annual Ironman branded event held somewhere in the Bicol (and soon to be Visayas) region, multisport habitues don't skip a beat in pointing out that the distance covered there only amounts to 70.3 miles - or half of the seemingly insurmountable 3.8k swim, 180k bike and 42k challenge that is staring down Elvis in the face. And he's the one blinking.

Was he in over his head? After all, this was only his second season in the multisport arena, his first full one if one was to be technical about it. Unbeknownst to many, he hadn't even swam an open water race until April, and here he was just several months later rubbing elbows with battle-scarred veterans at one of the highest levels of the sport. There was no room for failure, no cushion to soften a misstep. In Camsur, there were thousands of triathletes who made it easy to get lost in the throng of anonymity. At Timex 226 in Bohol, the first full iron-distance race in the country in nine years - there were only 66 official participants. The spotlight was on, and there was no turning back now.

The Race Director was in a heated discussion with his deputies, on the verge of making a decision that could forever alter the destiny of the one man that was still on the swim course. "Should we let him go through? There's no way he'll make it to cutoff. It's nearly 9:30 and he is still so far out on the course." "Boss, maybe it's time to pull the plug" intimated one deputy. Unwittingly enough, The Girlfriend was right beside them, privy to the conversation. "Oh come on guys. He'll come through. I know he will. Please. Just wait a bit more. He'll... .. he'll make it. " The Race Director knew very well of the pain of fallen comrades missing swim cutoffs in competitions past. The heartbreak of losing all those long months in training at the very first leg is not one that goes away easily. After a long sigh, a pained gasp had him looking at his concerned deputy. "Let's see what this guy is made of".

History In The Shadows. 1 day to go.

The water was clear. Crystal, even. The astounding coral formations were virtually within one's grasp. The serene setting that greeted their traditional pre-race "swim out" resembled more of a picturesque diving site than the usual murky contact sport battlefield that they had been accustomed to. Elvis wondered if it would pose some semblance of a distraction come race day. "Water's terrific. That was probably my best swim ever. What fun." chided PK, his team's top gun and one of the race's seeded favorites. But as PK was having a season for the ages, Elvis was quietly engrossed in his own quest for history, albeit shrouded in relative anonymity.
Over the course of the thirty eight kilometer mini bike recon they performed immediately after, Elvis found his thoughts drifting to delusions of grandeur as they passed by the sleepy countryside. In the world of triathlon, to the upper tier he was a relative nobody. Swims just above mediocrity at best.Underachieves on the bike. Usually too gassed to make anything sensible happen on the run. His naturally competitive ego had been squashed time and time again like an annoying critter over a season that began with so much promise, yet went down in flames due to injuries and a demanding new job that ate up his training hours. The instant success that had met him in the running community was nowhere to be found in multisport. Improvement was slow, expectations high. Victories were sparse - even those of the moral kind. Some made the transition effortlessly. He was just plain lost in the muck. Elvis was conspiratorially holding on to one last ace up his sleeve though, much akin to a rounder betting the house on a river straight with a junk hand. It provides cool comfort to his tortured athletic soul, a veritable salve that enjoins him to soldier on when he has nothing more to give. Conjures up confidence where there is none to be found.

None of these guys have ran a hundred miles. He mutters to himself furtively as he downs his fancy salad at the welcome dinner that night. The participants have all converged at the swankiest resort this side of town, and the hearty plate of spaghetti seems like easy pickings for the voracious horde. As the rest of the athletes listen to the welcome remarks of the affable congressman, his mind wanders off once more as he scans the crowd of tanned faces. Yes. I'm the only one who's done it. No one here has lasted as long as the 29 hours I spent running from Bataan to Tarlac. This is my race. My time. And if I just manage to finish this in one piece, I could be the first Filipino in history to have done both endurance events in the same season. I want it. I want it bad. I'll get there. I know I will. And as much as his notion of "history" is generally unverifiable and borderline trivial, it gave him at the very least that intrinsic swagger such a herculean task necessitates. He needed it. It was the only way to stack up amidst a sea of excellence."More pasta babe? This is way too much for me." Elvis was jarred out of the daydream by his girlfriend AJ holding up the oversized plate to his face. A wildly successful bag designer, she forever links two epic endurance events mostly obscured from the general public - one was when she outraced him running 102 kilometers two years ago, one that he once thought he could never live down but now carries around like a badge of honor. The second was when she paced him, with little training, for the last 60 kilometers of his 29 hour bout with insanity. She was a big part of those happy, painful memories. It was only fitting that she would be here to share this with him. "Babe? Are you getting the pasta or not?" He willingly obliged, knowing that with an anticipated 10,000 calories to be burnt the following day he needed every single kilojoule of energy that he could get.

Wishful thinking as the crowd listens in

The Congressman looked shocked as the withered husk of the final swimmer came through the makeshift barge, some two hours and twenty three minutes after the race had started. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" The swimmer replied, "I'm okay Sir. I think I swam an extra lap. Bites. Lots of bites." The Congressman was aghast. "An extra lap?? What does that mean??" The swimmer blurted out, "I don't know as well sir. No idea. " as he proceeded to stagger across the deserted, powder-white shore.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. 9:17 am.

What's.. what's going on? Where am I? What... just happened? Just as a boxer would lay sprawled on the canvas in the aftermath of a well-placed liver shot he never saw coming, at this point Elvis was at a loss. Dazed and confused was a relative understatement. The long, confidence-building hours at the pool seemed like a distant memory at this point . Did those 4k sessions just go to waste? He was pressing to reconstruct the events that had just unfolded that led to him to suffer through the ignominy of being the only person remaining on the swim course. Chugging along with the flow at the onset of the washing machine... . there was nothing otherwise remarkable compared to the brutal wars in terrible weather he had been in. The same could not be said about the otherwordly scene unfolding underneath though. It's so peaceful and beautiful here,like I'm swimming through a real life painting. The serenity evaporated as soon as the bites came in. What are these things??Jellyfish? Disgruntled plankton?Whatever it was, they were perturbing enough to make him lose focus and ingest heaping servings of salt water. More bites. Face. Mouth. Back. Dammit, I want to puke. And in one fell swoop, time stopped. And everyone was gone.

I must have been lost. He didn't know exactly how it happened. But at around the 1:40 mark, some of his friends in the field had noticed his disoriented shape near the lap turnaround and were motioning him to go back with them towards the shore en route to T1. "Let's go Elvis! Let's go man! We're done!" The Pocari Sweat-toting support boatman was less patronizing. "Sir, turn left! Turn left! You're done! What's wrong with you? You were with them the whole time! What are you doing???" He wasn't thinking right. Or was he? Was he really done? His brain has been inundated with salt water. How could he second guess?
1:40. Hmm. That was just in line with his "usual" times if they were to be extrapolated, and were right along his time trial times in training. While far from being the fastest swimmer out there, he had never sunk to the depths of being last on the course. He swam a decent 47 minute 2k at the extremely choppy Matabunkgay Triathlon, and hit 50 minutes on the murky lake at Camsur IM 70.3. He had an accurate gauge of his modest capabilities, but something didn't feel right about this one. A dozen permutations were racing through his head. What if I missed a loop? He'd be disqualified for sure, his hopes for history sullied even before they began. What if... . I get away with it? A hollow victory is no victory at all , he'd never live it down. What if it's legit? What if these people were right all along? What if... .

"Sir? Sir! Turn left! You're done! " He was at a loss. Faced with the the single- most momentous decision of his triathlon career, Elvis blinked. "No. I got one more loop. One more to go." The road to perdition was not a kind one. In life, there are moments that define you. Test your character. He took great pride in what he did, reveling in the spirit of competition and discipline of training. Out of sorts and with chafe marks burning from each unmerciful saltwater swell, he had to take a stand that would painfully define the succeeding hours to come for him. Embarrassment on the grandest scale was looming on the now deserted horizon, the race an absolute disaster just hours in. But at the precise moment in time, it was the right decision. The only decision. Time was not on his side, and the water which had been his friend for the longest time morphed into his greatest foe. Everything was a slow-moving blur seemingly encapsulated in unforgiving amber. But he had to move forward, had to make that cut-off.
Minutes later a wobbly figure emerged to check in at 2:23 on the makeshift barge, beating the 2:30 cutoff with barely anything to spare. AJ was a wreck, bewildered at what had just transpired as the current last placer jogged to T1. A sprinkling of tepid applause met him, the sympathetic type reserved for the marginal competitor. Sordid comments from bored children sprinkled the air. But at this point he could care any less.He was still in the game. And he still had time to turn it all around.

The last of the Mohicans coming through.

The Doctor was getting increasingly agitated. More than twenty minutes have passed, and still no word from the lonesome rider. She had been at the same table during the welcome dinner, exchanged niceties with his girl, heard the grand stories of exploits past. The guy may have even been minutely endearing to say the least. In a Hippocratic foray peppered with sun-dried faces, he was actually a notch below that of a complete stranger. But her worst fears were slowly being actualized as he was holed up in the bathroom of some random house not too far from T1. Twenty five minutes. Several knocks on the door brought back nothing. The terse silence was finally broken as the lonesome rider emerged, much to the relief of what seemed like the entire neighborhood tuning in to the live spectacle. A feeble "I'm okay doc. I'm good to go" was blurted out before banging his time trial helmet on the base of the low staircase. She thought to herself, when it rains, boy it sure pours. And it sure was pouring on for the lonesome rider as he wobbled back onto the well-paved highway, 170 kilometers away from the next step in his seemingly impossible journey.

Minutes and Seconds. 4:35 pm

Guindulman. Jagna. Guindulman. Candijay. Repeat. Somehow, Elvis was able to soak in the majestic coastal view amidst the painful drudgery of traversing all the major municipalities of Bohol's third district. Thrice. Mentally, one had to take it up another notch at this juncture, lest you be swallowed whole in the moment. The mind could not wander too far from the end-line goal, imperative that all forms of rationalization be tucked away in the far recesses of the psyche. Things like God, I'm cycling the equivalent of Manila to Pangasinan or You have got to be kidding me, my butt's been stuck to this saddle for six hours already do not help one's cause at all. Specially if one is waging a lonely war against the clock, a losing one at that. Each precious second that ticked away meant one step closer to his dream slipping away forever. The pressure was on, and this was his moment of truth. The series of unfortunate events that marred his comeback attempt on the bike leg saw him sinking deeper and deeper into what seemed like an inescapable rut. The chafe marks that were burning his skin at T1. The severe stomach cramps and lightheadedness that had him dangerously veering sideways on the road, an involuntary dismount a very much abject reality. The thirty minutes he spent throwing up and collapsing on the bathroom of the quaint rural home that took him in seemed like the coup de grâce of a race destined to be forgotten. He was doing the math in his head. There's no way I'll make it. I'm done. Droplets of tears began to form as the onset of his discombobulation was mercifully obscured by his weary sunglasses.

Fighting a losing battle.

