Archive for March 2010
"After 42.195 kilometers, everyone turns into furry animals with funny names"
- Anonymous
Kilometer 52, somewhere in Bataan. 7 :17 am.
Nearing the halfway mark, one would somehow grasp a palpable sense of accomplishment having completed the ultra distance already. At this point, 99% of the population would have called it a day , limping gingerly to their cars while prepping for breakfast at Mcdo 32nd Street or Paul Calvin's. But alas, this wasn't BHS. We're not pampered pansies anymore. I'm right smack in the middle of nowhere with the heat steadily climbing. At this point, you're doggone tired. And yet, the lurid element about the whole thing is you have nearly have a day to do it all over again.
Still alive and strong at the 52k mark.
Kilometer 56, still somewhere in Bataan, I can't keep track of time anymore.
An essential rule that I apply is that before every race, make sure you have ample restroom time to unload whatever needs to be unloaded. Anxiety and excitement make for a potent tummy-churning mix. Unfortunately, the "posh" accommodations at our "hotel" weren't too inviting. Suffice to say, I ran on a full stomach. Which became even fuller after ingesting practically everything that was on my "buffet on wheels", some which were completely mismatched. Thus, something had to give at one time or another. Great. So after nearly 8 hours of running, I had to go. And that's where the fun started.
I couldn't allow this to happen to meh! Ewww.
I knocked on the first house I saw. Here's a faithful transcript of the proceedings that followed :
GBM : Kuya, pwede ho bang makigamit ng CR? Kami ung tumatakbo mula Mariveles hanggang San Fernando.
Manong : Ay pagkalayo ah! O cge dito na lang pasok ka. Pero pagpasensiyahan mo na ang banyo namin.
(Opens door. Point to, er, a hole in the ground. Yeah. A hole in the ground)
GBM: Ah, ummm, ay kuya iihi lang sana ako eh!
Manong : Ah ganoon ba, akala ko dudumi ka?
GBM: Ay hindi ho, naiihi lang talaga!
Manong : Eh para saan yang tisyu?
GBM : Uuh, para sa pawis lang ho!
Manong : Whatever!! (okay maybe not, but something close to it)
Well, this wasn't a purely kaartehan decision. Squatting over the Neanderthal-like hole could have run the risk of cramping me up. After all, 56 kilometers is 56 kilometers. So as I made a beeline for the exits, I just realized I had lost 10 seconds of precious pace over that. Ugh.
It's a hole in the ground for crying out loud.
Kilometer 57, still somewhere in Bataan. Time is the last thing on my mind right now.
I had AJ and the gang look for anywhere clean. This was slowly turning into a national catastrophe. Option number one- Funeraria Hidalgo. Pass. Option number two - a clubhouse inside a subdivision. Problem was, the clubhouse was at least 500 meters away from the gate along the highway. Great. I didn't even dare consider riding the car because obviously it isn't allowed. With the temperature steadily rising , the extra 1k did not help any. I was losing hard-fought time and pace with these detours.
To further exacerbate things, the efficascent oil that we had been using for rubdowns apparently did not jive well with my fancy P650 sunblock (ulk) and well, the sun itself. My legs felt like they were literally burning. Like you poured an entire bottle of Omega on it or something.Bad decision! Dang. By the time I had finished going to the restroom and had the efficascent oil washed out, I had lost more than 35 minutes already. Great.
It burns, it burns.
Km 65, somewhere hot in Bataan. Around 10 am.
After that fiasco, crew chief AJ told me that Abby had just passed me. I hadn't seen her since the start of the race so I decided to catch up with her and say hi. At least I could somehow make up for some lost time. I tempo ran about 3k at 6:20 pace just to get to her. She was in full focus mode, and even my fun Gingerbread jokes would not work on her. She would later tell me that if she had any energy left, she would have punched me in the face. Smirk.
For a certain stretch, we were going back and forth. I would leave her, then she would catch up as Aj and RV would methodically hose me down and drape me in ice-cold towels because the heat was somewhat of a joke already. It was fun though, because it was like we were sharing two support cars. Carina, Joni and Z all helped immensely in hosing me down and giving me foodies.
Shared support rocks!
Good morning towels save the day!
Abby had a crazy yet effective strategy that entailed NOT STOPPING at all. She even brushed her teeth while on the go. Amazing.
Amazing!
Eating the dust of intense Abby.
Taking up the cudgels for alpha males everywhere.
Km 70, somewhere very, very hot in Bataan. I could care less what time it is.
It's hot. Really hot. Exag hot. Scrambled eggs on the pavement hot. Somehow, I couldn't quite describe to you how ridiculously hot it was that day. Only later on were we informed that the heat actually hit 41 degrees on the thermostat. If you factor in the heat seeping out from the asphalt, it could have easily been hotter.
HOT.
The only way I was able to survive was by being soaked in ice cold towels and being hosed down head to foot every 10 minutes. Everything was starting to look like a mirage. I was starting to be extremely crabby brat to my crew already. I refused to eat anything, even a Jollibee spaghetti that would have been yummy in ordinary conditions. AJ was force feeding me, and I would throw away food when he wasn't looking (heheh).
