A Celebration of Life (Milo Race Account)

I have sentimental attachment to Milo races. My first ever road race was a Milo 5K. However, I have mixed feelings about joining the Milo 10K on Sunday. For one, it is inconvenient for me to troop to Greenhills to register. Second, none of my regular running buddies are interested in joining. One group was even trying to entice me to join them in Clark up to the night before the race. I gave my caller friend the tentative answer that I would join the Milo 10K. Perhaps an online acquaintance was right, here was a chance to unofficially improve my 10K PR - if I manage to wake up for this.

In any case, the night before the race I scouted Boni High Street for something green I can wear to blend in with the Milo crowd (Forgive me, Milo and Mr. Biscocho, but I would be running as bandit this time. I promise to bring my own water and purchase a big can of Milo after the race). As I strolled on the grass I realized that the heel pain I have been puzzling over is plantar fasciitis, caused either by my excess weight, bad foot strike or anatomical imperfection. For a moment I was disheartened: there goes my quest for better PR and breaking the 60-minute barrier. Good thing the optimist in me prevailed and I end up going home with a green singlet and a resolve to rise above my imperfect feet.

Suddenly, I was excited about the race. Racing for a better PR was replaced by a more noble calling. It would be a celebratory run for me - a thanksgiving for being shown answers to issues bugging me, and for being granted a chance to transcend my physical liabilities.

Witnessing a Marathon. I set the alarm at 4am, got off the bed at 4:20, and was driving off by 5am. I had to hurry - crowds would be massive and parking would be a nightmare. I was a little annoyed that I was stopped before Gil Puyat. It was 5:20am already. Don't the cops know I have a race to run? Well, the cops were fully aware, but your race aspiration was small fry compared to those marathoners passing by. Hey, wasn't that Buenavista I saw across my windshield? Oh my God I was actually witnessing the Marathon finals!

Bloggers galore. Finally the cops allowed me to enter Gil Puyat and see the rest of the marathoners. I was trying to look for Vener (run unlimited) whom I know was running his 3rd marathon, but it was still dark and Vener has the built of most elite runners out there. He can be anyone among them. Then I saw a tall white man. Go Philip!!!! I shouted from my rolled down window. I hope you heard me - it is not often that I shout out to people. I remember reading your intention to run the marathon just last night. Mate, you were doing well at that Gil Puyat stretch before SLEX - halimaw you was probably just 5-7 minutes behind Buenavista if my eyes and calculation did not fail me. Then I saw other familiar faces; I thought they belong to the Hardcore group of Bald Runner. True enough, BR was there looking strong. There was also this guy I saw last week after the Animo run still doing rounds in MOA hours after the running the 10K. I thought he was crazy running in that hot sun, until I realized I was also biking in the same hot sun after my own 10K. So that's the level of training/craziness required for a marathon. Well, I am crazy myself.

20,000 runners. I heard the announcer say this as I looked for a place to park. Luneta park, Roxas Boulevard and Quirino grandstand were pulsating with life. You can taste the energy in the air. The atmosphere was so festive you couldn't help but be excited yourself. Here's a shot from my camera phone, the sole shot I managed to take (Note to self: If you are going to run with a phone, make sure it's fully charged.)

This was just half of the 10K crowd; the 3K/5K crowd was more!

Into this crowd I slipped myself. There was no space to warm up nor stretch but I never complained. I was so high just like the rest. Alfredo Lim gave the race signal and the 10K crowd marched on excitedly. People all around me were joking and hamming for the TV camera. Baduy as it may sound, I also did. It was a celebratory run, and celebrate I did.

Baywatching. The crowd eventually settled and I found myself daydreaming again for the first 2 kilometers. I was craning my neck towards the bay, where for three years I would spend my weekends (and sometimes weekdays!) with teammates preparing for dragonboat regattas. Sadly I didn't see any boat. Maybe it was still early. Maybe they were also in the race. Most of my mates have assumed higher responsibilities in the sport or moved on to other sports, but I would love to row once more with the few that remain or with the new faces. Pwede bang once-a-week leisure rower na lang ako, Captain?

More familiar faces. As I was in no pressure to beat a PR, I had an easy run and had a blast observing people. White guy with baby in stroller was there again. A lady came with her lab in costume, and finally I kept my promise to greet both the dog and its owner. Zorro the cool tramp was in costume and clad in shoes probably given by Bald Runner. Running Fatboy, I actually saw you and your girlfriend, but as I was in my nostalgic mode, I couldn't remember your name! Blurting out "Fatboy" did not seem nice. Zixednats, I also saw you after your turn and recognize you from your Takbo.ph visor and forum avatar, but I also couldn't remember your name! All I could recall was your forum handle, which was really hard to shout out. There was a familiar Filipina-Chinese girl whose face I probably see in blogs. For a moment I thought it was Janine+ but I was not certain. There was also a Filipino-Chinese guy who I also usually see in races. Maybe next time I should introduce myself.