They call it second wind. Every athlete's final, primal scream for glory was the last stop at Desperation City, and Elvis very well knew that basking in its glow way too early would have its dreadful ramifications. But it was win- or- go- home time. Put up or shut up. No tomorrows. 28k kph. 30. 32. 36. 38. His speeds were climbing, the holy ghosts of Bugarin aiding and abetting him on one last ride towards the sunset. Or rather in this case, before the sunset. He was back in business, riding with renewed power and purpose so much to the point that the lap checkers swore that he was a loop ahead. The hills that had taunted him earlier fell prey to his raw, testosterone-fueled charge. The usual impish grin that had been missing all race long was making a long overdue appearance. But he wasn't out of the woods. Not just yet. He was so far behind the cutoff that even averaging 29kph over the final 60k had him doing calculations to the nanosecond. A van pulled up from behind, much to his surprise and chagrin. What in tarnation could it be this time? "You're doing great Elvis. Hang in there. One last push. 25 minutes to cover 10k. Lots of time." The race director was upbeat in his concession, the response garnered overwhelmingly in the affirmative. Everyone's on the run now. Please just let me make it. Furiously pedaling through the tough, final rolling stretch as the rest of the field slogged through the initial motions of their marathon, he pleaded with every last drop of his long depleted glycogen deposits to take him home. Please... let me make it. Just a bit more... .. And seven hours, twenty two minutes and fifty seven seconds after he departed the same beachside plaza a hopelessly broken man, he entered with a flourish reserved only for those who had twice averted disaster, this time with ten minutes to spare. AJ was grinning from ear to ear, her drawn out smile ten parts happiness and ninety parts relief. Adrenaline was pumping in his veins as he prepped for his pet discipline.
Let's get this show on the ground.

Red lining on empty

The Major had finally reached the pinnacle of his epic journey, the much coveted finish line he had been training on for months and slaving on for hours but inches from reach. As the crowd burst into raucous applause in anticipation of his grand moment , one could practically hear the snap of jaws dropping collectively as the unthinkable just happened. The Major stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around. Frantic discussions between him, The Race Director and The Host initially brought confusion. Then clarity. Before long, a singular, defining mantra emanated from the surreal scene that just unfolded into the bewildered crowd. A relieved hush came over as the significance was settling in, four simple words that would serve as an inspiration to all those who had the pleasure of witnessing history in the making.

No. Man. Left. Behind.

Peace By Inches. 10:40 pm

I started too fast. I... . can't do it. Elvis seemed to be resigned to his fate as his bodily functions were shutting down one after the other on the near-pitch black looped course. Much of his training has been concentrated on the run segment, and was secretly hoping a powerful split would elevate his finish time to respectable levels. He had done it before, each runner he overtook providing snowballing adrenalin as he marched towards the line. The problem was that he sort of forgotten, amidst all the ruckus that went down, that This is a marathon I'm actually running. After all that crap. Marathons are... hard. Despite his best efforts at making up time, the same body which had already given out so much was balking at his one last request for glory . The remaining vestiges of his warrior pride were driven by the motivation not to finish dead last, a dubious honor that has thankfully escaped his clutches over his four-year athletic career. The first half went down breezily in two hours and twenty minutes, a sub-5 performance and eternal retribution pretty much on the horizon. As much as AJ was incessantly worrying that his protracted rest breaks at the end of each loop would have some sort of detrimental effect, Elvis brushed her concerns off with uncharacteristic candor. I got this. I'm good. We're doing great. He was in his element, the party atmosphere that met him at each loop seemingly empowering the closet competitive nut. We're going to shock the world.

Alas, the real battle was being fought out there, in the trenches of darkness. The out and back loop's first five kilometers were a rolling segment that he would have cinched on fresh legs, but currently seemed like an endless mountain even Sisyphus would have balked at. He saw his Quest 825 teammates interspersed at various points in the course, all fighting their own personal demons. PK was staggering along in a halting sprint with his gaze to the floor, fighting to keep up with his powerful elite rivals. Long distance barefoot specialist RR was once again defying the odds with his unique craft, and Mcdap was harnessing mind over matter in what was his first marathon attempt. Kap, Tars, and Elti were sandwiched together in a methodical Galloway approach , looking worse for wear but nonetheless soldiering on. All were proven, powerful athletes humbly submitting to the might of the 226 kilometers that they have traversed. Who was he to think he could do any differently?

Bonk, meet Elvis. He was utterly, absolutely spent at this point. Aid stations were conspicuously being closed one after the other, the sleepy provincial avenue plunged into a pitch black abyss as the clock was nearing the the 11th hour. The eerie silence was punctuated by the occasional dog barking, accentuated by the neighborhood toughies talking shop as they grabbed the requisite nighttime drink. The only thing that kept him going was his trusty Energizer headlamp, providing the much needed ray of light that was much more than a cheesy metaphor at that point. He has used the same lamps at his 100-mile conquest, invoking the spirit of the bunny that kept going on going when his mind was slowly losing its lucidness. Right now, with five kilometers to go, he could have sworn he saw the Energizer bunny in front of him. Mocking him, cajoling him. Dude, can't you keep going... and going... like me? Wimp. He was running with his eyes closed in blatant exhaustion as he reflected upon the situation he was mired in. Having already walked the last ten kilometers, his dream of vindication was in tatters. Dammit. I threw it all away. But Elvis could hardly protest. For all it was worth, he was just thankful to even be in this spot. Attempts to chase down his comrades proved futile, his body and spirit in full lockdown. He was roused from his zombie-like state by an unknown competitor, the same guy who had been giving him the thumbs up each time they bumped into each other on the course. I'll wait for you at the finish line my friend. Just a bit more. Nice guy. That's what they all say though. He thought nothing of it as he was rationalizing his fate, inch by painstaking inch.

If I keep up with this pace I'll probably be the marginal finisher, if I even make it at all. 16:59 best case. The only guy from his team not to make it. The guy who wasn't even supposed to be here to begin with. He's not one of us. Dark thoughts flashed through the side of his brain that was still working. As he passed the final aid station, the newfound friends who manned it had vowed to stick with him until he finished, no matter how late.With one quick glance at his watch, Elvis heaved one final emotional sigh. Guys, I'm going to run this. And they were going to run it with him, a parade of motley fools chasing one last shot at glory. One last attempt at respectability. One last stab at joining the pantheon of warriors who had shared the experience with him.

Elvis shot out at an unthinkable 5:20 pace, harnessing every single last ounce of strength that remained on his sunburnt carcass. The aid station guys were struggling to keep up, weirded out as he was audibly muttering what seemed like a Gregorian chant, eyes wide shut. But in reality he was digging back into the time that he was but kilometers away on his 100-miler and wanted to collapse on the unforgiving pavement. AJ was hollering something, but he couldn't quite make sense of it. It was all coming back now.

Finish strong. Stop whining. No tomorrows. Make history. The final turn beckoned, and he shot out with everything he got. Once could almost feel the electricity in the air as the line that had eluded him for 16 hours and twenty minutes finally beckoned. He sprinted to the line ready to take his moment in the sun... when the entire congregation suddenly yelled STOP!!!!. What was going on this time??? What the?This is my moment!! The momentary disorientation that pervaded was replaced by an indescribable level of gratitude. It was the guy. The guy who told him he would wait for him at the line, and he wasn't bluffing. Major had finished way ahead of him, but had told the organizers about the impromptu pact that he had made. The pact that he had kept his rock-solid word on. Before Elvis could even react, Major emerged from the woodwork as the two finally crossed the finish line with arms raised , fireworks punctuating a fitting end to an improbable race for the ages. AJ was there choked up in emotion, her day-long rollercoaster ride with the fates finally over as her man went through to his own date with history.

Not so fast Elvis.

Triumph in solidarity
Elvis looked around with a sigh of relief, the gravity of his achievement failing to sink in. The deafening cheers. The warm smiles and congratulatory hugs. He may have come in last, but he achieved his goal of not putting in a marginal finish. His body was absolutely wasted, but he made it through with his head held up high. Spirit beaming, competitors and teammates swarmed him as the astute realization finally set in. Triathlon connotes different things to many different people. Some compete to win, some to finish. Some are out there just to test their limits and some to extend them. Amidst the mad rush for personal records and knockout splits, the essence of the game was emanating from the crowd of unique individuals who congregated around him in that one spectacular moment. Individuals who all the know the true meaning of perseverance, sacrifice, and overcoming the seemingly insurmountable. A select group who keeps the tradition burning for the future, even as they revel in the spoils of the present.

And at least, on this night alone, Elvis felt good. Great even. He finally made it. He was finally home.

He was finally one of them.

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.

The soothing line of the Carpenters classic reverbrated through my mind as I drove out Sunday morning. The rain was steadily pouring over the pavement as I pulled out of my condo, the pre-dawn serenity of a Sunday morning punctuated by the incessant rain. I was thinking, will the run be cancelled? Then I realized the amount of preparations that are put into organizing a race. Moving it would be tantamount to a logistical nightmare. So I figured, the show must go on!

