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 :)

Running

5k - 20:51
10k - 45:01
16k- 1:17:33
21k - 1:43:15
42k - 3:57:40
50k - 6:20:31
102k- 16:35:33
160k -29:30:18

Multisport
Sprint Duathlon - 1:42:47Standard Distance Duathlon - 2:41:54
Long Distance Duathlon - 4:24:52
Sprint Triathlon - 1:57:15Standard Distance Triathlon - 3:10: 37
Half Ironman Triathlon - 6:37:44
Full Ironman Triathlon - 16:20:13

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. :)

PCL Jala-Jala Classic National Road Race Championships 110k - 4:05:14 (174th)
2011 Condura Skyway Marathon 42k - 4:14:40 (146th)
Subic Bike King Classic 70k - 1:53:28 (120th)
1st Bataan Death March Ultramarathon 160k - 29:30:18 (33rd)
Powerade Sprint Duathlon Leg 1 - 1:46:20 (10th in age group, 61st overall)
Pico De Loro Invitational Triathlon - 2:40:51 (7th in age group)
Subic International Triathlon - 3:10: 37 (32nd in age group)
Tri-United Matabungkay Long Distance Triathlon - 4:44:26 ( 23rd in age group)
Cobra Ironman Philippines 70.3 - 6:37:44 (39th in age group)
PCL Tour of Clark Stage 1 Team Time Trial 48k - 18th placePCL Tour of Clark Stage 2 Circuit Race 60k - 2:21 56th placePCL Tour of Clark Stage 1 Team Time Trial 118k - 4:06 61st place

Ola friends and readers! Once again, I'd like to thank you for all the support you have been giving this site. I still get amazed at how far we have gone, and that the site is still actually up and running. Obviously, I couldn't have done that without your support. Anyway, we all know it ain't easy to maintain a blog, more or so that a lot of my articles are feature length. Combine that with a hectic dayjob, some semblance of a training program and that more or less equates into article backlog. Admittedly, I'm behind by several articles now, and I hate stale news as much as you guys.

So with that in mind, today we're launching the very first edition of Gingerbreadtalk! I know it sounds kitschy but you can only append so many words to "Gingerbread" (note to self, think of a better name before the next public enterprise). It's going to be a simple, blunt and straightforward weekly update on all things running and multisport. I highly encourage you to comment and put in your two cents on whatever topic is pertinent for the week. Also planning to revive that Gingerbreadcast thing we used to do, wait up for more fun interviews.

Most creative title of the year nominee right here. Ulk.

So without further ado, here's the week that was :

• If you're keeping tabs on the community and are on some form of social media, you've probably come across my recent campaign at Powerman Malaysia. The race is a long distance duathlon comprised of an 11k run, a 64k bike and a 10k run after, and stands as the only qualifier for the World Duathlon Championships in Switzerland. I was there along with several members of our national team. With only ultramarathoner Abby as my support , we had to withstand a plethora of mechanical, logistical and physical challenges to even make it to the start line. I seriously underestimated the difficulty of putting the whole thing together, but hey, isn't that what makes the experience all the more meaningful? Stricken with severe cramps and with sleep deprivation kicking in, I finished the race in an off-form 4:24:52. Given all the crap we had to go through though, I was just thankful to have made it to the start line, much less finish with some semblance of decency.Thanks for all your greetings of support! Wait up for my full article on it, should make for a very interesting story. Also, thanks to Jinoe and Que for finally putting me on the Takbo.ph front page! Finally made it after all these years haha :P
  

With national team mainstays Evelio Javier and Carlo Pedregosa

• Congratulations to all those who successfully completed the NY Marathon this, including Rio, Jaymie/TBR, Jay, and Endure Multisport pal Joy. I'l probably never do Boston unless I maintain my current fitness level until I'm 80 years old, so NYC is probably the most realistic on my bucket list of marathons. Now, all I have to do is figure out that proof of financial capability thing, get out those land titles and wish that I get lucky with the lottery :)
  

One day... ..

• Congratulations to the new rockstars (clever huh) who conquered the Tri United Half-Ironman distance triathlon at White Rock, Subic. Back when Ironman 70.3 didn't have a franchise yet in the country, this was probably the most anticipated triathlon event every season. Now that all the hype goes to Camsur, the vets and purists still regard WRT as more enjoyable, and even tougher in terms of level of difficulty. Hopefully I'll get my shot next year. Swim swim swim.

Looks like fun...

After a presscon last week, was touching base with some old friends when I was suddenly reminded of something that I had long tried to forget already - what the crap ever happened to Run Radio? For those who have been around long enough, after Jaymie and Jay hosted Season 1 on NU 107, myself and the irrepressible Bards Bathan of Banana Running fame were supposed to take over for Season 2. Series of meetings, series of delays, a "primer" of some sort, a magazine presser, series of more meetings and more delays. An after- election launch was the last I heard of it. Natalo na si Gibo, nagsara na NU, wala pa din. And I guess that was that. So much for my one real shot at fame. Boo hoo. Think of all the what if's. Sigh. Haunts me to this day. Smirk.

Epic fail.

• Congratulations to all new minted ultramarathoners who successfully completed Sir Jovie aka the Bald Runner aka BR's T2N or Tagaytay to Nasugbu 50k jaunt. I took a peek at the results and was floored that there were 159 finishers of the race, a good number of which I had known since they were newbie runners angling for a 21k. Level up! When I did my first 50k, Ian Alacar's Botak gig, I think there were less than 50 people there and it was a big deal to hit 50k. Props to BR for promulgating ultra running in the country, and it seems the market is responding with rapid traction.

• I haven't taken out my bike from the box. I wonder if it's still in one piece? Shudder. Props to the guys and gals at Bikezilla in Ortigas for helping me out and giving me a crash course in assembling/disassembling it. Even if I sucked out, at least I had enough knowledge to actually put it together.
  

• Missed a Pacquiao fight for the first time in years, fell on the same timeframe as my duathlon. Got to watch the entire thing on those illicit YouTube uploads that are taken down after an hour for copyright infringement. Catching them is much akin catching lightning in a bottle. KJ naman kasi pfft.
  

• Those KOTR race cards were hilarious, a glitch somewhere in the timing thing and everything was off the charts!

TPB bro Mark just officially set a new world record

• Speaking of ultramarathons... ... I finally got my BDM 151 ticket! And so did Abby! Thank you BR for the vote of confidence, it's an honor. Now the question is, can I somehow garner the time and commitment to train for it, given the multitude of things on my plate now. Decisions decisions. Hmmmm... ...

Can we do this all over again?

• Good luck to all those running Run United (which has a shockingly fancy 32k, good job) and the Milo provincial qualifiers this weekend. There's also the Animo Run and a run in Ateneo. Which side are you on? Till next week folks!

Cebu City Marathon 21k (30th) : 1:50:43
PSE Bull Run 10k - DNS
Condura Skyway Marathon 42k (280th) - 4:56:03
Bataan Death March 102k Ultramarathon (82nd) - 17:35:53
National Geographic Earth Day Run 10k (17th) - 49:24
Asian Hospital RunNew 10k (25th) - 53:14
San Mig Coffee Bay Run 10k (10th) - 47:01
HP Fun Run 6k (1st) - 28:03
Chris Sports Epic Relay 250k (2nd) - 23:13:00
New Balance Nuvali Adventure Trail Run 15k (307th) - 3:04:23
35th Milo Marathon Eliminations 21k (45th) - 1:50:51
Powerade Duathlon Leg 2 (86th, 16th in age group) - 1:56:29
Takbo.ph Anniversary Runfest (21st, 7th in age group) - 46:32
Dean's Cup Invitational Triathlon - (56th, 9th in age group) - 1:54:15
7-Eleven Tour 500 - 3:27:28
Sonshine Cycling Festival Criterium - DNF, outlapped after 35 mins.
Fort Running Festival 21k - 1:43:15 (57th individual, 1st team)
Tour of Matabungkay Stage 1 100k - 3:52(188th)
Tour of Matabungkay Stage 2 90k - 2:53 (163rd)
Tour of Matabungkay Stage 3 TTT - 59:24 (29th)
Adidas King of the Road 10k - 50:15 (75th)
Powerade Standard Distance Duathlon - 2:41:54 (4th in age group)
Malakoff Powerman Malaysia Long Distance Duathlon - 4:24:52 (60th)
Nike Run Manila 5k - 22:34 (81st)
Speedo NAGT UPLB Sprint Triathlon - 2:03:01 (38th overall, 8th in age group)

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.

Editor's Note : This is well, um, about a month late. By the time you read this me and the Quest boys are already on our way to the Tour of Subic, our final multi-stage race of the season. But hey, just read it and hopefully enjoy it nonetheless, I probably spent more time writing this than I have been training. Due to recent changes in my work flexibility, expect a steady stream of backlog features on my recent races trickle in with the week. In chronological order. Cheers.

Quest 825 recently competed at the Pilipinas Cycling League's Immuvit Race Against Time Tour of Clark leg, held in, uh, Clark. It was a three-stage humdinger spread over two days and the team acquitted themselves decently given this wasn't our "base sport" if one would call it that. Here's an inside look at the pain, the agony and the glory behind this particular bike tour.

