Baguio of My Affections

In Baguio you try new adventures

(like traveling 250kms north of Manila to punish ourselves by running 10 or 21 kms of killer hills)


Good thing we all finished the race with a smile.


In Baguio you party and celebrate

Carbo Loading Party at Team Logan's place

Liquid CLP at Chelly's place
(rum coke was the official drink actually)


... you eat heartily

....and play games


Baguio is a joy ride



In Baguio you visit the same tourist spots.
After several visits, you think the thrill is gone.
But when you're there with new friends, everything becomes fresh again.

Mansion House

Wright Park

Camp John Hay

The Bell House in Camp John Hay

Tam-awan Village

View deck at Good Shepherd

In Baguio you solidify friendships
In Baguio you celebrate love

In Baguio you stop and smell the flowers...

...you pause and reflect

...and sit back and relax.

In Baguio you take pictures....tons of them





...you clown around for posterity








...and take group shots to celebrate friendships

Thank you Baguio for the memories.
Thanks you my friends for being part of those memories.


Special thanks to Edu, Carlo, Bong, Tim , Julie & Mike for the photos.

Redemption Run

Half-marathon
Botak sa Baguio
24 May 2009

It was meant to be a redemption run. Six years after my first road race – a 5K Milo race where I stupidly sprained my ankle in the first 500m and limped my way to a 59-minute finish – I was back in Baguio to create fresh and more pleasant running memories. Redemption entailed me running mostly this time – even if it meant half-marathon of inclines and declines.

Six years after, I have learned to love running for what it is. I have learned to enjoy running through flyovers. I still have difficulty doing very steep uphills and downhills though. To be honest, I cover more ground if I walk very steep inclines than if I attempt to do my valiant jog. I have come to realize that there is honor in walking – especially if it is deliberately and strategically done. I use the walk break as opportunity to reserve effort for the downhills and to power up by chewing peacefully on my nutribar. I draw the line however on walking induced by bad starts and poor pacing. In time when I get stronger I want to continuously run the steeps as well.

For my redemption run, I hit the rolling hills of Alabang, the steep hills of McKinley, some slopes in Bel-Air and the killer roads of Pasig. One does not become a hill runner in a month, but I tried to do my share of solo and group training runs. I have come to accept my long solo runs as my meditative runs. I can probably do a full marathon LSD while in my dream state, but there is no way I will enjoy speed drills alone. Not my cup of tea – well at least for now. And so I joined group runs to have some semblance of speed training. My faster friends’ LSDs became my tempo runs. Haha. On these supposed tempo runs for me, I pushed myself and tried to keep up with the faster runners. I was surprised that in the company of these faster runners, I could actually run well below my supposed current race pace, and that I actually enjoyed running a bit faster than my usual. I suppose I better do more of these group runs.

For this Baguio half-marathon, I opted to be more conservative. The plan was to cross the finish line running – even if meant running very slowly. Familiar with the inclines of Baguio, I targeted to run at a pace of 7:45-8min/km or finish within the 2:45-3hr range. For me, run completion was enough redemption. I was thinking I would be running my pace alone. Some volunteered to run along with me but I knew their natural pace was still faster than mine. When we surveyed the race route and saw for ourselves the depth and length of the mid-race incline somewhere in Brgy. Tuding, many adjusted their target paces. Suddenly it seemed I could pace along with others.

Wary of the inclines we surveyed the night before, majority of our group started conservatively and stuck with one another. I tried to latch onto the group for the first 2 kms but my trademark slow-start seemed even slower given the cold Baguio morning weather. I remembered doing 500-m slow jog before race but the warm-up didn’t seem enough. As I struggled to hold onto the group I could feel tightness in my legs. It was familiar tightness – the kind I usually feel in the first one or two kilometers of every run, but which will disappear once I get my running groove. I had two choices then: (1) hold the pace, stick with the group and pray that the tightness would soon go away, or (2) run a bit slower until I thoroughly warmed up. With six-year old memories of sprained ankle and cramped legs still fresh in my mind, I opted to slow down at around km2 until the tightness disappeared.

