The Gingerbread Report

Don Bosco Run Jump Make Noise 60th Anniversary Run

2012-02-05T19:17:00.000+08:00

Unbeknownst to many, my first gig in teaching actually came when I was still in graduate school. I became part of what was termed a MOTORE class in Don Bosco's technical school along Pasong Tamo. Very fond memories of teaching MBA-level material to a swelling class of nearly 50 at times. Well-meaning effort to expose the kids to a more holistic brand of education as they're more attuned to the more technical details of coursework.

So what exactly does this all have to do with running or even sports in general? As I mentioned in the last post I am typically eschewing race updates, but I couldn't resist repping for a school that pretty much popped my academic cherry if you would term it that. Besides, practically all the men in my family graduated high school from the Don Bosco system (save for me, for some reason I ended up in the hallowed halls of OB Montessori) so I have this weird sense of affinity.

With that said, I present to you (drum roll with the dun dun dun dun sound).... the 2012 Don Bosco Fun Run!

I swear to St. John Bosco I did not copy paste this. And yes, I am defensive. See you there, support the cause!

The Don Bosco group of schools have beenpart of the landscape of Philippine education since the 1950’s. Their very strong advocacy for the youth iswhat makes the school stand-out and stand still after 60 years.

In celebrating the Salesians presence inthe Philippines and all the good they have seeded, there will be a simultaneousFun Run in six (6) areas :

1. Quirino Grandstand, Manila

2. Nuvali, Laguna

3. Clark, Pampanga

4. San Jose, Nueva Ecija

5. Naga City

6. Legazpi City

Gunstart will also be simultaneous at6:00AM on February 26, 2012. The Fun Run, dubbed from Don Bosco’s famous adage,“Run,Jump, Make Noise: Celebrating 60 Years of Don Bosco’s Presence in thePhilippines” is a fundraising activity to create a trust fund for theeight (8)Don Bosco Technical-Vocational Education and Training(TVET) centers.

The TVET centres are the main advocacy ofthe Don Bosco schools. It trains andforms the marginalized youth into able, upstanding citizens and allows them tobe in the workforce of the technically-skilled. Their employability rate is inthe 90 percentile with car manufacturers, technical offices, and more. Ontop of free education for these out of school youths, Don Bosco also providestheir basic needs such as food, shelter, clothing, as well as hospital carewhen need be. Forming a boy into an upstanding adult is not easy, nor is itinexpensive. But it is an advocacyworth pursuing for it is essentially an advocacy for life and in this case… oflives.

This our call: Join us in this Fun Run andhelp us complete their journey to be productive members of our society.

Registration Fee is only P350 and ALL proceeds go directly to the education of our youth. Registration starts February 4, 2012.

Registration areas are in all Don Boscoschools in Mandaluyong, Makati, Manila, Canlubang, Pampanga, Naga, Legazpi, andNueva Ecija.

They may also register at ROX at BHS andparticipating Chris Sports Outlets - FestivalMall, SM North Edsa, SM Megamall, Glorietta, SM MOA.

SUMMARIZEDPERTINENT DETAILS:

What               :           Don Bosco Fun Run
When              :           February 26, 2012
Where             :           QuirinoGrandstand, Manila
                                    NuvaliSta. Rosa, Laguna
                                    SanJose, Nueva Ecija
                                    Clark,Pampanga
                                    NagaCity
                                    LegazpiCity

Registration   :           Don Bosco Mandaluyong
Sites                            Don Bosco Makati
                                    DonBosco Tondo
                                    DonBosco Naga
                                    DonBosco Legazpi
                                    DonBosco Pampanga
                                    DonBosco Canlubang, Laguna
                                    DonBosco San Jose, Nueva Ecija

ROX,Bonifacio High Street
Chris Sports, Festival Mall
Chris Sports, SM North Edsa
Chris Sports, SM Megamall
Chris Sports, Glorietta
Chris Sports,SM MOA

Registration
Dates : February4 - 24, 2012

Cause : Fundraising Activity for a Trust Fundfor the marginalized youth

UP ROTC Centennial Run

2012-02-03T19:28:00.001+08:00

Hey everybody, what's happening? While I have more or less degenerated into the grand old recluse of the blogging community, I post something on occasion when I see it's a decent race or worthy cause.
With that said, check out the UP ROTC Centennial Run to be held at, um, UP. Proceeds will go to scholarship fund of the UP Vanguard and naturally, it aims to promote UP ROTC to high school students and the UP community.

UP ROTC Centennial Run (3/5/10K-UP Diliman)

The run will benefit the UP Vanguard Incorporated present and future scholars. The Centennial Run is part of the UP ROTC , established first in the Philippines in 1912, celebration :1912-2012.

PRIZES: Category: 1st,2nd, 3rd 10K: 3000,2000,1000 5K: 2500,1500,1000 3K: 2500,1500,1000 300 Finisher's shirt will be given. Booth open at 0430H, Gun start: 0530H

Try and Learn! UP ROTC Capability Demonstration starts after the race:
Rappelling Clinic
Marksmanship Clinic
UPROTC Exhibit
AFP Exhibit
Airsoft Competition

Location: UP Diliman, Quezon City
EVENT DISTANCES: 3K, 5K, 10K,
REGISTRATION FEE: 50 Php -High school students* 300 Php- others *(needs to present school ID upon claiming of race kit)
Registration: Jan 19-Feb 10
WHERE TO REGISTER: RM 105, 1st Floor, Vanguard Building, UP Diliman, Quezon City
Registration Form available at: https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&

All For The Glory: Staring Down History At Timex 226

2011-12-09T14:10:00.001+08:00

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.

Fight or Flight. The seminal decision that had faced man since the Neolithic was rearing its dual-sided mug on Elvis, the chosen path bearing two radically differing implications not just on his future in the sport but towards the extent of his own internal constitution as well. He was running on empty, each powerless stroke drawing air as he trudged along the seemingly endless rolling terrain. Pancake flat my ass. The challenging route did nothing to help his downtrodden cause, sending more pain when the body could take no more. He saw his comrades riding briskly along the other side of the looped course, split-second well-wishes conveyed through weary nods and pained smiles. If they only knew I was hours behind them. But they had their own battles to fight, their own demons to exorcise. He had to focus like never before, the prized date with destiny resting squarely in his swollen, calloused hands. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul. While hardly a fan of Henley's quoted-to-death lyrical stylings, at this point he willing to latch on to just about anything. The minutes were ticking away. If he was going down, he decided that he was going to go down swinging. Just get me to the goddamn run, I'll do the freaking rest. False bravado was a lot better than having none at all. And in a race wanting of the slightest positives, he finally caught a break.

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.

Hot, Sweltering Fun at Nike We Run Manila 10k

2011-10-31T08:59:00.000+08:00

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 signature10k 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 OA start 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.

Of Bad Breaks and the Joy of Triumph : The 2011 PCL Tour of Clark

2011-10-21T01:58:00.001+08:00

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

I'm an, er, Half Ironman! : The Camsur 70.3 Experience

2011-09-02T12:24:00.002+08:00

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 inmy previous article, the high-wire act that most age-group triathletes take inbalancing 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 morethan four hours of sleep or possesses some semblance of a social life, this isincredibly tough to execute. Something has to give at one time or another. Withthe specter of a new job on the horizon just as short-course season was aboutto end, I opted to focus on the more mundane trappings of each pencil-pushingsuit out there. And yet, the fight never really left me. An attempt tosqueeze as much juice as I could out of my limited training hours resulted in arash of nabigla injuries and ego-deflating training sessions as I vainlytried to keep up with my superbly conditioned Quest 825 teammates. With myperformance slipping with each race, the goal of competing in the Timex 226full Ironman distance triathlon this December seemed but a foolhardyafterthought. Stringent qualifying times notwithstanding (at least with mycurrent fitness level), my "secret" endurance sport dream ofcompleting the Bataan Death March 160k Ultramarathon, Ironman Camsur 70.3 andTimex 226 all in one season couldn't have been any farther from reality. Popthat 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 smiledon 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 duringthe run leg, the splits were just good enough to have me qualify by the skin ofmy teeth. Thirty- four freaking seconds to spare before the 4:45 cut-off,considered the tougher of the two qualifying standards given ( the other beinga 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 thepressure of qualifying out of the equation, I was in a more relaxed state andwas 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 thepark.

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 purposes
3.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 otherway, 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 happenhere. Heard lots of stories, at least now I have one of my own. But it's astory I'd rather not tell. Oh great I got hit again. Ugh, while I'm trying tofix it I'm incessantly getting run over. It's like I'm in Omaha Beach at theBattle of Normandy, and I'm one of the first casualties.

Chaos is an understatement

I 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 :)

I'm Training To Be An Ironman... Or so I think.

2011-07-28T14:24:00.001+08:00

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 the everyday 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. :)

Globe Run For Home Contest Winners!

2011-03-18T06:40:00.000+08:00

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

Anyway, the winner was determined by an algorithm courtesy of Random.org, and I merely put in a subset from 1 to 78, which was the total number of comments for this post. If it falls on a post wherein I replied to your comment, that counts as a win as well.

So the first drawing goes to......

The 36th comment, which is Clint Benjie. Congratulations!

The 2nd drawing goes to.....

Congratulations to Chelle, or Chelle Belle on Twitter.

You could all get in touch with me through Facebook or Twitter on how to get your prizes asap.

Till next time everyone!

Want a Free 2011 Globe Run For Home Kit? Read On.

2011-03-15T16:17:00.003+08:00

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.

It's a gift.

How does it go? It's not rocket science really. Just a wee bit of work, but it could be worth it. All you have to do is :

1. Like the Endure Multisport Fan Page

2. Like the Team Powerpuff Boys Fan Page

3. Like the Quest 825 Cycling Fan Page

4. Have five of your friends like the official GBM Report Fan Page

5. Follow me on Twitter.

6. Leave a comment on this post saying that these have been accomplished already.

I will raffle off these two kits using a randomizer program I have. I usually see the same faces join these contests, so I guess your shot is as good as any. Contest starts today and ends March 17 5pm. Deadline for claiming these kits is March 20 at the Greenbelt 3 Cinema Lobby so you have ample time to get it. Good luck!

Juicy....

The Ultimate Battle Within : Blood, Guts, and the Bataan Death March 160k Ultramarathon Experience

2011-03-14T04:40:00.008+08:00

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

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

The few and the proud...

Prologue

"May invite ka na ba pre?" That was the prevailing water cooler topic for ultra running denizens a couple months back. As for me, the answer was a resounding NO. I wasn't too surprised though, and already had already somehow come to terms with it. After my maiden stint last year with BDM 102, I never really did anything that could be remotely considered "ultra" anymore. While my contemporaries had joined practically every "mid-distance" (if one could consider 70k as such. Really now.) ultramarathon race that Sir Jovie Narcise (better known in running circles as the irrepressible Bald Runner or just plain BR for short) had put out there, it was no big secret that I have been dabbling into multisport and cycling for the most part and had pretty much been out of the scene. So it was really no shocker. I would be lying if I said it didn't bug me though. Just to be considered for the race is a big honor already, and after all I did apply for it. Thing was,we had absolutely no idea what the criteria was for selection. Rumors abound that supposedly only 15 hour finishers would be considered. But then as the initial wave of invites came out, people who were right around my finish range were getting golden tickets, which pretty much added to my anxiety. Perhaps it was my inactivity with the PAU (Philippine Association of Ultrarunners) that contributed to it. Maybe it's just not in the cards. Sigh. We all move on......

Then one day, as me and Abby were walking around BHS , i get a buzz on my Blackberry. Thank God for instant email. When that header said "Jovenal Narcise", my heart skipped a beat. When I saw the subject line " Letter of Invitation to the BDM 160", I let out a yelp of joy in the middle of the walkway. Okay maybe not, but you get the idea. Abby got hers at pretty much the same time.And why shouldn't she? I'm probably the only guy in the country who has a girlfriend who runs 102 kilometers faster than he does. Happy night.This was what I wanted right? Right? But..... I haven't had any long-distance training. Nada. Zilch. Farthest I've ran in a year was 21k. Oh my. With one fell swoop, suddenly the ball was in my court now.

Decisions, Decisions

When the announcement first came out, the race was actually meant to be BDM 151, 151 kilometers representing the cumulative total distance including the train ride of the Death March prisoners to Camp O' Donnell in Capas, Tarlac. However, there was a clamor to increase the distance to just over 160 kms to make it the official 100-mile race in the country. When BR acceded, the wheels in my head were suddenly turning. I suddenly have a shot to cross one off the old bucket list. After a prolonged period of soul searching (that took roughly about 30 minutes) I had made my decision. Obviously, you know what that decision came out to be. The die had been cast. No turning back now.

Forming the Crew

Perhaps unbeknownst to many, the support crews that you tag along for these races aren't of the prototypical cheerleader rah rah kind, which is a common misconception. It's not fun and games, it's not a street party. If at all, the support crew may even undergo more stress than the runners themselves. They are awake during practically the same time frame, and undergo constant anxiety on their runners well being. The crew has to be part inspirational leader, part drillmaster, part nutritionist, part nurse and part driver. They are perhaps the most integral supplementary element to the success of the race, and their relative efficiency could provide the final difference in toeing the fine line between life and death when push comes to shove (I'm not kidding).

Last year, I got my buddy AJ, my internet legend uncle Tito Caloy and random/seasonal friend RV (by virtue of six degrees of separation he somehow got ensnared into this) whom I met just on the day itself. They were all somehow under the impression that this would be a fun, all-night drinking session with me somehow running in the background. Of course, given the shock and stress that they were suddenly, unwittingly subjected to, they forever hold a "BDM card" on me, that they can pull as they wish. Warning to BDMers - this is prone to general abuse, so choose your crew wisely. Smirk.