Prologue

Executive Cycling is one of those "hobbies" that I had gotten into as part of my multisport training. While triathletes in general are expected to go on long training rides to augment their preparations, not everyone has the cajones to join these multi-day, multi-stage races that would require one to ride and latch on, Tour de France-style, to a peloton ( or in the simplest way I could explain it, a big bunch of skinny guys riding their bikes at full speed separated by about hair's width from each other). Why even bother going on to this blatant invasion of personal space, where the slightest human error can cause everyone to crash like a deck of cards in a chain reaction ? We are all familiar with how drafting benefits cyclists through blocking the wind, that's why it is outlawed in most triathlons. But try hanging out with about forty other guys as a big pack, and your speed and efficiency jumps exponentially. It is a highly taxing discipline that requires both aerobic and anaerobic aptitude. Obviously, the inherent risk factor is part and parcel of the whole enterprise.

Alas, a strong bike split race target usually necessitates either superior genetics (dream on) or a solid cycling background ( you have a shot). Given that I am sure I wasn't blessed with the former , I have thus embarked on a journey of self-improvement on two wheels. This is my first full season competing on the executive cycling circuit, having debuted last year at Bike King's Tour of Matabungkay and participated in several other one-day races and tours from that point. Given that Quest actually started out as an executive cycling team, our participation in this race was a no-brainer.

On the day itself, after a late departure from Shell NLEX at around 5:30 am the determined gang scurried off to Clark for the tour's first stage, a 47.7 km Team Time Trial race.

Stage 1 - Team Time Trial. Bittersweet Symphony.

The Team Time Trial event or TTT is usually considered the glamor event of each tour leg. Given that cycling is more of a team-oriented sport vis-a-vis the rest of the multisport disciplines, the TTT is taken as a consensus of any given team's strength and caliber. Such is the importance of the event that rumor has it that some teams intentionally rest their members through earlier stages to preserve their legs for this relatively short event.

According to a passage I blatantly stole from Wikipedia, "the main principle behind a TTT is that a few riders can ride at the front of the formation slightly above their aerobic threshold while others draft behind these riders. The riders then rotate, allowing some riders to recover while drafting behind fresher teammates. A rider who is riding at the front is said to be taking a pull. Accelerations require harder efforts, and therefore it is desirable to have a smooth, steady pace. Different riders have different power outputs, lactate thresholds and aerodynamics. In order to equalize the efforts in order to not burn some riders off too early, the weaker riders take shorter pulls and stronger riders take longer pulls, all at the same speed to minimize the change in pace. A rider finishing a pull usually rotates to the very back of the formation, and the rider who was formerly behind this rider takes over. " Hmm, sounds complex. But the idea is, the team who could sustain the fastest pace without burning each others guts out is the winner.

Over here at the local scene, the TTT event is usually dominated by powerhouse club Fitness First. As for us, the team had steadily improved from last season. To give you some perspective, these things are usually an hour or less of lung-busting, intensely anaerobic, invective-filled fun. There's usually a minimum of five riders and a maximum of nine with the fifth rider to cross for the team coming in as the time to count. Thus, in theory the more people you have on a team the better the chance for your team members to conserve their energy. The thing with our team was, we had more than nine eligible riders, so we split into two teams. I was bundled with Team 2. On my side was team captain Deo, team manager and Ironman 70.3 World Championships finisher James, Army Col. Bong, veteran endurance athlete Ronald, TTT newbie Karlo and myself. All were capable time trialists in their own right, and ultimately this stage would all come down to teamwork and execution. But the paceline was beset with problems from the very beginning... .

A Shaky Start

Right off the bat, we were beset by unforeseen problems. With some teams a no-show for Stage 1, our release time was pushed forward by several minutes. This was exacerbated by the fact that we arrived late at the venue. To make a long story short, we barely made it to the release time and Ronald was caught up with something, forcing him to ride with Team 1 who had a later release. Thus we had one less comrade to stifle the wind and down to five riders, we were left with no room for error. We had been in a similar position at last season's Tour of Matabungkay, and the pressure- wracked, nausea-inducing experience was not exactly one to relish.

Completely out of sync for starters, we struggled to maintain the paceline. With no actual practice but having a general idea of what to do, the team eventually settled down with our speed hovering at about 35-36kph. So all's well and good. Problem was, Karlo was straining under the frenetic pace and it showed through his pained look specially through the inclines near the Fontana area. Now, we all knew that it didn't matter if the four of us kept up this pace - it was the fifth guy's time that would count. So we had to slow down. Frustratingly enough, we were passed by about three teams while going through this process. But this was a team effort, and no man could be left behind.

Man down... ...

At about the 40k mark our paceline was terribly falling behind our target already and was pretty much broken apart. With no breathing room to spare, each of us weren't taking way-too-long turns towing the line and it was starting to show with the suka pace that we were maintaining. Captain Deo and James had valiantly went back to provide the needed support for Karlo, but the effort had gassed them out. With but a few kilometers to spare, we were all running on fumes. The cycling gods finally decided to spare us a break and with about 500 meters to go the entire team managed to get intact in crossing the line with a 32.14kph ave, good for 23rd of 25 teams. Apparently, Team 1 was beset by their own troubles in finishing with a 35.29kph average for 18th place, seemingly below par for their capabilities. These results in no way did us justice at all, and essayed that even if our individual riders were quite capable on their own, there needed to be a strong degree of teamwork at play to maximize our results. Having less riders also exacerbated the situation. Drained and searching for answers, the Quest gang all set off for a quick lunch at SM Clark before stage 2 was due to commence in a few hours. Yep, you read it right. A few hours.

Wasted, rowdy, hungry bunch after TTT

Stage 2. Circuit Race. Lost in space.

The Tower Burger I had eaten from KFC had not gone down yet, but we had to go. Once again, this proclivity towards being late had us on a mad rush. The dour weather conditions were not helping at all, conjuring visions of crashes amid slick roads. Stage 2 was a 60km circuit race, which true its name counts several loops across the same course. In a stricter sense, some use the term criterium interchangeably to describe similar races, although those are usually shorter in nature and involves removal from the race once you get lapped by the leading pack. As a newbie cyclist last season, I haphazardly joined one of these crits which was stockpiled with old pros and looked more like a laughingstock more than anything else. The manongs watching were heckling me miron-style as I trudged along as the last cyclist to be removed from the course.. I'm guessing the aero helmet did nothing to help my case. Oops.

Di halatang newbie.

A year and a couple more thousand kilometers under my belt, I revisit the concept of the circuit race. At the very least, I hope to get the helmet part right. Anyway, going back to the race. Massaging my still sore thighs, the peloton set off amidst a moderate climb in Fontana that was the highlight of the course. The climb was fine, but having to do it several times over at full speed zaps out your legs one way or another. The first loop was designated as a friendship lap, presumably to serve as a weird form of warmup. Once that was over and done with, the cyclists went on a mad dash that would require every bit of anaerobic juice (at least for lackeys like me) on you to keep up. So I was able to latch on to the main pack, albeit the tail end of it. Predictably enough, my suspect conditioning gave way and I splintered with a group of about five riders, by my estimation about ten seconds behind the main packing. And here's where the fun started. Just as I was gaining some semblance of a rhythm, the guy towing us along took a wrong turn, bringing us all along with him. In the fifteen seconds it took us to get back on the course, the lead pack was out of sight. Great. I was slightly perturbed by what happened and I was left with one other guy. So while rushing to get back in it, at an intersection the marshal was signaling to turn right. Or at least I thought so. Turns out his hand gesture was connoting a "stop" to the other cars (geez how could we mix that up. But yeah we did) and I was off-course again. This was a longer distraction, about 30 seconds. By the time the entire thing was sorted out, I was all alone on the course, deflated and demoralized at such an unseemly turn of events.

I thought of abandoning the race altogether, but then again I'm not a big fan of DNF's. Sot suffice to say, it was like riding an ITT over the final couple of laps, a lonely, solitary route that most would not even bother completing. I even saw a crash along the route, which as I would learn later on involved national triathlete Kim Mangrobang, who was due to compete at the Elite Under-23 ITU Asian Championships in two weeks. She would later share that one of those hyperaggressive junior riders cut her, resulting in a crash on those slick roads. Sort of reminds me that in order to be successful in cycling, you just have to be plain fearless in taking risks. I guess it's still something I have to learn over time.

Loner...

I eventually crossed the line in what seemed like forever, much to the bewilderment of my teammates who figured I'm slow, but not THAT slow. Adding to my chagrin, when the results were released I was mistakenly placed in Excutive A, registering as the last rider to arrive in the division of the strongest executive riders. Oh the horror. Once everyone was accounted for, we all headed back to our hotel to freshen up and reflect on the day that was.