I hate GBM....
Need a hosedown...
More hosedowns....
It came to a point where my words had escaped me already.....
Km 72, I don't know where the crap I am. It's time... to quit?
No. NO. NO!!!! Just as I was settling into some semblance of a comfortable second wind along with a good rhythm with the crew, I felt a familiar pain on the outer edge of my left knee. Visions of walking the last 12k of Globe Run For Home last year came flooding in. No. Not today. Please. As the dreaded pangs of ITBS started to kick in, I was panicking inside. I have 3/4 of a marathon to go, I can't put weight on my knee anymore. A combination of frustration, panic, exhaustion and sleep deprivation suddenly all kicked in, and before I knew it the tears were welling. Good thing RV's shades provided my macho image some decent cover. How the crap was I supposed to finish this thing?? Sob. Sniffle. Mommyy.
End of the road for GBM?
I was at an all-time emotional low. Depression. Angst. Abby just ate away at the lead I had built. Now she was gone. Everyone was passing me. Doc Art and Argow were going strong as I struggled mightily to catch up. Alas, my body simply had nothing left to offer. And here I was, legs pretty much a useless pile of rubber. I was already thinking of a lame excuse for not finishing. Sigh.
Thank God for AJ. As my best bud/crew chief, his calm and rational words implored me to solider on when I couldn't get up for the count anymore. Check your competitive streak at the door. Forget your lead. Pace. Time. Whatever. Forget who passed you. That doesn't even matter now. The one thing you should be concentrating on is to finish this race in one piece. We didn't go all this way just to see you quit. Later on he would tell me that he should have watched all the inspirational movies he could, because he was running out of lines. Lol.
Good thing AJ watched a pirated DVD beforehand.
Ice. Massage. Tourniquet. Prayers.
And the madness continues.
Bromance of the year?
Kilometer 80. I saw the Lito Lapid Sign So This Must Be Pampanga.
Kilometer 72 to 80 was probably the roughest stretch of the entire race for me. The pain on my knee was immense, and I was continually on the verge of quitting. Everything seemed to grind to a standstill, inch by painstaking inch seemingly rendered in stop-motion animation. What felt like five kilometers was in reality only one. In my deranged, sleep-deprived state I was admonishing the crew for being too far in between stops (to aspiring BDM support crew out there, it's an occupational hazard). I told them, Every 500 meters!!! I would learn later on that they were actually waiting for me at 200 meter intervals. Oops.
Crunch Time in Pampanga.
Kilometer 82. People speaking in tongues. I think I just saw Grimace in front of me. 2pm?
Fading. Fading badly. At this juncture, I feel like there's nothing left in the tank. I must have fallen asleep while running, as i was jarred back to consciousness by the afterburn of a bus that was about 2 feet away from me. I felt like climbing an summit-less Everest. I was all alone, and weird thoughts were starting to get into my head. Like, !@@##$%%!!!! was I doing this to myself???!!!
Enter Mark. A regular pacemate during the road race season, this athletic wunderkind seems to never tire at all. At just the precise moment that I was completely spacing out, his presence helped me greatly. The casual conversation took me out of my zombie-like state, and just having someone around seemed to have a tremendous effect on my sanity. We felt like we were in some bizarre reality show, and we would somehow manage to alternate between incessant laughter and incessant whining. Heading into the homestretch, I was really liking our chances.
Move over Marc and Rovilson?
Cat walking BDM?
- Anonymous
Kilometer 52, somewhere in Bataan. 7 :17 am.
Nearing the halfway mark, one would somehow grasp a palpable sense of accomplishment having completed the ultra distance already. At this point, 99% of the population would have called it a day , limping gingerly to their cars while prepping for breakfast at Mcdo 32nd Street or Paul Calvin's. But alas, this wasn't BHS. We're not pampered pansies anymore. I'm right smack in the middle of nowhere with the heat steadily climbing. At this point, you're doggone tired. And yet, the lurid element about the whole thing is you have nearly have a day to do it all over again.
Still alive and strong at the 52k mark.An essential rule that I apply is that before every race, make sure you have ample restroom time to unload whatever needs to be unloaded. Anxiety and excitement make for a potent tummy-churning mix. Unfortunately, the "posh" accommodations at our "hotel" weren't too inviting. Suffice to say, I ran on a full stomach. Which became even fuller after ingesting practically everything that was on my "buffet on wheels", some which were completely mismatched. Thus, something had to give at one time or another. Great. So after nearly 8 hours of running, I had to go. And that's where the fun started.
I couldn't allow this to happen to meh! Ewww.I knocked on the first house I saw. Here's a faithful transcript of the proceedings that followed :
GBM : Kuya, pwede ho bang makigamit ng CR? Kami ung tumatakbo mula Mariveles hanggang San Fernando.
Manong : Ay pagkalayo ah! O cge dito na lang pasok ka. Pero pagpasensiyahan mo na ang banyo namin.
(Opens door. Point to, er, a hole in the ground. Yeah. A hole in the ground)
GBM: Ah, ummm, ay kuya iihi lang sana ako eh!