On Rainy Races and Alcohol-Free Uncles I picked up Erick at Shaw Blvd, about 5 mins from my place. We picked up a groggy and thankfully not drunk Tito Caloy a few minutes later. Apparently, he had begged off from an inuman party with the kumpadres the night before just to prepare for the race. Absconding from free beer? Now that's what you call dedication! So the three of us were talking shop as we reached Mckinley at 5:15, 15 minutes before the announced race time. There was some confusion as to where the parking area was, so we had to ask around. Two marshals, one sleepy guard, and one crabby guard later we ended up in the open parking area. Note to self : 15 minutes to race time! Hurry! Warm-up running in the rain towards the starting line, I saw that the race was still surprisingly well-attended despite the inclement weather. I saw Takbo.ph gals Cherry and Ross walking around, pointed us to where the team was hanging out. The usual suspects were there, along with a morose-looking Sam akaThe Running Ninja in blogging parlance. I thought he was intensely focused on his strategy, little did I know that he had run over someone the night before. Hang in there buddy, things will be resolved soon. Takeshi's Castle Fun Times The organizers soon announced that the race would be starting at 6 am, or 30 minutes later than the announced time because of the weather. Tito Caloy was wondering if it would push through, a 16k virgin's typical anxiety in play. I nodded somewhat unattentively, my wandering thoughts fixated on my strategy for the race as the "peloton" of 3k, 5k, and 16k were gathered en masse for a common start. 10 miles. 16 something kilometers. It's my first time to tackle the distance, first crack at the famed Mckinkley Hills. I have no idea if my pace would hold here. I feel like I'm out of shape. I lack mileage this week. I should stop working and just run. Okay maybe not. This kid next to me is really loud. Did I bring enough money to eat later? Oh crap I left my camera in the car. No pix for the blog then. But then again if I brought the camera, where would I put it? What's the true meaning of love? It's starting to rain... oh great it's pretty hard ... . my Garmin's gonna get soaked... .. Wow I feel like I'm in the Takeshi's Castle starting grid... . Oh great here we go... The starting gun jolted me back into reality. Suffice to say, it was a riot. Bundling together the 16k runners with the 3k and 5k runners wasn't the high point of an otherwise well-organized race. Truly, the Takeshi's Castle analogy was not far-fetched. It was virtual bedlam. I think that the fact that the rain started to pour a few seconds before the starting gun went off contributed to a rock-concert like atmosphere, which in turn elevated the adrenalin levels of pretty much everyone. Not only did I have to contend with the rain and the slippery road, I also had to deal with rowdy kids who were jumping (yeah, jumping) on the road. By the time I had extricated myself from that mess, I figured I had lost about 10-15 seconds worth of pacing. Prior to the race, I had no idea what was a good target time for 16k . Coach Pojie said a 1:30 would be nice. Personally, I thought it was a stretch given my propensity to fade late. But I took solace in the training runs I've had lately, so might as well give it a shot. The first kilometer registered 4:53 on my 305. Right on schedule! For 10k's my preferred opening would be a 4:30, but into the great unknown that was the 10-miler, I was guessing the aformentioned pace would be sufficient. At the 3km mark , I began to pace with Docs Eric and Pinky. Doc Eric is a sub- 2 hour 21k runner, one of the strongest in the group. I thought it would be prudent to pace with him, at least get myself acquainted with the level that I am training for. Doc Pinky was actually pacing faster than us, and it turned out she was competing in the 5k. Her breakneck pace was good enough for a 5th place podium finish wohoo :) Congrats Doc Pinky, terrific run. So me and Doc Eric ran together until the 9k mark. The hills were harder than I expected. The course was living up to its billing. I accelerated in one of the steeper extended regions heading to the Heritage Park region, and once again I was alone. There were numerous water stations available, and I crossed the 10k mark at 53:50, just 10 seconds off my 10k PR. I thought to myself, I have a real shot at this. Just keep your head in it. As I sprinted downhill towards the 11k turnaround point, the daunting uphill climb to my left was a grim reminder of the tribulations up ahead. So this is what Sisyphus must have felt like Let's just put it this way. If you have no hill training at all, kiss your PR goals goodbye for this course. The return uphill stretch went for something like 3 km. My pace went down from 5:25 to 5:30. Soon Doc Eric caught up with me, a friendly face ready to boost me up in what seemed like an endless uphill battle. Even when I thought it had ended, it was still haunting me.My hammies rather. Finally, we had started our reentry into the Mckinley area proper. 4k to go! The Garmin showed us at 1 hour something! Wow! We have a real shot! Doc Eric told me that we should just go for it, and we did. We were sprinting the last 4k at a 5:05 - 5:10 pace. I made the mistake of going LT on the 15th kilometer, and I faded a little towards the end. I also saw amiable Happy Feet/Takbo.ph habitue Mon towards the homestretch, last saw him during our Baguio run. When all things were said and done, I happily crossed the line at 1:26:03, 4 minutes below my target! Final pace was 5:32., about 20 seconds behind locomotive-like Doc Eric. I was so happy, because I realized that if I maintain that pace for at least 5k more, I could do a sub -2 hour 21k! That's my secret (well not anymore) dream! Yeah! As the group congregated, the rest of the gang started to pile in. Sam came in injury-free at 1:40. Speedy, comebacking Migz got 1:32, his first since his injury. "Wala ako sa kundisyon" Erick got a strong 1:30 finish, a testament to his run-walk strategy. Tito Caloy logged in at an estimated 1:50, a wonderful time for the 50-year old 16k Virgin. Wilnar, Girley, and as mentioned earlier Doc Pinky took podium finishes in their respective categories. Overall, was a good day for the team! Afterwards, the factions of the group met at Mcdonald's Net One for a wonderful post-race celebration of sorts. Lots of photos, laughs, and goofing around :)

All's well at Earth Run

Doc T wins!

Wilnar's 5th place finish for the 5k

Coach wins too!

Rico aka Sheer Will with his "medal"

Girley aka Pepsi with the real thing So with all things said and done, suffice to say do rainy days and Sundays always get me down? With runs and friends like these, not really :) Tito Caloy Quote of the Day :

"Napasarap ung kwento ko dun sa mag-asawa, naligaw tuloy ako!" - On following Neil and Rach to the 5k route

Some days you just don't have it.

As my previous post stated, I was harassed to death last week. Zero mileage. Didn't run at all. Still in iffy recovery from Botak Ultra. But me being me, I just had to take a swipe at it. A shot at a 21k PR on a chip-timed raced cutting through Ayala was way too juicy for me to resist. Just had to. Recipe for Disaster? Let's see how this morning's proceedings unfolded.

Not today GBM.

Pre- Race, 4:30 am

GBM : Tito, wake up!
Tito Caloy : Gising na ako!
GBM: Seriously?
Tito Caloy : Eh di pa ako natutulog!
GBM: Why would you do that? We have a race!
Tito Caloy : Ang ganda nung palabas sa Cinema One alangya yung kay Richard, Eskapo! Di ako natulog eh!
GBM:!!! Ugh, see you in ten.
Tito Caloy : Ayos cge ipapakita ko sayo ung bagong sapatos ko Adidas running na running ang dating! 6 tawsan bili ko!
GBM : !!!

He'd rather sleep in the car

Km 1 - 10 . Great things start from small beginnings?

When we got to the starting line, the race was just minutes away from starting. The rowdy gang helped fuel the electric atmosphere, the looming excitement of an actual chip-timed race bursting through the seams. It was funny really, because you saw people sprinting, then stopping, at the mat.

I though I had the strategy down pat. But I was wrong. Obviously, barely running in the two weeks prior took its toll. Also, something I read in BR's blog was nagging at me as I was racing through the first 10 kilometers. After an ultra, you will definitely lose some speed. You need to get back to tempo training. Well, not only have I NOT done any tempo training. In fact I haven't run at all. So logically, it's going to turn out pretty badly. My wind wasn't there. But it still wasn't half bad though.

At the 5k mark, I registered 25:32. At the 10k mark, slight fade at 55:30 but pace was still in contention for my goals. I'm at least 4 minutes off my usual 10k pace but I was thinking (or at least trying to convince myself) that I was merely "pacing". Since when did a positive splitter "pace" the first half of the race though? Still, I felt I could hang on. Seeing the rest of the team on the initial loop had me thinking I'm doing decently. I thought I was on the way to a good day... .

10k - 14k. Disaster strikes.

At the 10k mark I'm starting to slow down. Oh no. But not a major dropoff. Noticeable. Come Kalayaan flyover , my "vaunted" incline skills had deserted me. Then I realized it has been nearly a month since I have hit the St. Martin slopes. So much for that. Still, I felt I could ride the fade. Second wind would push me through. Just get me past the Kalayaan flyover and I'll take care of it in the flats.
Then IT happened. At the 14k mark, I stopped for some 100 Plus on the water station, then sprinted away. The abrupt start/stop brought about a searing pain on the side of my knee that was too great too ignore. I tried to run it off, but I couldn't put any weight on it. I tried walking it off, the pain was just exacerbated. I tried stopping and stretching. It went from bad to worse. My pace had dropped down to 7/km now. Oh no. This ain't happening. We are doing so well. Just 7 k more to a new PR! My pace was down to a 5:45 now. Still salveagable. But the pain. Oh the pain. Add to this the mental strain of people passing you. So many people. I had to stop. Walk. Ouch. More ouch. When Takbo.ph rookie and Jumbo Liempo friend Pio overtook me, I was both happy for him and panicking inside. My hard earned lead was slipping away. Big Time. I saw main man Bong Z, slimmed-down Timmy and monster Ed pass me. When rookie/nice guy James paced with me for a while, and when I couldn't even sustain what felt was an 8/km pace and he had to leave me behind, I knew that was a veritable death knell. As I entered the inclines of Bayani Road, a site of successes past, a former sanctuary turned Death Valley.

I can't run anymore. Dammit. I want to cry. But then that would affect my macho image. Arrgh. I want to run! I can't! Everyone's asking what the crap happened to me. Rod and Carlo just passed me. Ain't it great when you have friends who show genuine concern for you? But argh. I'll try to run again... ARGH ouch ouch. I can't. Sob. This sucks. I want ... to... quit? =,(

The spectre of my first ever DNF was very much real. The pain was pretty significant at this point. Each attempt to try and gut it out ended up bringing more pain. At least the last 5k of Botak ultra I was still able to run. This... . I simply couldn't. Add to this the strain of everyone passing my sorry carcass. Let me let you in on a little secret. I hate being passed. It gets to me. I'm a competitive guy, not just in running. But here, I was crumbling amidst the throes of my own mortality. It's hard to express in words the combined feeling of frustration, disappointment, exhaustion and pain that I was going through. It's barely 14k and change. How the heck can I get to the finish line when I can barely even walk anymore?

14k-21k. A friend in need... . is a friend indeed.

As I was losing hope exponentially by the minute, I was suddenly witness to the fact that life's little blessings come when you least expect it. As I had completely given up hope, along came training/pace buddy/carpool mate Bong Yu. He saw me struggling. Told him I wanted to quit. He could have left me, he has his own race to run. But in the spirit of friendship and supreme sacrifice, he told me he would keep me company! Unthinkable! You would sacrifice your race for me? Yeah why not, I'm still in recovery from Milo 42k anyway.
Oh man. I was overwhelmed. Bong encouraged me to just keep my head high. There are other races. Stop trying to run, what will you achieve? It ain't even worth it. You don't have to keep on proving yourself over and over again. You need a break anyway. Stand straight when there are girls passing by so that you keep your poise and still look macho. Maybe they'll think we're 8 minute pacers or something. Ran into a real pacer, Second Wind proprietor/running sage Hector who stopped and gave me some advice on the injury along with some words of encouragement.

The 7k trek to the line was painful. The encouragement and light conversation made me feel so much better. Everyone was passing us at this point. Even Mary Genie passed us. We found it amusing that she was ahead of Tito Caloy, Coach and Neil . Good ol' Tito Caloy was gloating over the first ever time he would get ahead of me in a race. Okay maybe not. But he was genuinely concerned. Didn't matter anymore. I was good. Happy that a friend was actually there for me. As the sun was beating down, a 15/km walk pace told me that we would cover a mere 3k in 45 mins. Eek. As we neared the finish line, the rest of the Takbo.ph boys helped us pace the final km for added support. It looked like a scene from the Beat It video as we were approaching the finish line.

Now that's what you call team support!

Couldn't have done it without this guy.

As racuous cheers from the Takbo.ph gallery met two fallen gladiators, I couldn't help but wonder that in spite of my worst-ever finish, in spite of having to suffer the ignominy of walking the last 7k and limping through the finish line, I was actually happy. Happy that I didn't DNF when it was the easiest choice I could have ever made.Happy to see that in actuality, the spirit of friendship trumps the spirit of competitiveness when circumstances call for it. Lessons will be learnt from this race, and while my injury is showing blatant signs of ITBS I am hopeful for a strong comeback. I am truly thankful for being blessed with good friends who keep on popping up at an opportune time and help me get through. One day I'll make it up to you guys.
Some days you just don't have it.

But on some days... .

It doesn't really matter at all.

Tito Caloy Quote of the Day:

"Habang tumatakbo ako meron kaming dalawang chiks na nakasalubong sabay sabi 'Hi Tito Caloy'! Ayos diba? Kahit di ko kakilala nag hi na din ako eh!"- On enjoying the trappings of newfound internet fame
Philippine Blog Awards Verification Code : PBA09r4qqo72

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.

Looking back,I was never really a swim kinda guy. You know how kids get sent to all those cool summer camps? Swim camp, tennis camp, basketball camp, anything to keep you preoccupied while school's out. I got... .. French lessons and exotic coin collecting.Great. I firmly believe that my overprotective mother was so concerned that I would get "injured" in this "big strange world" out there that instead of doing 500 meters at the pool I was downing 5 gallons of ice cream. All while watching Wacky Races on the i-Channel with this newfangled Sky Cable thing.