The Lighter Side

After a hearty buffet dinner prepared by the PCL people, the team retired to our comfortable villa at Fontana. We later indulged in the company of veteran elite triathlete Rayzon Galdonez and top executive cyclist Makoy Almanzor. You often see these guys in the heat of athletic competition, and it was refreshing to hear them dispensing race advice in equal doses with classic wisecracks. Here are some of my personal favorites :

Rayzon : Yung nakasabay ko sa run na elite na foreigner na babae nung Camsur, tinanong ako, "Are you Okay?" Ang sagot ko, "No, I'm not Okay. I'm Rayzon. Rayzon Galdonez pleased to meet you what's your name?"

Makoy : Panalo talaga ang Red Horse. Pag sa Red Horse, puro Tama, walang Mali!

With hearty laughter resonating from our living room, I quietly retired to my comfy bed, knowing that we would be in for the long haul for the Stage 3 road race the following morning, the longest leg in the tour.

Yum.

Stage 3. Road Race. A Valiant Effort.

An early breakfast at the nearby Mcdo served as preliminary fuel for the 118 km race that would pretty much replicate the TTT route, only it adds a relatively tough stretch on the outskirts of town to make for several 23k loops. We even ran into my Team Powerpuff Boys buddy and ultramarathon star Junrox Roque ( who's starting to become a force to be reckoned with as well in the short-course triathlon scene) hanging with his executive club Aboitiz Power, a team loaded with strong, veteran riders. For one, at least we all have knack for sausage Mcmuffins early in the morning. Having had our fill amidst the friendly banter, we make our way back to the hotel to get geared up.

We're Late Again

As you may have noticed throughout this feature, this is starting to become somewhat of a recurring theme. For some inexplicable reason, even with considerable lead time, we somehow end up rushing towards the starting grid, making it with less than five minutes to spare. As the peloton was finally released for the conventional "friendship" lap, my thoughts were drifting towards the specter of somehow churning in a creditable performance with my thighs already beaten down from the previous two stages. Word was going around pre-race that last year the peloton took it "easy" during the first few laps because of the relative toughness of the course. With this in mind, I was thinking perhaps I had an outside shot at keeping up this time around.

The friendship lap was relatively brisk, and it comforted me that I was pretty much within the same line as the main pack. So far so good, the whole gang was in sight and I was getting a good feeling about this. The rolling course was not easy though, and I pondered on how I could keep up with the frenzied peloton once they released us. The rain had gone away and the sun was slowly starting to beat upon us. Long ways to go for this.

As my luck would have it, the peloton was released just before the Fontana incline. Great. The funny thing with cycling is that the barometer for success and failure is measured in seconds , seemingly indiscernible nuances spelling the difference between victory and defeat. About a second or two before the peloton was released, my mind inexplicably wandered to some mundane subconscious trapping. And before I knew it, poof. Everyone had at least a five second lead (a lot) on me, and by the time I managed to get my bearings I was speeding along at 45 kph in a vain attempt to catch up. I passed by our team captain Deo and screamed "Habol tayo Kap!!" knowing very well that the slightest let up and we kiss this race goodbye. I raced uphill with cajones-shrinking gusto, and before I knew it I was converging with a fairly-sized group who dropped from the lead group. The pace was frenetic, right around 35-36kph during the early juncture and my lungs seemed to be bursting from the sudden rush. As we stretched out into the highway, a familiar uniform pulled up next to me, and I was overjoyed that Kap had mustered enough to make it into the safety of the chase pack. Save for the TTT, I have been working mostly as a loner for the entirety of the tour so this was certainly a welcome development.

Hanging On

The middle laps saw the chase pack dwindle from a high of as many as twenty to roughly about eight or nine guys. The tough course was unforgiving and the heat and humidity were starting to bear down on us. On the flats we'd hit it in the 45's, then would be focused on the low 30's in a bid to conserve. Slowly but surely, we were getting there and actually putting in a creditable performance by our modest standards. As we were lurching towards the halfway mark , we were quite surprised to see Col. Bong struggling alone against the crosswinds. A strong, consistent rider, we were not accustomed to seeing him get dropped by the peloton . He hung around with us until the feed zone, at which point we just lost track of him. We would later find out that he dropped out of the race after feeling the aftereffects of flu-like symptoms from the week prior. With our reserves slowly being depleted and the sun beating down heavily, it was an interesting proposition to just drop out as well and call it a day. But maybe we had enough to still hack it out... .

Going Down Swinging

As we approached the final lap, our original group had pretty much dropped like flies one by one, and with roughly 20k to go it was just me, Kap and two other dudes. We would take turns on the trangko in a bid to conserve energy, but from this point out it was pretty much all guts and glory. Me and Kap would alternately fade out from the group, then claw back with every ounce left knowing that getting dropped at this point could pretty much mean a knockout blow to one's aspirations of a good finish.

With about 10 kilometers to go entering the homestretch, I felt like I was bonking big time. The other dude fell behind and Kap was still going strong. I told myself, I fought so hard to be in this thing all morning, why give it up now? I figured, might as well go down swinging. As your body bottoms out its reserves and gradually starts to shut down, that's where one's mental fortitude is taxed to its utmost. So with as much effort as one could muster, my battered body was somehow able to throw down 37kph for about a 2 kilometer stretch to catch up with Kap, who I gather didn't even noticed that I was gone. Crossing the line together in 4:06 with the last of the Mohicans was as gratifying a finish I ever had in a cycling event. Checking my race data, the finish time was a bit misleading because of all the long stops we took at the feed zone, and the actual speed we maintained was practically 30kph over a distance that mirrors a Manila-Tagaytay roundtrip. None too shabby I guess for someone with marginal, intermittent training at best. Yipee.

Made it.

Epilogue

Overall, the team had a very creditable finish. Erick stuck with the Executive A main pack in all the road stages, which is highly indicative that he is racing at an extremely high level right now. Cycling main man Julius showed his worthiness to be promoted to the "A" level by nabbing 2nd runner-up podium honors in the 35-39 division of Executive B. The rest of the team all showed traces of significant improvement from the last time we raced here, so we all went home happy. A somewhat unfortunate accident during the last stage marred our good vibes though as Wilnar crashed in a freak accident with only a lap to go, bringing down three riders with him from within the peloton. He suffered a nasty gash on his forehead, but in typical manner he played it down even if he looked like one of them WWE wrestlers who open wounds on their forehead with their hidden razors.

That notwithstanding, it was a creditable effort with tons of room for improvement. As for me, it's back to the drawing board on how to get back into top form. Maybe I'll grab a Red Horse while I'm at it. Puro kasi tama diba, walang mali. :P

Just a couple of days more and we'll be turning in the fat again on Christmas Eve. So while you're getting to ready for that big 6,000 calorie day, some final snippets for you to chew on before your culminating holiday activities.

• Just received the confirmation from Sir Jovie. It's final. It's mind boggling. It's the... Bataan Death March 160k Ultramarathon, the longest and most challenging road race in the country today. 28 hours of sheer guts and glory. But we'll be up for it. How do you train for 160k (or a 100 miler) anyway?While I haven't the slightest idea, maybe this rough plan could give you an idea of what it takes to finish one. No doubt about it, we'll all be extended to our very limit on this one. Off the couch, on to the road.

• Quick survey - would you ever attempt running 160 kms in your lifetime? Why or why not? Give me your thoughts.

The ultimate goal

• I have come to terms with the reality that if you want to look half decent being snapped up and tagged in a dripping wet trisuit, lose 20 lbs. Minimum. Cry.

• Some days I wish I could have taken a snap of my Oscar-worthy, PBA losing finalist smile.

• To that dude who emailed me, no I do not use spellcheck for my articles. It's a hit and miss.

• For all those who emailed and FB messaged on our recent Piolow cover story for Frontrunner, thank you so much for the support. I am very happy that you liked my article. I didn't sleep for two days working on it, subsisting on Cobra and pandesal. Yum. Seriously though, thanks a bunch. You guys inspire me to come up with even better material in the future. Cheers!

• What's fancy thing did you buy over the holiday? As for me, while I promised not to buy anything for myself anymore , I couldn't resist snapping up this cool pair of Aqua Sphere Seal XP fancy goggles courtesy of Ultraman/Ironman/VFF celebrity endorser Ronald Declarador. It gives you cool 180 degree vision in the water and seals in tight like a ziploc bag. Much better than the lame goggles I bought at the SM Kids Section.

New Weapon of War.

• Congratulations to everybody who finished the Corregidor International Half Marathon organized by my good friend Edward Kho. I heard from a lot of my ANR students that the race was one heck of a humdinger. I ran that last year, no way you could go around that without maxing out your HR.

Takbo.ph boss Jinoe finishes the course in record time. Record picture pace time :P

• Even if we didn't take home a medal, big ups to both LC Langit and Nikko Huelgas for placing 4th and 10th respectively in the recent Oman Asian Beach Games. They both broke national records for Olympic Distance in the process. The rest of the team did decently as well, Kim Mangrobang took 7th and Epoy Jurolan 17th in an extremely competitive field. These guys and gals are the future of the sport here in our country, there's simply nowhere to go but up for them.

A job well done.