Tightness ran along with me until the 5th kilometer. It was very frustrating. I was already running way below my relaxed pace and yet I could not shake-off the tightness in my legs. Kilometers 2-5 were hardest for me. I was not exactly hurting or twisting in pain, but my spirit was fast sinking as the distance between me and my friends widened and it became increasingly clear I was the last runner slowly being left behind. Unlike in Manila where many “slow” runners brave the distances and hence the slow runner need not run alone, in this Baguio race the 21k runners seemed grouped into three: a hundred or so male/female police trainees in uniform shirt, shorts and haircut, dozens of experienced local runners, and the takbo.ph delegation of 10 running addicts to which I belong (Note: there was an equal number of takbo.ph running addicts doing the 10k).

So for those 3kms I was mostly alone. And I thought I was in a race. It was more like I was doing my solo LSD in my playground. In lieu of acacias there were pine trees. I actually welcomed the sound of the footsteps of the fast 10K runners about to overtake me. I tried to smile at them. At one point, an American accent greeted me “Good morning.” Boy I was glad to hear from somebody familiar, even if I just met Ben the language teacher at Brent the night before at the carbo-loading party prepared by Team Logan (Craig, Michelle and Justin). Thanks Ben for the greeting and the Logans for the hearty meal.

Finally after km5 I got my running groove. I picked up the pace to catch up with the rest. I was almost at kilometer 7 and yet there was no sign of my group yet. My mind was starting to play games with me so I played along. I imagined I was really just doing my LSD in Baguio. I went into my dream zone and began recollecting my personal memories of the Pine City. I figured if I think happy thoughts I would be sufficiently inspired to speed through these hills and catch up with the rest. I was happily recollecting my first Baguio visit as a kid and was moving on to memories of young love, sweet love in the City of Romance when I reached the start of now legendary 3km sweet decline (or dreaded incline depending on your direction) at Brgy. Tuding. I paused for a moment and captured the beauty of the sight (see photo below). Minutes later I would see Resty, Baguio resident and takbo.ph member alighting his bike and taking a picture of me. Thanks my friend.

View from the killer incline of Tuding

Exhilirating downhill run at mid-route
Parang ang bilis ko dito ah - downhill kasi.
(photo courtesy of Baguio resident and takbo.ph member Resty

Soon the faster runners came sprinting uphill towards me. Happy to see fellow runners, I must have smiled, waved, greeted and saluted the continuous stream of runners. I must have replied Good Morning three dozen times to the courteous and friendly police trainees along the way as well as to the local resident runners. It was so much fun doing that while racing downhill for 3kms at pace of 5-6min/km. Midway through that long downhill run I finally spotted the familiar black singlets with red highlights of the takbo.ph runners. Finally I saw my friends and exchanged high-fives and cheers.

I reached the turnaround point consistent with my race plan. The turnaround was also the start of the dreaded 3km hill climb. What goes down must come up! Huhu. This Tuding uphill was beyond anything I have experienced while running. It was probably St. Martin St in Pasig just seven times longer with inclines worse than that of the McKinley Hills stretch from 7-11 till Bayani Road. A natural negative splitter, I was actually excited about the second half. My plan of attack was to run the uphill when it made sense and walk if that made better sense. I was doing this walk-run medley till the midpoint of the 3km climb when a marshal in motorcycle spotted me doing the walking at the steepest part of the climb. He went near me and mumbled something I did not understand, so I just continued with my brisk walk. He drove ahead only to come back to me and to offer very casually, “Sir, sakay na kayo hanggang sa patag”. At first I didn’t get him. Ha? Ano kamo?