This year, Abby agonized over the decision on whether to run or not. She was one of what seemed like only ten women who had qualified for it, and the chance to make history was tantalizing. On the flipside, while she was in phenomenal shape she scarcely had any run training. Crucial year in setting up her business, and I guess at one point we all just have to draw the line with priorities. With much trepidation, she decided to hold it off for next year and I hope to make it up to her then. With her addition though I finally have the benefit of not just a seasoned runner on the crew, but an veteran ultrarunner who knows what it takes to get to that finish line.

I've been bugging AJ, who worked harder than anyone last year in keeping me alive out there, to once again be part of my crew. After incessant faux rejections ( no way in hell he would turn down the possibility of two BDM cards to pull), he finally "caved in" after my assurances that this would be the "last". Which was what we said last year. Hihi.

Internet legend Tito Caloy (old Takbo.ph joke, just google my old material) wasn't supposed to be part of the crew this year and was an 11th hour callup because we needed the extra hand. He had all but retired from the running scene and promptly returned to his competitive drinking roots. His son, my cousin Mel (but we call him Shtuey, go figure) was ostensibly going to crew me, back had to back out at the last moment due to his slated thesis defense. I told him "yung thesis pwede naman ulitin, eto once in a lifetime lang to!" Bad Kuya GBM.

The final piece of the puzzle was Duart, who along with myself and AJ have formed a decade-long triumvirate dating back from our days as gangly freshmen at DLSU. He was crestfallen at missing my maiden campaign last year, and was determined to make it up this year. My energetic buddy not only signed on in a jiffy, he even provided the Innova which would become our support car.

The only crew that matters....

With everything in good stead, now all we could do was wait for our date with destiny.

The Briefing

The race briefing is an annual tradition wherein everyone makes the pilgrimage to Camp Aguinaldo to hear last minute instructions from BR. It is also the last chance for you to take hang and socialize with your "batchmates" in a somewhat lucid manner, you may be even lucky to snag a helping or two of lechon. The whole thing is pretty and cut and dry, but one slide of BR stood out to everybody that night.

Don't blame the RD!

D-Day

The advantage of having the race start in the morning is that your body clock is not out of whack. You can sleep like a normal human being and you don't have to be a zombie the first leg or so. With the rest of the team following after office hours (too bad it wasn't an official holiday pfft), me and Abby hitched with TPB bud and BDM 102 partner Mark Hernandez along with soon-to-be marathoner/TPB wifey Bea. While waiting for them at our pre-arranged BHS meeting spot, we see an Audi TT roadster park just in front of Rox. Oohhh fancy. Oddly enough, the silhouette inside was waving to us. Was someone trying to pick up Abby in broad daylight? Que Horror. Amusingly, it turned out to be none other than our good friend Rio with his new toy. The afro gave him away. Soon after Mark and Bea would arrive, and we were well on our way. Last year, I wasn't too happy with our place. This year, we decided to check-in at the MC Lodge, highly regarded by practically everyone and much nearer to KM 0. Place was cool, rooms were just slightly smaller but much cleaner and with better appointments. Of course, I pretended not to see the "295, Aircon 3 hours special" sign outside. Groovy.

It's the place to be

We had time to burn, so we scoped out the place for landmarks for the crew and made sure all the gadgets were charged up. Thing I love about the place was that there were like 7 sockets in such a small room. FTW. To "relax" me we were able to set up a mini-DBD on my laptop and I was able to sneak in an article in there (hapit). Around 6 pm Saturday, we had many different choices from their five-star chef for our last supper of sorts.

Bon Apetit!

Finally, some shuteye. The crew (and I expected nothing less) got lost and arrived close to midnight. After what seemed like a couple of hours we all had to get the ball rolling. The pressure was mounting. More pressure came forth (my blood pressure,that is) when my crew told me they had a P600 peso dinner. BDM card, BDM card. After what seemed like an eternity, we left the lodge and went on the starting line.An almost unmistakable cornucopia of anxiety, excitement, and fear was distinctly palpable within the car's constraints. I had worn my exact finish line outfit from last year as some weird pamahiin. Out with the old and in with the new, and in a few moments we would be seeing history unfold before our very eyes.

The calm before the storm

The pre-race events usually consist of a bunch of souvenir photos,some scattered well-wishes and a lot of prayers. Now, there's also the annual rendition of the US and Philippine anthems. Last year, BR gave a "soulful" rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner, (much to the enjoyment of the crowd and much to his chagrin after all the ribbing he got after lol) and this year it was US Armyman Gilbert Gray's turn. Pretty straight up, stoic but no doubt amiable fellow. Remember when we all saw Robocop without the mask? This guy is a dead ringer both in looks and demeanor. I was hit by a sudden burst of nostalgia. It seemed just yesterday that I was here, a greenhorn to the entire enterprise. Sigh, how time flies. After the requisite "class picture", the 59 brave souls on that fateful Saturday morning were off at right around 6am. Destiny and glory were waiting, now the onus was on us to do our part.

With the crew at KM 0.

I hope to replicate this pose at the finish line

The Endure Multisport Ultramen

Let the madness begin

The race with no equal started off without much aplomb, with runners trotting warily in lieu of blasting off on all cylinders. Surely, these veterans knew better. Some were setting a faster pace, and only time could tell if they could hold it. After all, this was the biggest battle of our lives right here. I opened the race with buddies Mark Hernandez and OJ Giron, a couple of familiar faces that I hoped would make the journey a lot more meaningful. And in hindsight, hoping that once we enter our own Battle of the Bulge, our own private Normandy, we would all be there to keep each others sanity in check. They had a fairly ambitious goal though- finish the race in 24 hours or less. While I felt that was purely wishful thinking for me given my fitness level, the plan was to just hang with them as far as it takes me. I mean, these guys were in phenomenal shape. OJ coaches nearly full-time and Mark has been on a tear on the running circuit as of late. I would have my work cut out for me but I couldn't allow myself to be left behind.

We start out conservatively, alternating a brisk jog and walking the entire 4k incline. Many are passing us at will while BR passes by in a van and chats us up. Our man is in a good mood this morning, in stark contrast to last year's drillmaster barking on a megaphone. Ordinarily, a competitive junkie like me (and I'm pretty sure these two have that same genome in them) would go nuts at being passed so.... effortlessly. But this wasn't a 10k. The reality was, we had 153 more kilometers to go. Just the thought of it scares the hell out of me. What did I get myself into again?

Just out for a weekend fun run with friends....

The Lolo Diaries

At one point, we run into a group led by the "grand old warrior" himself, the ageless Victor Ting. If you see your old man lounging around in the sala watching TV or discovering this fascinating thing called "internet" while forwarding you funny emails (just as we did in well, 1999), this guy puts them all to shame. Imagine, his apos must have it good. No way they are losing an eh ang lolo ko mas magaling sa lolo mo argument. Like, "eh ang lolo ko tumakbo mula Bataan hanggang Tarlac" End of conversation. The ageless wonder somehow had it in him to drag his 66-year old legs across a hundred miles side-by-side with runners young enough to be his grandchildren. Mark told me he could never catch the old codger during the test runs no matter how hard he tried. Thing was, he was maintaining such a ridiculously efficient, no-stopping strategy that it was practically impossible to keep up with him. Perhaps in utter embarrassment at being shown up, we finally caught up with him eventually. And here are some snippets of what I got from a living legend.

" Dati may 100k na , diyan sa may Burnham sa Baguio. Bata pa si Jovie, alam niya yun. Tumakbo ako dun! Paikot ikot nga lang kami."

"Mabagal lang tayo. Sanay tayo sa mabilis pero dito mabagal lang tayo malayo layo pa to"

"Nung 1981 sa Manila International Marathon sub-3 yung marathon ko"

"Nag two bottles pa kami ng Red Horse kagabi"

Hmm, maybe that's his secret. Damn, you mean our very own "super lolo" was a sub-3 hour dude the year before I was er, born? I suddenly conjured visions of myself running in 2041, with a young buck chatting me up at the 31st Runrio Trilogy Anniversary Run

Kid : Lolo, sigurado po ba kayo na kaya nyo pa? Tubig po? Malapit na lang, wag po pilitin.
Lolo GBM : Bah. Alam mo ba noong araw eh natakbo ako mula Bataan hanggang Tarlac?Patakbo yun ni Presidente Narcise dati kada taon
Kid : Um, er, ah ganun po ba? Waw. Talaga lang ha. Sige lo, init lang yan. Inom ka na lang ng tubig nagdidiliryo na po kayo.
Lolo GBM : Totoo! Anong akala mo nagbibiro ako? Eto ipapakita ko pa ang silver buckle ko bilang katibayan (lifts up singlet to show buckle)
Kid : Yuck indecent exposure! DOM! PEdo! Security!!!!!!

Talo Lolo mo sa Lolo ko.

Kids. Pffft. As I was snapping out of my misguided daydream, I realized that the urge to do the number two was somewhat compelling enough to tell the crew about it. Abby texts back, we found one in 1.5k, that ok? Of course that was okay. I was thinking, the earlier I get this out of the way the better. Last year was an utter nightmare, first try I was shown a hole on the ground, second try I had to run nearly 1k inside a subdivision just to make it to their clubhouse and I nearly fell asleep inside. They even thought I passed out. This year there was no such problem as the crew found a very nice spot right around the 20k mark ..... inside an Iglesia ni Cristo church. As Abby assured me that my presence there wasn't bordering on anything sacrilegious, I was successfully able to execute probably the fastest and most efficient pit stop ever. Thank you INC, I owe you guys one.

Isolation Therapy

During that break, I had lost Mark and OJ. I kept on looking back, and I asked a Team Ungas van where they were and I was given the impression they were far back. So I was all alone. Felt like I was making good time though, pace at a rock solid 7:30. Much to my consternation, it turns out that they were actually ahead of me. Finally back with my buds, it was supposed to be all smooth sailing from here. It didn't last long though. One pit stop later and the group was once again splintered. What I couldn't understand was why was it that I was the one getting ahead when I'm the weakest runner in our group by a mile. Perhaps, was I doing something wrong? Going too fast? Not even. With no sight of my, I just had to trudge on.

Me, Myself, and the Long Winding Road.

All by myself.... don't wanna be. All by myself..... anymore.

As the bars of the seminal Celine Dion classic rang through my head, I was thinking, this wasn't how I wanted my story to unfold. It was supposed to be packed with stories of guts, glory, and the will to continue. Of camaraderie and an unspeakable bond with brothers who share the same iron-clad mindset in helping each other succeed through seemingly insurmountable odds. It would have made for great drama, the piece that would finally nail me my first Philippine Blog Award win..... a tale of hardship, friendship, and sacrifice through....

Wait, who am I kidding? It's just me, myself, and the road. The sheer drudgery is getting to me. It's pretty much.... mundane and er, unexciting. It's a microcosm of your typical countryside life, and it's a change passing by here during the daytime. Aside from regular contact with my crew and the occasional chit chat with other teams, it's pretty much me and a bunch of nameless faces along the road who keep getting me engaged in this incessant cycle that never gets old :

Bystander : Koya, san kayo galing?
GBM : Mariveles
Bystander : San paponta koya?
GBM : Tarlac
Bystander : !!!!!

Enter Celine Dion chorus here

I think in my frustration, I was speeding along faster than I had intended to. As I was approaching the 32k mark I had already passed Frontrunner EIC/Ultra strongman Jonel and the super lolo Vic Ting group. I also saw a focused Pat Alcomendas seemingly struggling, the mere fact of which seemed to blow my mind. He prodded me to go on, was worried if any nagging injuries were manifesting. A quick check on the 310xt, 7:04 pace. Eek. Much faster than what I had intended to hold, and fearful I might gas out later. Relax. Breathe. Malayo pa to.

Manong pacing me to Tarlac. He lasted 30 seconds.

Crew check

The gang was pretty impeccable at this point. Abby would send me inspirational messages from time to time (hihi) and that never failed to give me a boost. AJ and Duart were on point, although Duart was like a man possessed perhaps in his haste to make up for lost time last year. AJ was mostly chilling. Tito Caloy, was , well, being Tito Caloy. His moral support is invaluable to the endeavor, let's just keep it at that. As I would learn later, Abby was garnering a certain following amongst our provincial folk with her "eye- popping" running outfit which would seem more at home within the comfy asphalt of BHS rather than the concrete jungle of the Bataan countryside. Hey, it's comfy!(rejoinder for fear of future retribution)

Warning Signs

As I was nearing the marathon mark I was beginning to slow down a little. Ill effects from a fast start? Five hours and a half into the whole thing, my left foot was beginning to feel sore. Also noticeable was that I kept on doing a really weird overpronation move with my left foot, for some reason it would pronate inward and the sole of the shoe would keep on hitting my right ankle. I noticed this mechanical flaw would only come out towards the latter part of anything north of a marathon. And now I'm slowly flagellating my right ankle. Fun.

Rule of Thirds

Amidst the madness, I decided to divide the race into three parts to keep my head in there - 0 -50, 50 - 102, 102- 160. Within each division I would chomp them up into bite-size and easily digestible 10k portions. That way you don't lose yourself mentally, it's easy to get overwhelmed and deflated when there is too much emphasis on the big picture. I have seen many of my comrades fall by the wayside when this kicks in, and all of us are susceptible at any given moment. As I was doing my mental calculations, the man who had taught me these valuable lessons just caught up with me. It was Jonel! Finally, company! Part-mentor/Frontrunner slave driver, he was coming on strong and as we approached the 50k stretch in Abucay the conversations we had invigorated me. I reminded him that I still owed him breakfast for losing a bet with him on Condura ( I had a lame 4:14, he dropped a 3:47.... after doing a test run. Incredible.) We run into Robocop Gilbert Gray, who must have been bored with our pace and left us soon after. He would eventually finish 10th in a steady, methodical, um, serious performance.

We reach the 50k mark around six and a half hours in, BR and Mrs. BR were there to greet us. As we would later on discover, we were both in the top 20 at this point. So far so good. I take the opportunity to stretch out and sit down a little, I actually arrived ahead of my crew. Learning from last year's lessons, I didn't spend too much time here, heck didn't even wait for a costume change. Jonel had an even faster T1 (if you would consider it as such tri-geeks) and was already ahead of me by several minutes. "Just" 110k to go, it should get interesting from here.