• In related news, LC's 1.5 km swim split is still faster than my 800 m split. Que Horror. Gosh I suck. Time to hit the pool.

• I wonder who amongst the people we know would be joining the planned full Ironman Distance Triathlon this time next year? Hmmm... .

• I have seen more accidents this holiday season than any other. The funny thing is, what exacerbates the whole thing is the 20 or so seconds it takes for the motorists to make usyoso. I plead not guilty.

• Usapang Batalya. Carbon Fiber = Stiff. Titanium = why don't you just buy a car? And give me the change?

8,000 runners. Sold out slots. You have to give it to Nike to whip up a frenzy in attracting a staggering number to participate in what's essentially "just" a 10k. The latter inference is a testament to the drawing power of the shoe behemoth's crossover appeal, compelling even casual runners to pay top peso for what essentially amounts to a short run that you and your buddies could bag in two hours easy. (with matching tsismisan at BHS)

Defying Expectations

Two years ago, the Nike + Human Race was held at Subic ( check out my feature back then, I painstakingly googled it in five seconds. Let it transport you to a time when people still actually commented on blogs) as a side event to the what would be much- maligned Subic International Marathon. To those who weren't around the scene back then, that race had hydration supplies run out at more or less the 25k mark and it was so dark runners couldn't see their feet. The angry mob and the collapsed Kenyan at the finish line pretty much summed up the sorry state of affairs for that race.

Manila was not an "official" city in what was supposedly a simultaneous run around the world by Nike users, and suffice to say response and participation were tepid at best. I was there about 40 minutes before the race and it didn't even seem that there was one going to be held, so much that I had to ask if I was in the right venue. Aside from "celebrity" ambassadors (yes, I will forever consider my good buddy Bards of Bananarunning one) and Sun billboard habitue Jaymie giving the requisite interviews, there was pretty much no action going on. It was around this time that pundits were saying that the running craze had hit its peak and that it would die a natural death like badminton, billiards, and Zagu.

Admit it, you fell in line before just like the rest of us.
Fast forward two years, and it seems that the doomsday naysayers need to eat their humble pie. The running community remains as robust as ever. BHS is teeming with runners even on a weekday, so much to the point that they were even given their own dedicated lane. UP is likewise packed as runners stride away till the wee hours amidst the lush foliage backdrop, and you see people running in places you never even thought were "runnable" if there were such a word. This notion is further reinforced as evidenced by the overpowering show of force presented during the latest incarnation of its signature 10k race.

A Newbie Once Again

The afternoon start time being a decent come-on given my hectic training schedule, I sauntered off to BHS in relative ignorance of where the venue actually was. I assumed it to be "the usual" starting venue ( if you're a runner who has actually joined a BHS race, you know what this means) but it turns out this race was more dynamic than others. It took me a visit to veteran Runnr gatekeeper Nikko to get to know that it was actually near the drive-thru Starbucks area. Well that's something new.

Feeling Noobie.
Quite ironically, while I've probably been running longer than about 95% of the populace present that Saturday, I felt like the newbie. I didn't know a single soul, not a single familiar face in the crowd as I trudged to the starting line. Arriving early in anticipation of the mad throng, I made my way to the "VIP Lounge" to presumably pass away time. I don't why they termed it as such, there was really nothing going on save for a few cocktail tables. I finally saw a couple of Takbo.ph buddies and old hands in the industry milling about, made for some decent catch-up conversation. Even good ol' Bards was there, haven't seen her in ages. A little-known but often overlooked fact is that the two of us were supposed to host the second season of Run Radio before it got scuttled due to unpublishable reasons. At least it makes for a good inside joke. Also got to exchange some niceties with Polo Tri friend Tricia Chiongbian-Concepcion, who I last saw while we were getting blown around at White Rock (watch out for my even more delayed article sorry na). She was hosting the show with sportscaster Anthony Suntay, an old neighbor and gym friend nearly a decade ago. I seriously doubt he still remembers me although he's too nice to admit, so I'm probably just the creepy guy who always says hi. Eek.

Let the show begin.

Wow. The atmosphere was something else. Having participated in multisport or cycling races for the majority of the year where the participants rarely even reach 400, being part of the 8,000-strong hive was a strangely invigorating experience. We were whisked to the "VIP" starting area which separated us from the rest of the runners by a burly bodyguard-manned cordon. Felt sorta awkward though, I've never been part of such and who the hell am I anyway lol. And with so many "VIP"' people there, I guess you could say it what somewhat of a misnomer in a sense. Speaking of real VIP's, the favorite presidential grandson (yes, I'm referring to Joshua) made a grand entrance with some buddies three minutes before the race was to commence. He was promptly greeted with spirited cheers (or jeers, depends if you're a Kris Aquino fan) of "Bimby! Bimby!" What fun.

Bimby pa din.

Moving Too Fast

With recent sports-car collector/race director Rio tersely walking around in the background, the countdown clock was rapidly approaching all zeroes after Fitness First gal did her requisite warmup set. Former Philippine Blog Award finalist, Milo Nationals qualifier and Team Powerpuff Boys teammate Natz Garcia was clowning around with a big Ipod strapped to his arm, apparently his Garmin broke down. Naturally untrusting of GPS, he even brought along a map.

Natz not taking any chances.It's no big secret that this is my first straight up running road race since Condura, so I think I got overexcited. I started off way too fast for my own good in keeping up with the main pack, about 3:45 pace for the first kilometer. The atmosphere was tremendous and the adrenalin was pumping. However, my adrenalin sort of forgot that given that I'm preparing for a full Ironman distance race, I didn't have any hops on me. Second, I just came off three hours on the bike trainer earlier, which rendered the race into a virtual brick workout. I tapered off considerably by the time I reached the 3k mark and was fading fast. Some schmuck overtook me and gave me a cheery pat to boot, and it turned out it was tridol Javy Olives of Tri'n Hard fame who was killin it with his teammates Drew, a guy who I could have sworn was Raoul Floresca and some dudes I didn't know. Tuhog City again. Oh well. My pace was dropping fast and I didn't have any anaerobic capacity to keep up.

Habol ng Habol

Kilometer Five upwards was a struggle for me on the surprisingly tough course. The effect of the brick notwithstanding, I haven't done any interval workouts since preparing for the Olympic-distance Subic International Triathlon earlier in the year. Obviously, my OAstart didn't do anything to help my cause. I was just trying to keep up with whoever was in front of me, and the distance was starting to feel like forever. Another TPB teammate Alex Mac passed me with relative ease, damn these guys are in shape grrr.

Huff, meet Puff.
At around kilometer 8, I saw Ultramarathoner Abby hanging around to cheer me on, she made it just in time to see me discombobulate lol . Legacy TPB teammate Ronnel was catching up with me, and so was ultrarunner and budding triathlete Carly. I even saw a bare-chested Adobo Run and CIHM head honcho Ed Kho scurry about. As the humidity level was slowly engulfing the crisp early night sky, I limped home across the line to a high five from Rio in a pedestrian 54:xx, a mid 53 on my Garmin as there was a nominal disparity of about 200 meters. Not exactly a performance I would be proud of, but a half-decent brick time I guess. I was targeting at the very least a sub-50, dream on brother. Interestingly enough, it was still good for 110th place amongst 8,000 and if I were to base it off Javy's time, a decent performance could have cracked the top 20.Not that it matters, but that's just the competitor in me aggravated at my lack of preparation although I was really just supposed to "take it easy". Couldn't resist.

Post-Mortem

Overall, it was refreshing to be back on the run circuit again after an extended absence. Nike and Rio did a yeoman's job in providing an innovative approach to this race (including a cool flash app to track one's results) as the market continually strives to look for something new. The custom-built route was challenging and the hydration was more than adequate. I'm guessing though that not a few were disappointed that a much-touted Nike Lunar Glide USB wasn't given, a snag attributed to supplier delays. Instead, the runners had to content themselves with drinks and a Nike poster.

In retrospect, why do runners shell out that much cash even if it's "only" a 10k? Furthering the discussion, how has the running sub-culture sustained itself even if some races border on redundancy and corporate profiteering? I've come to surmise that it's not just the branding or the freebies. Running, at least for the most part, is a shared social experience. It's the camaraderie, the competition. The water-cooler kwentuhan at the office the following Monday with your officemates, heck even your weird boss. The street cred with your friends (and the lack of it if they missed it). Social dynamics constitute a powerful, dynamic and sustainable force, and coupled with looming health benefits the formula for long-term viability is in place.

It's not Badminton or Billiards. Running is here to stay, whether you like it or not.

Let's drink a Zagu to that.

Editor's Note (as if there were one, just wanted it to sound cool lol) : This is coming out a tad bit late, ran into a combination of an extended blogging slump and a Bora weekend combined. Pardon the overall crummyness.

Racing in the South is always fun. Not too many people, fat chance you could even nab a podium on a good day. My too- few- and-far-in-between South races have always been pleasant experiences, thus joining RuNew in Alabang was somewhat of a no-brainer.