Smooth roads and flyovers. I really liked the smooth asphalt lanes of Roxas boulevard. I approached the flyover with childlike anticipation. For some reason I like running over flyovers. You get that Superman feeling that you are soaring over the metropolis. There was only one now but I would have my fill in the Yakult race.

How did I fare? For someone looking only to celebrate one's ability to run against pain and rise over his physical imperfection, I actually did well. I have a new 10K PR now at 1:06:58 (ting, ting, ting!). It was still far from my year-end goal of 1:00:00, but it was still better than my 1:07:44 a week ago. The irony in it was that I was not in race mode. My first 2K was a stroll in the park and memory lane. Kilometers 3-5 were easy runs. I actually fought the temptation to race kilometers 6-8. I would repeat the mantra: You would have another time to chase after PR and year-end goal.That day will come in a manner grander than your wanderlust mind can conjure. Today you are here to teach your left foot to run with strength, but without pain.

The temptation got even wilder in the last 2 kilometers. I would hear a motorcycle announcing the passage of a 3rd place marathon contender, and suddenly I would have the urge to ran faster, figuratively draft by him and be pulled by his power till the finish. In the excitement of the impending marathon finish I accidentally glanced at my watch. This watch that I was intentionally avoiding was telling me that I could still hit 1hr dream if I just bolt out and try. Then I would hear my body's mute cry of pain. The tell-tale sign began at the back of the knees. Something felt like it was being pulled very mildly. I might not feel pain in my heels yet because of the shoe cushioning, but I know it could haunt me later. I could ignore the signs and take my shot at glory, but I remembered the mantra: Run strongly without pain.

The inner voice continued: If your really want to run the marathon someday, you have to take this mantra to heart. Remember, the small aches you feel at 10K will be knife stabs at kilometer 35. Listen to your body and run without pain. True marathon victory does not lie in getting a good time and being knocked dead days after . That sad fate belongs only to the original messenger-runner of Marathon, Greece. Glory lies in finishing honorably and living to tell everyone about the great triumph of the human spirit.

As I write this blog I remembered my left foot. Gingerly I reached for the heel and waited for that "Please don't touch me there" yelp. Plantar fasciitis is gone. I have a new PR. God is good.

My Left Foot

I never liked shoes. Maybe because I feel my feet are bound in them. Maybe because their soles tend to wear out so fast and unevenly. Or maybe because I am unhappy with my feet.

When I was a kid my slippers would wear out in perfect circles below my heels. Growing up, I suffered through tough leather soles that restricted my natural foot motion. I have since ditched the leathers in favor of rubber, and my feet have never been happier.

I was clad in one such rubber-soled surf sandals when I had a moment of epiphany. For weeks I have been puzzling on why my left heel hurts after a fast run. I already use a wide running shoe designed for stabilizing overpronators like me. I have consciously changed my foot strike by landing on the balls (mid-to-forefoot) of my feet and giving my knees a slight bent for further dissipation of strike force. Why is there still a pressure-sensitive, coin-sized area of pain in my left heel? And why is my other heel not similarly bothered?

As I strolled on the grass and pondered on my heel problem, I spontaneously tried to walk with a forefoot strike using my surfer sandals. I was surprised by what I discovered. While my right foot did a strong, fluid, forefoot strike, my left foot had extreme difficulty. Nanoseconds after my left forefoot touched the ground, whatever little foot arch I have seemed to collapse. I found it hard to carry my entire weight on my left forefoot! While I can pose like a one-legged crane with my arched right midfoot, I would arch with difficulty on my left foot and my unbalanced self would land on my left heel. Half the time I am running, my left heel bears the brunt of my whole weight. I suppose by adaptation my left leg can manage the weight during steady runs, but at a faster tempo, the strike force multiplies my mass with acceleration.

So the root of my problem is my feet again. It explains a lot of things - why I hate running, why I never like shoes, why I could not be fast and why I doubt I will ever run fast. With a foot like that, how am I suppose to run a marathon?

By sheer will and God's grace I suppose. I looked at my two legs for affirmation. I remember them thin and bowed when I was a kid. By exercise I supposed they straightened, or at least appeared to be straight. The calves are bigger than average though. Maybe that was nature's way of compensating. Perhaps I can still teach my left foot to rise above its imperfection.

Training the Mind (Of Dementors and Patronus)

My mind is my best friend and worst enemy. God gave me a mind that will take on a marathon challenge, but will cower at the thought of doing a 400-meter dash. It is a mind that can solve differential equations but gets dumb-founded with a 3X(3X200M).

This is the same mind that dreads the Nike Training Clinics. I was one of the early registrants, but I froze when I saw the training plan: drills, tempo runs and those Number x Number signs. Yes, I love running, particularly the long slow distance, but I dread those that entail running fast at maximal effort. When I run fast, I experience knee pains and heels that hurt. I suppose I lose correct form in an effort to gain short-term speed. The pain does not last long, but it threatens to overshadow running pleasure.