Poor kiddo.So to put it succinctly, I never had the benefit of those summer camp skills. I was pretty good with a Sega Mega Drive though (don't you just love all these Senti Sabado 90's references). Never really thought much of it... . much of my teenage and college life you could always just fake it by sort of wading in the shallow part and yapping it up with the gang during those sembreak trips to Bora.Thus... . not knowing how to swim didn't really matter. I rarely did anyway. I grew up. Got a degree. Went into the corporate world. Gained 40 pounds. Swimming was the farthest thing from my mind. It's like the staple party trick that you just couldn't seem to pull off but could care less if you could, like tying the cherry knots with your tongue or blowing plastic bubbles from little Chinese-made tubes.

That's hard.You know what happened next. Fat guy gets into running and loses 40 pounds. Fat Guy is no longer fat after running 102 rounds. Not-so-fat-guy bought a bike and tried this duathlon feat.And then one day he woke up and decided he wanted to be a triathlete.

The impossible dream?Suddenly, my early childhood deficiency came to the fore in a bad way. Triathlete? Maybe more like a Try-athlete, as klitschy as that sounds. Obviously, a triathlete who doesn't know how to swim is somewhat of an oxymoron.So what the crap was I supposed to do?The easy way to go about it was to just let go of the dream. Heck, maybe we're simply not meant to do certain things. Some people freeze up in public speaking, and some can't sing to save their lives. I can't swim to save my life either, so maybe I should just stick to what I know.Maybe it just wasn't meant for me.

Decision TimeI gave it a long hard look. I'm never one to back down from any challenge, but trying to do something that sent shivers down my spine, and at a competitive level at that, seemed a bit of a stretch for me.But then again, that would mean walking away from the dream... ..Pros. Cons. Contemplation. The setting Ortigas skyline cast its gentle shadow on me as I stood on my terrace, my gaze trailing off into the sunset. Should I play it safe? Could I withstand a lifetime of regrets and what if's , all because I never bothered to try?What would you do?

What pill?I chose the red pill . Time to face my fears and man up.Let's give this swimming thing a shot.Home-cooked "training" Emphasis on "training", because quite frankly, I had no idea what I was doing.

Duh.I'm more of the self-help kinda guy. Even with running, I took pride in the fact that I was a self-made man. Not that I abhor any form of outside advice or input, but it just seems that I do better when I learn on my own. So with much bravado, I set out to find as much material online as I could to learn this swim thing.Turns out, swimming is nowhere close to running. And learning on my own was easier said than done. I tried watching countless YouTube videos from all these online "gurus" saying conflicting things. Became part of countless swimming mailing lists, which I came to realize was merely an avenue to spam you with their products. I even downloaded the fun Mr. Smooth animation that supposedly allows you to emulate a "perfect" stroke free of any idiosyncrasies.

He doesn't smile too much.The end result of all these efforts?Epic fail.The info overload from differing viewpoints was a little hard to take in. I mean, for running, you just well, er, run. Once you can ride a bike, it's pretty much muscle memory. But I realized that swimming is a discipline that focuses a lot on technique. Technique that this stiff-armed Gingerbread character did not possess. The quick, rapid improvement that I was supposed to shock everyone with never saw the light of day. Sob.To further exacerbate things, the competitive nut in me got me in trouble again. The Dean's Cup is a UP Law-organized tweener sprint distance triathlon comprised of a 750m swim, 20k bike and 5k run, and for some reason there was this crazy itch in me to join.

With an initial foray into duathlon, there was a certain comfort level with the bike, and the run part is a given. But that 750m of swimming seemed more daunting than 102 kms of running to me at that time. Nevertheless, the "how will you ever learn if you don't bother to try" paradigm got to me again. And before I knew it, I had deposited my cool P1,250 reg fee and was on my way to either multisport glory or the bottom of the pool. (Ulk)Slight problem - Date of Payment : July 22, 2010.Date of Race : August 1, 2010.Sheesh.

Habol ng Habol. With barely two weeks left to prepare, I was scrambling. If I were an egg, I'd be the farthest thing from an easy over. I mean, ano nanaman ba tong napasukan ko? Some people wait months, even years before going for it. Yet here I was joining on another whim. I've come to realize that there are two kinds of athletes within the late adopter bubble- those who want to join with the best training possible so that they could rock it out, or those who join just to see if they can finishand set a yardstick for themselves. Obviously, I belong to the more daring (and should I say foolhardy)latter group.Palawan Chicken Swims In utter desperation, I was fortunate to have friends to help me out. Takbo.ph/Endure Multisport buddies Rico Villanueva and RJ Bumanlag helped me out at the Ultra pool one rainy Sunday afternoon. It was my first time to swim at Ultra, and I was daunted by the size. I had never swam 50m straight before in an Olympic size pool, and it was quite an experience of the lung busting kind. One lap was enough to knock the wind out of me. And you're telling me I had to do this 15 times during the triathlon? Whaaaaat??Significant confidence was still gained though, though I think my stress level shot up a couple of notches. We celebrated a good swim by partaking of sumptous Palawan chicken at Tiendesitas, one of the best dishes I had tried in a while.Waitress : Ser, may kasama na poh na apat na kanin yan... RJ: Ay miss baka sobra yang kanin, tatlo lang kamiRico: Oo nga, baka pwedeng kanya kanyang kanin na lang?Waitresss : Ay di na poh pwede ser package na poh yan. (15 mins later)RJ: Miss, isa ngang extra rice!Rico : Er, uh, ako din miss!GBM : Make dat three!

You have got to try this, take my word for it.One Step Forward, Ten Steps BackWith this newfound confidence, I ventured out(perhaps a bit too haphazardly) to further strengthen my swim skills albeit with poor rudimentary form. A quick visit on a stormy night at the Army pool near Mckinley proved to be a serious speed bump, just when I was gaining momentum. Visibility was next to nil, couldn't see crap. And as I would get to learn later, the pool was shaped in such a way that bouyancy was greater, making for a much more difficult swim.Right smack in the middle of a lap I felt that the pool was so heavy. Soon enough I was tiring rapidly, and before I knew it I was hyperventilating. Meaning I couldn't breathe. Which meant I was freaking out and drowning. Yes, drowning. I tried hanging on to the lane dividers or buoys. Crap! There weren't any! Flailing, panicking. Oh boy, what a disaster. I finally managed to make it to the shallow part of the pool quite shaken and shaking, but more bothered that I had lost my nerve just days before the race.Whatever faux swimming mojo I had before that session just flew out of the window.I couldn't get myself to a pool in the days after. I considered withdrawing from the race altogether, just give up this stupid nonsense. How can I be a triathlete if I can't swim?Once again, maybe it wasn't for me... ..More soul searching. The decision was agonizing. I didn't want to be labeled a quitter. Maybe I could never forgive myself if I bailed. But what if I drown again?With time running out, I ended up with the its-up-to-God move.(it sounds better in the vernacular)I leave it all to a higher power now.

Drowning is not a fun thing.D-Day Race day beckons. Armed with zero confidence and a goosebumps at the mere sight of water, I entered the transition area for body markings at UP with much trepidation. What if I make a monumental fool out of myself in front of everybody? What if I drown well, die? My would- be career would have been over before it had even started.Add in the pressure that this was my first official race under the banner of Endure Multisport, and you have an idea how my brain was functioning before the race. What if I mess up? Would they fire me? Eeek.

Smiles beforehand a mere facade to the anxiety withinSplash So here we go. Moment of truth. Like a salve to sooth my nerves, we were advised that the 750m swim portion would start at the deep, 10 foot part of the pool. Oh great. No one told me the salve came from the makers of chili plaster. I hung on to the pool ladder for dear life and kept to the back of the pack while waiting for our wave to be released.For me, this wasn't just the focal point of the whole race. It was make or break time.

Sob.A final heave, and I was finally done! 750m in 33 mins, how awful. But still, it felt like the weight of the entire world was lifted off my shoulders. I trotted off to the transition area, which was like 300 meters away, my mind set on one thing - making up for lost time.Mash A super slow T1 didn't help at all, and in my mindless zeal I nearly went out with everyone zooming by at full speed. The course was the Acad Oval had an extended, slight downhill followed by a false flat on the other end. I tried going out with guns blazing, but alas I'm not that strong of a biker yet to make it all up. I was passing people, but not as many as you would think.The exhaustion of the swim along with the heat were also getting to me, and was slow up the inclines with no cleats working for me. I overestimated my biking ability and thought I could take it in 40 mins. Not even close. I limped home to T2 in 55 mins, which meant I was barely above 20 kph. Eek.

Speed BagalDash Having no bike shoes has one lame advantage - it makes for a fast T2 transition. I took off my helmet and sped off, according to my teammates, "like a man possessed". Gigil na gigil daw. And for good reason. After trudging through a survival swim and a lame bike, here I was at core discipline. I couldn't wait to get out there. I run a high 21 minute 5k, maybe I could make up for lost time. Of course, we all know that ain't happening. My body had been beaten down severely at this point, and the heat was scorching. Legs felt like they had weights strapped on to them. Managed to pass several at the back end, but not enough to make a dent on my time. As I was sprinting towards the end and my entire team was egging me on, I came to the realization that Hey, I'm actually doing this! I survived!

Just a little more... As I crossed the line with an otherwise pedestrian 25 minute run split for a 1:54:16 total, the sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. Didn't matter that I was last on our team to finish, 56th place overall and 9th in our age group. I was particularly proud that although I utterly sucked out, I won my battle against the water. The phobia was messing with my brain, and I'm happy I stood up and fought it.The route I took was unconventional, and some if not most may not subscribe to it. But to the competitive people out there who wish to take a stab at something new, always remember that nothing is impossible if you only bother trying. If a guy like me with no prior swim skills (and who first encountered an Olympic-sized pool two weeks before the race) could hack it, so could you.

Happy guy.I'm a happy guy. I faced my fear and won a staredown with it. And I'm back to actually tell all of you the tale. My first try at my first tri. Always special the first time around eh? And to think it all came oh so close to never happening... .No what if's here.It matters not how straight the gateHow charged with punishments the scrollI am the captain of my fateI am the master of my soul - from William Ernest Henley's Invictus

Yes, Yes YES!
Those were the words ringing in my head as I was sprinting to the finish line at yesterday's Philippine International Marathon 10k race. Not prematurely as was my folly in the numerous times I have faltered in the past - I made sure the celebration came when the mat was right in front of me. I took time to savor the moment... and sought to retrace the twists and turns leading up to it.

Finally! Yay!
What's the big deal?
To some, a sub-50 finish may not seem like a particularly big deal. But to me, it takes on a certain measure of significance as it represents the pinnacle of a particularly tough climb from the recesses of an unhealthy downward spiral. Not to mention finally getting past a mental hurdle that had incessantly gotten the best of me. I was actually so close to giving up on it already. Just let it go man. It ain't meant to be.

Not in the blood
Why was this the case? I was thinking, maybe I just don't have it in me. You know how some people are just natural athletes? Introduce them to running, and right off the bat they could run a 45 minute 10k split with no training at all. I was never one of those people. Not even close. Blame it on poor genes. I have had the benefit of having totally unathletic parents, unless you consider competitive eating a sport. In high school, could never run the fastest, nor jump the highest. My friends could touch the basketball rim. I could touch the ... . board. I even tried killing myself with Jumpsoles, ever remember those things? Nah, didn't work. Not in the blood I guess.

