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.

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) 

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.


 

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?

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.

First off, thanks to all who joined. Your support for our site is much appreciated. To my friends who are expecting a lutong macaw sorta thing, sorry you have to bribe me with more food next time :P

By some stroke of luck ladies and gentlemen I have two Globe Run For Home gc's, redeemable to any distance. I know some of you think the race is expensive, so instead of running this myself I am giving away these away to two lucky readers, save the cash.

When my body gives out and my head tells me to quit, my heart compels me to struggle on. At some point, however, my head and my heart get in 'cahoots' with each other. They both demand I stop. That is when my spirit soars and their protestations are of no avail. I am propelled by a force unseen, drawn to a potential I have yet to realize. I shake off the burden of the physical and wake up to experience my dream. At last I am free....




Some have dubbed it the final frontier. Well, for the moment at least. The fact of the matter is, right now there is no longer road race in the country. The Bataan Death March 160k Ultramarathon is in a league of its own, and dwarfs all comers to the table. Nothing even remotely comes close. Participants are either honored in hushed, reverential tones or maligned as foolhardy and ignorant.Maybe even stupid. Save for a trifling number, after KM 102 pretty much everybody would be entering the twilight zone. The first ever 100-mile race in the country sticks out like Everest on steroids to the hungry masses, the novelty of the great unknown drawing these inquisitive endurance athletes like moths to a flame. The appeal to be part of history ups the risk/reward scale on an unprecedented level, and athletes will be tested as they have never been before. How long should one soldier on, and when should one know when to quit? It is the quintessential paradox of a discipline that is fueled by blood, guts, and an indomitable will to make it to that finish line. It is a paradigm that will be revisited in recurring snippets as the tale unravels.

I distinctly remember running the first ever edition of this a few years back. I had just finished my very first ultramarathon ( the Botak 50k) and had gotten wind that the first ever disposable timing chip race would be upon us. Not only that, you could also get to run through the previously off-limits Makati CBD district. In spite of the fact that I would only be getting a couple of weeks worth of rest, the foolhardy (and much chunkier) GBM of yesteryear went through with it anyway. I was promptly rewarded with blowing out my knee at about km 12 amidst a lame attempt to do a sub-2 hour 21k ( yes, it was the holy grail back then).I limped home to the line with my tail between my legs but with head unbowed as my Takbo.ph buddies back then (who are now) all either veteran ultramarathoners or pseudo celebrity bloggers) helped me get through the line. For last year's edition me and Ultramarathoner Abby were still dating, funny thing was she asked me to pick her up but she left her phone somewhere, leading to hours of flustered waiting. I eventually found her amidst 8,000 runners lol. Was one heck of a big event though. I remember that the big thing they had was the auto-Facebook update once you cross the line and the singlet made of recycled PET bottles. Thus, the race seems to always strike a chord with me, regardless if I run it or not.

This year's edition promises more of the same innovations, and since I couldn't shamelessly copy paste off the press kit they gave me because nothing was coming out on the file, I'll just wing this.

I had just come back from my Bataan fun run weekend and had been pretty much detached from humanity when I got an email from the Runrio gang inviting me to the "Runrio Trilogy Awards Night".





I thought to myself, showbiz na ba si Rio ngayon? Funny thing was, in my semi-vegetative state after my 160k jagging, I actually declined, thinking the event was Monday night. Hard to go when you're walking like a BT (bagong tule) sorta character. Much to my consternation, Runrio "Social Media Director" (hihi) Vimz would tell me that the staffers were aghast at such a lurid reply. Thankfully she explained that my brain couldn't be in one place after the weekend, my apologies for being souped.

Anyway, as I would only understand later, the event was meant to honor the runners who completed the Runrio Trilogy, in addition to a smattering of special awards. Open bar, buffet courtesy of Paul Calvin's,celebrity sightings.... the place had the feel of the Oscars.Okay maybe not, but you get the idea It was the perfect synthesis of giving back to a community who has supported his burgeoning enterprise, and an ideal post-marketing/good PR vehicle for his sponsors. No wonder our main man was in a wonderful mood last night.  Here are some of my notes from last night :

• If I'm not mistaken, this used to be Alchemy. Apparently, it died a natural death. It is now.... Decagon. Naman kasi, gigimik lang dati tabi pa ng Tiendesitas. Not exactly the place where you want to get the party poppin. You might see your Mommy buying Palawan chicken and Spanish sardines on the way out.  