My fear is not without basis. One book says, "...When you push as hard as possible for as long as possible, you do several things that are counterproductive to the adaptive process. First you experience great physical pain, which makes it less likely you will want to repeat the experience...Second, you stimulate the body to an overproduction of adrenal-gland hormones epinephrine and cortisol - the stress-response hormones... By forcing sustained overproduction, you exhaust the adrenal gland for a time, causing the phenomenon referred to as parasympathetic overtraining. This state both inhibits your adaptive ability and removes all joy from the training process."

(Championship Triathlon Training, by George Dalam, PhD and Steven Jonas, MD, both triathletes)

Maybe I am overthinking and overreacting. I suppose the physical pains are bearable, but I find it hard to accept that state where all joy from training is lost. From injury you can recover, but it is very hard to regain lost motivation. I should know - I have a 5-year love/hate/love/hate/love relationship with running.

The Harry Potter in me sees pain, injury and fatigue as Dementors threatening to drain out all the running happiness in me. Prior to my first session (the assessment run) I even tried to imagine the Patronus I would conjure when the Dementors attack. It would be my favorite dog Sofia, a Shetland sheepdog. I pictured Sofia bravely chasing away the Dementors and herding us to safety.

Dementor, Sofia

The Dementors did not attack the first night. Across the Great Hall that is Nike Park we did our drills and passed through the Sorting Hat. Like a Freshman wizard, I watched in awe as the Headmaster and the professors demonstrated the tricks. They were awesome. I must confess though that I cheated in doing the drills. Dumbledore told us to run at maximal effort, but I think I only ran at maximum tolerable effort. I guess I was still afraid - of the Dementors. I seem to attract them when I exert maximal effort.

Yesterday my fellow wizards and I returned to the Hogwarts grounds to do practice runs. One wizard-friend was a natural - light on his feet and effortlessly fast. I silently wished I could run like that. As my fellow wizards finished their runs, I opted to stay behind. I walked further and found myself on the spot where we started our assessment runs. I remembered my wizard friend and his natural running form. I can run like that. With that picture in mind, I found myself setting my stopwatch and suddenly darting to do fast runs. I would do 5X800M with 10-15min rest intervals. I was aiming for fastest time within maximum tolerable effort. I went home jubilant. Speed runs can be fun after all. I just have to watch out for Dementors. In due time I hope to do away with a Patronus. Sofia and I will run in peace at Hogwarts.

There Are No Bad Runs

There are no bad runs, only bad responses.

This thought pierced my mind as I read Colossians 1:17 (He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together) As Mikee our study leader read on, my mind wandered back to Mall of Asia, Sunday morning of the Animo Run. Memories of dissatisfaction, although now dulled, resurfaced. Yes there were problems at race start. Yes, things did not go as I envisioned them. Yes, I did try hard to shake-off the initial disappointment. Yes, my morning did end well as I completed my impromptu run-bike-run. So why is Paul sermoning me like I am some Colossian?

Haven't I thanked God for my imperfect legs and ugly feet that allow me to run, when I passed by His church on my bike? Haven't I prayed for family, friends and country? Haven't I dedicated my next triathlon to Him? Paul said I forgot about the Supremacy of Christ. He said I was so into this running and biking thing that everything was about my personal happiness and convenience. That I grumble like a bratty child when things do not go my way! Paul continued: There had been and would always be great races and simple runs. And because Christ is before all things and in Him all things hold together, there are no bad runs. Learn to accept setbacks, stop grumbling, and be the appreciative child He wanted you to be. Now do well in the race you promised Him!

Animo Duathlon

First Leg: 10K Animo Run

I gave up my Unicef Run registration for this. I skipped the chance to behold the sunrise at Heritage park and participate in a Rio-organised event, so I can have a nice easy run with friends, who happen to be Lasallites (Lasallians? How do you call yourselves again? This is a true child of UP asking).

It was supposed to be my last 10K for the year so I wanted it done right. Maybe in the process I will break my PR. I woke up and left home early - enough to kill time while munching on a cheeseburger. I hurried to the registration table so I can get my race kit along with friends. Omen number 1 was that the registration table was meters away from the race start. WHY? There was a swarm of people at the registration/claim table. Two or three youngsters were manning the table, besieged by a crowd anxious to get their kits. My group was within that crowd. I was getting concerned as I wanted to do a proper warm-up and possibly take a pre-race leak. I was still in a good mood to take a photo though.

Weng and I from my camera phone.