Manong : Ah ganoon ba, akala ko dudumi ka?
GBM: Ay hindi ho, naiihi lang talaga!
Manong : Eh para saan yang tisyu?
GBM : Uuh, para sa pawis lang ho!
Manong : Whatever!! (okay maybe not, but something close to it)
Well, this wasn't a purely kaartehan decision. Squatting over the Neanderthal-like hole could have run the risk of cramping me up. After all, 56 kilometers is 56 kilometers. So as I made a beeline for the exits, I just realized I had lost 10 seconds of precious pace over that. Ugh.
It's a hole in the ground for crying out loud.I had AJ and the gang look for anywhere clean. This was slowly turning into a national catastrophe. Option number one- Funeraria Hidalgo. Pass. Option number two - a clubhouse inside a subdivision. Problem was, the clubhouse was at least 500 meters away from the gate along the highway. Great. I didn't even dare consider riding the car because obviously it isn't allowed. With the temperature steadily rising , the extra 1k did not help any. I was losing hard-fought time and pace with these detours.
To further exacerbate things, the efficascent oil that we had been using for rubdowns apparently did not jive well with my fancy P650 sunblock (ulk) and well, the sun itself. My legs felt like they were literally burning. Like you poured an entire bottle of Omega on it or something.Bad decision! Dang. By the time I had finished going to the restroom and had the efficascent oil washed out, I had lost more than 35 minutes already. Great.
It burns, it burns. Km 65, somewhere hot in Bataan. Around 10 am.
After that fiasco, crew chief AJ told me that Abby had just passed me. I hadn't seen her since the start of the race so I decided to catch up with her and say hi. At least I could somehow make up for some lost time. I tempo ran about 3k at 6:20 pace just to get to her. She was in full focus mode, and even my fun Gingerbread jokes would not work on her. She would later tell me that if she had any energy left, she would have punched me in the face. Smirk.
For a certain stretch, we were going back and forth. I would leave her, then she would catch up as Aj and RV would methodically hose me down and drape me in ice-cold towels because the heat was somewhat of a joke already. It was fun though, because it was like we were sharing two support cars. Carina, Joni and Z all helped immensely in hosing me down and giving me foodies.
Shared support rocks!
Good morning towels save the day!Abby had a crazy yet effective strategy that entailed NOT STOPPING at all. She even brushed her teeth while on the go. Amazing.
Amazing!
Eating the dust of intense Abby.
Taking up the cudgels for alpha males everywhere.Km 70, somewhere very, very hot in Bataan. I could care less what time it is.
It's hot. Really hot. Exag hot. Scrambled eggs on the pavement hot. Somehow, I couldn't quite describe to you how ridiculously hot it was that day. Only later on were we informed that the heat actually hit 41 degrees on the thermostat. If you factor in the heat seeping out from the asphalt, it could have easily been hotter.
HOT.The only way I was able to survive was by being soaked in ice cold towels and being hosed down head to foot every 10 minutes. Everything was starting to look like a mirage. I was starting to be extremely crabby brat to my crew already. I refused to eat anything, even a Jollibee spaghetti that would have been yummy in ordinary conditions. AJ was force feeding me, and I would throw away food when he wasn't looking (heheh).
I hate GBM....
Need a hosedown...
More hosedowns....It came to a point where my words had escaped me already.....
Km 72, I don't know where the crap I am. It's time... to quit?
No. NO. NO!!!! Just as I was settling into some semblance of a comfortable second wind along with a good rhythm with the crew, I felt a familiar pain on the outer edge of my left knee. Visions of walking the last 12k of Globe Run For Home last year came flooding in. No. Not today. Please. As the dreaded pangs of ITBS started to kick in, I was panicking inside. I have 3/4 of a marathon to go, I can't put weight on my knee anymore. A combination of frustration, panic, exhaustion and sleep deprivation suddenly all kicked in, and before I knew it the tears were welling. Good thing RV's shades provided my macho image some decent cover. How the crap was I supposed to finish this thing?? Sob. Sniffle. Mommyy.
End of the road for GBM?I was at an all-time emotional low. Depression. Angst. Abby just ate away at the lead I had built. Now she was gone. Everyone was passing me. Doc Art and Argow were going strong as I struggled mightily to catch up. Alas, my body simply had nothing left to offer. And here I was, legs pretty much a useless pile of rubber. I was already thinking of a lame excuse for not finishing. Sigh.
Thank God for AJ. As my best bud/crew chief, his calm and rational words implored me to solider on when I couldn't get up for the count anymore. Check your competitive streak at the door. Forget your lead. Pace. Time. Whatever. Forget who passed you. That doesn't even matter now. The one thing you should be concentrating on is to finish this race in one piece. We didn't go all this way just to see you quit. Later on he would tell me that he should have watched all the inspirational movies he could, because he was running out of lines. Lol.
Good thing AJ watched a pirated DVD beforehand. Ice. Massage. Tourniquet. Prayers.
And the madness continues.
Bromance of the year?Kilometer 80. I saw the Lito Lapid Sign So This Must Be Pampanga.