Not-So-Chump Change

Was looking for a race to test my knee out in a competitive setting, and I didn't really know too much about it except that it was sponsored by Asian Hospital and that it was for some charity. I thought it was a small-time race until I left with a bib, a timing chip, and P600 less in my pocket. A Rio race as it turns out. The timing chip instantly conjured visions of cash flying out of my wallet. Much to my chagrin, there was no singlet given but was instead promised a finisher's shirt. Grumble.

Babay P600.

Of Seguristas and Bratinellas
I came from the Subic International Triathlon with Ultramarathoner Abby the day before, just cheered on some friends while grabbing some multisport inspiration. Was dead tired as we made the trip to the duuurty South. Coming off my unacceptable tardiness at Nat Geo, I wasn't going to take any chances this time.

Got there with an hour to burn more or less. While trolling the premises, saw elites Junrox/Tigerboy and a healthy Alfred/El Kyoshi walking in the shadows. More walking brought this random soundbite from this nosy-looking kid emerging from a Portalet :

Bratty Kid : Ewww yuck so kadiri inside Mommy it smells like a tae!Mom : Anak don't say that!Brattu Kid : But mooom! I need to make poopoo na!Mom : Hay nako just hold it till we get home. I still have a race.Bratty Kid : Waaaaah!Mom : Wag na maarte, ano you want sa portalet or in the grass?B ratty Kid : Mommy the grass smells like a tae also!Mom : !!!!

What a brat.

In The Presence of Family
After being a veritable tourist over at the multisport arena, it was nice hanging out in more familiar surroundings where I actually knew someone. I ran into Takbo.ph power couple Jinoe and Que, a retro-looking Marvin along with Z paired with a rare PatCon sighting. Not too many people though. Distance? Price? Still, it was nice to be back in familiar territory.

Fun before the gun

An Outside Chance
Just before the gun went off, I was looking around. No familiar faces. As always, my competitive juices were flowing. Give or take a couple of elites, and with the stronger runners at 16k, I hastened to strive for a top 10 finish. And as the lead pack went off, I found myself at the tail end. Hey, I have a shot at this. Law of averages. I have to get it one of these days right?

Toe to Toe with Elite Gal

ITB woes exacerbated at the Nat-Geo race have prevented me from executing my master plan of doing "maintenance" 10k training before plunging into an 8-week program for Milo. In short, here I was blatantly out of shape, preparing to race a 10k on sheer guts alone. And as most of us know, oftentimes that just isn't enough.

As I was trailing the lead pack, I did the requisite headhunting to maintain pace. I ran smack into a strong lady runner who had nyort nyorts and that batak 5% body fat look. Hmm. She was impossible to shake off at 4:20 pace. Was thinking, no way she could maintain this. But then again, who said I could maintain it myself? Kapal ko talaga. (I would later learn she would take 3rd for the ladies) Lol. I told myself, I have to want this more than she does. With that pervading thought in mind, I made my move at the 3k mark and made her eat dust. Wohooo!

She ate Gingerbread dust... well, sorta.

On Gassing Amidst Those Southern Rolling Hills

Of course, that short-lived success didn't last long. A continuous uphill stretch and I was a goner a kilometer later, my elite galpal kicking stardust in my face along the way. No wind, no legs. I was gasping like a chubby fugu fish out of water. Fail.

Swim away fugu fish, swim awaaaay. Okay that was weird.

The Duel With MaselMan

Before the race began, I noticed these two buffed-up dudes who looked like Fitness First spinning class instructors with matching singlets to boot. Figured they were, er, best friends. Until they hugged each other good luck. Tightly. Anyway, at one point early on I passed bromance dude #1. During my mid-race fade, bromance dude #2 zoomed by me at what I reckoned to be near-max HR judging by his breathing. He would do a long walk break then go all out again. I surmised that redlining your HR in bursts and spurts would cause you to gas out later on (running strategists please back me up here).

So for about a 2 kilometer stretch, we would go back and forth at it. At least I had some sort of live metronome to salvage whatever remained out of my pace strategy. Nearing Km 7 in posh AAV, I decided to go for it when I sensed he was fading. Score one for the Gingerbread dude.

Bromance City

The Pain and the Agony

The adrenalin was pumping as a persistent foe was vanquished. Slowly hiking the pace back up to a decent (given the course) 4:57 pace, everything was on cruise control primed for an even stronger finish. By my estimate, I was at about 11th to 14th places at this point. Elite gal (who whooped me earlier) was actually within my line of sight. Then a particularly disconcerting sharp pain shot up my left knee. Dang. ITB mode. Ignore. More pain. More ignoring. Finally a stinger had me hopping on one leg in excruciating pain.
Dammit. No way. I worked so hard only to throw it all away. Just 2k to go! I had stretched this all week, even Salonpas rollered it so much to the point that my room already smells like my Lolo's CR. This sucks. Really does. I'll try to run it off. Aaaaaaaaah. Aray. Arouch. Mommmyyy. Oh great bromance dude just passed me. With a smile on his face. Someone kill me now. Maybe I can just roll to the finish line.

ITB Fail. More frustrated than hurt, I gingerly(no pun intended) attempted to jog to the line . I even ran into old buddy Gary who was on the way to finish his 5k. (Ayan nabati na kita bro. Burger ko. Smirk.) Totally dejected, I surrendered the final two splits at 7:40 and 6:41 en route to limping home with a 53:14. I would later see that this effort somehow managed to snag 23rd place in a lean field. Sigh.

Post-Mortem
Overall, the race was a lot harder than I had expected or prepared for, and most of the people who raced it would pretty much agree. The relative humidity was off the charts, people were sweating like a presidential candidate on a live televised debate. Most weren't too thrilled about the finisher's shirt though, saying it was "pambahay " quality (don't shoot the messenger). For a premium priced, chip timed race, I guess they were expecting more, given the absence of a singlet.

On a personal note, it's back to the drawing board. Not only was I out of shape, it's apparent that the ol' ITB is nowhere near 100%. A break is impending. Maybe I'll go to the beach or something.

But I guess what's more important is that I actually made it to the end of this article. Been in a terrible writing slump lately. If you're a basketball fan, I'm pulling off the equivalent of a 4- for- 21 effort. Guess this is a step in the right direction. Law of averages. I have to get it one of these days right?

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.

I never thought I could ever balance myself on two wheels. You ever saw that 8-year old kid stuck in the playground trying to not fall after yaya let go of the bike while his playmates were zooming up and down? That was me .With zero athletic skills whatsoever, I was relegated to being this fat Gingerbread kid stuck indoors reading Encyclopedia Brittanica (meron pa ba nun?) while downing half a gallon of ice cream. By the time I did finally get the whole bike thing down, it wasn't too long before I hit semplang city en route to breaking my wrist in three places. Bike was sold the following day. Sob.

Putting all of that into consideration, never in my wildest imagination did I ever envision that two decades later I would be entrenched in an actual multisport battle with my former Waterloo serving as one of the primary instruments. But wait, we're getting a little ahead of ourselves here. What malignant spirit (in tagahlog, maligno) possessed me to get into the whole thing anyway? Let's take a quick look back.

Who would have known?
I've been running for quite some time now. Well at least for someone who could never quite stick with a singular "hobby", I'd like to think that the fact that I've been at this for several years goes to show that it has already transcended the "hobby" label iand has actually evolve into a sustainable lifestyle. Back then, it wouldn't be too uncommon to spot this marshmallow-like 200 pounder to tread the sweep packs of them P250 races. No iPad registration, no fancy whatever. You got your finish times with the tried and tested, mano mano "timing cheap"system. Rio could still walk around race corrals without getting mobbed, and the word "singlet" was pretty much an unknown commodity to the mainstream public.

In the years hence, running has literally taken over my life. I've gone from the guy who once ran from Ortigas to Cubao in three hours and declared it "his greatest running achievement " (a lame 10k) to completing the dreaded 102k Bataan Death March Ultramarathon in sweltering conditions. I've made so many friends and been part of so many meaningful experiences as a part of this burgeoning community, and as luck would have it a lot of the mid-term running goals I had set for myself were thankfully met.

Run Fatboy GBM Run circa early-mid 2008
However, I realized that as you keep on pushing and pushing , one day it would just push back at you. Suddenly, hitting those cherished PR's became progressively harder, and the feeling of burnout started to surreptitiously creep up on me. The toll of being in 8 to 12 week training blocks practically all year for the past couple started to manifest already. Once the smoke cleared, the verdict was pretty clear.

I needed to take a break. But then what?

No way in heck was I going back to my sedentary, couch potato lifestyle. Worked too long and too hard to throw it all away. No chance of completely giving up running either, I love the sport too much to be completely away from it.

Then it dawned on me that a perfect compromise was actually possible. I can actually try something new without turning my back on running. And with that realization, I decided to dive into the uncharted waters of multisport.

We can all dream... ..

Multisport? Woah now. As the notion of competing with ultrafit triathletes with 5% body fat came to mind, two immediate problems came bubbling up before I could even kick out of the daydream (read: Inception reference). One, I didn't have a bike. Two, I haven't rode one in twenty years and the last time I did, it landed me in the hospital. Not exactly the ideal lasting memory for a wannabe noob like me right?