An Accidental Bromance

Back to my lonesome. I don't if growing up alone is a key factor to some deep psychological crap inside of me, but I hate being alone. I hate eating alone, I hate going to the mall alone. Ironically, although I usually train alone I'm not exactly thrilled about it. So sue me, social being here. So once again, it's driving me nuts that I'm by my lonesome. At this point, Jonel was long gone already and was too strong to chase down given I'm going through the motions of a swoon already. So back to the drudgery. My left foot is starting to bother me already and it's starting to get hot already. Many have lost their way on this national highway, and I had no intention of succumbing in my solitude. That's until I notice a semi-familiar face going back and forth with me. Semi-familiar because I knew that dude was Paolo Osmena, a veteran who is no doubt exponentially stronger than me. Someone also said he had the legs of a female supermodel. Of course, I deny all allegations that this came from me. Anyway, for what seemed like a 15k stretch we would settle into this bizarre pattern where I would surge ahead of him after running 1.5k straight, then once I rest with the crew he would come surging back and establish a big lead then the cycle replicates itself. While I felt I was pacing better than him as it seemed he was in some sort of pain, his advantage was he would only stop every 5k. Does that mean I'm a Gingerbread sissy for stopping as often as I did? Probably. Soft-baked mush. But at this point, at the back of my head I was trying to conserve as much as I could, long ways to go.

Eventually, this seemingly "cold war" was driving me crazy. I ran up to him ( he was favoring the opposite side of the road) and struck up a conversation. And he turned out to be a very affable albeit tired fellow. His plantar was killing him, but more than anything he was questioning why was he feeling a notch short on probably his most important racing day of the year. He felt he had more than trained for this, so many long runs and hours put in, and yet here he was feeling exhausted less than halfway through. In retrospect, this same malaise may have struck a lot of my fallen comrades. But then again, we'll never really know. Every runner out there has their own unique story, and the entire gamut of emotions that are transmuted into one ethereal body of work make this journey unlike any other.

I tried to boost my newfound friend's flagging spirits by telling him that even if we were feeling horrible now, we were still well-entrenched in the top half of the draw. And as much as we felt that we were sucking, those who are still behind us must be sucking too. Of course, that wasn't necessarily true, but I had to say something. He was asking if we walked from that point to the 160 line, would we make it? Perhaps, maybe. But we have to make it to 102 first. Obviously, we wouldn't if we did. But it takes an ultrarunner to know anothers suffering, and at that point you do what you could to help them go forward.

On a downward spiral

Somewhere nearing KM 70, I was really beginning to feel exhausted. Nearly nine hours in, I was slowly tapering off. Either I left my newfound buddy somewhere or he left me, but I just lost him at a certain point. I was really slowing down and my pace had plummeted to 8:30 cumulative. After what seemed like ages, finally I saw glimpses of different souls. Which was great. And they were passing me left and right. Which wasn't. OJ came out of the woodwork after what seemed like an eternity and was still dropping 7:30 pace effortlessly. I tried latching on but I was already slowly fizzling out. Don Ubaldo was making a rally from behind, he soon passed me as well. And buddy Mark passed me as well, looking fresh as ever.

So this is all it would come down to. Just as with all my races, just as with my marathons. A very promising start only to choke at the end. It's a recurring theme, a recurring problem. Maybe ... maybe there's something wrong with what I'm doing. Maybe the problem is.... me.

There is no greater dagger to one self-confidence than when one is getting passed left and right by your fresh-looking colleagues. It exacerbates a malignant notion slinking in the shadows. While racing the biggest race of one's career, the last thing you would want to happen is for self-doubt to creep in. Extraordinary circumstances call for an extraordinary effort, and no way are you going to pull that off without a certain modicum of self-belief. But isn't that what ultra running is all about? When both the will and the body have been broken, do you have enough to bring you home to that line?

I want to puke. I'm dizzy. Maybe I was just being too brash. Who was I anyway, thinking I could just step in here and do a 100 miler without any serious long run training?These guys have been training for a year now. I didn't belong here. I knew I was in decent shape but I guess that just wasn't enough. I'm in pain, everything is painful. Maybe I should quit now and just suck it up later. Oh great Argow just passed me again. He does that every year around these parts. He's very strong. I wanna puke again. This was a big mistake. Where's Tito Lito Lapid? Maybe I could start to rally here just as I did last year. Finally, the crew is here. Maybe I can show them that I am still strong, get something good energy going. Good thing I have shades on. They can't see a defeated man's eyes.

Put up or Shut up

From KM 70 onwards I was a dead man walking already. Abby was getting increasingly agitated and worried. My left foot was bothering me severely and I could barely move without significant pain. The crew was taking turns massaging and spraying, and ice cubes on my face seemed to help. I had to stop every kilometer, and finally we just changed my fancy Adidas socks into less fancy Adidas socks which were much more laspag and looser.

Which at that point I felt was what I needed. I had lost a lot of ground and this was all really getting to me. The competitive nut in me had wanted to do well in this race, showing everybody "it could be done" on a cross-train base. I had a chip on my shoulder if you would call it that. However, at this point that chip could have been easily mistaken for a heavy cross, as I was in heavy suffering.More stops. More pain.

Tirik mode.

At that monent, I could never put a premium on the value of having an experienced ultrarunner like Abby on my crew. Her relentless approach last year worked wonders, and left my whiny self eating her dust. While everyone was sort of freaking out at my disheveled state, she was resolute in whispering to me "Tiis lang babe. Not too many breaks. You can do this. Just keep on moving forward, sayang time. I took solace in that and soldiered on. If I couldn't be strong, at least someone was being strong for me. And I could feed off that. And the journey continues....

Of Pain and Detours

As my slowly deteriorating carcass was slowly marching through the dusty Pampanga highway, without a doubt I was a broken man both mentally and physically. I had a losers mentality and was already looking for reasons to quit. Km 80 could have been a world away and i wouldn't have known the difference. My pace had plummeted, my strategy out of sorts. What had started out as a promising race was going down the drain on account of a left foot that was swelling ridiculously. Each attempt at running was rewarded with pain, pain, and more pain. Masakit na. Ayaw na. What exacerbated things was that the crew took a left somewhere, ostensibly for a 1k detour.

That 1k detour turned out to be 3.5k of hell without a support crew. No drinks,no nothing. Much to my consternation, turns out they could have just gone straight and ignored it, all the rest of the support cars were there. I was down and out. Suddenly, nightfall was approaching. How could I even dream of hitting 160k when I'm running on nonexistent fumes here? As I finally catch the crew after nearly four kilometers of non-existent support, it seemed like the end of the line for me. Battered, exhausted, I sat down somewhere near KM 80 and nearly collapsed while sitting down. Abby was very concerned already. She kept on muttering Just keep moving forward babe, you can do this. I believe in you. AJ and Duart were searching for inspirational quotes from their bag of tricks as well. Somewhere, seeing such a concerted effort from my team ignited a long recessive notion from within. In my frustration, I suddenly came to the realization - why the heck am I acting like such a sissy? I had already done this before! I'm a vet for crying out loud. Let's get this done! My swagger, which had somehow taken an inopportune time to take a VL, came back just in the nick of time. With renewed vigor, my head back on the right frequency, I went back out there with that predator's mindset that had been sorely missing for several hours now.

Pain is just a word

One slight problem. Energized as I was, the pain was slowly bordering on "enough to make me yelp" proportions. My form must have been god-awful. Anyway, I kept on whining like some lame greenhorn until I sort of just got fed up with myself. This was a war, and if I was going down I'd do so on my shield. In a journey not wanting of inspiration, there are some times that you just had to get the job done yourself. If some other people along the way saw me angrily muttering to myself, here's the inside scoop on what that was going on.

Wimpy GBM : Ouch. Aray. Ang sakit na talaga. DNF na tayo koya, uwi na tayo please?

BDM Vet Hard Core GBM : Ano ka ba?! Sali sali ka dito tapos aangal angal ka jan? Bwiset!

Wimpy : Waaaah but it hurts so baaaad and I'm soooooo tired =,(

Hard Core : You joined this stupid, the pain is to be expected. Duh! Do you seriously expect to run this long with no pain? You have got to be kidding me! Suck it up chump! You a tough guy or a wimp?

Wimpy : Sungit mo naman.....

Not that I've degenerated into schizoprenia, but I needed to kick it up a notch if I had any intention of getting through this. I entered Km 80 a man possessed, suddenly I was hitting 8:00 pace with ease. The foot was extremely bothersome, but my mind and psyche were clear.

Just keep moving forward. Dammit man. Get it together.

Fighting for the fallen

I had hit upon a fantastic formula that worked wonders for me and allowed both for enough rest and enough traction towards the goal. The support car would be there every 1k, so what I would do was that I would run for 1k, rest or sit down for a bit once I reached the car , walk 300 meters then run the next 700. It worked so well that it seemed that I could sustain for extended periods. Somewhere around the mid-80's I was shocked to see Bea and Dan around the route. But.... Mark was so far ahead of me right? She told me he had fallen behind a little to rest. As I probed what happened, I was told he was just tired, that's all. Ah, the typical swoon. But we all go through it and he would no doubt bounce back from it. I told Bea that I would be waiting up for him, a reprise of last year's end-game partnership seemingly forthcoming.

My sudden resurgence suddenly catapulted me back into the thick of things. I ran into Singaporean ultra runner Kelly Lim, who told me she didn't know the way and was lacking in supplies, apparently her support crew was way behind. I instructed the gang to give her whatever she needed. I told her she could hang with me if she wanted, but her pace seemed way too strong for my injured left foot and methodical strategy.She thanked me and went on her way. The curious thing about the entire exchange was when she told me she was measuring her pace in steps. Not sure if that's a culture-specific thing, but I found it to be quite the novel approach.

In the dark recesses of the land where tocino and sisig are king, the pain was considerable but I was sticking to my 700-300 run walk strat. Eerie headlamps defined shadowy figures identifiable only by their reflectorized vests, as we traversed a Kapampangan neighborhood that seemed to be comfortable in blithely ignoring us.Still, every time I would see a runner closing in I would ease up and check if it was Mark doing one of his trademark comebacks. Alas, it was another unfamiliar face marauding in the darkness. Where the heck was he?

The crew was surprised at what seemed like a strong second wind from me, as I was arriving faster at our stops than what was previously trending. As I approached KM 90 in that tricky poblacion area that drove us nuts last year, turns out they were buying dinner at Jollibee and only AJ was left in the van. Before I could even ask him what our foodies were, he let go of a grim, tersely worded statement that rocked me to the core.

Nag DNF na daw si Mark .....

I couldn't believe it. Nearly 14 hours in, emotions were running high already. I was crestfallen, heartbroken. Like I could feel his pain myself. It was as if the enemy had successfully shot down one of my own. My lips quivered. This was my buddy, we had willed each other to the line last year. AJ even massaged him towards the end (he never let me forget). We were supposed to replicate that success this year. We've been in many wars together carrying the TPB banner all season long and he was in phenomenal shape. He had trained so hard for this, as well as anyone I knew. I was at a loss for words at how that could have happened, more so that I knew how much he would fight to keep a DNF off his record. I was beside myself, I felt I let a friend down. Maybe if I were there I could have implored him to go on, helped him out bit by bit till he regained his senses and strength. Suddenly, sadness turned to worry. It had to be really serious for him to stop at that point. I implored AJ to give me more details, he didn't know either. Mark dropping out put a quick check on my own mortality. Reports would later come in that more and more friends were falling by the wayside. In my exhausted, sleep-deprived state, the pull of our close-knit fraternity dropping like flies emboldened me to push on. If there were an ultrarunning version of that scene in 300 where the captain goes berserk after his son gets decapitated, this was probably it. I hit 7:30 on my 310xt for a kilometer split at a time when the cumulative average was already around 8:40.

Nooooooooooooooo

I had to go on. For Mark, for everyone who had their dreams dashed by fate's cruel, unfeeling turn. It could have been me, could have been anyone. But I'm still around for a reason.

This is for them. I have to take it home for them. Now let's get it done.

Let's do it for them.

Just Get It To 102

At this point last year, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Just a wee bit more. I wrote :

The pain in my left knee grew in intensity with each pause. My crew was pulling out all the stops to ensure that I made it. The pain was incredible. But to quit this near, after all that you've been through? No way in hell. If you told me that I had to roll down the road just to finish, I would have.

This year, while I was presumably in better shape I was already slowing down significantly as I went past KM90. The adrenalin from my rallying cry around the plethora of DNF's had faded and the exhaustion was creeping in. As I marched on into the night, I was reminded on just how ludicrous the entire enterprise was in running the equivalent of nearly four marathons in 30 straight hours. Last year I barely made it in one piece to the line. This time around not only do I have to clear 102 kilometers, I have to run all the way to another province just to finish, 58 long kilometers away. Seriously. Who in the right mind would do this? I was dwarfed by the magnitude of the task at hand.

As I was going through another late swoon, Wency, Chito and a couple of other warriors caught up with me. With differing run/walk patterns, we would alternate bursts of small talk along with taking the lead. I was weakening at this point, and I felt all alone . Mentally, making it to 102 meant the safe haven of a warm meal and the prospect of resting for more than the couple of seconds I had been giving myself for practically the entire journey.I kept on muttering just get it to 102, all will be well after. With pacers allowed 102 onwards, I was counting heavily on Abby, AJ and Duart to get me through in one piece.

Before I could get there though, two pairs of shiny eyes suddenly hit my lamp. Dogs. Wild Dogs. Before I could even react, these uncuddly canines were chasing after me like I was a steak on two legs. At this point, this is truly the last thing you need. I just froze and walked calmly as their agitated, bloodthirsty growls resonated along the grim highway.Lucky.

Bad Doggie.