Then the host announced "The race is about to start in 5 minutes. Are you ready?" I shouted a loud protest "No, we are not yet ready". Of course he didn't hear us as we are so far away. That's when my mood began to turn sour. What the hell was taking so long? Had we known that online registration would lead to this, we would have asked someone to do registration in person. The 10K group finally started and my heart sank further. Finally, the bibs came, sans the singlet. I was too upset to notice the missing singlet and grudgingly pinned my bib. We raced to the entry point to look for the scanner the host was blurting out earlier, but the race marshals there said "What scanner?". I saw an equally irate Caucasian woman having same problems as ours. Just go, said the marshal.

And go we did for we have no choice. I badly wanted to start on time so I can assess how I pace vis-a-vis other runners. If we would just end up timing ourselves, we should have not waited for those kits. And where is the singlet? We paid for it! For the next 2kms I tried to exorcise the demons. Thank God I found diversion in the elite runners passing by. For the next few kilometers I tried hard to amuse myself by observing other runners.

In the last 2kms I was debating within myself if I should accelerate. My flesh was far from weak, but my spirit is unwilling. What for? What do I hope to achieve? By sheer habit and training I did pick up speed on the last leg. I tried to count people I was overtaking, but the thrill was just not there. I was like a robot programmed to count, devoid of emotion and inspiration. I did overtake about 25 people till the finish, but I was not jubilant at finish line. Cheers from friends at finish line saved the day for me. I was surprised I did beat my PR -- shaved 2 minutes off my old record for a new time of 1:07:44 on my watch. But I wasn't ecstatic. On that I course I think I could do a 1:05, probably even beat my 1 hr year-end target if I was inspired and lucky enough. The cheeseburger I ate was supposed to fuel my drive for a strong PR. With this new PR, di ko trip magpa-cheeseburger. I did win free lunch from 2 of my friends whom I outran. But even this was not enough.

My biggest disappointment was that it could have been a good race, even a great one. I liked the venue, the breeze, the smooth, flat roads, the DLSU cheering squad, the organizers' youthful enthusiam and the huge runner turn-out representing various sectors of society. I actually find this crowd refreshing, different from what I was used to for the past few races I've had at the Fort. Some of my better memories were a Caucasian man pushing a baby stroller (Boy, was he fast. Is the stroller unfair advantage?), a group of senior citizens merrily chatting while running, and a beautiful couple full of love in their eyes, etc.

My friends and I had some merry banter after the race, and then we parted to go back to our individual responsibilities.

Gilbert, Oliver, Me-ann, Bunny and Weng after the race

Second Leg: 30Km Bike Around Mall Of Asia

It was a good thing I brought my bike. I was still heady with the joyride I had the last night and I thought I should log on more kilometers on that bike. Weekends are my only practice skeds so I better maximize them. Besides, MOA is a great place to bike in.

Bike practice was all I had in mind. I didn't even bother to change from my running shorts, singlet and wide, chunky New Balance running shoes as I figured I will just do a few rounds and be done in 30 minutes. But I was so underwhelmed by my Animo run that a crazy idea went up my head. Do an impromptu duathlon. How long is a sprint duathlon anyway? If my memory served me right, it is 10k run - 30k bike - 7.5k run. Ok go. Bahala na si Batman. The bike leg is a fun leg lang, okay?

For the next hour and a half I did my bike practices. I hit the slightly busy roads as well as those less travelled. I sometimes found myself accidentally in bike packs, but I wiggled my way out of them cause my ride was still , er, wiggly. Someday I will also be a groupie, but for now I prefer to be alone with my bike, free to explore her angles and curves. I tried various gear ratios and forced myself to go down on the curve handles instead of cruising along with my hands atop the horizontal bar. I felt like a poseur, a trying-hard, but I experimented with those clip-on aerobars. nonetheless. I was trying to imagine what angle and lenght will suit me best. I experimented with saddle height a couple of times. I adjusted my bike so many times my allen wrench eventually lost it shape.

Most of the time I was just cruising, enjoying the views, the breeze and the crowd. I saw a father on bike watching his fully suited son ride his own kiddie bike. I saw former rowing mates running; I wanted to cross over to them but I have yet to conquer my fear of busy streets and intersections. I would pass by the church twice. First was to give thanks to the Lord for my legs and feet. Imperfect and ugly they maybe, they allow me to run and bike. Second was to ask blessing for my family, friends and country. I also asked the Lord if he can give me strength to finish the last 5K of my impromptu duathlon. God help me, my back and my butt are already grunting in pain! In gratitude I promised my next triathlon is dedicated to Him. I hope I do not screw up.



Third Leg: 5K run on Treadmill

On the last transition I questioned my motivation. Why the hell would you want to continue with this? Triathlon season is still months away and you are a still newbie for Christ's sake. Why punish yourself? I know you love triathlons, especially the swim leg, but duathlon feeds on your weakest skills - biking and running. Do you honestly think there is still incremental gain by running again. You are already tired. Remember the principle of maintenance of efficient movement. You can't run correctly and optimally if you are tired. Yeah I know, but triathlon entails fatigued running, and I need to know my limits.