Kilometer 72 to 80 was probably the roughest stretch of the entire race for me. The pain on my knee was immense, and I was continually on the verge of quitting. Everything seemed to grind to a standstill, inch by painstaking inch seemingly rendered in stop-motion animation. What felt like five kilometers was in reality only one. In my deranged, sleep-deprived state I was admonishing the crew for being too far in between stops (to aspiring BDM support crew out there, it's an occupational hazard). I told them, Every 500 meters!!! I would learn later on that they were actually waiting for me at 200 meter intervals. Oops.
Crunch Time in Pampanga.Kilometer 82. People speaking in tongues. I think I just saw Grimace in front of me. 2pm?
Fading. Fading badly. At this juncture, I feel like there's nothing left in the tank. I must have fallen asleep while running, as i was jarred back to consciousness by the afterburn of a bus that was about 2 feet away from me. I felt like climbing an summit-less Everest. I was all alone, and weird thoughts were starting to get into my head. Like, !@@##$%%!!!! was I doing this to myself???!!!
Enter Mark. A regular pacemate during the road race season, this athletic wunderkind seems to never tire at all. At just the precise moment that I was completely spacing out, his presence helped me greatly. The casual conversation took me out of my zombie-like state, and just having someone around seemed to have a tremendous effect on my sanity. We felt like we were in some bizarre reality show, and we would somehow manage to alternate between incessant laughter and incessant whining. Heading into the homestretch, I was really liking our chances.
Move over Marc and Rovilson?
Cat walking BDM?Kilometer 87. Guagua,Pampanga. Need air.
At this point,we were alternating between giving up and giving a motivational speech to one another. The heat wasn't cutting us any slack at all. We were trying to play the numbers game if we would still make cutoff. We sure were a sorry sight, me stopping every 5 minutes due to the ITB, Mark due to severe cramps. Our run-walk ratio was plummeting by the minute, two warriors extended to the very limit. At a certain juncture Mark just sat on the sidewalk and said he was giving up, he didn't care if he would be swept anymore.
Being able to empathize with what he was going through, I gave him my best Braveheart, pain-is-temporary-quitting-is-forever speech. And soon after he was shuffling along behind me again. Pure blood and guts. It was winning time, and suddenly all of the stopovers we were making had made it into a race against time.
William Wallace is da man
Kilometer 92. San Fernando, Pampanga. Two and a half hours to finish 10k.
From this point on, everything seems like a blur to me. From what I recall, I lost Mark, there were people fighting in the eskinita ( !@#$^!! wag mong bastusin gerlpren ko pare!!) and the pain in my left knee grew in intensity with each pause. My crew was pulling out all the stops to ensure that I made it. The pain was incredible. But to quit this near, after all that you've been through? No way in hell. If you told me that I had to roll down the road just to finish, I would have.
Don't even think about it GBM.
Kilometer 101. City Capitol. 4:50 pm.
36 straight hours of lucidness. Mariveles. San Fernando. Finally, the insanity was coming to an end. At that precise moment in time, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Just sheer unbridled joy at making it through this life-altering journey, along with tremendous gratitude towards those who had made it possible. Words escape me now. I had said too much anyway, and those of you who had made it this far must be deathly bored.
The high is like nothing you could ever experience. Nothing even comes close. BDM is a beast. I must have told myself I'll never ever do this again at least 20 times. It humbles you. It strips you down and swallows you whole. It changes you.
After all that I just went through, only then did I understand the intricacy of it all.Why these warriors go through all that pain. That suffering. Why would they willingly subject themselves to that type of punishment over and over again?
The long journey over...
At that precise moment in time, as I was approaching the finish line, as I was hearing all the cheers, it all made perfect sense. It's not something that can be encapsulated by a mere scribe's hyperbolic lamentations. It's something you have to experience yourself. So with that said....
See you at BDM 2011. :)
At this point,we were alternating between giving up and giving a motivational speech to one another. The heat wasn't cutting us any slack at all. We were trying to play the numbers game if we would still make cutoff. We sure were a sorry sight, me stopping every 5 minutes due to the ITB, Mark due to severe cramps. Our run-walk ratio was plummeting by the minute, two warriors extended to the very limit. At a certain juncture Mark just sat on the sidewalk and said he was giving up, he didn't care if he would be swept anymore.
Being able to empathize with what he was going through, I gave him my best Braveheart, pain-is-temporary-quitting-is-forever speech. And soon after he was shuffling along behind me again. Pure blood and guts. It was winning time, and suddenly all of the stopovers we were making had made it into a race against time.
William Wallace is da manKilometer 92. San Fernando, Pampanga. Two and a half hours to finish 10k.
From this point on, everything seems like a blur to me. From what I recall, I lost Mark, there were people fighting in the eskinita ( !@#$^!! wag mong bastusin gerlpren ko pare!!) and the pain in my left knee grew in intensity with each pause. My crew was pulling out all the stops to ensure that I made it. The pain was incredible. But to quit this near, after all that you've been through? No way in hell. If you told me that I had to roll down the road just to finish, I would have.