As I allowed my blood pressure to settle down a few notches, I just realized that I still remembered quite distinctly each nuance this final stretch had to offer..I remember everything - my shuffling gait, the left to the eskinita, the cheers, the hug from BR. Everything is all still so vivid. Even amidst being embroiled in all this physical suffering, the reassurance of being in somewhat familiar conditions was invaluable. Soon, we would be leaving the comfort of these toiling grounds for a stab at the twilight zone. I check my watch. I actually have a shot at a 102 PR. In what was probably not the smartest move to do at that point , I yearned for a strong entry into KM102 so I "tempo ran" that final kilometer going as low as 7:00. At I approached the famous eskinita Abby, AJ and Duart were there to ensure I didn't get lost. I ran strong into the train station sixteen hours and 30 minutes after I had began to a cacophony of cheers from the remaining crowd, an hour erased from last year's finish. 102 kms done. 58 to go. Last year, this was the scene of our greatest triumph. Now, it is where we begin our greatest battle....

A sight for sore eyes at KM102

Just like the good ol' days

Prelude To The Pain

Finally, some semblance of "real" rest! I had worked long and hard for this so I would savor each second of it.I took off my shoes, got to stretch amd lie down for a bit, wolfed down a Burger Machine "double longga burger" for good measure. I heard some of the other warriors took a quick snooze as well. The 310xt got a fresh charge on Endure Multisport buddy/creative whiz Gerard Cinco's (of dimsumandsiomai fame) car charger. He was also kind enough to lend me his Garmin 405 to bridge the gap. Eternal thanks bro!

We put Salonpas on the throbbing upper arch of my bothersome left foot, some on the calves. Otherwise, I was okay. Or so I thought. Coming in at around 16:30ish, I decided to burn 30 minutes to simulate a 17 hour split , which more or less gives me 13 hours to complete that final 58k. I had fulfilled my short-term goal to bridge it to my pacers while keeping my sanity. Now the real challenge begins.

First up was AJ, my de facto crew chief from my BDM 102 campaign and eternal buddy. The plan was for him to cover anywhere from 5-10 kilometers while buying Abby some valuable shut-eye before she came on.. While not exactly a regular running denizen, AJ was a former UAAP Volleyball MVP and could count on his natural athleticism to take over should push come to shove. He was hyped up and raring to go as a strange new world awaited us out there.

BDM Card #2 right here.

But before anything else, a couple of hiccups. First, for some incomprehensible reason I couldn't get my laces to stick.Perhaps the tender left foot had something to do with it as I was being OC with the tightness , but it took us at least five minutes to get the whole thing right. Talk about a momentum killer. Second - just get the heck out of the train station. Fast. We had traversed all around it, amidst what seemed like an abandoned rice paddy. A dog came right out and threatened to attack us. We were warned about the dogs, but seriously this was ridiculously way too early in the ball game. Much like the guardian pacer he was, Hasa bravely shooed the rabid dog away with his "shout and make gulat the doggie move". He would later confess that his cajones were being seriously compromised already, but he had to at least "pretend" to be strong in my severely weakened state. Thank God it worked. We finally were able to navigate our way around the labyrinthine area... only to wind up about 100 meters from where we had started. We could even see Sir Rene and Camilla Brooks from where we were. They probably thought we were messing around. Sheesh.

Apparently, it wasn't as simple as we thought.

Crash Into Me

We had wasted an inordinate amount of time just getting out into the main road, and I was deathly paranoid of getting lost at such a crucial juncture. My absence at that crucial, final test run was now coming back to haunt me. On the way to Macarthur Highway, I had AJ ask practically every manong if they saw runners along the route. Even if the answer was always in the affirmative, the eerie absence of support cars was agitating me. After asking like thrice, Hasa was like Ano, satisfied na? I probably muttered something unintelligible as a reply.

I tried to get on with the 700-300 formula that had worked so well for me, but after a solitary kilometer I felt sick. I was crashing. Hard. Again. Could the strong push leading to 102 drained my last reserves? I was hitting more than 17 hours of the road already. I guess the relative unfamiliarity of the terrain all added to this notion brewing in my head . Once I hit 103k , I was in no man's land. Pessimistic realities were beginning to form in my head. Damn, ang layo pa. Wala na akong ibibigay pa. I implored AJ that all I could do was walk first. All of a sudden, it seemed like I was in a daze. Parang high. To make matters worse, our support van was nowhere in sight. Apparently, Tito Caloy went freestyling on the route and insisted on the "Macarthur Highway" route that he knew.... which was going to Bulacan. Apparently, I wasn't the only one bonking. Try as I could, the legs were not responding. I was doing the tukod move at a higher ratio than at any point in the race. I almost even fell into AJ at one point. We were barely moving. Once again, fears of a late game choke were getting to me.

Good thing that this was an all-too-familiar sight for my friend, having seen me buck injury and dehydration during the previous campaign. He still had his mental notebook full of pre-memorized inspirational quotes, but he didn't pull a single one. The one he did drop though, was probably the one that mattered the most.

Kung sa akin nga lang pap, kung kaya lang kitang samahan ng 50k gagawin ko.

A poignant moment in a journey made possible not by one man's singular effort, but by the collective sacrifices of those who share a single-minded determination to tow him to that finish line. Infused by a sudden stream of positive energy, it was just the thing I needed.

Habol ng Habol

Big steps lang. I tried running but gave up seeing that my "run" and AJ's walk were roughly around the same pace. So what's the point. Our progress was miserably slow. After close to an hour, me and AJ had only covered four ridiculous kilometers using this tactic and time was slowly ticking away. I was trying to get myself together by convincing myself that this hour long walk would serve as the much needed "rest" to help me once Abby came on. In pretty bad shape though. Ironically, AJ was somehow relieved when Duart offered to take over pacer duties. Apparently his surgically repaired knee was acting up, a heroic effort for a friend in need. Too bad I was too preoccupied battling my inner demons to fully appreciate it at the time

Hasa gutting it out after 5k

Duart raring to step up to the plate

Once Duart had donned the official pacer's bib, we were off. He was jacked and amped up, perhaps a little too much for me in my rapidly diminished state. Given the horrid start to this final leg of our journey, we somehow had to make up for lost time. Around 19 hours in, I was fading badly and I sore in too many places than I could describe. My buddy, who was always the smartest guy in our class a decade ago, was hellbent on helping in any way he could. Some useless trivia : He once missed AJ's UAAP championship game, and was so disconsolate about it that he attended every single game the following season. Now that's what you call friendship! I am lucky to have him on my team.

He was listening to my instructions as much as he could while dropping the occasional motivational line, and we were making some semblance of progress. Pap, mental lang yan. Bumibigay na ang katawan pero it's all mental. Not sure if I got it verbatim but that's pretty much what I could remember.

We had another mad dog episode, and he was brutally honest in telling me he wasn't exactly too thrilled with them wild doggies. A noble effort from my bud to keep me in there, but it was clearly bothering him. In short, at this point where my brain had pretty much short-circuited, I scarcely had any energy to to help him out against any anxiety as much as I wanted to. I needed to be carried, not the other way around. Another point of concern was when he told me he suddenly became dizzy, no doubt a byproduct of the sudden stress put upon his sleep-starved system. As much as Duart was shrugging it off, a glance on my watch was telling me we weren't trending well.

If only them Tarlac doggies were this cute

At this rate, once Abby came on we might be too far behind already. But Duart still had 5k to go, and he seemed quite enthused with it. As much as I wanted to have my bud finish his full leg, the reality was that I needed Abby in there both for the physical and emotional boost, and I didn't think I could hang on for 5k more.

As rhythmically disjointed as our current little sortie was, I was hanging on to the hope that once she came on, everything would fall back into place. I labored heavily with each run, my pain-wracked body slowly being battered into submission. At only 115k in, we were nearly 20 hours out there. 10 hours for 45k? In this state? I pushed the panic button and told good buddy Duart we had to cut short his stint. Always the proud warrior (he's already planning his own BDM 102 stint for next year. AJ is his support crew chief which rocks, problem is AJ doesn't know yet.), he seemed visibly bothered that I had cut his stint short. I scarcely had the energy to explain things, just muttered that it was all about "strategy"whatever that meant amidst his half-serious protestations.

Once Abby saw her number called, she shifted to work mode instantaneously and snapped on the bib and my hydrobelt with baon gels. With one of the best ultrarunning pedigrees amongst all the pacers, she's a tremendous boon to my campaign. In the middle of the night, in some unknown highway, we had some serious catching up to do. Both literally and figuratively.

Super Abby to save the day

Longest. Date. Ever.

As we ventured into the great unknown, the "reserves" that I was storing during AJ and Duart's combined 10k stint somehow helped. The more I realized that we were running into Angeles City (yes, Angeles City. And yes, I started in Bataan, 20 hours ago.), all the more that the enormity of the entire experience was getting to my head. Each step was heavier, every breath more labored than ever. We started out strong thanks to Abby pushing the pace, but alas I couldn't ride out the heavy fade. My mind was starting to play tricks with me already. If there was such a thing as a "running pseudo lucid dream", I was probably doing it already. It felt like my brain was kicking into " dream mode" - while I was still running. Seemed like a bizarro mix of both a dream and a hallucination at the same time, and the line between fantasy and reality was severely blurred at this point. No idea if I was dreaming or not anymore.

Sabaw

I regain a semblance of reality to the faint sobs of my worried girlfriend, who had been rock steady and strong the entire time. Apparently, I was already lying down the concrete pavement at some Angeles City bridge, my submission to mortality compounded by a suddenly biting wind. She was at a loss for words, the complexity of being a pacer tasked to bring you to the line intersecting with that of a petrified loved one. Diliryo. Yes, that's what they call it.

I want to quit already. So many people have fought the good fight and called it a day already. Maybe I should do the same. ...

An emotional turning point....

A Walk On The Dark Side

Somehow, Abby's resolute pleadings got me back on my feet again. However, as we plodded our way to Tarlac it was becoming harder and harder with no relief in site. The thermostat suddenly dropped out of nowhere and I started to shiver uncontrollably, to the point that my chest began to hurt already. I was forced to wear the only warm thing available - Tito Caloy' frumpy windbreaker. As much as this was the last place where you could be judged for a fashion faux pas, I took it off the moment I got warmer. Smirk.

At this point I could only run for about 200 or so meters before stumbling around the dark, dusty abyss en route to Tarlac. It was a painful, arduous process. I would beg for a chance to sit down. Abby was adamant. Sayang time. Kaya pa yan. What a whiner. So many of our fellow warriors had passed us already, some I haven't seen since the start of the race. Gosh, I must have lost so much time already. Two enigmatic, shadowy figures emerge from the woodwork, plodding ninjas who had seemingly lost their way. Turns out it was the veteran ultra duo of George Dolores and Ralph Salvador, battle tested warriors who were likewise succumbing to their demons within. Aabot pa ba tayo? Di na namin gagawin to uli, kalokohan to! Seeing two proud veterans fighting their demons to the very end seemed to embolden me. If they are still in this.... no reason I shouldn't be.

You know how they say that in a marathon your second wind kicks in just when you need it the most? I had used mine hours ago. That third and fourth? A distant memory. I'm running on empty here as we were approaching the 130k mark. A quick glance at the trusty 310xt. Not good. Not good at all. At this rate, there would be no way would be finishing within cutoff. I felt my dreams slowly fading, dissipating before my tired, weary eyes. The body had given up, the pain too immense. My spirit a meek spectator to the entire spectacle. Abby was slowly getting exhausted trying to coax something out of me, to no avail. But inside of me, a different storm was brewing.

So that's it?This is how it's all going to end Luis? You just plain gave up? You bothered so many people, spent so much money, put yourself through this much pain, only to fail at the end? Think of how the Facebook statuses would come out tomorrow, how people would be sympathetic to your stupid excuses. Keep this crap up, and you will fail. Are you content with the whole "just making it to the start line is a victory" crap? You came here with a specific goal in mind. You want that buckle right? You want the cynics to shut the hell up right?? Are you going to quit on Abby? On Hasa and Duart after everything that they have done for you? On the five people who will read your story on your crappy blog? What a damn lousy story that would be. More than anything, do it for yourself. Do you want to be remembered as a quitter forever?

On life support and needing a miracle

Desperate times call for desperate measures. When all else was failing, I swung for the fences with nothing left to lose. How? Simple, really. I pissed myself off. Yes, you read that right. I was trying my darn best to piss myself off. Before my brain decided to shut itself down completely, I had this bright idea that the only way to save my race was for my adrenalin to go into overdrive. It's the fight or flight paradigm at play, and I gave it one final heave. If this failed, there was nothing more I could do but accept that maybe this wasn't really meant for me. It's a sober reality that I would probably deal with for the rest of my life. Everything was hinging on this. I couldn't fail. I REFUSE to fail.

Luis : NO!!! I CAN'T LOSE! I PUT TOO FREAKING MUCH INTO THIS!! QUIT?? NOW?? YOU GOT TO BE !@#$ KIDDING ME!! LET'S GO!!

Abby : ???!!!!

The result was nothing short of spectacular, For one completely inspired, ethereal stretch, everything just clicked. The adrenalin was overflowing. All the pain disappeared., not a trace. I was running like I just started on one of them BHS races. Abby was shocked out of her wits, but kept pace as much as she could. We were passing the others at will, and it was just an incredible turn of events. At a time when we were covering about 4 kilometers an hour tops at around 15:00 min/km pace, we zoomed to an unfathomable (given the circumstances) 5:50 min/km pace. Even I myself was shocked. In plain and simple terms, we had earned back that extra hour that we had lost earlier with the effort.

And in one fell swoop, we were back in the game.

Cruise Control

We had to slow down eventually and fall back into a run/walk pattern as it was Abby's turn to bonk. The sudden speedwork zapped her, and our support car was nowhere to be found. AJ and Duart were plotting our trends in between naps, and they had missed out on the sudden surge. They were at least 5 kilometers away and couldn't seem to find us in their best Keystone Cops routine. Abby was running out of water and Gato as the sudden anaerobic spurt was getting the best of her. With the national engineering boundary for Tarlac in sight, it was somewhat my turn to keep her in there. Eventually the groggy gang caught up, likewise shocked at the little stunt we pulled off.