I finally retired my now very drenched singlet and put on a fresh shirt. On the airconditioned confines of the gym I would finish my duathlon. I would do an easy 5K. I thought I can do longer but I was getting hungry. For this duathlon, all I had was a bottle of water for the first run, another bottle for the bike leg, a bottle of Activade for the last run and my generous fat reserves. Where was GU when I needed it? I ran with little fanfare. I tried to focus on maintaining good form while doing 4K at 8kph, 800m at 9kph and the last 200 at 10kph. See, I can still end with a strong finish.

For all that effort I rewarded myself with a plateful of lumpiang bangus, maja blanca and bibingka. I threw in a new set of allen wrenches and a white cap I can wear for runs. I hope there will be more road races in MOA so I can do this again. By the way, is there a pool nearby that opens before a road race?

Joyride

I finally got myself a road bike. I have been wanting one since my last mini-triathlon in Alabang, where the rest of humanity whizzed by me while I eat their dust on my mountain bike. Over post-race breakfast, one old-timer told me that from his experience, time difference between riding those two bike types can be as big as 15 minutes for a 30km sprint leg. I am already a slow biker; I do not need to further lag behind.

So after months of window-shopping in R.O.X, Bike King, Bike Town, MT Pro Bikes and almost all the shops in Cartimar/Leveriza, I finally got my first roadie. Nothing fancy, but good enough for a newbie like me. I wanted it to be my reward for doing the New Balance 25K. Weeks before the race, I already placed an order for a specific model in R.O.X.. Shipment arrival seemed to take an eternity so Friday before going to Clark, I found myself going back to Cartimar/Leveriza. Lo and behold, I found a model very similar to the one I ordered, so I had it assembled in a jiffy to my specifications and liking. Friday night I found myself skipping the Nike Running Orientation to test-ride my new toy.

My God, the first time was painful. The high seat- low handlebar combination was totally alien to me. And what's with those special pedals? I know they are supposed to hold the bike cleats eventually, but what does a greenhorn do with them in the meantime. To make matters worst, the bike was so sensitive (the experienced ones will probably say responsive) that my whole body tensed up just so I can have a firm grasp of the bike. Even making a simple turn was excruciating as I tried to find dynamic balance. Haaay, I was relearning how to bike in my 30s. Fifteen or twenty minutes into it I gave up. I shall live to fight another day. Hours later I would feel aches on my body.

The roadie is still my 25km gift so I brought it with me to Clark, hoping I can savor it after the race. Except for a 2-minute up-down ride along the villa street after the I unloaded the bike from my vehicle, I pretty much avoided the gift. Scared of running with an aching torso, I contented myself admiring my new toy as it leans on the wall prior to the race. My hope of riding my bike in Clark dimmed further when my heels hurt after the race. Even after a massage my body still has dull aches. What a waste! Clark is so perfect for riding, and here I was good as invalid.

As our party set out to go back to Manila, my new-found friend Karen shouted from her car - "Just try riding it." Like a robot I followed her advice. Gingerly I rode it, fidgetted slightly with the pedal and the handlebar, and then I found myself cruising the streets around the villa. Surprisingly, my body aches disappeared, and slowly I discovered the secret of riding it. I cruised along nearby streets and came back within 30 minutes. I had logged on enough kilometers of happiness to take home with me. For now.

Saturday (Nov 22) was my next bike ride. I went to my favorite village to try it. I came in late afternoon, with hopefully at least an hour of biking left before the sun hides away for the night. I was not even 20 meters away when the first raindrops fell. Darn, my plans are being sabotaged again! My new bike was just a week-old but it already faced the prospect of rusting/corrosion from rain. The credit card billing cycle was not even completed!...Hmmmph, what the heck. To hell with the rain. So what if my bike gets wet? I can always dry it. I am the master of the bike, not it's slave. My bike wouldn't be some expensive Chinaware wasting away in a cabinet.

And so I biked with youthful abandon. I took the side streets to quietly explore the powers of my new machine. She didn't disappoint. She rode like a dream. I would smoothly race through the downhills and attack the inclines with fervor. The rustling leaves, wet asphalt roads, headwinds and raindrops threatening to blur my vision just added to the thrill. Why, I should I have brought goggles!

As a smart-aleck kid I would often wonder why my grown-up neighbors have that tall, thin bike they called racer. They should be old enough to know that they could see better if they were not crouched down on low, curved handlebars. And what's with those thin tires? Won't they easily get flat tire from that? As I crouched down to grab the handlebars, I looked at the thin tire in front. I chuckled inside and sped away in my racer.

LSD is my drug of choice

As a runner, LSD (d-lysergic acid diethylamide) is my drug of choice. LSD (also called long slow distance) is one of the most potent mood-changing chemicals. It gives me a longer-lasting feeling of euphoria. Side effects include feeling in love, being giddy and smiling involuntarily. This has no scientific basis, but I believe LSD also triggers the release of the happiness chemical that is endorphin.