Don't even think about it GBM.Kilometer 101. City Capitol. 4:50 pm.
36 straight hours of lucidness. Mariveles. San Fernando. Finally, the insanity was coming to an end. At that precise moment in time, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Just sheer unbridled joy at making it through this life-altering journey, along with tremendous gratitude towards those who had made it possible. Words escape me now. I had said too much anyway, and those of you who had made it this far must be deathly bored.
The high is like nothing you could ever experience. Nothing even comes close. BDM is a beast. I must have told myself I'll never ever do this again at least 20 times. It humbles you. It strips you down and swallows you whole. It changes you.
After all that I just went through, only then did I understand the intricacy of it all.Why these warriors go through all that pain. That suffering. Why would they willingly subject themselves to that type of punishment over and over again?
The long journey over...At that precise moment in time, as I was approaching the finish line, as I was hearing all the cheers, it all made perfect sense. It's not something that can be encapsulated by a mere scribe's hyperbolic lamentations. It's something you have to experience yourself. So with that said....
See you at BDM 2011. :)
Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole. I thank whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul.
- From William Ernest Henley's Invictus
While this seems like the start of something special....
There's always a story behind a story. And isn't that the fun part?
Prologue
D-Day ,7:00 am.
As the rest of the brave Bataan Death March 102k Ultramarathon warriors were already on their way to Mariveles, Bataan for a full day's rest before the madness begins at midnight, I was, er, in Ateneo. Giving a talk. Yup. gotta love undelegatable work on a Saturday. Which just so happens to be the day of the biggest race of my life. Aaah. Ce'st la vie.
The Support Crew
After some last minute vacillating and a lot of hemming and hawing over supplies, me and my support crew finally left Manila. As I had mentioned in a previous post, my ragtag team was led by best buddy AJ, who they used to say was a dead ringer for Christian Bautista (when he still had hair), immortal internet legend Tito Caloy, and AJ's friend RV. Who at the time, I did not know personally. A near-stranger helping you out on a life experience? Awkward! Suffice to say, he's a tremendous, stand-up guy. And given the circumstances, if you told me that Grimace was to be my support crew, I would have said yes.
Team GBM!
How about meh? =,(Somewhere in the middle of Pampanga, 4pm
AJ : Just to put things into perspective, from the Petron where we started in Mandaluyong up to this point, that's 102 k already. Ganun kalayo tatakbuhin mo.
GBM : !!!!!!!!!! (x_x)
Villa Imperial, Bataan. 6:30 pm.
So we finally made it to our hotel, if you want to call it that. Most of the Takbo.ph gang were there already. I had Googled the hotel a day before, and it said it "wasn't DOT accredited". I should take these portents of things to come more seriously next time. I had made arrangements with "General Manager" Susan in the crudest way you could imagine (through text, duh. What online reservation?), and told her we would probably get there at 2pm. Given that we got there nearly 7pm, I asked the affable and "machika" caretaker (the only "Hotel" "GM" I've met in pambahay and tsinelas) for a discount.Gave 50% off. Pero secret lang daw. Well, guess the secret's out then. :)
The accommodations were well, yeah. I'd rate it a half star. There was an orchestra of flies in the room, making it a veritable malaria trap. "Babaygonan" na daw muna. I promptly made a beeline to Abby's place to seek refuge with her team while AJ and the team went out to buy some supplies.
With ultra monsters Dennis and Vener upon arrival 
Fun before the storm?Villa Imperial, Bataan. 8:30 pm
"Babaygonan" essentially meant that our room would turn into the virtual Auschwitz of flies afterward. They must have thought that it was better to run BDM 102 with me. I tried lying down, was sneezing within 30 minutes. Visions of that creepy crawlie hotel scene in Ocean's 13 came to mind instantaneously.
We'd rather run BDM!Villa Imperial,Bataan. 9:00
About to leave. Tito Caloy sort of wanted to loosen up. And we all know what that means. The rest of the crew promptly acceded. Gak.
Pangparelaks muna!
Na relaks nga!
Just what I need, a wapaked crew chief. KM 0, Mariveles, Bataan. 10 pm.
We arrive at ground zero without much aplomb. Souvenir photos at the line and with BR were being snapped incessantly as one could sense a palpable feeling of nervous anticipation in the air. Just a couple of hours more!
With the one and only BR
Ominous sign of things to come? Tito Caloy could care less. 
142 brave warriors. How many will make it?
KM 0, Mariveles, Bataan. 11 pm.
As promised, given that BR had dubbed this an international race, the national anthems of the participating countries were played. Nope we didn't have Martin Nievera or Charice Pempengco singing. Instead, BR gave us a full-throated rendition of not only Lupang Hinirang, but the Star-Spangled Banner as well. Raucous applause followed. For the record, no one volunteered to sing the Japanese national anthem.
BR beats Martin any day.
Km 21, Somewhere in Bataan. 2:13 am.