Not-so-fond biking memories

I gave it a long hard look. Stick with what I know, or be a newbie all over again? Being the competitive guy that I am, I hate being the clumsy new guy . Loathe it even. I mean, I'm the guy who didn't raise his hand when they asked who were the first timers in spin class. But alas, what's the spice to life if we don't explore the deep dark unknown right?

So to make a long story short, I just went out on a limb and went for it. After endless questions and consults from seasoned multisport friends (thank you for the patience), I finally got my own road bike. Realizing the penchant for people to give their roadies names, jumping on the bandwagon wasn't too far off. The new roadie was christened "Bob". Why Bob? I haven't the slightest idea. But it sure as heck sounded a lot better than "Grimace".

Why hellow Bob.
Along with the first few awkward rides came the abrupt realization that there was so much more to a roadie than your typical CCP Sunday bike. There were tons of nuances with seatpost height, riding position, enough parts to fill a book and a shifting system that at first glance seemed terribly complicated to crack. Who would have known a simple bike would have so much science to it?

Its, er, complicated.

Now what's a roadie if you ain't going to use it right? I got wind through the grapevine about the 2nd leg of the Powerade Duathlon series. A duathlon. Wow. Run Bike Run? How hard could it be? How would I do? What's a T1? My insatiable curiosity won out on this instance, and I soon found myself coughing up a cool P1,000 for the reg. If you those P850 "premium" races give you grief, better be prepared for a shock with multisport, where managing more logistics account for the higher fees.

Gulp.
Knowing that people put months and months worth of training into this sort of event, my boorish, ill-prepared self just wanted to set a benchmark. After all, experience is still the best teacher right? In two weeks I tried to unscientifically cram as much mileage and "brick" (to the uninitiated, combined discipline workouts to replicate the actual race. They usually make you feel like you were hit like a ton of bricks afterward. Or maybe that's just me) sessions into my routine, if only to be prepared at least mentally.

Brick 1 GBM 0.

D-Day comes around. I'm a nervous wreck. Each nervous tic, each anxiety-fueled fidget was amplified by what seemed to be an eternal wait for slumber to take me out of my misery. I've been in more races than I could remember but this was as an entirely new thing for moi. Armed with just guts and pretty much nothing else, so many questions crossed my mind as we were making the pleasant drive to Filinvest on a cool Sunday pre-dawn. "How do we check in? Paano nilalagay ung body marking thing? How do put the bike on the rack? Can we run in the transition area?" So many questions that only the hard knocks gained from experience could alleviate. Abby must have been remotely amused as the butterflies in my stomach were getting the best of me.

UGH. I hate being the newbie guy.

Kabado.
We got there early. WAY early even. As I would come to realize with these multisport things, they never seem to start early. Good thing old Takbo.ph buddies who had gone the multisport route were also competing, and they provided the "homey"atmosphere that proved to be a salve for my nerves. As it was, Team Endure was also making its debut race replete with fancy triathlon suits. I wondered to myself when I would be worthy to put on one.

Trying my best not to be a nervous looking clueless dude

With the help of friends, the body marking and bike rack issues I was so antsy about turned out to be overstated. And before we knew it, we were off to the starting corral . 6k run beckoned. Now, this may not seem a lot. But obviously, this was the first time that I would be doing a 30k bike ride in between. I was advised to hack it on the safe side and go for a 5:15 pace. Be competitive fool that I am, I figured that I'll suck out on the bike anyway, what have I got to lose. So a tempered attack was worked out bordering on the 4:40 level.

Attack where you are strong... .
While relatively slow by road race standards, for some reason this was good enough to vault me into the upper half of the draw going into the first transition point from run to bike, or T1 in multisport jargon. Upon mounting, much to my chagrin I got bunched together with some of the stronger triathletes/duathletes. I freaked. They were passing me left and right, barking "BIKE BIKE BIKE" or "STAY IN YOUR LANE!!" Gak.

Speed Bagal Mode.

The primary goal was to survive the bike segment in one piece. So I played the role of the non-recalcitrant newbie to the hilt, allowing myself to be passed almost courteously. Geez. Oh well, I was in too much pain to mind anyway. The course was mostly flat, but there were two major inclines that zapped the bejesus out of me. The steeper one was impossibly difficult for someone like me with no bike shoes (and as I would learn later, the lack of uphill gears) to negotiate. At times,I felt it would have been better to just get off the bike and carry it with me uphill. Good thing the rest of the course was pleasant enough, with friends cheering me on at each of the 5 loops we had to complete. Last couple my legs were burning though, and the moment I dismounted to T2 I nearly fell over behind rubbery legs. Thank God no major mishaps here. One last 3k and I was good to go.

Konti na lang.

Surprisingly, I was a lot fresher here than expected. Got to maintain about a 5:15 pace for the rest of the way as the gels I took started to take effect. At this point I was thanking my lucky stars for my running base as I got to catch up with a lot of the strong cyclists who made me eat dust during the bike leg. Adrenalin pumping, it was all over before I knew it. Crossed the line with a big bear hug from Ultramarathoner Abby in 1:56:29, good for 86th overall and 16th place in my age group. I thought it was a decent finish for a noob, given the circumstances. And more importantly, it put to shame the debut time of my good buddy Piolow who logged a 2:06 during the first leg. Wohoo!

Noob no more.

Sigh. Who knew that the kid who once couldn't balance would one day survive a competitive race like this? Much less on two weeks preparation. I give all the thanks in the world to my Team Endure buddies for enduring (no pun intended) and patiently answering all my questions. Also a big shout out to Ironman Javy Olives of Tri'n Hard fame (IMHO one of the best written multisport blogs out there.) for all the knowledgeable and practical bike tips he gave me.

Cross that one off the bucket list. The glean of the triathlon now beckons. How riveting. One slight problem.

I don't know how to swim.

(to be continued)

Bikes. They have been around since time immemorial, pretty much as ubiquitous as they come. For this formerly indifferent running dude, everything is pretty much all the same on two wheels right? I mean, come on, it's just a bike right? Two wheels, you try not to fall, and everything's cool! Little did I know that there lies practically an entire canon of technical knowledge in what turns out to be a highly sophisticated enterprise. It is within this mindset steeped in naivety that our brave new undertaking begins, my running relegated to the background temporarily.

Tricked out racer here

Being a 90's kid, I grew up going to CCP and the Ortigas area where you could rent them for about P25 an hour. Sigh. Not exactly one to have perfect balance, I had to start with every kid's safe haven- the ever-lovable sidecar. If it was any portent of things to come a decade later, I already had too much pride to ride one with training wheels. Even as a pre-pubescent Gingerbread lad, the machismo (perceived or otherwise) was already emanating. I would rather be caught driving those Barbie jeeps you could buy at Plaza Fair or SM Toyland (cue in... . SM toyland is the place to go, lots of toys, g.i.joe ... .board games, laser guns, so mom, dad let's go to toyland... .we got it all for you! )

Cheers to a bygone era

As I had inferred in a previous article, I had a laundry list of problems on two wheels as a youngster. A foray into the world of multisport suddenly necessitated a real-time crash course on all things biking, which was somewhat of a challenge because I was never really the handyman/let's-get-our-hands-dirty mekaniko type. Heck, I could write about them but to do it myself? Ah now that's an entirely different story. I'll try to relate to you as much of the experience from a total newbie perspective.

Not my sorta thing

Frame
Well, a bike frame is supposed to be self-explanatory right? It's well, uh, a frame. I mean, it's a bike. Just ride it for crying out loud. Apparently, this simpleton thinking didn't hold water in the highly technical cycling world. The frame's top tube has to be just the right size for you , or else you'll be setting yourself for a wide variety of aches and pains. There are common fit guides easily googable, or have one done at your friendly bike shop. My first one was at least one size small for me, hence me feeling like crap after every ride. How much is a frame anyway? The spectrum is wider than one could think. If you're more of the "assemble" type, you could the manong-style bakal bakal ones for as low as P5,000 . Depending on the brand and where you actually buy it, lightweight carbon-fiber frames could range anywhere from P40,000 to more than P100,000. Also, custom-made titanium frames could set you back a cool $2,500 or more. Cheap thrills.

Looks weird but could probably send your kid through college

"Grupo"
Apparently, a bike's groupset is as integral as any other component towards the whole thing. It all seemed Greek or Parseltongue (sorry, couldn't resist the Potter reference) to me when I first got my bike. In common parlance, this is more or less defined as a bicycle component manufacturer's organized collection of mechanical parts. This pretty much includes your brakes and gear shifters (for Shimano {a well-known brand. Wow, parenthesis in a parenthesis, my Grammanazi 7th grade English teacher would be turning in her grave } branded components, this is called an STI, or Shimano Total Integration. Because of Shimano's popularity, "STI" has come to be accepted as a common noun of sorts for gear shifters, like "Colgate" even if it comes from a different brand) , chain, crankset, deraillers (the thing that moves your chains from one sprocket to another to accomplish gearing) et, al. Collectively, these serve as the "engine" of your bicycle, and enthusiasts/serious cyclists pay premium price for any possible technological advantage they could muster.