Occasionally, I take Speed (amphetamines) but I take it in controlled doses. Speedwork gives me a temporary high, but the the crash or comedown thereafter can sometimes offset whatever excitement I had initially. The comedown can make users feel depressed, and cause soreness or injury lasting for one or two days, sometimes longer. Speed puts a strain on one's heart. Taking a lot can give your immune system a battering. You could get more colds, flu and sore throats if you use it a lot.

I prefer a drug cocktail - a 20-30 micrograms of LSD with just the right dab of speed at the finish.

Happy tripping.

Love / Hate

Love is running

the equivalent of Bicutan to Balintawak;


Hate is walking

from Ayala Tower One to Greenbelt.

Milo Marathon Stories

The text below was supposed to be my first blog entry, then entitled "Determined to Run," but I never got down to finish it. Then I saw the Milo Marathon TV ads a few days ago. Finally, here is my Milo Marathon story:


By Sheer Will

Baguio 2003. The race has started and I was still finding a place to park. It was my first ever race and I was late. My companions and I breezed through the gate and raced up the hill to catch up.

It was a cold morning. I had no warm-up. The first hill wasn't even over when I sprained my ankle. I had a choice - go back to my vehicle and sulk, or plod through 4.8kms of hills to finish my first ever 5K. The fighter in me chose to persevere. I was late by my own doing. I must finish what I started.

It was the most agonizing walk I have done. Some people were walking but even they were moving faster than I was. I was limping and cold. Towards the end I could sense them hurrying to beat the 1 hour cut-off. It was painful to see them dashed off while I limped on. Last 100m I finally saw the clock at 58:00. I summoned all remaining will and finished. The finisher shirt meant that much.

Since then I have ran longer races. When running or life gets tough, I look back to this Milo run.



See other stories here: http://www.nestle.com.ph/milo/marathon/

I like the story entitled: Last but Not the Least by Noel Miraflor. It reminds me of my first triathlon a week after my first Milo 5K. Incidentally, there are also stories by runner-bloggers ibanrunner and running fatboy.

Running with Friends

The New Balance Chronicles

For the most part, running for me is a solitary activity. Alone but not lonely. Accompanied only by my thoughts, memories, hopes and dreams. Running is my "me" time. Free from pressures, responsibilities and expectations. However, I do enjoy chatting prior to practice runs and races, and hanging out with friends after.

When I decided to do the New Balance Clark race, I was a bit disheartened that my regular running mates had other commitments on that day. I had a 25Krun to settle with New Balance though and I could not let this sadness get the better of me. My hopes rose a bit when two of my mates registered on the last day, with the hope that they could free themselves up on race day. Me-ann had a family to look after so she decided to haul her whole family instead a day before her 10K. Me-ann, it was by divine grace that we bumped into each other minutes before I enter the 25K starting corral, and I am happy for you that you had a great, first 10K run.

My running officemates during the Animo Sprint Triathlon in September
(Oliver, Bunny, Me-ann and myself)

When God closed the door on the possibility of us four running together, he opened a window for me to bump into other office mate Jerome in the building cafeteria. He was so amazed with my weight loss that he wanted to do whatever program I was following. It was running - simple. So inspired was he that he said "Okay, I would also do that." He even registered for the 10K Powerrace. This was a guy whose only prior experience in running is joining the 5K Clark International Marathon. As if this was not enough, he said his two other friends are also running the 10K and 25K, and we can all bunk together in this nice, 4-bedroom villa inside the Clark base. Everything was falling into place!

Tsi, Jerome, mysef and Karen in front of the villa, day before the race


This is me hanging out with the cacti in Zapata along Friendship road
(The quesadilla, Gringo burger, enchilada and salsa were winners)


This is Jerome savoring the Pasta Sardina and the Garlic Shrimp Pizza
(Jerome, for your courage in taking on the 10K challenge, securing us the villa and being our local guide,
you deserve a solo photo.



Myself, Karen and Jerome, enjoying the food at Asti's

(For me, the food here was Greenbelt level - if not better - at Asti's, a quant, tiny, Italian restaurant owned by Jerome's cousin Sherwin. He was a chef working in London who came home to be with his family.The appetizer which was smoked salmon lying on a bed of fried (poached?) egg on top of a slice of bread was so good I forgot what it was called. Asti's is in Hensonville subdivision, a stone's throw away from Friendship road.)