Okay. Still a bit surreal. After talking about this race everyday for several months now, I still couldn't believe that I was actually doing this. Was running under the pretext of making good time while under the cover of night. I took great pleasure in doing my best Sir Amado Castro impression in race walking the first 10k uphill. I was actually outpacing some dudes who were running, much to their consternation. Funny, I ran into them later and they resorted to race walking as well. Fun. Was occasionally bolstered by Abby's crew ( Joni, Z, Carins, Pepsi and Carina) screaming "Go Sweetie!!". Such sweet gals. P.S. It was dark. Really dark. The blinkers that we had bought for P149 from Ace Hardware were working perfectly. Steal of the year. P.S. #2 : Tito Caloy is shnoozing in the car while AJ and RV were busy recording everything I drank and ate. Joyride much?
P149 blinkers are the bomb
Km 42, still somewhere in Bataan. 5:31 am
As promised, given that BR had dubbed this an international race, the national anthems of the participating countries were played. Nope we didn't have Martin Nievera or Charice Pempengco singing. Instead, BR gave us a full-throated rendition of not only Lupang Hinirang, but the Star-Spangled Banner as well. Raucous applause followed. For the record, no one volunteered to sing the Japanese national anthem.
BR beats Martin any day.Km 21, Somewhere in Bataan. 2:13 am.
Okay. Still a bit surreal. After talking about this race everyday for several months now, I still couldn't believe that I was actually doing this. Was running under the pretext of making good time while under the cover of night. I took great pleasure in doing my best Sir Amado Castro impression in race walking the first 10k uphill. I was actually outpacing some dudes who were running, much to their consternation. Funny, I ran into them later and they resorted to race walking as well. Fun. Was occasionally bolstered by Abby's crew ( Joni, Z, Carins, Pepsi and Carina) screaming "Go Sweetie!!". Such sweet gals. P.S. It was dark. Really dark. The blinkers that we had bought for P149 from Ace Hardware were working perfectly. Steal of the year. P.S. #2 : Tito Caloy is shnoozing in the car while AJ and RV were busy recording everything I drank and ate. Joyride much?
P149 blinkers are the bombKm 42, still somewhere in Bataan. 5:31 am
Hit the marathon mark at just over six hours. This is usually game over for most people, myself included. It's a little bit hard to fathom that I'll have to do it all over again plus a near-half mary. I shuddered at the mere thought. But I got myself into this, now I have to back it up. Dhenz and Sam had just passed me somewhere, both of them au naturel in full Bataan Superbods mode. Slight cramps were coming up from time to time, and I had to rely on several efficasent oil rubdowns from AJ.
Up to this point, I had ran a good portion of this stretch with BDM 2009 veterans Ronnie de Lara/ Runnerforchrist, Raiza Tulan and Odessa Coral. Amidst the eerie silence, the casual conversation helped immensely in keeping me sane. Some fun sound bites :
GBM : So Raiza, how did you train for this?
Raiza : I was in Boracay yesterday, sunbathing.
GBM : !!!!
Sir Ronnie : So how come I don't see you listed on TopBlogs anymore?
GBM: Well, I had mine removed. Loads of those sites are SEO-driven, Google-ad moneymakers that don't even remotely resemble blogs. So what's the point right? You could try Alexa though.
Sir Ronnie :Is that a free service?
GBM: Of course, you just type in your site and it gives you your ranking in the whole world. You can even download a widget to put in your blog. Fancy, eh?
Sir Ronnie : I can't believe we're actually talking about this after running for 6 hours.
GBM : Me neither. We're weird.
Raiza : Hello there support crew friends. Are those jellybeans?
AJ: Er, um, they're Skittles...
Raiza : But I like jellybeans!
AJ: Um, but we don't have jellybeans...
Raiza : I don't eat Skittles!
AJ : !!!
Raiza likes her jellybeans.
We were also jarred from time to time by an ambulance-riding BR barking out "THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING", Robocop-style, to runners ahead of us who weren't running in single file. Whew.
I just realized that Robocop was also bald.....
KM 50, still somewhere in Bataan, 6:45 am
After more than 7 hours of running, I finally reached the first and only pitstop. BR had prepared some goodies for the runners. It was a fun scene actually, because it resembled more of a camp. Carina was cooking noodles for Abby, who was about 5 kilometers away. People were making a beeline to take showers. I was thinking, no freaking way. It would be hot soon, and people here were chilling. I couldn't stay too long here, am not as strong as these people. So I made a quick wardrobe change (into my Botak Ultra singlet, just for fun) changed socks (no blisters, thank you BodyGlide!) white nyort nyorts (homage to OJ Giron) and promptly sped off.
Nearing Km 50....
Quick wardrobe change at KM 50 camp....
50 down. 52 to go. The sun was slowly making it's way up the early morning horizon. This is it. This is what would separate the men from the boys. I'm bracing myself for the pain. The suffering.
Little did I know, it would be coming much sooner than I thought.
(to be continued)
Up to this point, I had ran a good portion of this stretch with BDM 2009 veterans Ronnie de Lara/ Runnerforchrist, Raiza Tulan and Odessa Coral. Amidst the eerie silence, the casual conversation helped immensely in keeping me sane. Some fun sound bites :
GBM : So Raiza, how did you train for this?