The adrenalin had worn off and everything was starting to hurt again, but at least Abby was better. As we soldiered on into the wee hours of the new day, we were comfortably settling into a pattern that we had first used when I paced her for the original Rizal Day 32k. It entailed choosing targets from within the prevailing landscape and run to that with no excuses. Let's run to the green house. Waiting shed. 2nd big telephone pole. From this point forth every second counted, each second running providing us a bigger buffer for what promises to be an explosive endgame.

Twenty Four Oras

Set a target. Run.Walk. Rest. As we were nearing the 24 hour mark entering the Tarlac capitol, I was fighting with everything I had. I could scarcely believe that I was still here - alive, standing, running and with a real shot at taking this home. Good vibes. Even the boys were egging me on. Let's do this pap. Let's take this home.

Hitting the 24 hour mark was a poignant, goosebump inducing- milestone. But it wasn't over. Not just yet.

Daytime Shocker

Shocking, because I was still here. Because Abby was approaching 30k pacing me with nary a sign of fatigue. But the single most shocking, absolutely mind-blowing thing that jolted our senses was seeing a crumpled, hobbling figure on the other side of the road. It was Tatay Jonel. I last saw him just after the 50k mark and had figured he had finished hours before.. He looked deathly pale, and our attempts to ask what was wrong were met with some semi-lucid hand gestures, presumably gesturing us to go ahead. Another dagger straight into our hearts. .If I were Daniel- san, he was Master Miyagi. If this were a war, that was our general right there. And right now our general was telling me to leave him and let him be. Reluctantly, we had to pass him, taking painful solace in the thought that this was his battle to face, his mountain to conquer. Just a bit more, and glory would be his.

Hopefully, it would all be ours.

100% Pure Guts

Digging Deep

The sun was starting to beat down and the pain on my left foot was off the charts. Any form of movement would generate a certain level of pain that seemingly only a shot of morphine could negate. Nevertheless, the excitement was building, and we were trending well as we were entering the 140k mark. I could sense it in Abby's voice. We got this babe!! Just a bit more!

Meanwhile, the crew was on chillax mode. A supremely confident AJ was already looking at breakfast plans while Duart was doing a little premature celebrating

Breakfast, anyone?

Wrong Mistake

I was trying to amp up every step as we were hitting the right turn that was supposed to lead us to the Capas National Shrine. Pain was mortifyingly bad, I've run out of adjectives to describe it. If my Garmin was correct, we just had 13 more kilometers to go to glory. You know how towards the latter part of a marathon, say around 40-41k, you just attempt to block out everything in an attempt at a strong finish? I was trying to pull off the same thing here. In my head, we got this, let's get it over with. As we reached the crossroad, me and Abby ran into Coach Rey Antoque for the final pangtali which serves as your time stamp (they have a knack for just appearing out of nowhere). I asked him how much further, 12k na lang daw. But my strategy was thrown into disarray when veteran ultra dude Ron Sulapas, still very much in the game, told us it was more like 18k out. 18k?? You have got to be kidding me. Coach just said 12k! Abby was getting pissed off because we couldn't seem to get a clear picture of much further we were going. Even AJ and Duart weren't quite sure. Thankfully, Doc Art somehow managed to catch up with us, and he seemed to know the way. Amidst the last-minute chaos, a glanced at my watch. If it were 18k more....

I need to start running. Now.

Malayong malayo pa Kuya....

It's getting to be hot. Really hot. Once again, the lack of a test run couldn't have been more evident as we entered the busy, winding streets going to the shrine. For someone who had made it to to this point relying heavily on pace, distance and time projections.... now I didn't have the slightest damn idea where we were going. Or how far we were. Abby was starting to look a little bit wasted, but was tremendously effective as a drillmaster/inspirational leader. The pain, oh God I don't want to think about the pain anymore. I knew that they were all blistered up, but at this point that was the last thing on my mind. Just wanted this over and done with. I tried asking a tricycle dude how far off we were from the shrine, and was met with an incredulous reply that serves as the header of this paragraph. Digging into what seemed to be my 7th wind already, I was spilling my blood and guts onto that pavement already. Malayo pa ba.....

Panandaliang Ligaya

AJ and Duart were scrambling to get distance projections and to give nearly per kilometer support for us. This was the final stretch. Winning time baby. I had gone through so many up and down cycles that I had lost track already. The term "threshold of pain" has been redefined several times already that I may just end up giving it an altogether different meaning after the whole thing. Quite truly, it takes a different animal to tame this distance. I would whine incessantly, the lack of a clear goal bothering me. AJ kept on trying to explain the projections but nothing was entering my brain. Both me and Abby were at the mercy of the elements, and
right now it wasn't showing that much.

After what seemed like an eternity of pain, the gates of the Capas National Shrine beckoned. Me and Abby were going nuts, the joy was impossible to contain. She kept on telling me that she was proud of me. But wait, there was a catch. To successfully complete the distance, we had to do an extra loop past the monument and back to do a full 100-miler. We were all told of this beforehand. Problem with me was, in my semi-delirious state we thought it was pretty near. I could swear that someone said 5k na lang! Malapit na!

Rule #1 : Don't listen to strangers.

Rule #2 : Never, EVER take "malapit na" at face value.

Rule #3 : " 5k" is relative .

The Final Showdown

Pain. Suffering. Guts. Determination. It's been such an emotional rollercoaster for us and I couldn't stop thanking Abby for willing me to this point. We got news that there have been only been less than twenty finishers, maybe I could even crack the top 20. So all we need to do is cruise, relax, game over. We couldn't have been more mistaken about the entire thing. You know that feeling when you know the race is over and your levels start to normalize? Then all the aches and pains come in? Of course it's normal.

My problem was, it happened to me just a couple of kilometers early.

AJ and Duart were intentionally withholding it at that time, but they knew that the full route was a 4.5 killer uphill and back to cover the missing 9k from the original 151k historic route. Our first inkling was when we saw TPB icon Junrox Roque looking spent, probably the first time I ever saw him him in that state. Argow, OJ, Kelly Lim, I haven't seen them in hours and yet there they were on the homeward journey. Two things. Either they had all slowed down like crazy.... or that final stretch was so far out and difficult that it took them forever to get back. I wasn't about to put my money on the former.

That last 4.5k uphill stretch ranks as probably the greatest physical and mental challenge I have ever faced. After 150 kilometers of running over nearly 27 hours , an extended uphill stretch is the last thing you would ever want to see at that point. Everything was sinking in, my system rejecting everything. I was puking out the gels, and even Gatorade was nauseating. The heat was simply unbearable. I wanted to collapse. Every labored step would elicit a pained yelp from me. If I were to capture a microcosm of the suffering and sacrifice of the actual Death March, I was going through it right there. Abby was compelling me to move forward, but she was in tears as she could see, feel my suffering so near the goal.

My body and mind have both shut down. I have squeezed every last ounce of humanly strength that I could. There is.... nothing more. To the last drop. The uphill climb seems to be endless with no relief in sight. Going up the hill with my eyes closed, I nearly fall over Abby. My battered soul lets a blood curdling yell, a final testament to the flawed limits of human physical endurance. Truly, why did I ever subject myself to this anyway? When will it ever end?

Alas, I refuse to be denied. This is it. This is my moment. When all is gone, the spirit will always remain. I am running on utter fumes and Abby is willing me to that line. Because as one would realize when doing ultramarathons, , this " war" that I've been harping about since the very beginning is not fought on a battlefield with guns or soldiers or generals. It is fought in the inner recesses of your own mind. Drawn out into the outer fringes of your own heart. YOU are your greatest enemy..... and greatest ally at the same time. It is a dichotomy that has no equal, accessible only to the chosen few who dare tread that fine line.

Suck it up. Pain is temporary. Glory is forever.

Everything is just a blur now, unraveling in my head as some high- definition, stop-motion slideshow. That final agony of running downhill. Running into Cebu ultragal Haide Acuna who was going strong as she entered her own final battle. Entering the monument while running at full speed, tears streaming down our cheeks as the magnitude of an accomplishment that couldn't have been farther from reality was slowly sinking in. The unbridled, once-in-a-lifetime joy of finally crossing a finish line 29 hours and 30 minutes after I had left its counterpart a hundred miles away. Hugs from the man who gave me a chance to show my mettle when very few believed I could do it. Hugs from a crew who didn't have to do it, but did anyway for the sake of a friendship that has stood the test of time. Hugs from the best girlfriend in the universe, who gave so much of herself to the endeavor and whose unshakable, iron-clad belief in my ability when even I myself had lost faith proved to be the winning quotient.

I said it once, I'll say it again - BDM is not for the faint of heart. But for those who dare, it will provide that introspective journey that life in general is largely bereft of . It affects you. It changes your emotional blueprint, and shakes the very foundations of your self-belief at its most visceral level. It's a life's experience's life experience, providing you with tall tales of glory and determination meant to be passed down from this generation to the next.

To those who are wondering if I will ever subject myself to the same, er, unique experience in the future, the answer is a big resounding NO. Never. Never ever.

But then again, wasn't that the exact same thing I said last year?

Globe Run For Home 2011 : Different Year, Same Spirit

2011-03-03T02:05:00.003+08:00

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.

In a nutshell, the race offers 3k at P650, P750 for 5k, P850 for 10k, P950 for 15k, and P1,050 for 21k. While there was a bit of haranguing at the presser over the costs given it was nearly at the same price scale as a Skyway-infused Condura, my take on it is this -everyone drove up the market with the relative acceptance of thewhole premium-priced paradigm. Runners got more perks, expectations on both the corporate side and consumer side were raised, and this obviously costs money. Conversely, Rio ( now better known as ang lalaking walang pahinga after we were just with him the night before at his awards night) pointed out that he just came from a Running USA clinic and his counterparts were surprised at how technical he could be with his races and yet the prices were still lower than any comparable races in the world. If we wanted a breakdown of sorts , or at least some insight, he was open to a roundtable (let's wait on this for future reference)

Bobblehead Night at the Globe VIP row

P50 from the reg fee would go to a charity of the runner's choice - either GK, Haribon Foundation, Virlanie Foundation or Habitat for Humanity. These are all very good causes and we hope the event makes a dent into their coffers. Anyway, runners could even donate more using Globe's G-cash. Please do not let me explain what G-Cash is anymore, last I checked it's 2011 already. In addition the same get 4, 1 free principle that was so popular in years past is still in effect. Of course, what people do is no one really get the free kit, the five people just share in the resulting discount. Funny how we can go to great lengths to save 150 bucks, and yet we can spend the same amount on a latte at Starbucks. Or maybe that's just me.

Rio explains the 21k route in fun detail. Old ladies at the next table gasp "Ang Layo!" :P

How do you register? Go to globe.com.ph/run (official GBM nominee for most creative website link for 2011) and they will tell you everything that you need to do to register. Beats me explaining lol. Also, you can go to their live site at the Greenbelt 3 Cinema Lobby from February 28 to March 20 to register. Obviously, this a big race, so don't go waltzing in there on the 20th and go whining after they tell you the kits have run out. You all know the drill. Get smart and go early, avoid the stress.

So shall I all see you there? Am still thinking.

It's Abby's birthday that day that's why!:P

On Glitz and Giving Back : Notes On The Runrio Trilogy Awards Night

2011-03-02T13:08:00.000+08:00

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 :

Nice.

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.

Man of the night

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.

Back to civilization for Abby and GBM

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?

Happy awardee

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.

At least he was down for it.

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!

Of Pain and Near-Misses At The 2011 Condura Skyway Marathon

2011-02-25T21:30:00.001+08:00

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.

The Background

Funny thing, in relative terms I scarcely had any preparation for this. No fancy 12 week program. No fancy 16- week program. Done that before, didn't quite work .Why? Beats me. Maybe I overdid it, maybe I just wasn't at the requisite fitness level yet. Anyway, after doing mostly maintenance work for sprint distance triathlons, I started "training" for this some time December. I was obviously out of shape, so I figured if I took on a couple of long runs and amped up my mileage, the rest would take care of itself. While this admittedly unscientific approach would undoubtedly draw the ire of online running guru the Self Coached Runner, it came to the point where I somehow had to reconcile my multisport commitments and the specter of BDM 160 hanging over my shoulder. Oh great, BDM. Yeah. But let's save that story for another day.

D-Day, 2:00 AM

While most people had a relatively good night's rest, I barely had any shuteye owing to some last minute Gingerbread errands (don't bother asking). So I'm sleepy, crabby. I feel sick. Ultramarathoner Abby is in zombie mode, but she's still cute. I need a pick me upper. I chuckle when I recall that "Viagra-as-a performance-enhancer" argument. Hey, one day I may just be crazy enough to try it out.

D-Day, 3:00 am

Straight talk -you know how you just want to get that Number 2 out of the way, but no matter how you force it, well, er, nothing? And at the most inopportune time once you arrive at the venue and nalamigan ka, patay na? It's happened to me before, I sure as hell hope it won't happen again. So how do we remedy this relatively unexact science? You tell me. Send me your best suggestions, winner gets a prize. Snap.

BHS, 3:45 am

The drive from my place took like 7 mins. Thank God for C5. Now if only it would actually stay that way during our regular hours of waking existence. I arrive and meet the TPB boys at ROX. Some interesting sidelights : Brando getting ITB a week before Condura, which sucks because he has been submitting better splits than anyone else in preparation for his first marathon. He's going out on a limb (hopefully not literally) in giving this a fair shot. In related news , Ronnel doesn't have a race bib. Rumor has it that his mom threw it out while doing some cleaning on his room. Ouch. Random sightings : BR posing with a couple of gladhanders and fans. He's running as well. Couple of powerful triathlete friends and well as non-friends ( I don't mean that in a hostile way, that just means I am not on their radar) trolling the grounds. The much hyped, much slimmed down Bearwin Meilly. Couple of Kenyans. Our Kenyan TPB teammate. Wait, there's a Kenyan TPB dude? There's a steady, palpable zing in the air, you can almost feel it. For most if not all, this race serves as the culmination of months and months of hard work . Fitness First Gal goes up the stage ( is it just me, or does Fitness First Gal seem a couple of bench presses away from reaching Chynna levels on those pecs?) and does what she does best. The game's afoot. Let's get it poppin.