My Dad could take this dude any day, name the place
Humble BeginningsMy first 10k was a 1:28. In what was to be a precursor to my positive split strategy, I started out really fast... . only to bottom out during the 2nd half. I had no conditioning to speak of. I was also um, fat. 205 lbs. Gak. I was so conscious of my pata that I wore jogging pants. Yeah, the baggy type that was all the rage in the 1990's. I seemed to have been passed by every Tom, Dick and Harry along with Jane. Depressingly, I nearly threw up at the finish line. Yeah. Talk about being out of shape.

Grandpa beat me fair and square

Getting Ambitious
Long,painstaking hours of lonesome training later and I found myself clearing the sub-60 and sub-55 marks in rapid succession. Hey, I like this. I'm actually... getting to be good at this. Admittedly, I'm a competitive running junkie. Don't know if that's a good thing, but I constantly benchmark against the very best runners in our group. I want to force myself to get better. Wanting to take my game to the next level, I discovered that lowering the bar from 55 - 50 was becoming exponentially harder.

Wanna go up the ladder? It's harder than you think.

Breakdown City

My best shot came at Ayala Eco-Dash. Let you in on my thought process during those crucial final moments :

They say that running is just as much mental as physical, sometimes even more. I completely agree, 100%. Here I was , on the cusp of beating one of my biggest running goals, and I was doing a completely chokejob. Mentally, I was messed up. I was freaking out and panicking. Prematurely celebrating, I was even thinking of a title for the blog post already. ... and ended up missing it by 15 seconds. Damn. Oh the heartbreak.

Breakdowns put you in esteemed company
This is It?
In an attempt to finally slay the ghosts of 10k breakdowns past, I had resolved to join this year's Philippine International Marathon. Good friend/"doping like effect coach/Conquer Corregidor head honcho Edward Kho told me "this was the flattest course I have ever ran". Knowing that the route would take me across Roxas Blvd, I said to myself,hey, maybe I'll get lucky this time.
I rushed to get to the venue as early as 3:30 in a lame attempt to meet Sir Jovie aka Bald Runner to get my 1,000 Km club shirt. No such luck. I was there 3:30, took me about 40 minutes to find a parking slot. By that time they had already gone off for the start of the 42k. Boo. Maybe next time.

So in short, I waited for several hours until the 6:00 am gun. Former President FVR actually dropped by, gave us runners in the front rows a quick pep talk. He seems like a nice guy. In hindsight though, don't they all?

Panic Mode
As the race began, I was a little off-tangent because everyone next to me was sprinting like a madman. You sort of get caught up in it. Or maybe that's just the sheer lack of conditioning, nursing flu-like symptoms all week. Took me some time to get into any rhythm whatsoever, and the splits showed it - 4:13. 4:35, 4:55. Oh no. It's not supposed to go down that fast . Nooooo!!!! Breathe. Relax. And just as I felt I was getting my bearings back, i ran right smack into the last thing I wanted to see - a flyover. So much for a completely flat course. Noooo. I felt my sub-50 dreams evaporate right then and there.

What a waste. I lost pace with those two flyovers. Tried pushing it, but knocked the wind out of my sails right after. Losing pace rapidly. And my woes were compounded by the 5k contingent at their turnaround point, as I had to labor through a veritable "Alay Lakad" crowd. At the 8k mark, I had a 5:17 split (worst of the race) with no relief in sight. I could barely breathe. Legs weren't there anymore. Call it a day. Game over.

Freaking out was more like it.
Digging Deep
Then I thought to myself. Here I go again. At Eco-dash, I gave up mentally. I just threw in the towel. Then came the realization - just 10 more minutes of agony for the glorious satisfaction of victory. I once read a quote that said "when it starts to really hurt, that's the time to push it even harder" You have no idea how much those little snippets actually helped. Digging deep, I went headhunting and went after a really speedy guy wearing a KOTR 2007 singlet. Setting aside the pain, I went for broke, knowing each second wasted brought me farther and farther away from my dream. The 9k split was starting to look encouraging. 44:10. I can do this!
I ran like there was no more tomorrow. All of those days training in the rain, in the heat, at 4:00 am in the morning - this was what it all comes down to. Right then and there, you had to leave your blood and guts on the road. There simply was no other way. You HAD to want it. It wasn't going to present itself on a silver platter. And upon hitting the line, I was numb at first. Then it registered. 49:12. Oh yes. Yes. YES. I finallly did it! I finally breached the sub-50 mark!!! Yahoo!!!

My mind drifted to all those past failures, those past trials. The inherent lack of athleticism. How the goal had seemed so lurid to begin with, and steeling yourself for the eventuality that maybe you just didn't have it in you. Just let it go man. It ain't meant to be. It probably never will be. Basking in the glow of victory, i was happy, overjoyed even, that for one day at least... .

It actually was. :)

So what's the beef with this VO2Max thingamajigie? You constantly hear or read about it in sporting journals, or mentioned during any endurance sport-related writeup. From a layman's standpoint, whatever it is, if you have high levels of it, you must be good! I first heard of it when reading anything on Lance Armstrong's training regimen. They kept on saying that he had unusually high levels of it. So after several years, that "thing" that sounds like a brand of a PC videocard suddenly took on a greater relevance for me since I have started running. I became curious. What's does it do? What is it exactly? Can I improve on it? I did some research on the subject matter, and this what I learned. It turns out, VO2 max is a measure of the maximum volume of oxygen that an athlete can use, and is measured in mililitres per kilogram of body weight. Quite simply, when you increase your effort when exercising, the amount of oxygen needed to produce energy also increases. Turns out however that there's a maximum level of oxygen consumption, which when breached would no longer lead to increases in oxygen usage. As it is, it's generally considered the best indicator of cardiorespiratory endurance and aerobic fitness. However, as we’ll discuss in a moment, it is more useful as an indicator of a person's aerobic potential or upper limit than as a predictor of success in endurance events. Apparently, there are differing schools of thought on Vo2 max. Some think it is a core element which should be improved upon if you wish to achieve your maximum physical ability. On the flipside, some researchers believe it is merely a measure of of one's oxygen usage at maximum energy output. They hazard that it is not the critical factor which determines performance; but more of a consequence of other limiting factors. Whatever the reasoning may be, at the very least we can be sure that it's a definitive measure of exercise intensity at one's oxygen plateau. Ok, so what more can we get with this Vo2 thing? How can you even know what yours is? There are several methods, one of which is to calculate from your races. A formula was given, but I got super confused - VO2 Max=(-4.60 + 0.182258 * velocity + 0.000104 * velocity^2)/(0.8 + 0.1894393 * e^(-0.012778 * time) + 0.2989558 * e^(-0.1932605 * time)) If you could make something out of that, congratulations! So can we actually improve on our VO2 max? It seems a fair share of it is determined by our genes, but training can improve it by 5-20%.

How do I compare with the general population?

Female (ml/kg/min)

Male (values in ml/kg/min)

What is the VO2 max of elite athletes?

Here is a sample of measured VO2 max for selected athletes.

So there, after reading all of that, I still am a little iffy on the topic, maybe because I'm not a numbers guy. And I still think that if you have more of it, that's a good thing! :) I hope you guys got something out of it though! Tell me what you think!

With off-road events experiencing a sudden resurgence, enthusiasts both new and old alike may want to check out this upcoming series of events from Finishline, to be held against the scenic backdrop of Nuvali. With running, cycling and Now if only a house in the area weren't so expensive.

Here are the details, pretty much everything is there already.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS 1. What is In-Motion Series? In-Motion is the 3 part leg series of races per year hosted by Finishline. Each leg consists of a variety of single-sports discipline and multi-sports discipline. Each leg will begin with a running event as a jump-off point and culminate with a sprint triathlon. Refer to 2011 calendar of events for dates. 2. What is Road X Trail? Road X Trail is the launch of the In-Motion Series, that consists of 3 sports events: cycling (Dec 11), running (Dec 18), and duathlon (Dec 19). For each discipline, there are 2 types: road and trail. 3. What is Activate? Activate is a weekly training program to complement the In-Motion race series that aims to provide assistance in 2 ways: > Timed Training on your own time: Finishline to provide timing at running, cycling, and swimming spots. Weekday and weekend schedule shall be posted at www.finishline.ph > Train With a Personal Coach: Finishline coaches will develop a customized program, depending on the objective 4. What is MYCHIP?

MYCHIP is the first personal*, multi-sport** timing chip in the Philippines. *It is non-disposable, and can be used for a lifetime. **It can be used for running, cycling, swimming, duathlon, aquathlon, triathlon races hosted or timed by Finishline. MYCHIP price is Php 2,500 which includes, MYLAPS-ChampionChip Timing Chip, Neoprene Strap (for running and duathlon), and a bike clip (for road and trail biking). For more information on MYCHIP, refer to the leaflet or log on to www.finishline.ph MYCHIP owners avail of a Php 150 discount on registration fee for running and cycling fun ride, and Php 350 discount for other events. 5. Aside from using MYCHIP, how else can we avail of discounts? No discount on bulk registration. No discount for joining the whole leg. 6. Where can i purchase MYCHIP? For those who will register and will purchase MYCHIP, payment will be done at the registration sites, but race kit and MYCHIP will be delivered to the participant. Registration staff to write the complete delivery address beside the race number yellow box. 7. Do we have to activate our MYCHIP every time we join? No. MYCHIP owners are assigned a permanent unique chip code, which automatically registers as they cross the finish line. 8. Can we claim race kits on race day? No. For Running: Running kits will be available at registration sites on November 23 (Tuesday). For those who registered from Nov 15 - November 22, race kits will be delivered to them. Registration Staff to write complete delivery address beside the race number yellow box. For Cycling: Participants should claim their race kits at their designated registration site from December 6 - 10, using their race kit tickets to be given by the registration staff upon payment of participant. For Duathlon: Participants should claim their race kits at their designated registration site from December 6 - 10, using their race kit tickets to be given by the registration staff upon payment of participant. 9. What are the rules and regulation for winning? There are 2 ways to win: 1. Winners for each race category: Top 3 winners, Male and Female. 2. Winners for each age category per race category: 1 winner per age category, Make and Female. There is a total of 12 age categories: kids 8-11 yrs. old youth 12-15 yrs. old 16-17 yrs. old 18-24 yrs. old 25-29 yrs. old 30-34 yrs. old 25-39 yrs. old 40-44 yrs. old 45-49 yrs. old 50-54 yrs. old 55-59 yrs. old 60 and above Participant to cross the finish line must be a registered participant to qualify. Timers to confirm split and chip times before awarding winners. Each winner to receive special winners medals. 10. What are the prizes? No cash prizes to be given. GCs and Products will be given to the top winners. 11. What will non-winners receive on race day? Each participant will receive a finisher’s medal, MYRACE analysis, and drinks from the beverage sponsor. 12. Can we ride with our kids without joining the race? No. Only registered participants can ride/run. In case of minors, a signed waiver by the guardian/parent should be turned over to the registration staff. 13. If we join the race, do we get discounts at the nearby hotels within the area? Where? Yes. For inquiries, call Paseo Premiere at 049 5413089 to 94 . 14. Can we join 2 or more criterium race categories? Ex. Cycling Active Dirt Criterium at 6:30am and Fit Road Criterium at 9am? Yes. 15. What kind of bike can i use for each race? Only road bikes will be allowed on road criterium categories. Only mountain bikes will be allowed on trail criterium categories. Both bike types will be allowed to join the fun ride category. 16. When do we get the results of MYRACE Analysis? MYRACE results will be posted within 24 hours. Finishline In-Motion Series Launch Brief

DESCRIPTION

TARGET MARKET

• Primary : for the longer distance race categories, we are targeting regular participants (elites and intermediates) of duathlon, cycling (mountain bikers and road bikers), running (trail and road runners)
• Secondary: We will also target beginners and anyone interested in trying out new sports / muli-sports by offering shorter distance categories. Majority of them are either doing only running or cycling.