It's complicated.

There are numerous brands, with perhaps Shimano being the most ubiquitous. I'll try to give you a quick, layman's look into it. The Shimano brand offers different groupset lines, which purportedly cater to anyone from the amateur cyclist to the touring professional. The 2300 is an 8-speed groupset which to be very honest with you I didn't even know existed before I wrote this article. It's probably in the bottom rung of the foodchain, and most professionals will find an 8-speed set lacking for their, well, professional needs. The Sora is a 9 -speeder, and it's a very decent groupset specially for those starting out. It's also what's in Ultramarathoner Abby's roadie, random trivia.

Next in line is the Tiagra, which someone once compared to a Toyota Vios or Honda Jazz if you want to quantify it in car terms. . Noooot sure if that's completely accurate. The 10-speed 105 is probably the most commonly used, a very decent groupset you could go to war with. Is this the equivalent of an Altis or Civic? No idea. My groupset is a well-worn (aka old) 9-speed 105 from a forgotten era. It hasn't failed me so far. On the upper end of the spectrum are the Ultegra and the Dura Ace. A brand new Ultegra set is more expensive than my entire first bike (named Bob, check the old article), while a brand-new Dura-Ace set could either buy you a 2nd hand Honda Hatchback or serve as downpayment for that dream home of yours. Whew.

Car... .. or bike parts?

Aerobars/Seatposts
Since most of do bike within the context of multisport, aerobars are more or less a must-have. Ever see those ultrafit triathletes crouched in that weird but cool-looking position? The aero position is designed to save your legs for that run portion and if executed correctly, propel you faster through the magic of aerodynamics. Thing is, the bikes your Ironman idols are riding on those Youtube clips are made specifically for triathlon. Meaning, they're specifically expensive. Not too uncommon to find P250,000 Italian-made tri-bikes around the corner. While that's a tad bit unrealistic for commoners like you and me, the tipid meals solution would be to buy clip-on aerobars ( cheapest would be about P2,500 a pop) combined with a fast forward seatpost ( anywhere from P2,500 - P5,000) for your road bike. The fast forward seatpost changes the seat tube angle frame from 73° to 78°, effectively moving the rider 38 mm forward in replicating the fancy tri-bike's geometry. Note, without the fast forward seatpost it would be quite difficult to maintain aero position, so these two add-ons usually come hand in hand.

You could put a down on that house already.

A practical fix.

Wheels

Same thing with wheels. High-end brands like Zipp or HED which specialize in deep, lightweight, aerodynamic wheels that are more or less made to make you go faster. They spin a lot faster too. Maybe that's why you go faster. Smart. Smirk. Anyway, the eye candy factor notwithstanding though just to get your head out of the clouds these are very painful to the wallet. The set that Olympic champion Fabian Cancellara was using in the photo in the previous paragraph could easily north of P120,000. Fun. On the other hand, if you could care less about aerodynamics and just want your bicycle to run, a decent pair could be had for as low as P3,000. Hmmmm.

I'll get my bling bling one day.Sniff.

Helmets

Whaaaat? Even helmets? It goes without saying that helmets are there for one thing - to prevent your brain from becoming mush on the floor in the event of some horrible accident. Cool. Of course, leave it to modern technology to somehow figure out a way to "pimp up" your standard issue helmet. While a basic helmet could go as low as P500- P1300 depending on where you get it, a tricked out aerodynamic helmet that "makes you go faster" with matching water vents to boot could set you back a cool P10,000 easy.

He's faster already

Cycling Shoes/Cleats

The quintessential newbie rider's rite of passage. People speak of it in hushed, even fearful tones, like it was the Loch Ness Monster or something. Some riders go on for months still wearing sneakers, avoiding the big jump at all costs. Why the fuss? These shoes have cleats that latch on to a special kind of pedal, allowing for a more efficient stroke and the added power benefit of an upward pull. If utilized correctly, these make for probably the most immediate improvement in terms of performance.

So if bike shoes are such a godsend, why do newbie cyclists speak of them with relative dread?

Well, there's always a caveat, and here's the rub. Once on bike shoes, you're practically "glued" to your bike, and you could only disengage by doing a nifty outward twist move. That nifty move takes some time to practice, and that extra half second it takes could be enough to niftily knock you down in the classic "semplang" move - even while you're still attached to the bike. Without the benefit of just putting down an emergency leg for leverage and balance, things could turn ugly in a hurry.

Face the fear
As it is, the thought of having no safety backup is mortifying to a lot of novice cyclists. It's just one of those things that's easy to procrastinate over, but at the back of your head you know you have to face it eventually. It was with this mindset that I decided to get my first pair, "just to get it over with". This little conversation at the bike shop where I bought it from did nothing to assuage my fears :

Bikemann : First time mo ba mag cleats?
GBM : Yes pohz
Bikemann : Ah ok. Sesemplang ka.
GBM: !!!!!!

And indeed, the deadpan oracle had spoken. Ironically, over several months on no cleats I had done a treacherous 120k road race, a duathlon and triathlon with no incident whatsoever.

Got home, tried on the shoes, and cleated up downstairs in the garage.

BANG. Less than 5 minutes in, I'm sprawled on the ground. Still attached to the bike. Sob. Muscle memory apparently gives way to a lot of bad habits, and it reared its ugly head in real time.

Much like a fallen gladiator recovering from a devastating blow, I staggered up and gave it another go

3 minutes later, same result.

My confidence shaken and knee banged up, I went back upstairs to regain my senses. Alarm bells were anxiously ringing in my head. Is it reaaaaallly that hard? I am really not meant to be a cyclist? Do I really suck at this?

Let's just assume it hurts.
But then again, as that old adage goes it isn't about how many times you fall but how many times you get up right? The following day I was at it again, convinced I could do it. I rode for 20 kms along my familiar training jaunt, so far so good. As I pulled up near the back gate of UA&P, I dismounted to check if everything was in order. Cool. Went back up, did a u-turn, and before I knew it was hard on the ground. This was a really hard fall, much harder than the previous two ones. My STI was jarred to the point of misalignment. To make matters worse, my students had seen me and were prepared to laugh over that silly cyclist until they saw it was me. Oh the horror. Did I mention I was still attached to the bike?

Where's that adage when you need it? I limped home, tail between my legs dragging my bike with me. This was really depressing. All that fuss about fancy frames, groupsets, wheels, and helmets - yet here I was, couldn't even manage to keep myself off the pavement. That in turn invoked perhaps the single most overused line in the history of cycling, hence I'm going to use it again -

It's not about the bike.
Kuya Lance Armstrong probably knew what he was talking about. First time I ever got wind of these figures, I could hardly believe it. Turns out there are two sides to this bike thing - both the competitive side and the hobby side. And maybe somewhere in between where the two sides converge. You could see people spend hundreds of thousands on the aforementioned items, but they're nowhere near competitive. As they say, if you can't perform, japorm. Sometimes, going through the fancy bikes at multisport or cycling events it's easy to see that the sport is also somewhat akin to a grown man's Tamiya . You get the best components, put it all together and talk about it with your buddies over a beer or two while planning your next salary burner.

I have a borderline mid-range bike at best, and I would be lying if I told you that I didn't take some lurid form of satisfaction in overtaking them italian-made, Dura-Ace equipped bikes on a race. On the other hand, how many times have I been lapped and overtaked by manongs with bakal bakal bikes that seem to have been used and abused since the 80's. No aerodynamics here, just sheer brute strength and athleticism. I shudder to think at what they could do with all this fancy technology at our disposal.

Which brings us back to the immortal words of Mr. Armstrong. Truly, it really isn't about the bike. The best bike in the world will be utterly useless in the wrong hands. Or legs , for the matter. You can spend all you want, but these advancements will only be noticeable if you actually bother putting in the requisite saddle time. The competitive athlete is both well conditioned and utilizes technology with maximum efficacy. However, if you could care less about competition and are just thrilled with the science and intricacies of putting it all together, well and good. We'll gawk at your fancy toy during the next race.

He has a pointThis bike thing. It's a fun, crazy thing, and it appeals to a whole wide range of personality types with hugely contrasting goals.

Did I mention I never fell from my bike again after that embarrassing episode ?

Just suck it up brother.

Welcome to the cycling world.

Where it doesn't matter how many times you fall.

Only the number of times you get up...

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 hey hey. I told you I'd come up with the weekly update! Just keeping my end of the bargain. Thanks for all the support guys and gals, traffic to the site just shot up 120% over the past two weeks. Much love, very grateful and let's keep it coming.

• The survey on the middle part of our home page was asking you all what was the biggest impediment to you taking up multisport. 41% of the responses said they didn't know how to swim, while 39% said they thought road bikes were too expensive. The swim part is workable, I could hook you up with my coach (who handles several of us at Endure Multisport) for "friendly" rates if you want to conquer your fear of the water for starters. As for the expensive road bike, its either you take out that long overdue SSS salary loan or just do it the old fashioned way. Which is to spend like a hermit all year to save a little, wait until 13th month pay kicks in, then combine the two to buy your precious road bike. Of course, while that would mean you won't be buying anyone anything for Christmas, just keep on staring at your bike to cover for the grief you'll be receiving.
  