Raiza : I was in Boracay yesterday, sunbathing.
GBM : !!!!
Sir Ronnie : So how come I don't see you listed on TopBlogs anymore?
GBM: Well, I had mine removed. Loads of those sites are SEO-driven, Google-ad moneymakers that don't even remotely resemble blogs. So what's the point right? You could try Alexa though.
Sir Ronnie :Is that a free service?
GBM: Of course, you just type in your site and it gives you your ranking in the whole world. You can even download a widget to put in your blog. Fancy, eh?
Sir Ronnie : I can't believe we're actually talking about this after running for 6 hours.
GBM : Me neither. We're weird.
Raiza : Hello there support crew friends. Are those jellybeans?
AJ: Er, um, they're Skittles...
Raiza : But I like jellybeans!
AJ: Um, but we don't have jellybeans...
Raiza : I don't eat Skittles!
AJ : !!!
Raiza likes her jellybeans.We were also jarred from time to time by an ambulance-riding BR barking out "THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING", Robocop-style, to runners ahead of us who weren't running in single file. Whew.
I just realized that Robocop was also bald.....KM 50, still somewhere in Bataan, 6:45 am
After more than 7 hours of running, I finally reached the first and only pitstop. BR had prepared some goodies for the runners. It was a fun scene actually, because it resembled more of a camp. Carina was cooking noodles for Abby, who was about 5 kilometers away. People were making a beeline to take showers. I was thinking, no freaking way. It would be hot soon, and people here were chilling. I couldn't stay too long here, am not as strong as these people. So I made a quick wardrobe change (into my Botak Ultra singlet, just for fun) changed socks (no blisters, thank you BodyGlide!) white nyort nyorts (homage to OJ Giron) and promptly sped off.
Nearing Km 50....
Quick wardrobe change at KM 50 camp....50 down. 52 to go. The sun was slowly making it's way up the early morning horizon. This is it. This is what would separate the men from the boys. I'm bracing myself for the pain. The suffering.
Little did I know, it would be coming much sooner than I thought.
(to be continued)
Friday, 10:38 pm. Sleep. As I write this, conventional wisdom would bring me an immediate, sharp rebuke. I'm supposed to be in bed already, resting up for what is shaping up to be the biggest race of my life. While most of my friends who will be likewise running are already comfortably holed up in their Bataan hotels, I'll still be in Manila attending to inescapable work commitments through the morning. Awesome.
BDM. Daunting.
Last year, just running this prestigious race seemed like a far-fetched delusion at best. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that it would actually be a reality this year. The Bataan Death March 102k Ultramarathon is without a doubt the longest individual road race in the country, and poses a daunting challenge to even the most seasoned runners. Just being in the company of these tremendous endurance athletes is already an honor in itself.
We're running in their honor.
Friday, 10:55 pm. Madness. Ask most people what they are doing this weekend, and you'll get a plethora of answers that range from "Movie lang" to "Kain tulog tambay". I can guarantee that "Running from Mariveles, Bataan to San Fernando, Pampanga for 18 hours" is an answer that is highly unlikely to crop up.
Common reactions range from :
"Bro, may problema ka ba? Want to talk about it?"
"Are you seryosss??!!"
"Pwede namang magkotse!"
"Pang baliw na yun ah!"
"Sana manalo ka!"
"Ang aga ng penitensya ah!"
Madness. Madness I say.
Friday, 11:06 pm. Anxiety. 24 hours from now, the biggest street party we'll ever be part of will commence. For the past few weeks, nothing has dominated my daily life more than this life-changing event. The word "BDM" seems to come out of my mouth every 30 seconds. I can barely function in the real world. Even if I tried to, I'm pretty sure it's a pretty bad acting job. Everyone seems to be getting sick from the anxiety, both figuratively and literally. My world is at a standstill, eagerly awaiting my day of reckoning.
I can hardly wait.
Friday, 11:30. Preparation. My thought process is gradually grinding to a standstill. Right now, so many things in my head that I can't think straight anymore. I don't even know if this article will be coherent anymore. But in hindsight, after nearly 14 or 15 hours of continuous running, I don't think anything will be anyway. In those moments of darkness, I know I have two marathons in two weeks to fall back on, an 8 hour long run, and running from 12nn - 3:30 pm in the scorching desolation that was the final 15k of the route. Would that be enough? No idea. But.... it has to be.
Of course, nothing like the real thing.
Friday, 11:45. Support. While my team mates have support crews stocked with runners, I have a crew with more experience in competitive drinking than running. It's led by the immortal internet legend Tito Caloy ( to newer followers of my site, check this out for clarity), my best buddy/de facto crew chief AJ (a former UAAP Volleyball MVP whose only running experience was this year's Animo Run 5k), and his friend that I've never even met before. Seriously, I don't even know the guy. I heard he's nice though. I had them agree to crew for me while they were all drunk and Pacquiao was pummeling Cotto like hell. Now that's what I call good strategy.
Dealbreaker question : Pwede namang uminom sa oto ung suporta mo diba?