Km 10. Moving too Fast.

Dammit, I started too fast. Here I go again. Made the mistake last year, made the same mistake this year. My theory is, if I start from behind and things go awry, I don't have enough in me to pull a negative. So I'm thinking if I work hard enough while I'm still fresh, perhaps I can put myself in a position to get that elusive sub-4 while just soaking in the pain. Hmmm. Sounds like a plan. Blood and guts. Kaso, I opened at 5:00 pace. Aside from the usual monsters (e.g. Junrox, Wilnar), I think I'm pretty much hanging with the big boys here. I feel strong. Maybe this will be a good day after all. 10k split : 50:17

Km 21. Losing Steam.

I'm losing pace. Endure Multisport/Quest 825 buddy/mamaw Erick G. just passed me at breakneck pace (he ended with a 3:50 or better if I'm not mistaken), this after a long bike ride the day before. Geez, this guy is constantly reshaping any paradigm that may have been out there before. Multisport star Retzel , who as always downplayed his running capabilities, looked very strong. Ronnel ran it anyway without a bib and breezed by me. Ditto for Beeps. I am starting to regret both my lack of running fitness and the chutzpah for starting out that aggressively. By this point I am running with a feisty, determined Brando. I am trying to hang as much as I could but I don't feel good. Whoever thought running the Skyway was "fun" should try this out. We're fighting, hanging. Sige lang. 21k split : 1:52 something.

Km 32. You Only Get What You Give.....

Is it just me, or does it seem that the Skyway is taking forever to end? I mean, last year it didn't seem to be this tough. Wat a whiner. But hey, I asked for this. I am struggling, losing pace by the minute. Some semblance of cramps are starting to form. By this time, Brando had left me to eat his dust. Multisport stars Javy Olives and TJ Isla emerged from behind and were still very strong. I knew that they had a 3:45 target, and if only I could hang with them maaaaybe I could get out of this in one piece. I was successful for a kilometer or three. Alas, I was on the fast track towards a precipitous free fall, and I just couldn't match their pace. Maybe next year. TPB buds Joms and Mark pass me towards the latter part of the Skyway, I'm bottoming out already. Col. Bong from Quest passed me and boy did he look fresh. Oh the horror, my worst fears coming true. Last year, at 32k we were already at the Buendia Takbo.ph support station. This year, we were still traversing the endless slopes of the scenic yet treacherous Skyway. To make matters worse, that crazy guy with glasses who always runs topless has just about reached me. Crap. Is he running or doing a jiggly dance? How.... hypnotic.

Km 37. Panandaliang Ligaya.

Cramps. Shooting up incessantly up my calves every 5 mins, I am relegated to a shuffling motion that is eerily reminiscent of a penguin in heat. I can only look forward to the Takbo.ph aid station knowing that Abby and the rest of the gang was there. I have served in these support stations before, and the boost you could get from them is invaluable. I enter to raucous cheers and my girl giving me a fresh supply of cold drinks and food. Talk about a pick me upper. Alas, psychological highs could get me no further with this one. Before I could even finish the banana I was chomping a new set of cramps hit me. Hard. This time even the quads were locking up. I'm still fighting. Maybe I still got a shot. I've slaved long and hard to put myself in this position. It's winning time. Get it together Luis. Let's go! Km 37 split : 3:22

Ultrasupport!

Km 37-42 So near yet so far.

Ironic that I'm only 5 kilometers from my goal with 38 minutes to spare and yet that finish line could have never seemed any farther. I can hack a 5k in 20 and change if I'm actually in good running shape (rarely happens, if ever.) But obviously this is a different ballgame, and with each attempt to "run", the lactic acid factory in my legs seemed to just produce more and more of the wonderful substance. My calves, quads, and all those other parts i don't know the name to had completely locked up already. Leading up to Kalayaan flyover, I guess this was the lack of a dedicated marathon program haunting silly ol' foolhardy me. This is a classic choke if I ever saw one. Work hard since 4 am only to throw it all away during the last 5k. Undoubtedly frustrating was the fact that while I was sprawled on the floor wincing while a marshal was "inspiring" me to go on, at least 50 people were passing me left and right. Ugh dammit. Right at the very end. I guess could have used that Viagra right now. Frustration, exhaustion, I can't quite explain the whole gamut of bittersweet emotions running through my head. As debilitating as the pain was, I was physically and mentally spent. I just wanted to get the hell out of there and soak in a hot tub. That final 5k stretch was a sorry sight, and as much as those Photovendo proxies did a god-awful job with the pictures ( just speaking for the whining masses), they did a wonderful job in not capturing my wincing, whiny profile during this final stretch. As I entered that final chute amidst a cacophony of cheers, once glance at the clock showed I had missed my goal miserably. 4:14. Dang. Even that final strong finish was ended abruptly by both my legs locking just as I crossed the line. Pfft, so much for that fun finish line picture. Any other way, I was just glad it was over.

Epilogue

In retrospect, it was a bittersweet finish for me. I'll take it as a moral victory. Because even if I fell just short of my goal, I felt if I had strategically approached it differently the result may have been more favorable. Nevertheless, for a guy who hadn't hit that distance in nearly a year, I guess an improvement of 42 minutes in just my 2nd marathon aint too shabby. Maybe we'll get it next year.

In the meantime, where can I get that Viagra......

Gingerbreadcast : Edward Kho on Rogin-E's Last Man Running and A Fun Contest

2011-02-05T16:09:00.001+08:00

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.

Before anything else, we were lucky enough to be given a complimentary slot to this race spanning any category - 5k, 10k, or the Last Man Running category. Lucky for you guys, I'm raffling it out. So if you want to win a free slot to this race, here are the simple mechanics :

1. Have yourself and five friends like the official GBM Report Facebook Fan Page
You have to list down the names of your five friends on our comment form.
2. Follow me on Twitter.

3. On the same comment where you listed down your friends who liked our page, outline why you think Rogin-E would help you be the Last Man Running during the race. Winning answer will be chosen by Edward Kho himself.

Contest begins today and ends on Friday February 11thh. Good luck everyone!

Last Minute Reminders : Condura Skyway Marathon E-Handbook

2011-02-05T01:26:00.000+08:00

As usual, I'm way late on this, but sharing it anyway. Was supposed to run this earlier this afternoon but work beckoned. Anyway, Pat and Ton Concepcion took the liberty of providing all 15,000 (or so I heard) registered runners an eye-catching, easy-to-use virtual handbook that give out all those last minute details we always seem to forget before the race.

If I am not mistaken, this is another first in the local running community, so soak it up everyone! I'll see you at the start line on Sunday.

Here's the link, check it out!

A Day In The Life of a Blackbery Athlete

2011-02-04T06:53:00.000+08:00

As I was doing a tempo run, my Blackberry was still in my hand, beeping and vibrating incessantly. Then I just realized, gosh I am nailed to this thing practically all day, even while doing a tempo run at 5:00/km. It somehow inspired me to do a complete rundown of all the wonderful things I do with this fun device within the bounds of my athletic lifestyle.

Bold.

4:30 am : There is nothing remotely fun or enjoyable about waking up at 4:30 am in the morning. The people who hang at Fiamma are still dancing the night, or rather morning, away. But the alarm on my Blackberry Bold 9700 is loud and clear. Its funky media player gets to play my long-standing alarm song, a haunting track entitled "Missing You" by a Korean boy duo called Fly To The Sky. Shame. I am awake now.

For real.

4:45 am: After a quick shower, I send a quick good morning message over Blackberry Messenger or BBM to Ultramarathoner Abby. Since we're both on BBM, we're saving a ton on SMS costs. No need to drop 80 bucks for 5 days of free texting. This is real-time, one-to-sawa chat till you drop mania.

4:50 am : Before I leave for the house, I send out a quick blast with the Twitter app on my BB : "Leaving for a long ride with the team at Bugarin, on the way to Shell Marcos Highway. Sleepy as heck."

5:10 am I arrive early and no one is really there yet. Worried that we may end up starting way late (possibly because everyone was still asleep. Great) I proceed to check on the team via our Blackberry group in BBM. Everyone is wired in, all the time. They can't say " I didn't get your text, sorry". Think Takbo.ph Shoutbox during its 2008-2009 heyday. One blast and everyone gets the message. Curious mystery of the universe - everyone seems to be 5 minutes away. Coincidence?

7:13 am : As we traverse the picturesque route along the provincial capitol of Rizal, I feel like I'm freeze-framed in one of those pricey Paete master paintings. The place is beautiful, reminds me why I even bother waking up at 4:30 am in the first place. Suddenly, my moment of Zen is interrupted when I hear a loud explosion. Thankfully, it's not of the artillery kind. More like the sound of a tire's interior surrendering to the treacherous terrain. Wilnar cops a flat, and we all huddle over. While we're working on it, I decide to encapsulate this curious moment in time by snapping a quick photo, and in one click it's instantly shared to my 2,108 "friends" on Facebook even if we're in the middle of nowhere. Ahhh, the wonders of modern techology.

Fun flat times.

10:30 am : Strong ride so far. We were able to tag along with some manong cyclists, and the ensuing frenetic pace results in an early lunch for us at the famous cyclists' pansitan in Laguna. In the spirit of showcasing the grub our hungry group would be inhaling in a bit, I take more photos and in an instant the rest of our inggit team back home receives it on our BB group. Yum.

12:00 noon : After a lung-busting ride back home (our lomi-loaded tummies didn't exactly help traversing those steep inclines) I remove my BB from it's ziplocked home in my back pocket ( yes, the 9700 is small enough to fit there without being too cumbersome) and my TPB buds tell me on our BBM group that they just arrived in Bataan for the latest BDM test run. They take photos at the "sacred KM 0 monument", instantly invoking all those fun, painful memories from last year. My turn to be inggit.

Inggit in real time.

2:00 pm : I'm off to swim in a bit but decided to drop by the mall to look for goggles. I am not particularly crazy about the Aquasphere XP Seal goggles I'm currently using. They leak a lot, and the only way not to have a leak is to seal it real tight. Only problem with this is that once you take them off, your face looks like you just got into a fight with Pacquiao over some hottie at Republiq. My teammate had reco'd some fancy ones but the name evades me.I recall discussing it over a text discussion but how will I navigate through that muck, sort of in a rush already. Madami daming text yun. Good thing I have Blackberry's latest software, dubbed OS6, installed on my smartphone. It has this really cool yet powerful feature called Universal Search that has a lot of practical benefits. So going back, I had already forgotten the brand but I do remember that we had engaged in a conversation about those goggles. I type "goggles" into the universal search box located on the main screen and voila, every single text, bbm, email, video, music file with something even remotely close to sounding like "goggles" props up. By putting forth very specific search parameters, I was able to find the exact conversation where we had talked about it. The brand turned out to be a Zoggs Flex Predator, and that little tool saved me the hassle of a phone call. Nice.

2:30 pm : I'm at the mall but I have no idea where I'm going to buy a pair. I do know that Chris Sports (yes, the same people behind Epic Relay) had a branch here, but apparently they transferred and even the guards don't know where it is (sheesh). Good thing I'm always connected with my BB, and I was able to successfully google the fact that the branch had transferred to Building B. No wonder the Building A guards had no idea. (x_x)

2:33 pm : In related news, my phone is vibrating every 10 seconds while the Endure Multisport peeps are sharing merienda pics and buzzing about Noelle's latest skirmish with the 6 week marathon man/pro perv dude on her fan page. Juicy.

3:00 pm : At the pool finally. However, my boss texts me to check my email, very urgent. I'm instantly jarred by her terse tone. Hala, what could it be? Am i going to get fired? Roasted? Best part about my Bold 9700 is that it supports push email, which means I get my email in real-time. So instead of having to suffer through the ignominy of a restless swim, I have instant access to that scary, urgent email that says..... I just got a raise. Yahoooo.

4:00 pm : More or less finished an easy 1k in an hour. Still slow. I'm going to meet a friend in a bit, planning to buy his old wheelset. Burn. Anyway I'm on the way to Makati but I run out of load. Damn Globe. I don't want to go through the hassle of loading, I'm late already. What am I going to do? Thank goodness the guy is on BBM pala I nearly forgot.I don't need no load, what a lucky break.

4:30 pm : I snap the wheels on my bike to try it out, but I don't want to make a rash decision. I snap a photo and send it to my teammates. Good buy? Upgradeitis mania? The chorus from the gallery, predictably, says BUY. Thanks guys. Lol.

It's a go!

5:00 pm : An alarm goes off on my home screen. Good thing Blackberry's OS6 has this thing where it links with your Facebook Calendar app, and I see all the relevant birthdays right on my homescreen, even linking their Facebook pictures to my phone contact list. Awesome, it's Rico V's bday. I wonder where he will feed me. Liempo? Hmmm.

6:00 pm : I'm back at home for a run. And this where the whole epiphany begins. I realize that I'm so hooked on this thing that I'm running while I'm doing my tempo run, I still have my BB in hand. Why? Beats me. Maybe I just couldn't let go of my connectivity to the world. Or my proclivity to constantly share the otherwise mundane details of my life, and have people actually care about it, is too juicy to resist. Think of it as a real-time diary. Maybe one day I can look back and see precisely how my life unraveled one day at a time, all through the eyes of my BB. Having a good wind behind me, I nail my tempo run, perhaps the best I've ran in months. Hmmm. Well, I could tell people about it, but given the form I'm currently at they'd never believe me. Nothing like cold, hard evidence. Splash.

Don't judge me, I trained for 6 weeks to do this.