• In fairness, the place looks wonderful. Sosy. 5'11 carb-starved models abound, to the merriment of the ogling running denizens. Funny, but for some inane reason I suddenly waxed nostalgic. Why? I know it's hard to believe now with my shriveled nognog Gingerbread looks, but more than a decade ago me and TPB ultra bud Mark (we had the same "handler" for a time geez) were trolling like events called "ushering" in industry jargon for about P3,000 a pop in fun places that went by names from a bygone era like Mars, Euphoria, and Fat Willy's. Sigh how time passes. Wait, the line is moving. Move it  Mr. Gurang mann.

• Grainy Photobooth pix upon entering. Too many reds on the hue. I'll take the free Photobooth any day though. 

• Nice that people had badges identifying them as awardees. Nice touch. 

• Rio is channeling David Ruffin today with his tux and glasses. If you don't know who David Ruffin is,  igoggle mo na lang.    

• He checks up on me and Abby after Sunday's gig, apparently he's just like you and me. You know, he also checks out pix on Facebook. The man is in the know. We chide him on his new Audi TT toy, just before we were leaving for Bataan we saw some frizzy haired guy in a roadster waving, turns out it was him. In typical self-effacing manner, he says "utang lang yan". With the way he's puling in paper, he could have went in and bought it like a quarter pounder from Mcdo.    

• No sight of my good buddy Piolow here. Pfft. 

• Food was very good, good job Jay Em! Di bitin with the choices. They really spent for it, not the "para masabi lang" buffet. 

• Funny how Endure Multisport teammate Pio somehow manages to wind up on a table with the two hosts (Tricia Chiongbian and the other dude, Coy?Boy/Bhoy Ramos. If he's famous or some sort of celebrity forgive me, I don't get to watch TV anymore), Venus Raj, and the current Rio girlpren.  He somehow also manages to wind up on stage for a drinking game. Fun times. 

• Practically everyone is an awardee, it feels like graduation. With my nametag saying "guest", does that mean I'm like the parent? Or the tito na napilitan and sumama for the kainan?

•  Jaymie sighting, and she later wins the Hyper Blogger award. Fun distinction, and I never knew that mild-mannered Jaymie and "Hyper" could be stuck in the same sentence. They should have just gave it to Sam the Running Ninja. Oh I forgot  he's semi-retired.

• Majority of the people are having a good time. The ones who are really having a good time are those at the open bar. Wait, is that Abby? 

• Philippine All-Stars steal the show with a sensational number. Whenever you brand yourself as such, you have to ensure you're pretty damn good. These guys never disappoint. 

• In related news, Pedz the Running Atom was hypnotized when the All-Star gals did some rhythmic bellydancing. I'm not telling, just saying. :P

• Is it just me, or is Unilab Active Health Prez Alex Panlilio the long lost brother of Paolo Bediones? No homo, just speaking for the estrogen in the crowd. 

• The little montages before the special awards were 50-50 on the funny scale. 

• The AVP's were well made. Actually, the whole event was. It had that professional feel about it, apparently they have this whole event organizing thing down pat. 

• Just when the crowd was losing energy All-Stars are sent out again to wake the people up. Why do I get the impression this was an impromptu number? It seemed like an intervention, the number was bitin. Still good though. 

• Six Cycle Mind comes in, apparently they were commissioned to do the Runrio theme song. Rock Star vibe with matching shades indoors. Ooh.

• As part of their spiel, Tricia and Boy/Bhoy/Coy are incessantly prodding the running madlang people to well, er, get drunk and just make tomorrow "recovery day". Dead silence. Apparently, people take tempos over tequilas around these places.

• Finale is weird, as they try to pull the U2 vibe, yet people weren't really minding them. They were all glued to the adjacent stage where Rio was poppin' with the All-Stars to the theme song. He gives credence to the theory that runners aren't meant to be dancers. Of course, that's my own original theory and suddenly I don't feel so bad anymore. 

•  All awardees get loot bags. Lame guests like me don't. Nice. Everyone goes home happy. After a trip to the open bar of course.

• That's it folks, overall was a good event and another first in the industry. Good luck to everyone running the 2011 series!

I was never really a marathon fan. Some people do 5, 6 of them a year. In three years of running I have done two. No, this new race cooked up by Pat and Ton isn't my third. It's actually my second marathon. Ohhh. Surprise surprise. For a guy who has run 102 kms and is planning to tackle 160 in a couple of weeks, you would probably think that I'd have a higher propensity towards long distances. Paradoxical? Yes, perhaps. But we're not here to dwell on the philosophical and introspective trappings of why I'm not exactly your neighborhood marathon man. I'm here to tell you all about my bittersweet journey, so let's get started.

I got the pleasure of interviewing Rogin-E Race Director/Overall Nice Guy Edward Kho about his upcoming race. Some of you guys know him offhand as the guy behind Corregidor International Half- Marathon, and hopefully you'll get to know more about the race and the guy behind it.