• To introduce other sports to those who are limited to joining either running or cycling events only but would like to try other sports or combination of both.
• To offer a multi-discipline event designed to appeal not only to experienced competitors but to newbies as well.
• To showcase different sports disciplines in an accessible and spectator-friendly format.

Check out the videos for a better idea of what the events are all about. Cool, nicely done.

Main Entry: sin·glet
Pronunciation: \ˈsiŋ-glət\
Function: noun
Date: circa 1746

1 chiefly British : an athletic jersey; also : a collarless men's undergarment for the upper part of the body

Mr. Webster looks good in his old-school singlet

Chiefly British. Hmmm. Why was I not surprised? Only those dudes could take the sando and make it sound so sosy.So you're a singlet Ho. Yeah, admittedly. As I was writing my previous piece on newbie gaffes, I had mentioned there that the Adidas KOTR's singlet had taken my fancy. It's much akin to what you could buy at a store for like 700 or 800 bucks, and under that prevailing logic not only can you get the fancy singlet for a much cheaper price, you get a free fancy race as well.

As far as I know, you can get the singlets at their Running Expo this Saturday and Sunday at Megamall's Megatrade Hall, some ginormous event with fashion shows, running clinics and seminars. Not bad for 500 bucks eh? But dang, I can't wait that long! UGH. Must ... . get... hands... . on ... . KOTR singlet... ..

I still likey. NOW.
Anyway, my thought process was jarred from its otherwise halcyon state as the ghosts of singlets past suddenly came back to haunt me. Singlets come in all shapes and sizes. Some are training-run worthy, some go straight to the bottom shelf cabinet for posterity. Others are spectacular, while most just plain suck. I've even come across some that are "large" but couldn't fit my younger sister if I had one.

With that in mind, I'll try to run you through some of the singlets that I have come across in the past, and how they measure up.

Takbo.ph
Well, for me its still the coolest singlet ever, and I'm not just saying that because Boss Jinoe will fire me if I dont :P Our unofficial uniform during Sunday races, it's the "legacy" limited edition singlet that was given during the Condura Run Carbo-Loading Party several months back. I bet the singlet would do very well on the black market :P

The Airspeed Run
Anyone remember this? This came from the era where Coach Rio was dabbling in the utilitarian, "tipid meals shut up and dont whine you only paid 250 bucks for this" style of singlet. I mean seriously, ask anyone. These were virtually unwearable in real life. Fabric was substandard, and even after losing like 30 pounds I still could not squeeze myself into one. Sigh, the good ol' days.

Men's Health Miracle Run
Still remains to be one of my personal favorites. Was well made, had a cool design, and was an upgrade over the shirt that came with the first incarnation. Everyone was raving about it.. until they turned the singlet and saw a big "Frenzy" logo there. So much for wholesome family running fun. Oh, and yeah I'm still waiting for the official results.

Auto Review Run

Did you run this? Thought so too. But this is where my singlet hoeness came to the forefront. Saw the jpegs, thought it was awesome, left the office to register even if I had absolutely no intention of running it. Was somewhat disappointed with its substandard material and weird fit. Tito Caloy had fun running the race though.

Botak Ultramarathon 50k
Milestone run for me, and wonderful, personalized singlet that elicited quite a stir at the time. I still sleep with it under my pillow at night.

Globe Run For Home
I remember. Everyone was so excited about this race.Including me. First mainstream disposable chip-timed race. I was so excited that I risked running this on no training and still in recovery. Blew out my ITB as a result . Anyway, just as excitement was reaching fever pitch, the Coach Rio version 2.0 singlet was released. And tadah! Amidst tremendously high expectations, collective jaws dropped. Nuff said.

So with all these in mind, this finally brings us to...

Adidas King of the Road
Yahoo! Yay! Prayers answered! It's the greatest thing since sliced bread. Fit is wonderful too! It rocks so much that I may very well ghost register someone just to get a spare, in case something happens to it. Haha just kidding of course. Yeah. Haha.

But if you do see me on Saturday or Sunday at Megatrade Hall, let's just make it our dirty little Gingerbread secret okay? :P

If you have any "vintage"singlets you may want to see the light of day, send me images through the Gingerbread Mailbox on the home page and lets do something fun with it :)

As usual, am late with my article (x_x) But heck, I'll still post it so let's keep it short and sweet (I'll try no promises) As you may or may not know, last year's vaunted Conquer Corregidor 10-miler race is back with a vengeance. But race director Edward Kho would be doing everybody a disservice if he came up with the exact same thing right? So this year, he made the course even harder, extended it a couple of kilometers, put in some cool events before and after, and voila - you have this year's Corregidor International Half Marathon.

Coolness.

The salient points of the race were explained during the fancy presser amidst a cruise around Manila Bay with the usual suspects in attendance. There was even a Bearwin sighting, good job in dropping something like 20 pounds. As the world-class sunset that practically no one ever gets to see came to the fore, I just realized that's it's been a year already since we did the inaugural test run as the race was still under conceptualization. Sigh. Time flies by so fast.

Beautiful.
You see, this isn't just some random race presser for me. This is special. My Garmin helped measure the distance on that original route. I even gave out TBR magazines to the people during the cruise going to the island (yeah Jaymie, I really did. Like some flight attendant dude. I was half waiting for someone to ask for more coffee or to fluff their pillow)

Been a year already?
Point is, in one way or another I somehow feel a close affinity to this race, and I can't help but revel in how it has come back, at on paper, better than ever. Some straight talk - this isn't an easy course by any means. "Hard" may be an understatement as inclines reach a 60 degree gradient, which renders St. Martin Ortigas much akin to the kiddie pool. If you're looking to set a PR with this race, better immerse yourself in the free training programs that Ed Kho would be giving away as a value added service. This course ain't for the faint of heart, but it's the perfect avenue for budding intermediate level runners to test themselves. The dramatic backdrops are but mere gravy.

Intense.

Learn to endure.
Rather than spoil the fun by giving you a history lesson, I'll tell you what to expect on December 19. First off, it's a bit on the pricey side. P2,500. Now that we got that out of the way, why in the bejesus are they charging you P2,500?

It includes your round-trip transpo. Just like last year, you can opt to do overnight or a day trip. For overnighters, you can do tours, ziplines, and there would be a nice carbo-loading party by a bonfire. For those who will make sulit the vacation by staying another night, you'll be rewarded with a victory party with top bands performing. Niiiice.

What fun.
It gives out a medallion. Not a medal. You heard that right. A medallion. Not your run of the mill tanso medal, but the real deal. Thick. Heavy. Eye candy. Can you pawn it? Shame on you.

Yum.
Even if you suck out, you still get something. No cutoff times, but there's a "curfew time" at the halfway mark of 1:45. Come on, a 1:45 10k? Of course you can do that. Best part is, even if you DNF, you'll still get a 10k "achievement medal". Because quite frankly, even just a 10k on that course is an achievement already.

Dri-fit Shirts. Who doesn't love drifit shirts? They're cool. They're comfy. You'll wear them during the race. And on the way home. And after your training run with your buds. And to the mall. And to the... you get the picture.

I like.RFID Timing Chip. Better than the "hula hula" barcode system. You and your buds won't have to debate about "ah kasi kaya ka lang naka PR kasi sobra ng 200 meters ung course, teka icalculate ko muna" Happens more often than you think.

Athletes Backpack. The only bag you'll be allowed to check in, lots of pockets and partitions custom made for runners. You even get to display a replica of your bib number for extra pogi points. Feeling Olympic athlete, kahit for a weekend lang diba.

Why didn't they give me this last year !

Personalized Race Certificate with Name and Time. Name me the last race that gave you a personalized finisher's cert. Yeah, thought so too. Your office mates will finally believe that you're a runner, hooray.

I can harp on and on about it, and you can whine and whine about how expensive it is, but the fact of the matter is, given the setting, difficulty level, an d vacation potential/Facebook bragging rights all rolled into one, it's a terrific buy. Slots are very limited, and last year there was a mad dash for race kits towards the end. I highly suggest you register as early as possible.

Here's the part where I shamelessly copy paste the registration procedure. Check it out.

Registration Venue and Period:all weekends (Saturday and Sunday only) of October and November, subject to slot availabilityRUNNR ( Boni High Street ) Saturday and Sunday, 2pm to 9pm
Second Wind (Maginhawa) Saturday only, 1pm to 6pm
Second Wind (Ortigas Home Depo) Saturday only, 1pm to 6pm
on-line registration facility (for participants residing abroad and outside Metro Manila) will be up on October 9, 2010Registration fee: P2,500.00 - until October (early registration)
P3,000.00 - until November (late registration)Race Registration inclusions:Roundtrip ferry to and from Corregidor
Full lunch buffet on race day
Race bib w/ RFID timing chip
Race shirt
Race backpack
Finisher's Medallion (or a 10k Achiever Medal)
Runners' Briefing (Dec 4 and 11) at ROX
Carbo-loading Bonfire Party (Dec 18, Saturday night)Victory Party with two top performing bands (Dec 19, Sunday night)Personalized Finishers' Certificate (complete with name and finish time)

Race Registration Procedures:
1) After completing registration for the race (manual or on-line), beginningthe following Monday, contact Sun Cruises at 8346857/8346858/5275555 loc 4511 0r 4512.

2) Indicate the desired trip schedule:
a) Overnight – departure on Dec 18 @ 8:30am (return trip to Manila ison Dec 19 via 2:30pm trip from Corregidor*)
b) Day trip – departure on Dec 19 @ 5:30am (return trip to Manila is Dec19 via 5:30pm trip from Corregidor*)
c) Participants with non-competing companions (non-competingcompanions will have to pay Php2,000.00/person; no race packwill be provided to them) will have to take the Dec 18, 11:30am tripto Corregidor (return trip to Manila is on Dec 20, Monday, via 10:00amtrip from Corregidor.
* for “a)” and “b)” indicate if attending the Solidarity & Victory Party on the night of December 19 to amend departure schedule to Monday, Dec 20 via 10:00am trip from Corregidor.

3) If applicable, make accommodations reservation with Sun Cruises (onlyregistered participants will be given reservations). Pay the appropriateaccommodations booking amount through the payment mode advised bySun Cruises.

4) On Dec 4 or 11 (as advised through email and text by the organizers) atROX, attend the Runners’ Briefing, pick-up the race pack, and claim theBoarding Pass and/or Accommodations Booking ticket from Sun Cruises.Ensure to bring the Acknowledgement Receipt issued duringregistration. No Acknowledgement Receipt, No Race Pack.