8:40 pm : Exuberant after a strong workout, I receive a BBM from Ultramarathoner Abby. She wants to catch the LFS at Shang, this Love and other Drugs seems interesting. As we're planning on the fly, I text CTCM for the latest movie sked. Nyak, I have no load. Shoot. I'm already in EDSA. Good thing I downloaded the Flixter app on my phone, I can check for local movie skeds using the Blackberry network. Whew. Where would I be without this thing?

After outlining just how much it helps my life so much easier on a daily basis, hey, you tell me.

Rogin-E Last Man Running : Tatagal ka ba?

2011-02-01T15:54:00.002+08:00

Just when I thought race organizers had pretty much tapped the well of ideas when it came to your staple weekend road race, my sentiments were proven wrong once more. Enter the Rogin-E Last Man Running Race, a surefire test of will, guts, and endurance.

This is actually a late post, I missed the presser last week because I have coaching duties for Adidas ANR on Wednesdays. Sucks. The food must have been good. Anyway, this race is brought to you by Edward Kho, best known for his able stewardship of the Conquer Corregidor/ Corregidor International Half Marathon series. Leave it to Ed for coming up with some novel plan to excite you running denizens out there. Anyway, there's a 5k and 10k run on this, with fun medals.

Nifty.

But the centerpiece event is the Last Man Running event obviously. Only one winner. P50,000. Fancy Trophy.

Nice Nice.

How does it go exactly? Here's the official word (that I shamelessly copy pasted from their powerpoint)

All participants of The Rogin-E Last Man Running Race must maintain the corresponding minimum pace at the following portions of the race period: 1st 2hrs - 6min/km, 2nd 2hrs - 7mins/km, 3rd 2hrs - 8mins/km, last hour - 9min/km. This will be monitored by red shirt wearing pacers who will be running alongside the participants. All participants who will be unable to maintain the minimum pace will be swept off the course by roving as well as strategically located (at every 50m along the course) race marshals. Aside from this, the pacers will also be given the same colored strings at each pass at the checkpoint. Any participant who will be wearing one less string compared to the pacers and are passed by the latter will also be swept off the course.

Now that's challenging. If only I wasn't doing BDM 160 a week after that I'll give this a shot. P50,000 ain't something to sneeze over. So if you want to test your limits and see what exactly you're made of, here are the steps to registration for this.

§From January 7 to February 20, 2011, customers who purchase a Rogin-E bottle at ANY DRUGSTORE will be entitled to join the Rogin-E Last Man Running event on February 20, 2011 at McKinley Hill, Taguig City.

§T

Mercury Drug

Walk-in must purchase a Rogin-E bottle at registration booths during the event.

Once receipt is presented, customers must fill out the registration form which covers a waiver of liability.

§ For those joining the endurance run, an additional copy of a race result page of a full marathon (42.195km) or a race longer than a 42.195km marathon (held within the last 6 months prior to the Rogin-E event) indicating his/her name as proof or a certification from a physician indicating fitness to participate in an athletic competition is required.

Are you good enough to be The Last Man Standing? That's for you to know and for us to find out.

Nike Lunar Elite +2 : A Quick Preview

2011-01-31T15:44:00.000+08:00

Were you ever a fan of the Lunar Glide? I know a lot of you guys out there are. Always wanted to buy one but your overpronating ways were holding you back? Well as the new season comes in, Nike is giving you plenty reasons to smile. Enter the Nike Lunar Elite +2, the latest offering bound to live up to its pedigree.

According to Nike, the latest LunarElite+ is lighter, more flexible and better fitting. It kept the same responsive cushioning in Dynamic Support and provides runners a smoother ride by giving them the right amount of stability the foot needs. Flywire technology draws the shoe’s upper securely around the foot and flex grooves along the bottom of the shoe increases flexibility for a smooth transition from heel to toe. More stab, less hassle, less injuries. Maybe I'll try it out myself.

View from behind

Here are the specs. Watch out, I may come out with a review in the near future. Hope this helps!

· Forefoot siping for enhanced flexibility and articulation.

· Environmentally preferred rubber Waffle Fill provides multi-surface traction and durability.

· High-density memory foam within the collar is shaped with genderspecific geometry for exceptional comfort and fit.

· Independent ultra-light yet ultra-strong Flywire finger panels provides a lightweight, dynamic lock down over the footbed.

· Deep Nike Natural Motion Engineering flex grooves along the length and width of the midsole/outsole enhance flexibility for a smooth, efficient stride.

· Supportive carrier is engineered to function as a lateral crash pad to absorb impact on contact and promote a smooth, efficient transition.

· Dynamic Support platform provides runner specific support.

· Lunarlon cushioning system features a soft yet resilient foam core encased within a supportive foam carrier for lightweight, cushioning, response, and support.

· The interface between the soft core and supportive carrier is wedged to limit the range and rate of excessive pronation.

Gingerbreadtalk : On IM China, 6-week Marathon Training, Baby Manokan, Quest 825 Cycling, and Jay Cu Unjieng Writes '30'.

2011-01-28T13:22:00.006+08:00

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.

New and Improved Gingerbreadcast : Bike 101 with Bikezilla's Ado De Leon

2011-01-17T11:11:00.001+08:00

We've had the Gingerbreadcast in years past, but I've decided to ramp up our content by now offering a full videocast for all of you. I'm planning to make this into a regular thing, and it seems to be a good communication tool. Take note, I am in no way a videographer or an Imovie guy, I had to run through the tutorial of Windows Movie Maker at least twice to make a rudimentary edit. :P

Ado seems to be having fun wth his dayjob

Anyway, our first subject is Bikezilla Store Manager Ado De Leon, who's also a professional downhill racer. It's somewhat of a quick Bike 101 for those planning to get one in the future. Bikezilla is located in Ortigas right next to Oakwood, and they helped set my bike in good order for both my Tour of Matabungkay and Powerman Malaysia campaigns among others. So enjoy, I'll try to improve on this as we go along.

p.s. You will never see me in the video because, uh, I'm the guy holding the camera :P :P

Taray Pamulinawen 2011: Laoag Sand Dune Challenge

2011-01-17T07:43:00.000+08:00

Somewhat of a late share, but getting it out there nevertheless. Runnex habitue and ANR UP Team Lead Sir Rene Villarta sent this over the grapevine. It's a really unique race in Laoag City to be held this February 26th, too bad I couldn't make it because of BDM 160. You get to race through the city's famed sand dunes and other landmarks. They had such a cool time when they went last year, pictures were nothing short of spectacular. Unknown to many, I was also offered an invitation to join on that very same trip but had to decline because of another race (not sure if it was for Conquer Corregidor) Anyway, they had such a blast and I'll be missing it again this year shucks. Maybe next year. But hey, if you ain't doing BDM (or supporting for it) go ahead and give it a shot. It will be well worth the trip.

Here's the official presser for you guys and gals.

After the huge success of “Run Ahead, Raising A Roof” Run held in Laoag City last December of 2009, Triathlete/Runner & Race organizer Faivo Bartolome brings another unique event up North, the “Taray Pamulinawen 2011, Laoag Sand Dunes Challenge” to be held on February 26, 2011 and will start and end at the Laoag City Hall.

This race, hosted by the Laoag City government will be a first of a kind wherein runners will be running in the Sand Dunes of La Paz, a municipality of Laoag which is well-known for being the setting of well-known foreign films like Tom Cruise’ “Born On The Fourth Of July”, Mel Gibson’s “Mad Max” series and local films like Nora Aunor’s ”Himala” and the “Panday” series of the late Fernando Poe, Jr.

Also known as “The Desert Of The North”, the Sand Dunes of La Paz offers a very challenging terrain not only with its varied uphill climbs but also for its arduous surface which is like threading on very soft and deep desert sands and would be twice as difficult to traverse whenever strong gales coming from the Pacific Ocean blows the sand away and is quite painful once the sand gets into your eyes.

Imagine running through this...

The Taray Pamulinawen 2011 sand Dune Challenge is envisioned to become one of the North’s biggest and unique running events that will highlight the City of Laoag as a major tourist destination and an investment mecca.

The route will cover some of the most scenic spots in Laoag like its centuries old churches, pristine beaches and some of the old landmarks of the city.

The race will feature a 10-mile trail run (which will include the sand dunes), a 10k Road Run, 5k Road Run, 3k Family Run and a 750 meter Kids Dash.

Registration fees are as follows:

DURATION	Jan. 3 – Jan. 31 Early Bird Registration	Feb. 1 – Feb. 19 Regular Registration	Feb. 20 - Feb. 23 Late Registration
CATEGORY
10 mi. Trail Run	Php 350.00	Php 400.00	Php 500.00
10km	Php 150.00	Php 200.00	Php 250.00
5km	Php 150.00	Php 200.00	Php 250.00
3km Family Run	Php 150.00 each	Php 200.00 each	Php 250.00 each
750m Kids Dash	Php 100.00	Php 125.00	Php 150.00

DURATION	Jan. 3 – Jan. 31 Early Bird Registration	Feb. 1 – Feb. 19 Regular Registration	Feb. 20 – Feb. 23 Late Registration
CATEGORY
10 mi. Trail Run	Php 350.00	Php 400.00	Php 500.00
10km	Php 150.00	Php 200.00	Php 250.00
5km	Php 150.00	Php 200.00	Php 250.00
3km Family Run	Php 150.00 each	Php 200.00 each	Php 250.00 each
750m Kids Dash	Php 100.00	Php 125.00	Php 150.00

For other details and to download registration forms, please visit www.laoagcity.gov.ph or call/text 0917-5530050 (Faivo Bartolome).

The St. Jude Catholic School Run : Run for Fun, Race for Place Presser + Contest

2011-01-14T00:03:00.000+08:00

I was fortunate enough to be invited to the presser of this upcoming event held at ROX, a humdinger brought to us by the St. Jude Catholic School Alumni Association.

As always, we strode in late as the presser was already underway. The big boss of the event (who was very kind to me) was already deep into the thick of things. Greedily grabbing the snacks that were put forth, I just discovered that I eat chips quite loudly, the ruckus loud enough to distract the speaker. The cover of the sandwich pulled a Mr. Bean on me, making for some comic relief. I just had to be that guy right?
Essential things you need to know for this run - it's organized by my buddy Ian Alacar and Paul Calvin's Deli head honcho Jay Em, it's going to be held at MOA on Jan 30th, and it's a run that's designed to encourage kids and teens to run. Distances are at 3. 5, and 10k.

The Three Amigos behind the event.

The slant is, their research shows that a typical runner demo is skewed towards the yuppie (is that term still even in use? lol my age is showing) and working professional market. The race aims to encourage the younger set to run in the hopes of perpetuating a healthy, sustainable lifestyle for all.

In related news, even if the presser was attended by a select group of bloggers and press only, the guys behind the race really prepared for it, even having what seemed to be a Party Pilipinas spiel for the host. Which seemed pretty fun because it was in front of 20 people, not 20,000. Sorry OT. Anyway, it's really the only straight up road race before Condura, so if you want to bring family and friends along for what promises to be a fun, cozy event by all means do so.

Here's a clip of Mr. Head Honcho Man (I'm horrible at names) giving some pointers during the whole thing. P.S. Is it just me or does he look like a classier, well more Chinese version of Jojo A All The Way?

Going back, as the article's header implies, we have a little contest thing going on. No race on January 30?Have no fear, just join this simple contest I have for you and you could be one of the winners for these two kits I'm giving away. One 5k and one 10k. Yum.

Yum.

Contest mechanics are simple. But you have to work for it. No such thing as a free lunch in this world , and I'll make you work. What do you need to do?

Like the Endure Multisport fan page on Facebook.
Ditto the Team Powerpuff Boys page.
Follow me on Twitter.
Leave a comment on this entry explaining why teenagers should run.

The two most creative answers win it. Join join join, free races don't come often.

Finally, here are some pointers about the race I shamelessly copy-pasted from their press kit. I didn't even bother to change the font. Guilty as charged. See you on the road!

Date: January 30, 2011, 5:30AM

Venue: Mall of Asia grounds (IMAX Parking)

Saint Jude Catholic School Alumni Association

Presentors:

◦100 Plus, Summit, Philippine Daily Inquirer, DZIQ 990AM

Co-presentors:

◦SeaOil, Ford, Mazda, Davies, Ferna, Capasco, NutraSweet,

Fujifilm, New World Printing Corp.

Registration Partners/ Sites:

◦Chris Sports (SM Mall of Asia, Glorietta 3, SM Megamall, SM

North Annex),

◦ROX Bonifacio High Street,

◦Ford Quezon Avenue,

◦Suite 803 Tytana Plaza Bldg, Oriente St., Binondo, Manila

◦28 Purdue Street, Northeast Greenhills

Registration period:

◦

December 20, 2010 - January 28, 2011

Registration fees:

◦PhP500.00 for 5K and 10K distances;

PhP400 for 3K distance.

Gingerbreadtalk : Nostlagia hits on Subic and Cebu,Fat Ass, and another Powerpuff Victory

2011-01-13T11:09:00.001+08:00

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

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

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

Those were the days...

Back to his first love.

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

Our first ever picture together hihi.

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

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

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

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

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

Last year with Cebu running celeb/BDM 102 batchmate Haide

Cheering on Takbo.ph boss Jinoe on his first marathon

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

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

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

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

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

TPB with, er, fans :P

Posing at the awarding "Bb. Pilipinas" style.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's all for this week folks! Good job on your races and see you on the road!

Gingerbreadtalk : 2010 Nostalgia, Holiday Presents, Bike Crashes, Resolutions, and 2011 predictions.

2011-01-01T12:58:00.001+08:00

Happy New Year everybody! I hope the holidays have been treating you well! Went on a short hiatus to recharge and conjure up some new material for another exciting season for all of us. Quick roundup of the week that was leading up to the dawn of the new decade.