Swimming doesn't have to be this hard.

• In the weeks leading up to Powerman Malaysia, I was already feeling iffy. Probably the long grind of a deathly hectic season was getting to me. A three-week long fever? Okay that's odd. Coughing up blood? Freaky stuff. As much as I abhor hospitals and try to avoid them at all costs, this was too creepy to just let pass. After about four hours spent in an isolation room, thankfully my fears of pneumonia or tuberculosis were unfounded. I was diagnosed with chronic pharyngitis, there was a tear in my throat that relegated me to sick leave for a week. What's the implication of all this? I was planning to go for an intensive 21 day "pahabol" training for the NAGT season ending triathlon at UP Los Banos. Now that's seven days gone, I feel like a fat slob, and my fitness level has all but evaporated. Good luck for the next 14 days.
  

Fat slob days are here again

• We've been blessed to enjoy the continued support of race organizers, and I try to share this with our readers as much as I can. Thanks to everyone who participated in our Mcdonalds and Vertical Marathon contests, hope you had fun at the races. Will keep you posted for more fun giveaways as they come.

Happy winner Mark. Congratulations!

• I'm happy to see a lot of people "leveling up" by the unprecedented number of entries to a 32k race during the last Unilab Rio gig. Let me make this bold prediction : We'll see a record number of marathon entrants in the 2011 season, and we'll also see a record number of too-much-too-soon knee injuries. Take it from the guy who did a 50k ultramarathon before he even did a full marathon.
  

• It's Christmas party season. Xmas Party = food. Food = Tubby fat. Tubby fat = slower you. Xmas party = bad. But then again, it's Christmas so screw it lol.
  

• I'm going to start a new cycle of the highly touted P90x workout tomorrow if only in a lame attempt to get in shape to curb the aforementioned Christmas fat . I already completed the 90-day program before, hard as heck but never felt better. You should give it a go. I'm not saying I have a bootleg copy, but I MAY possibly know someone who does. (slow-motion wink)

Just 90 days baby!

• If you haven't read that "open letter", my trusty 305 is in dire straits. Who's giving me a 310xt for Christmas?

• In the unlikely (asa) event that no one gives me one for Christmas, what's a better deal ? A new Ultegra groupset (cycling/multisport people help out) or that 310XT? Sob.
  

Sob. Yum.

• Is it just me or is that picture above ginormous?
  

• Was looking forward to run the Resorts World race this morning, but got too stressed from some bike mishaps yesterday. Sorry Jinoe and Que, I couldn't get out of bed. How was it anyway? Feedback from those who ran it!
  

• What did happen to me ? After pretty much hassle free riding for several months, I suffered my first two flat tires yesterday (thanks to WRT vet Emil for helping me out) on a Antipolo-Laguna route, got my chain dislodged twice and nearly got run over by one of them counterflowing cars (About two inches from disaster.Karma will hunt you down my friend) The coup de grace was when I was inadvertently left behind, and I got extremely lost, traversing the very long and very congested commuter route (Binangonan, Angono, etc) instead of the scenic Antipolo route. Was also forced to walk my bike more than 5k amidst the madness, impossible to bike in bumper to bumper traffic. I think I worried my teammates (and Ultramarathoner Abby)to death as I had no money, little water and no cellphone. Touched that they waited for me though. Not my day. The next one will be better. Still a career high 152k ride, unfathomable a couple of months ago.

• BDM 151 (or 160?) watch : 90% running, 10% not running.
  

• I was driving home when I saw the formerly world-famous Tito Caloy, who's now enjoying his retirement from his storied running career. Keeping a low profile, he has opted to concentrate on his competitive drinking. His bpm (bottles per minute) pace had dropped when he started running, so now he's concentrating on training for the 2011 Philippine Drinking League season. He says hi to everyone who actually remembers him, and that he's available for personal appearances for your Christmas parties. Just text 0917- 8- TCALOY for details.
  

Rare appearance by the legend.
Have a good running week folks :)

• Sorry to disappoint guys and gals, we weren't able to bring home the bacon this year at the Philippine Blog Awards Night. Thanks for all the support you gave during the process, you all rock. The award ended up going to that fine boxing blog Filipino Boxing Journal, well-deserved. Me and Ultramarathoner Abby attended the ceremonies last Sunday at the RCBC Plaza , first time to attend such an event. We got there a little earlier than expected, and that equated into having the benefit of having the cocktail tables all to ourselves before the mad rush of bloggers came in. Food was supplied by Angel's Pizza and Pasta, and in spite of their crummy logo (which may be the reason we have subliminally never went there), the grub was quite good. New fan right here, and I just learned to never judge a restaurant by it's logo. Yum. Got to chat with tech and video bloggers on two separate occasions, and they both went on to win.Either I'm a lucky charm or malas lang sila sa akin. Host Gabe Mercado was benta with his dry wit and candor. The fact that he strode unto the stage in pajamas and bunny slippers didn't hurt either. It was a bit of a downer that they announced the sports category first (which sorta made the whole thing anticlimactic), and the cool AVP they used to introduce it had Jaymieon it ( she was the last running blogger to win it in 08'. Speedy Natz' now-defunct site made it last year.) I have now officially mastered my "losing Oscar nominee smile". Smirk. We'll get em next year... if ever they decide to nominate me again :P I am I bitter? No. Did I cry after I lost? Yes. Inside.

Better luck... . next decade?

• Totally off-topic, I'm not digging that the new Seiko wallet radio spot pronounces "genuine" the correct way rather than the iconic "G-New-Wine" that made the whole thing famous. It just lost half its luster.Ulk.

• I still get nightmares about those Adidas Techfit shorts that were shamelessly stolen from me during ANR registration. Think of all the happy times we could have had together.

Sob.

• Good luck to all those doing the Corregidor International Half Marathon this weekend. Race Director Edward Kho is a good friend who made it worth everyone's while last year with a killer course. Those participating this year would no doubt get to partake of an even tougher experience. Tell us all about it.

• To the bike people out there, Ultegra 6700 + Christmas = Broke.

• Based off this perpetual question at the Takbo.ph boards, just wanted to know - are you a positive splitter or a negative splitter?

• Big props to my student and co-captain of my marketing team at UA&P Nicole Miller for giving a wonderful presentation at the PBA's. I'm pretty sure she gained more than a fan or two there.

Abby and Nikki prepped up at the PBA's.

• GBM BDM 160 Watch : 100% running. Just sent the confirmation of to Sir Jovie the other day. Here we go. No turning back now.

• Had a great time at the season ending NAGT Sprint Triathlon at UP Los Banos, hosted by their free-spirited hometown team the Trantados. While I'll reserve the rest of the details for the future story, here's what you got to know - the swim on the 25m pool was hella rough (more like Wrestlemania), with me having a bruise on my wrist and some guy who was panicking on the 12ft deep end grabbing on to my legs for dear life. Was 74th of 85 people out of the water, ended up snagging 38th place overall, 8th in my age group. Considering I did 39 minutes for 750m during my first sprint, I'd take my 30:11 official 800m split as an improvement. That month and a half with Coach Jose Arcega's TI techniques seems to be slowly taking fruit. From terribly horrible, I'm now just terribly below average haha.

Habol ng Habol... .

• Kudos to my teammates Noelle/Kikayrunner and Wilnar (yes, they actually made him a Facebook fan page) for their smashing performances during last Sunday's Milo National Finals. Noelle put in a spectacular 3:58, which would have qualified her last year even under the men's standards. Should we be calling it a Sub-Noelle now? Lol. Wilnar on the other hand dropped a somewhat routine (for him) 3:30 while no one was looking. I don't think it even excited him one bit lol. I'd also like to give props to TPB/Takbo.ph buddy Mccoy for pulling off a wonderful 1:41 21k as well. That's especially gratifying if only you guys knew that he has been battling debilitating injuries over the past two seasons. Some thought he'd never regain his speed again. But he's been tearing it up like a madman. He's the comeback runner of the year hands down IMHO. Someday, when I start running more than 20 kilometers a week again, I hope to one day do the same as these friends of mine :P
  

• The Cobra 2011 Ironman 70.3 actually opened early bird registration already. Cheap thrills, $200 only. Come February it's already $250 a pop. Factor in airfare and lodging, you're actually paying a considerable sum to inflict a considerable amount of pain on yourself. All of a sudden those P950 races we constantly whine about looks like chump change.

Worth it?

• Word through the grapevine is that there are concerns that the $200 early bird registration, exorbitant lodging fees (apparently, all CWC rooms have been booked already. Eight months ahead?? Wow.) and the specter of Extribe's world class organization ( this is their thing. I'm pretty sure KOTR dissenters would beg to disagree) being lost this year make for good reason to skip it altogether. Let's see how this holds true come August. Am I doing it? Hmmmmm... ..

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

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.