I thought we came to Clark to race. From the photos it appeared we came there to eat. Jerome, thanks for being a good host. Karen, you are such a riot. I was laughing every ten minutes with your stories and antics. The first 12.5K of our 25K run passed like a blur with you around. Tsi, thanks for the wonderful race breakfast and the photos. Good luck girls on your Singapore full and half marathon. We should do this again. Triathlon in Clark - bike, run and eat. I will do the eat leg :-)

It Happened at Km18

(The New Balance Chronicles)


16 November 2008. It was our third year anniversary. Running and I have been together since 2003, but we have only celebrated our anniversary twice - in 2004 and 2005, both of which were disasters. Both times I was late, unprepared and distracted. We had been estranged since then. I tried to woo Running again this August 2008. Admittedly, I did it for selfish reason, but I genuinely fell for her last October.

They say third time is a charm so I intended to celebrate our 3rd anniversary in a big way this November. It had only been three months since we got back together, but I really wanted to profess my love for her in a grand way. With a gulp of courage, shower of prayer and pledge to pull out all the stops, I signed us up both for the New Balance Powerrace in Clark Field, Pampanga. For once I made a training plan - ambitious but not for the faint of heart. I hit the gym as well as the roads. Through a friend, I made reservation for us in the Redwood Villas, a 5-minute jog away from the parade grounds where we intend to renew our vows and profess our love.

I was all-dressed up for the big day. I came in my week-old NB shoes, new pair of NB shorts and socks, a Fuel belt bought a day before. My new shoes had red accents and my hydration belt was fire-engine red -- subconscious testaments to the ardor I was feeling inside. Hundreds came for this mass declaration of love. For the first 12.5 kms, Running and I enjoyed the company of a new friend. Our friend and us declared we shall follow our respective paces, but we ended up in sync all along. At the 12.5km turnaround, I was ecstatic - I reached the point just few minutes over 1.5 hours, with enough energy to spare. I was doing better than expected and even had a chance to beat my best case scenario of sub-3 hours.

After the turn something strange happened. At kilometers 13-14, I found myself alone. In a race of hundreds, there were no people following me and I was not following anyone - 300-400 meters back and front. Where was my friend? Where was this other fellow runner I also trying to pace with from a measured distance? I knew I slowed down to savor my energy GU reward, but was I that slow? Did I celebrate early and unwittingly slackened my pace? How much time did I waste? For the next 4-5 kms I tried to pick up the pace and catch up with my friend and my alternate (albeit involuntary) pacer.

As I steadily picked up pace and overtook some 20 runners, the magic happened again. At kilometer 18. The magic brought me back to that time in my favorite village where I first realized I was in truly love with Running. The warm yet cool embracing feeling was pleasantly familiar. This recent experience was even better. I needed no external stimuli to feel the love. The background mountains were arresting but they pale in comparison to this feeling I have inside. For the first time, I was looking at and being with Running, and nothing else mattered. My eyes were gazing lovingly at her, not because I know that makes her happy, but because I enjoy doing that myself.

It was this love that inspired me to be the best that I can be. To shoot for the 3 hour dream even if the odds are stacked against us. Two hours and 20 minutes has elapsed and I still have a little over 5kms to cover. The dream required that I run at 10kph for the rest of the race, when I only trained to run at an even pace of 8.5kph, with a 10kph sprint at the end. But try I did. For myself. For Running and our mutual love.

It was the best 5 kilometers of my running life. I was conscious of the distance, the hills and the possibility of bonking out, but I steadily accelerated, fueled by love. Every runner I passed seemed to add to my speed and my desire to reach the finish line. The last kilometer was even more glorious. By then I have already overtaken about 34 runners (net) since my 12.5km turnaround. I do not know how fast I was going, but it certainly was faster than my average pace. The best part was that I was not tired nor running out of my breath. I was exhilirated. My quads were smoothly working, my strides were long and I felt like was I born to run.

The last 500 meters was like a movie in my mind. There were still 7-8 runners ahead of me. Can I still improve my time and rank? I have trained for fast 500-meter finish, can I put it to practice this time? Can I give it my all and not hold back? And one by one I go past them. I recalled a triathlon coach egging me to finish strong in a race before. This time, Coach, I finished strong. Thank you. I timed in at 3:07 in my watch but it was the still the best race I have had so far. Big improvement from my 3:32 years ago.

Thank you, New Balance. This time I am legal finisher with a nice medal to boot.

Happy Anniversary, Running.

Finding my Pace in the Sun

I have been meaning to blog about my VSO Bahaginan 15km experience for hours. A bagful of thoughts has been percolating in my mind prior to, during and after the race, all waiting to be sorted out. As I sat down to type this post, I decided to draw inspiration from what others may have written as well as to check out my official race time. Like many others I can rave about the race organization - the kilometer markers, water and Rush stations, cheerful marshalls, etc. I was blown away by the markers, was very dependent on the Rush for energy boosts, and the marshall made the run a very pleasant experience. Till now I still castigate myself for not verbalizing my gratitude to Rio (whom I don't personally know) when I saw him and his crew dismantling on my way back from the gym shower nearby.