Race Registration Requirements:1) Properly filled out registration form (may be downloaded by Friday / available at the registration site)
2) Any valid ID (driver's licence, SSS ID, voter's ID, postal ID, passport, etc.) indicating date of birth
3) Proof of participation in a 10k race (during the last 2 months prior to registration) or 21k race (during the last 3 months prior to registration), or a full marathon (during the last 6 months prior to registration) or a doctor's certification of fitness to participate in an athletic event. For proof of race participation, a printout of the particular race result is preferable. In lieu of that, race bib will be accepted but will be subject to verification through the race results available on-line.
4) Applicable registration fee.Before we go, I'll leave you with some video snippets of what's in store for you.

Honor our heroes. Settle the score.

See you in Corregidor.

(hey it even rhymes)

Different Strokes for different folks. Horrible cliche, but when it comes to devising running strategies, training programs, shoe recos - you will get a plethora of answers that are oftentimes night and day in terms of theory and approach. The series would be dealing with the different strategies that runners utilize on race day, and the ramifications that arise from it. Hopefully, you will be able to deduce what is best from you.

The Runner's Taboo - Romancing the Positive Split The positive split. You hear it all the time around running circles in hushed tones, a seeming taboo approached with the same derision and mistrust as one would give the Illuminati. What's so wrong with it? Why do people view it with so much disdain? Let us take a closer look. Eat my dust, I'll see you later! - Newbie In plain and simple terms, a positive split entails that one would be running the first half of the race faster the second . C'mon, admit it. How may times have you see the relatively newbie-looking runner blast off from the starting gun, and you mutter "that won't last long" or something along those lines. Let's face it. There's an almost universal streak of vitriol against positive split runners. I always wondered why. If we are to continue using the boxing style analogy, the positive split would be the unorthodox, hard hitting puncher who is relying on that one big knockout blow to seal the match. It is most closely associated with being new and being amateur. Why is that the case? Under the Hood Most experts and experienced runners I know would recommend negative splits when running a marathon. Apparently, there are several things going on under your body's bonnet while running a positive split that you need to know : 1. You consume your glycogen deposits faster, meaning you'll be depending on fat far earlier in a race. As you may or may not know, this is far less efficient means of getting energy. 2. You hit your lactate threshold way too early, meaning you'll spend the majority of the race running anaerobically ( read: not good), meaning you'll hit the dreaded wall much earlier than usual (read: not good at all) 3. You'll have less margin of error to work around in case you overestimate your abilities on race day (happens a lot) What the Experts Say The experts aren't too crazy about it either. Running legend Sebastian Coe said in his book Better Training for Distance Runners that "deviating from your mean race pace by as little as +or - 2 % is metabolically more costly than remaining within this window" . In his book The Lore of Running, Tim Noakes categorically stated that "you should never listen to those who advocate running faster in the first half so you will have time to cushion your reduced pace in the second half. In fact, your fast pace in the first half is the very reason for your fade in the second half. It is always better to run the second half faster. It gives you the impression that your are faster than you really are. Bordering on the Controversial : My Take Okay, so the positive split was all but butchered by every Tom, Dick, Harry, and even Jane out there. However, as those who have raced with me know, I have a contrarian view on the matter. I have tried to neg split several times, and each and every time it hit me square on the jaw.Case in point - Botak Paa-Tibayan 21k. I had told myself at the time, okay why don't we try this negative split thing since it's a longer distance and everyone recos it anyway. So I ran the first 10k in 55:30, at a pace that is very tame in comparison to what I usually do. So no positive split there. So what happened? Did I break records? Nah. I totally discomombulated over the 2nd half. I had a finish time of 2:14, way off the sub-2 hour finish that I was targeting. At the time that I was supposed to pick up the pace, at the time where my bountiful glycogen deposits and lack of anaerobic effort should have reaped benefits, I had nothing more to give. I tried in vain to speed up, the best I could muster was a 6:30 effort, and even that I couldn't sustain. I felt like I would die at the finish line. So what went wrong? Why didn't the famed negative split work for me?

Nope, it didnt work. It's a mental thing So what happened? I'm guessing it's a mental thing. Perhaps I have a weird psychological makeup. Believe it or not, each and every race that I have run on a positive split led me to setting a new PR. I have honestly no idea why. As we know, the race is just as much mental as it is physical. Once you mind starts playing games with you, you're screwed. As for myself, I always felt more comfortable being ahead and hanging on to a lead rather than coming back from behind. I'd rather race the first half and make the second half a blood and guts game. I do a lot better from a position of control. Specially when there an inclines during the second half, coupled with the Manila heat I am unable to gain any sort of major ground. I would rather steel myself and hang on. Thus it boils down to : 1. You're tired, it's hot, your legs are killing you and you're protecting a lead OR 2. You're tired, it's hot, your legs are killing you and you're clawing your way from behind. Obviously, I choose the former. Mr. Coe said that even a 2% deviation from your intended race pace (if you start aggresively) will extract a "big cost" from your race. So why doesn't it work for me? Is it the debilitating Manila heat? Is that the "unintended variable" caveat that he put in when he wrote it? I just really want to know. Your thoughts and comments please? Let the debates begin.

Powerpuff Boys. TPB. The crew with the can't-miss singlet has steadily garnered a cult ever since a highly controversial runner-up finish during the inaugural Chris Sports Epic Relay 250 Race. In the months that had passed since their cause celebre' , the open-source singlet had become a veritable fan favorite amongst running denizens. Perhaps because of the fun color, but more so because a lot could relate to the scrapping, never-say-die attitude the team exhibited during its maiden campaign.

It's fuchsia.
With team running events few and far in between, not a few wondered when the men in fuchsia would ever don their proud colors again. Would they ever get a shot at redemption? Alas, a rare opportunity presented itself - The Fort Running Festival. 30 runners to a team, best cumulative time wins. The yahoogroup immediately went off the hook as the team scrambled to search for possible members, given that the original team only had ten competing members .

In the mold of the original team, the closest thing to a competitive sub-elite team was formed. These are dudes who may not be considered as "elite", yet showcase an advanced level of fitness in consistently placing in the upper percentile of local races. I guess people could relate because you don't have national -team level professionals , but ordinary working people with day jobs who have dedicated themselves to a committed healthy lifestyle. Weeks turned into months amidst numerous roster changes due to a laundry list of reasons. The final lineup comprised of a motley crew of marathoners, ultramarathoners, triathletes, mountaineers, running veterans, greenhorns, and one running ninja.
I had quite the experience with the team during our Epic Relay run, certainly one of the highlights of my year. Even if I was one of the central figures in our "controversial" finish, the goodwill generated by the entire experience overshadowed whatever bitterness ensued. That said, I couldn't wait to race with these guys again. Much to my chagrin, it was scheduled on the same day as the Speedo National Age Group Triathlon, which I had been preparing for. So I essentially passed for this race. In yet another twist, registration slots sold out like hotcakes three weeks before, which practically never happens. Thus, I was left without a race! Great. Blessings come when you least expect it though. Regrettably, someone had pulled out from the roster due to injury days before the race, and they were scrambling to find someone on such short notice.

While it's not exactly GBM saves the day, because I'm really just a roster filler, I was overjoyed at the prospect of donning our pink colors once more and just having an awesome time with the gang.

D-Day
The team met beforehand for a quick pep talk and to finalize all remaining logistical concerns. We also wore the Adobo Run promotional bibs that our buddies at Paul Calvin's Deli hooked us up with. To quote that dude in Ocean's 13, I felt like I was in a " field of excellence". Some of these guys I had never met before, but I was well aware of their running pedigree. The ones I did know, these were stacked with very strong runners, top-tier stuff. Original TPB members abound too, practically everyone from the Epic Relay campaign was there. As much as the atmosphere was light and relaxed, there was a subtle yet palpable feeling of pressure.

I had to deliver. I couldn't let these guys down. Not while wearing these colors.

And So It Begins
The gun went off without any warning, and so were off. I was particularly worried because I have been putting more effort into bike and swim training, and my supposed bread and butter running capabilities were pretty much non-existent. Got to pace with low-key original Takbo.ph moderator and Philippine Blog Award finalist Natz Garcia, one of the strongest runners I know. A past Milo National finalist, his season-long spartan approach to training manifested immediately as I could barely keep up with his machine-like pace. There was jostling on the route, some starting out crazy fast. I was a goner by the 7th kilometer. Gasp. Wheez.

Halfway Mark
Settling down to a more comfortable pace, I got to hang on with speedy TPB pioneer Mark Mulder, our short-distance specialist who was making his debut at the pikermi distance. Always helps to have someone act as your metronome, keeps you from slacking off. Entering Bayani and Heritage, we were hanging tough even as a mass of people from another race got us off-tangent for a couple of moments. Note to self: You should go inside Heritage Park more, it's actually beautiful inside. Ran into original TPB skipper Brian Rivera (who regrettably skipped the race due to injury) and Doc Eire there snapping up photos and mouthing words of encouragement to us.

Pain amidst beauty at Heritage for the TPB Boys
3/4 of the way

Last 15k. As me and Mark were laboring on the way back to Bayani Road, I was telling him that if we just gut out that last uphill at the Essensa area, we'd have it made. Silly me. They keep on adding these fun uphills in a never ending variation of all possible Fort Routes. Running on fumes, don't even know how I'm sustaining this. Mark is lagging back a little, from what I would later learn were shin issues. Just a bit more... .

Last Kilometer
Surprisingly, I still had some spring in my step, so I was pouring it on with Mark right on my tail. Strong finish, let's go for this. Only, the finish line was coming in too... early. Aww shucks. I clocked in at 1:43 on a 21.3 course, which would have meant a phenomenal 7 minute improvement over my personal best. Extrapolating that pace to the full distance (and there's no doubt in my mind that I could have held it, lowered it even), it would have come out to a high 1:46. Not bad,still a personal best. As much as personal records are nice though, this was one race where the team came first.

Near the chute Vindication, Retribution
Though this race lacked the inherent drama of Epic Relay, there still was a lot of suspense with it. As the TPB crew piled in one by one, we had no idea if the aggregate time of the team would be sufficient to win it. Further exacerbating our anxiety was the fact that Running Ninja Sam, a regular sub-2 hour finisher and BDM 102 veteran was racked with cramps somewhere along the route. Tough break. In our heads, our worries about teams making up the distance were only overshadowed by our worries for a fallen comrade.

Time seemed to stand still. Finally, we saw Sam limping through the line in a gutsy 2:30 effort. Cheers abound. Now all we had to do was wait for the official announcement.

I was chatting with Abby when suddenly I heard awards host DJ Chloe of 94.7 call out the winners of the team event ... .

TEAM POWERPUFF BOYS!

Oh my. Bedlam ensued. Suddenly, 30 pastel-decked guys were rushing the stage like a victorious soccer team at the World Cup. It was noisy. Very noisy. I honestly thought the stage would give way. Celebration indeed! It was particularly sweet for the pioneer Epic Relay team , who not only lost the championship under highly questionable circumstances, but also saw our runner-up finish completely unacknowledged . At least for one fine day, we were champions. Indeed, victory is sweet.

And in deference to a completely forgotten aspect of racing, something had slipped our mind, because it's usually reserved for the pros - we had won something! In this case, cash! A cool P15,000! Ah. The spoils of war.

Beep Beep can't take his eyes off the prize

We win at last.