So what did you get for Christmas?While indeed it's the thought that counts ( I'd probably make the national team if "crappiest gifts received annually" was a sport). There are some years though, that you just plain hit the jackpot, getting something that's both aspirational and necessary. Just as I was still mourning over the loss of my beloved 305, Ultramarathoner Abby pulled a haymaker and dropped the bomb on me with a 310XT for Christmas! Thank God there's no footage of me screaming like a delirious fangirl. Just as I was grumbling over having to plot routes with my car odo, the perfect gift comes like manna from heaven. Apparently, the entire community save for Rio, BR, Zorro and Jinoe and Que's gwapo future Takbo.ph prince were in the know.Still hasn't sunk in, all I can say is that I'm one lucky Gingerbread dude.

20 hours batt life. Waterproofness. Yahooooo.

Congratulations to TPB dudes Junrox Roque and Mark Hernandez for placing 2nd and 13th respectively at BR's recent Rizal Day 32k Run in veritable tour de force performances. The rest of the team who competed all placed in the top 30 if I'm not mistaken. Congratulations my fuchsia brethren, you all rock. It also means one thing - I need to get into running shape for 2011 to keep up with these guys!

Outstanding.

Year-end totals : Swam 21k, Biked 2,090 kms, and ran 1,363 kms. Missed out on my running goal, was at around 900 before BDM, you see the disparity the rest of the way lol :) How about you, did you meet all your targets?

I still believe paying P7,000 a pop to watch some band play on New Year's Eve countdown at some swanky hotel is the worst deal ever.

The running moment of the year for me was when TPB overhauled a wide lead during Epic Relay 250's final middle stages to hand the lead over to Ka Totoy during the final leg. Sports drama at it's finest, straight out of a movie.

Sheer Epicness right here.

From a solo perspective, crossing the BDM 102 finish line is still surreal. I don't think the feeling ever gets old. What's more surreal is that I get to do it all over again in less than two months, with 58 more kilometers just for fun.

I resolve to avoid Mcdonald's Coke (it tastes better diba), or Coke in general for 2011. I feel that someday it will get back at me. In related news, Grimace just sent a hate text.

According to Ultramarathoner Abby's Skinny Bitch Calendar, "you can't expect to get thin eating the same crap you've been eating right?". True, I'd just work my ass off twice as hard then.

I want to at least break 20 minutes for 800 meters in a sprint Tri. Sob.

This year we saw a record number of 21k runners emerge into the fold. Level up. Does this mean 2011 will be the year of the marathoner?

Which has a better chance of happening, Rio shaving off his afro or BR growing one? Hmmmm :p

A big sigh to all the talented running bloggers who hung up their laptop in 2010, most notably 09' Philippine Blog Awards finalist/speedster Natz Garcia (the original Takbo.ph mod, to those who weren't around back then) Your comprehensive and scientific posts will be missed my friend :( SCR would have been proud of you.

Quick announcement, the GBM Report will have an FB Fanpage (shudder). Not that its meant to solely be a value-added service to my five fans, but I just want that cool sidebar that everyone has. Inggitero. Sige na, i-like na. Mga tropang napilitan. Smirk.

Why do I have this sneaky feeling that multisport will be off the charts in 2011? Sneaky, sneaky feeling. Don't tell me I didn't warn you.

While on the homebound stretch of an intensely tough 95k ride in Bugarin with the gang over stormy conditions, some crazy pickup impatiently overtook a tricyle and counterflowed into my lane. With my brakes at probably 30% operational capacity, I avoided certain death but lost control of the bike in the process. Was able to uncleat but the bike fell on me and I went flying right smack onto the middle of the national highway's downward slope. Heavily shaken, good thing the manong tricyle drivers got my bike and helped me up out of harm's way before I could get run over by some truck. Good thing top gun Erick went back for me and accompanied me the rest of the way even if I was at punerarya car pace.My left side banged up and sore, bikey took one on the chin too. Thank God I live to bike another day, could have gone awry a bad break here or there. Did I mention I am SUPER considerate to cyclists on the road now? You should be too.

I think I'll stay away from the ice cream too. Yeah, bad bad.

Enjoy 2011 everyone. You'll rock it no doubt. I'll see you on the road :P

Gingerbreadtalk : How to Train for 160k, Trisuit Suckiness, the Aqua Sphere Seal XP, Oman Asian Beach Games and other Holiday Shennanigans

2010-12-21T19:02:00.001+08:00

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?

If I don't catch you all , Good afternoon good evening and good night :P Happy Holidays :)

The Totally Unofficial GBM Monster List : Revisited

2010-12-17T12:56:00.000+08:00

I was poring through my old files when I ran into this old and nearly forgotten list. It was a somewhat brazenly conceptualized attempt at figuring out the strongest runners out there, if only for the sake of trivia and after dinner conversation. Not a few bought into it for the bragging rights. With the glut of races, I found it quite impossible to maintain. Now, since a lot of us are pretty much chilling out for the holidays (don't even mention the getting fat part), I'll post the list once more. I'd love to hear from you. Try to see if you've actually managed to lower your all-time best times. If you were off the radar back then, help me updates this and let's have a little fun with it. Enjoy the parties everyone!

Manster.

As was the rule before, Zorro is still serving a lifetime ban from being on the list, if only for being too much of a fun guy.

Bite me.

5k Monsters :

1. Jon "under160" Trimble - 17:09
2. Graciano "Totoy" Santos - 17:20
3. Mari Javier - 18:xx
4. Edward "Conquer Corregidor" Kho - 19:xx
5. Chris Iblan - 20:00
6. Wilnar Iglesia - 20:36
7. Patrick Alcomendas - 20:58
8. Jixee Lagunda - 21:02
9. Mark "Mark's Vo2" Parco - 21:08
10. Junrox "Tigerboy" Roque - 21:42
11.Dennis "RunningPinoy" Ravanzo - 22:22
12.Natz "i2runner" Garcia - 22:30
13.Alfred "El Kyoshi" De los Reyes - 22:18
14. Jonel "Bugobugo"Mendoza - 22:xx
15.Mark "Running My Mouth" Hernandez - 23:04
16. Brando "Ace" Losaria - 23:33

10k Monsters

1. Jon "under1630" Trimble - 35:51
2. Graciano "Totoy" Santos - 38:14
3. Mari Javier - 38:xx
4. Wilnar Iglesia -42:04
5. Chris Iblan - 42:30
6. Alfred "El Kyoshi" De los Reyes - 42:47
7. Vener "Run Unlimited" Roldan - 42:xx
8. Edward "Conquer Corregidor" Kho - 43:16
9. Jonel "Bugobugo" Mendoza - 43:xx
10. Raymund "Reel Running" Bontol - 44:21
11. Jairuz Agang-ang - 44:25
12.Mark "Mark's Vo2" Parco - 44:43
13.Patrick Alcomendas - 46:53
14. Junrox "Tigerboy" Roque - 46:58
15. Natz "i2runner" Garcia - 47:33
16. Brando "Ace" Losaria - 47:34
17. Piolo "Idol" Pascual - 47:54
18. Dennis "RunningPinoy" Ravanzo - 48:38
19. Jixee Lagunda - 48:51
20. Mark "RunningmyMouth" Hernandez - 49:15
21. Elmer "Life Runner" Ching - 49:43
21. Mccoy Lontoc - 50:xx
22. Raymond de Pana - 50:xx
23. Jinoe "Manokan Runner" Gavan - 52:xx
24. Sam "The Running Ninja" Delena- 53:34
25. Rodel "Argonaut" Cuaton - 53:40
26. Bong "BZ" Zandueta - 54:30

21k Monsters

1. Graciano "Totoy" Santos - 1:21:32
2. Jon "under1630" Trimble - 1:23:41
3. Chris Iblan - 1:27:35
4. Mari Javier - 1:29:xx
5. Gian "Cartgian" Saquilon - 1:31:10
6. Edward "Conquer Corregidor" Kho - 1:32:49
7. Alfred "El Kyoshi" De Los Reyes - 1:39:25
8. Jerry "High Altitude" Karundeing - 1:39:29
9. Mark "Mark's Vo2" Parco - 1:39:38
10. Junrox "Tigerboy" Roque - 1:39:40
11. Jonel "Bugobugo" Mendoza - 1:40:xx
12. Wilnar Iglesia - 1:43:xx
13.Patrick Alcomendas - 1:44:xx
14. Natz "i2runner" Garcia - 1:45:04
15. Raymund "Reel Running" Bontol - 1:50:00
16. Jixee Lagunda - 1:50:23
17. Eric De Belen - 1:55 :xx
18. Bryan "Planet Trumania" Rivera - 1:56:35
19. Sam "The Running Ninja" Delena - 1:56:xx
20. Mark "Running my Mouth" Hernandez - 1:57:31
21. Dennis "Running Pinoy" Ravanzo - 1:58:40
22. Edu "Doods" Fabian - 1:59:xx

42k Monsters
1. Jon "under1630" Trimble - 3:09:39
2. Graciano "Totoy" Santos - 3:19:25
3. Mari Javier - 3:27:xx
4. Edward "Conquer Corregidor" Kho - 3:27:xx
5. Vener "Run Unlimited" Roldan - 3:36:41
6. Wilnar Iglesia - 3:38:16
7. Chris Iblan - 3:39:43
8. Junrox "Tigerboy" Roque - 3:45:06
9. Alfred "El Kyoshi" De los Reyes - 3:49:10
10. Jonel "Bugobugo" Mendoza - 3:53:xx
11. Gian "Cartigian" Saquilon - 3:53:13
12. Natz "i2runner" Garcia : 3:56:53
13. Mark "Mark's Vo2" Parco - 4:07: xx
14. Bryan "Planet Trumania" RIvera - 4:12:xx
15. Dennis "Running Pinoy" Ravanzo - 4:25:59
16. Patrick Alcomendas - 4:32:xx
17. Frederick "Gab" Gabriel - 4:44:xx
18. Dennis "RunningFatboy" Quepe - 4:52:xx
19. Raymund "Reel Running" Bontol - 4:55:57
20. Edu "Doods" Fabian - 4:58:xx
21. Rodel "Argonaut" Cuaton - 4:58:xx

Just Another 2011 Condura Skyway Marathon Blog

2010-12-16T12:31:00.001+08:00

Last night I was invited to attend the presser for the 2011 Condura Skyway Marathon, and the good news was that the venue only changed around ten times (was actually holding on to see if it would somehow be shifted to Ortigas) Smirk. That notwithstanding,the cream of the crap of the blagging community was there, good times. That also pretty much means that you would have about 20 or so entries on the same event. So to save you the aggravation of sifting through mundane information you already probably know (because you have that unique ability to open their website) I'll just show you the highlights of the night. In bullets. Wooot.

Nice touch to have every introduce themselves and add their blog URL before we started. When the mic was passed to Abby, was half expecting her to drop her wonderful site www.abbyjocson.com on everybody. She got shy though. I know her real blog, but I ain't telling.

If you haven't noticed, they rebranded the entire thing by calling it the Condura Skyway Marathon, in a bid to have the race positioned as one of the premier marathon events in the 2011 Asian marathon calendar. I've ran every Condura race since 2008 ( the first one as a very fat mann) and have borne witness to its exponential growth. It used to be the MUST race every year. And the funny thing is, despite the glut of races that abound, it still continues to be.

Calories gained from eating at presser : 1,000. Calories burned from writing this article : 1.5

With Condura head honcho/overall nice guy Patrick Concepcion unavailable to make it to the presser, brother Ton Concepcion ( the other half of the Condura dynamic duo) was there to play host to us. While Patcon is a familiar figure at races, Ton is somehow more elusive. On a nice guy scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the highest, he rates a 10. Quite the amiable guy, makes a heck of a difference when the people behind an event are pure runners at heart.

Let's run for em' dolphins

Team behind Condura 2011 - Rio De La Cruz and the SME Ironman 70.3 team. Oooh fancy.

As you probably know by now, this race isn't cheap, with 42k maxing out at P1,250 if I'm not mistaken. 21k is at P1,150. Now, you've probably whined about it on some thread on Takbo.ph or amongst your buddies (everybody is griping about prices nowadays). Now, here's the score. First off, if there were such a thing as a premium road race here in the Philippines, then this would be it. It has long been the gold standard for races, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. Second, this is the only race in the country that passes through the Skyway. Do you have any idea how many gazillions the Skyway people charge for its use? Ultimately it's still a business, and at the very least you don't want to lose your shirt. If only to make the experience a more value-added one, it's freebies galore. For those competing in the marathon and pikermi distances, there's a 100 plus loot bag, Coors light beer, and an RFM Lootbag. Additional giveaways from Nature's Valley, Century Tuna, Cenovis Joint Guard, Lactacyd, Ponds and Clear. Also, everybody gets a big Hershey's bar upon registration. Yum

Kassy and Abby going gaga over Hershey's

Everyone's using a D-Tag nowadays, this race is no exception. Suffice to say, have we seen the last of the timing chip?

Condura's proprietary E-reg system allows anybody with a credit card to register from well, anywhere. I registered the same way for Powerman Malaysia. Of course, this pretty much opens the race to international participants. Cool stuff.

There are two start lines (Ayala or BGC )and one finish line (BGC), which makes for less hassles with runner traffic. The 10, 16, and 21km categories will be releases in waves of 500 to avoid chaos.

Oh yeah, I forgot. There's a new, 16k category for those who find 10k's boring but are still antsy for a 21k. But of course, you knew that already.

As was last year, everyone gets a medal. Shorter categories get a fun 2 incher while the full marathon gets a badass 3 inch one. I want one.

The onsite registration was a breeze and a joy to be part of. I think the whole process (of course depending on how fast you type) was over in less than 5 minutes. World-class stuff. We had the privilege of taking first crack at it, and the fact that you type in your own name means you can only blame yourself this time for your misspelled name in the results.

Roselle and Bards having fun with onsite reg

More or less, those are the salient details for this blockbuster race. If you want to know more details that aren't here, just google my esteemed colleagues, I am not as industrious as them in posting hard details. I'll leave you with a short clip from the presser, which only took me an hour to upload. ISP Bonanza moment. Cheers everyone!