I have been staring at the race results for minutes now. I clocked in at 1:50:34 with pace of 7:22min/km and ranked 245 out of 272 males. I do not know how I feel and what I should feel. This was supposed to be a training run for me, where I was supposed to add 10km more on the treadmill immediately after so I can amass 25km in a day a week before I run the 25km in Clark. My training plan got sidetracked by dog breeding. To catch up, I did a hard, 12.5km run 2 days before the race, the after-effect of which I still felt the night before the race. I had to find a spa which closes late and I had massage that ended up at midnight. Pre-race excitement or jitters reduced my actual sleep to one hour. The only good thing was that I was up unusually early for a race that actually started late.

Given my pre-race circumstances, I should be happy with my time. Minutes before the race start I was actually telling myself I would be happy with a 2-hour time. I haven't done a 15km, but in the 16km I did years ago, I clocked in at 2:15. Two hours should be good enough for 15km. Then I saw a friend at the starting line - our team captain when I used to do dragonboat rowing. He just arrived straight from Batangas where he participated in the dragonboat regatta, played football after and rode back to Manila in the wee hours of the morning. My race excuse suddenly paled in comparison. Adding insult to injury, the guy clocked in at 1:22 for the 15km. Life's unfair.

I actually did better than my initial 2-hour target. I ran at a pace that I trained for and targeted if not better. But why is there still a tinge of discontent within me. I have been slowly accelerating my speed without having serious injury. Isn't this what I want? The VSO race was a reality check: I may have been shortchanging myself. Yes there have been improvements; yes I have been meeting my training goals, but am I setting the bar too low? Have I taken my mantra of excellence to heart, or are my forays into running and sports exempted from this? Yes I have sworn to myself to avoid as much as I can the folly of comparing myself to others, bearing in my what Desiderata says: "If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself" Can I compare without being competitive with others?

Compare was what I did during the race; compare is what I do now as I read other peoples' blogs and the race results. Yes I still believe in Desiderata, but my personal goals and standards do need standards for comparison - not so I can become vain or bitter, but because I need honest answers.

Was I sandbagging when I set the 2-hr goal? Was I underestimating myself when I let a multitude of average and slow runners ran past me in the first few kilometers of the race? I started alongside a pace group of relaxed runners and eventually I fell behind. Was I deliberate? Am I that slow? Was I hiding behind the excuse of having wide, low-arched, overpronating feet and bearing excess weight to avoid running at a faster pace? Could I keep up with the pace of say, a Lance Gokongwei? In the second half I started to overtake some runners. Could I have overtaken some more? In my first 5K I barely made the clock; in my first triathlon I was the last finisher. In both instances, I finished with pride. Do I have the same pride now in being #245 and beating 27 others? Was I holding back? In dragonboat racing we were trained to pour everything out in the last 50-100 meters. For 30-45 seconds, our hearts pound and our lungs seem to burst. We finish at the point of near-collapse. Did I do this in the last 200 meters of my foot race?

So many questions. I hope to get answers in my future races

Petroleum jelly is my friend

Nov 1, 2008. While the rest of the country visited the dead, I kept my 25km race goal alive by doing a long, slow practice run. Appropriately enough, I started at the back of a church where the columbarium lies. Some 3 hours and 21 kilometers later, I was enjoying the runner's high, eating a hearty lunch and brooding over my sore, red, badly chafed thighs.

I know chafing is friction - fabric against skin, flabby thighs grinding against each other. I have some success in lessening the flab, but finding the comfortable running gear is still a challenge. Long shorts and runner's shorts both roll up and scrape against my skin. I do not care much for what other people might say, but I draw the line on wearing nylon, spandex or lycra shorts on the road. They may look cool on elite athletes but the thought of me looking like suman or longganisa makes me puke. Well I did wear cycling shorts once in a triathlon but only because I do not want to add sore butt to my chafed thighs problem.

So for now I just have to rely on a trusted friend - petroleum jelly. I may hate putting on chemicals on my body, but that is still better than sore, red thighs. Now, if only I can learn (and remember!) to use sunblock as well.

Running Takes a Backseat

October 30, 2008. In the middle of what is deemed as the worst financial crisis in a century, I took my mandatory 8-workday leave from my job as market risk manager. In the crucial half of my very brief (1-month) training period for my 25K New Balance Powerrace, I took time off to witness the miracle of life and birth. For about a week, I attended to 3 of my pomeranians delivering their first litter and constantly checked on the tiny little pups that came almost miraculously from the small wombs of their dams.

By my choice and with God's grace, my kennel was blessed by 4 live pups from 2 bitches. By my choice and perhaps by my own mistakes, my kennel had a stillborn pup and lost a dam and the unborn pup trapped within its womb. I suppose life and death are but parts of the grand scheme. I grieved and focused on the blessings. I have 4 wonderful puppies. I have a job to go back to very soon. I have races to run and running to clear my mind and focus on what is essential. Life is beautiful.