Post-race breakfast at Paul Calvin's

Victory celebration at Joey Pep and launching of dri-fit TPB shirts

They say life goes around in karmic cycles. I guess this race is a prime example. Thank you to all those who have supported us through our ups and downs, we truly appreciate it. As for the team, it was an honor racing with you guys. I wonder where the next adventure will take us?

Wherever it may be, I'm pretty sure the boys in fuchsia will be ready for it.

Powerpuff Boys. Smirk. What kind of fruity name is that? Sounds like a local counterpart to the Chippendales. Or a new incarnation of the Masculados. But don't be misled by the name though. From the ashes of controversy, the so-called "Pink Army" has arrived, and there's certainly nothing dainty about them.

Pretty in Pink?
Pardon the hyperbole, I'm really just amped. After months and months of incessant planning and lineup changes, TPB has finally come to fruition. Featuring 10 runners all hailing from different cities ( fun fact, it may win you a t-shirt one day), the final roster for our Chris Sports Epic Relay 250 team is finally complete.

Pink would have been horrible on these Masculados

To the uninitiated, the Chris Sports Epic Relay 250 is based off the hugely popular Ragnar Relay Series in the United States. Your team is divided into two vans for an overnight relay race that traverses picturesque terrain spanning Subic, Bataan and Zambales, with the 10 team members running three legs of anywhere from 5-12 kms each.

What fun!
Now, we never realized how hard it was to snag 10 dudes paying P1,200 each for less than a combined 30 kilometers. There was a time that the only definitive members on our lineup were team captain Bryan Rivera, myself, and highly respected veteran Graciano "Ka Totoy" Santos. Thankfully, everything just fell into place at the right time, and we are happy to put together a team that does justice to pink. Okay fine, its fuschia.

Here's the current lineup as well as some snippets about the members :

Graciano "Ka Totoy" Santos

He's like our Obi-Wan-Kinobi. The grizzled master never hesitates to give valuable training advice to us noobs. Ka Totoy also abhors any form of alcohol to keep in shape all year round, and his eyebrows could give Isko Moreno's a run for their money.

Bryan "Runner-S" Rivera

Our undisputed team captain. One of the most improved runners over the past year, he has shown incredible tenacity both on and off the road. His organizational and leadership skills are unparalleled as well, and when the time comes that I'm a millionaire already, he'll be the first one I'll call to run my businesses. Throws a mean frisbee too. Is way sexier than Right Said Fred, putting the "S" in "Runner-S".

Mark "Beep Beep" Rodica

The former volleyball star-turned-trackster has a penchant for short shorts, snappy one-liners and even snappier 10k times. Judging by his picture, you could see that he's a very serious guy.

Mark" Indorock" Mulder

This Holland native has been a ball of positive energy for the team. A relatively late addition, this cool, methodical dude now sports a new Glee-inspired do'. The brains behind Manila Road Runners, he is a master at deciphering Tagalog words through context clues and sign language. Shame on his inconsiderate teammates. Er, oops.

Ronnel "Kampuger" Go

Although most people will probably never know what a "Kampuger" is in their lifetime ( I don't know what it is either, and I don't wanna know), this amiable, wise-cracking fella can hang with the best of them. As you can see by his photo, he also has a bit of a Rudolf Nureyev in him.
Roy "Kuya" Rivera

Ultra-fit Roy is Bryan's older brother, although at first we thought that it was the other way around. This laid-back, music loving, ultra-fit vegan doesn't concern himself with km splits and pace, he prefers to be lost in the moment and stays away from the extra pressure. He is the founder of the "SBMA Traffic Enforcer" fanpage on Facebook.

Mark "MarkHernz" Hernandez

This model-turned- resilient-ultramarathoner is an all-around athlete who seems to excel at whatever sport he tries his hand on. Totally dedicated hubby (sorry gals) who once ran a 3:30 split for a 10k... . during the first 200 meters. He got very tired soon thereafter. Suffice to say, he never did that again.

Jairuz "Jai-Ho" Agang-ang

A man of few words, he lets his running do the talking. We somehow cajoled him into putting "Jai-Ho" on his uniform. (LSS mode) His unassuming manner belies his competitive nature on the road. He is very inspired right now, nuff said.

Brando "Ace" Losaria

This wisecracking ball of perpetual energy often has the team in stitches, and "Photobrando" takes somes of the most beautiful race shots I have seen. This hard-training raceday habitue has also been touted as a cuter, "funner" version of a certain former Streetboy. His long term goal is to run a 2:30/km pace someday.

And that's the team folks! Oh grr, do I really have to add myself?

I like taking long walks on the beach, Mcdo Fried and Nuggets, I have two dogs named Strowganoff and Piolow, and the grade of my contact lenses is -350. Oh, and I have a girlfriend who can run 102 kilometers faster than me. Sob.

Me and my well-pedigreed support crew

On the eve of our impending battle, I conclude this article amidst a cacophony of sighs and snores from our snug Subic hotel, hopeful and excited about the events that are about to unfold in the next couple of hours. Thanks for all the support and well-wishes that you have given us, we truly appreciate it.

Now let the dance begin... ..

Busy weekend for all of us! It's one of those weekends that so many big events were held concurrently. Running denizens were divided amongst the Cebu International Marathon, Subic International Marathon, Fat Ass 24-hour run, and the 2011 Bull Run. With a veritable smorgasbord of choices, let's see how everybody fared with these different runs.

• I wonder how SIM 2011 fared this year? Among the people I knew, only Endure Multisport star Erick Guieb joined this one, and last I heard he was gunning for a modest below 5-hour finish. But knowing him, he probably did it in 3:45. Lol.

• I was part of it in 2009, running the 10k Nike Human Race (where I placed 13th) and the 21k race (where I ran with Tito Caloy) Sigh, how time flies so fast. Internet Legend Tito Caloy has since gone back to the professional competitive drinking circuit, he missed it too much. Came in to the scene too late to know who he is? Google google google.

Those were the days...

Back to his first love.

• In related news, SIM was also memorable for me because I ran into Ultramarathoner Abby on the way there at Kenny Rogers along NLEX. It was the first time I had seen her in years. Who would have known... ... .. :P Uuuy.

Our first ever picture together hihi.

• Back to SIM , that was also memorable because we were doing support for the marathoners and water ran out as early as 18k along the route. A trip down memory lane : Craig Logan was pushing Justin and collapsed. Rico sacrificed his race and rushed him to the hospital. Argow was overcome with emotion as his first marathon was marred by a lack of adequate water.There was a screaming mob afterwards, as a result there was TOO much hydration the day after for the 21k race. Fun.

It's howkay, we got your back. Hug.

• As expected, the Kenyans dominated this year's race with Vertek opting to compete in the 21k, eventually winning it. When will we ever have someone else other than Vertek to chase down these dudes?Can Cris Sabal hold his own? Someone give me data please. Winning time of 2:23 probably wasn't even close to their best.

• Sometimes, I just realized that if I were a girl, I would be a very fast girl. A very fast, tall, and fugly one with hairy legs at that.

• Congratulations to all who joined Cebu. Wonderfully organized race, I ran the inaugural edition last year and gave it rave reviews . It was as if the entire city was in synergy for one dynamic event. Haide Acuna, Doc Bontol, John Pages and the rest of the Cebu gang no doubt contribute to the robust running community they have over there, and this race is a succinct reflection of that. Only downside - you'll probably have too much fun with it that you might end up getting drunk and messing up your race. Not guilty as charged. Pockets of Endure, ANR and TPB people were there, tell us all about how it went! I have no doubt it was an awesome race as always.

Last year with Cebu running celeb/BDM 102 batchmate Haide

Cheering on Takbo.ph boss Jinoe on his first marathon

• The Fat Ass Run has long been some sort of an urban legend amongst ultra running folk, and I remember when quintessential ultraman Atty. Jon Lacanlale started it a couple years back. Back then, it didn't really garner that much attention save for a few hard core crazies. I had always wanted to run this, but for some reason it always worked against my schedule. So I was pleasantly surprised that it seemed that 1 in every 4 people seemed to be headed to Clark for it. If I'm not mistaken, you can run in 12 and 24 hour increments. Damn right it's crazy. Among the notables, BR did a leisurely 54k in about 8 hours, Frontrunner EIC/ Hardcore chief Jonel did an inhuman 121k in nearly 22 hours, and Albert "Run2dmoon" Salazar emerged this year's Fat Ass King with nearly 140k over 24 hours. Wow.

Jonel overcome with emotion at his "graduation" after running for 22 hours.

• While I'm having the time of my life being a spectator/heckler here, I shudder to think that I'll be running 160 kms in a little over a month. Ayayay.

• Don't you find it ironic that the people who join Fat Ass don't have anything close to resembling a fat ass? In fact, I have a sneaky suspicion that after running for 24 hours, they may not even have an ass at all.

• Of the all the aforementioned races, the one I did join was the one closest t0 home, the 2011 Bull Run at BGC (yes, I'm hip like that. Fort? Ano yun?). Fresh from winning the team championship at Fort Running Festival, Team Powerpuff Boys (affectionately known as TPB or "those pink guys") decided to take a stab at the team competition once more with momentum on our side. I got to train once with the gang, and if before I felt we were on a somewhat parallel fitness level, their resolute dedication to training has reaped incredible dividends. Being engrossed into establishing some semblance of a multisport base, I simply couldn't hack the aggressive programs I used to pull off. The disparity was blatantly obvious. My guys (no homo) simply ripped the course apart en route to the team snagging 1st place in the team category once more. Our goal was at the very least 1:20, and everybody did way better than that. Notable performances included Chris Iblan running an inhuman 1:03 ( 3:58 pace for 16k??) and Brandow snagging a 1:13 (wild 4:34 pace) . As for myself, I served as the weak link, checking it a lame 1:21:15, 5:04 pace which ordinarily would have been fast but these guys put that to shame. I need to ramp up my running, the boys are tearing it up there.

TPB with, er, fans :P

Posing at the awarding "Bb. Pilipinas" style.

• Mary Anne Ringor usually does a good job at organizing, last year was pretty good. This year,epic fail at the 16k gun going off ten minutes early. It was supposed to start at 5:45 as was announced in the published material. We were at the corral already, and me Jix and Nick took a leak thinking there was more than ample time to get back. Much to our chagrin the gun went off as we were on the way back. We're vets at this, and it's really no big deal even if wading through hundreds of 10k runners and the back end of the 16k pack was draining. Still, it would be nice if we could keep to the published start times.

• Double fail to the drivers along the Makati ave intersection who kept on impatiently honking their horns. You see there's a race going on, a little consideration wouldn't hurt. Highly indicative of our mentality, in other countries people on the road would actually cheer runners on. Hay nako.

• Fail to Accel gels. Gu didn't have any chocolate variants, so we decided to give it a go. Tasted good, but I don't think it helped me one bit. In short, it was so bad that even the placebo didn't work. Shucks.

• Tip of the week : 1 pound lost = 12 seconds faster in a 10k run. Lose 10 lbs, that's 2 minutes off your time!

• Pilipinas Cycling League's season opener, a century race in Jala-Jala commences in Jan 23, Endure Multisport is competing. I'm antsy, haven't had a good road ride since my crash. Pray pray pray.

• It's BDM test run season, and I'm pretty much missing all . Why? For the simple reason that I plan to race Condura 42k. I have a friendly bet with bossing Jonel because he's doing the test runs. If he still manages to outrun me it's Mcdo breakfast time. Juicy. :P