Friday, 11:55. To a higher power. Getting really sleepy. Heck, I'm not even sure if you guys would even actually get to read this. But with just a few hours before the madness begins, I felt I've done as much as I could to prepare for this. I leave it all up to HIM now. For only he could give me the strength I need to overcome the tremendous physical and mental challenges I will be facing. There's simply no other way.
Saturday, 6:25. D-Day. I could barely sleep last night. Even listening to 98 Degrees didn't help. I'm giving a talk in an hour, and I haven't even showered yet. To help exacerbate nerves, for some reason I signed up for Globe's Superduo thing. Now I can call my crew one to sawa while out there without worrying about load. And I get a landline number that directs to my cel too. Cool.
Now I feel just like one of em' Sun people.
People often ask me, why do you do this? Why run 102 kilometers for 18 hours? Why subject yourself to this tremendous physical task? Same reason why people are so obsessed with summiting Everest. Because it's there. And as long as it's there, it will always bug me incessantly until I conquer it. Also, I was always curious if everyone really turns into cute, furry animals with funny names Km 70 onwards. Anyway, I'm running late. Enough said. Thank you all for the support, prayers, and kind words, I truly appreciate it. I think I could say I'm at peace already.
Now let's dance.
BDM. Daunting.Last year, just running this prestigious race seemed like a far-fetched delusion at best. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that it would actually be a reality this year. The Bataan Death March 102k Ultramarathon is without a doubt the longest individual road race in the country, and poses a daunting challenge to even the most seasoned runners. Just being in the company of these tremendous endurance athletes is already an honor in itself.
We're running in their honor. Friday, 10:55 pm. Madness. Ask most people what they are doing this weekend, and you'll get a plethora of answers that range from "Movie lang" to "Kain tulog tambay". I can guarantee that "Running from Mariveles, Bataan to San Fernando, Pampanga for 18 hours" is an answer that is highly unlikely to crop up.
Common reactions range from :
"Bro, may problema ka ba? Want to talk about it?"
"Are you seryosss??!!"
"Pwede namang magkotse!"
"Pang baliw na yun ah!"
"Sana manalo ka!"
"Ang aga ng penitensya ah!"
Madness. Madness I say. Friday, 11:06 pm. Anxiety. 24 hours from now, the biggest street party we'll ever be part of will commence. For the past few weeks, nothing has dominated my daily life more than this life-changing event. The word "BDM" seems to come out of my mouth every 30 seconds. I can barely function in the real world. Even if I tried to, I'm pretty sure it's a pretty bad acting job. Everyone seems to be getting sick from the anxiety, both figuratively and literally. My world is at a standstill, eagerly awaiting my day of reckoning.
I can hardly wait.Friday, 11:30. Preparation. My thought process is gradually grinding to a standstill. Right now, so many things in my head that I can't think straight anymore. I don't even know if this article will be coherent anymore. But in hindsight, after nearly 14 or 15 hours of continuous running, I don't think anything will be anyway. In those moments of darkness, I know I have two marathons in two weeks to fall back on, an 8 hour long run, and running from 12nn - 3:30 pm in the scorching desolation that was the final 15k of the route. Would that be enough? No idea. But.... it has to be.
Of course, nothing like the real thing.Friday, 11:45. Support. While my team mates have support crews stocked with runners, I have a crew with more experience in competitive drinking than running. It's led by the immortal internet legend Tito Caloy ( to newer followers of my site, check this out for clarity), my best buddy/de facto crew chief AJ (a former UAAP Volleyball MVP whose only running experience was this year's Animo Run 5k), and his friend that I've never even met before. Seriously, I don't even know the guy. I heard he's nice though. I had them agree to crew for me while they were all drunk and Pacquiao was pummeling Cotto like hell. Now that's what I call good strategy.
Dealbreaker question : Pwede namang uminom sa oto ung suporta mo diba?Friday, 11:55. To a higher power. Getting really sleepy. Heck, I'm not even sure if you guys would even actually get to read this. But with just a few hours before the madness begins, I felt I've done as much as I could to prepare for this. I leave it all up to HIM now. For only he could give me the strength I need to overcome the tremendous physical and mental challenges I will be facing. There's simply no other way.
Saturday, 6:25. D-Day. I could barely sleep last night. Even listening to 98 Degrees didn't help. I'm giving a talk in an hour, and I haven't even showered yet. To help exacerbate nerves, for some reason I signed up for Globe's Superduo thing. Now I can call my crew one to sawa while out there without worrying about load. And I get a landline number that directs to my cel too. Cool.
Now I feel just like one of em' Sun people.People often ask me, why do you do this? Why run 102 kilometers for 18 hours? Why subject yourself to this tremendous physical task? Same reason why people are so obsessed with summiting Everest. Because it's there. And as long as it's there, it will always bug me incessantly until I conquer it. Also, I was always curious if everyone really turns into cute, furry animals with funny names Km 70 onwards. Anyway, I'm running late. Enough said. Thank you all for the support, prayers, and kind words, I truly appreciate it. I think I could say I'm at peace already.
Now let's dance.