See that sudden drop? That's the Tuding decline/incline.
Garmin data courtesy of Jinoe Gavan of takbo.ph

Then it sank in. The marshal said it in the friendliest of tone and with a look of concern, but I honestly felt hurt if not insulted. I might have been left behind and moving slowly, but I was on track to meet my 3hr cut-off. I was not exactly dying or suffering. Truth was before that remark, I was excited that I would catch up as I normally do in the second half. This walking was part of my plan. I wanted to explain to the man that while Baguio runners must be mostly hardcore and experienced, there is an emerging breed of runners whose aim is not necessarily to run fast but simply to run long distances. I am part of that breed. These thoughts raced through my mind but all I was able to retort was “Hindi, hindi ako sasakay. Mauna na ho kayo kung gusto ninyo. Tatapusin ko ito.” Surprised by my reply, the motorcycle man moved on, but not after advising several bike marshals to look after me. I actually told the bikers to move on as well, but they stayed at respectful distance.

It was unfortunate that I felt this low at the steepest part of the climb. But I trudged on. It was a hodge-podge of emotions: insult, anger, self-pity, resolve, and even empathy for the marshals who had a job to do but probably did not understand what was going on inside my head. Eventually the steep climb ended and I began to run. The bikers would still follow me. At one point they stayed too close (about a meter or two behind me) and I begged them to please let me be. Still smarting from a perceived insult, I went to the other side of the road to avoid the bike marshals. And then in the peacefulness of the road leading to the Mansion House, I ran the way running was supposed to be: an intimate date between my body & soul and the long, wide road.

Eventually I was able to shake-off the negative emotions. The marshals might have picked up the change in my stride and demeanor, and began quietly conversing with me. Resty was there all throughout and at this point was inquiring if I had gels and hydration. I told them I had enough and I was doing okay. At this point I was running in either low inclines, flat roads or shallow declines at pace of 6-7min/km, probably in my 15th kilometer. I was feeling good at this point, and have begun to appreciate the marshals. At turns or intersections, the bike marshals would ably assist and I thanked them profusely. In my limited mind, my tormentors have become allies. In gratitude and in honor of these impromptu friends, I picked up speed – sometimes running below 6min/km. I wanted to finish the race quickly, not for myself, but for these helpful people who stayed with me even if I initially shooed them away.

It felt good to run fast for something or somebody other than yourself. It was unfortunate that the 21k route had to be cut to something shorter (18.36km) because of a last-minute local government directive to avoid certain road portions, for I was just beginning to enjoy the run. I even hoped to finally catch up with my some of my friends before all of them crossed the finish line. But at km18 there was a last turn for the finish. I had a lot more in me for I was prepared to do a full 21k, but I poured it all out for a celebratory sprint to the end. I was fast accelerating, until I reached that point where friends were gathered to cheer you on and take your pictures. I deliberately slowed down. I did not want the moment to end just yet, but it did in a few precious seconds. I traded high fives with friends and I went back to look for my biker friends to give my thanks.

Photo taken by Timmy
(salamat kenkoy runner)

I finished 18.36km in 2:30 at an average moving pace of a little below 8min/km. I think I would have finished at 2:45-2:50 for a full 21K. I ran within my plan and target. I finished a few minutes after a takbo.ph friend and a few seconds after a police trainee who suffered cramps. I ran and walked, but did not limp nor injure myself. I suppose this is good enough for a redemption run. In the future, I want to go back to Brgy. Tuding. Next time, I will race her hills.

(I would like to thank the organizers of the 2009 Botak sa Baguio race. It was a simple, no-frills race and the route might have been cut short, but the warmth of the people more than make up for the little shortcomings. Thank you for the wonderful experience.)

Great Things Start From Small Beginnings...

In my case, it began with a 5K.
In Baguio. September of 2003
Milo Marathon Provincial Elimination

A female friend and rowing mate wanted to qualify for Milo marathon (half-marathon?) finals and the remaining chance she had was to do it in Baguio. She was pestering a few of her dragonboat teammates to accompany her in Baguio. I was one of the unfortunate few. When my dragonboat carpool mate said she had 2 free room accommodation in Camp John Hay, I immediately said yes for I haven't stayed there yet. In the end five of us went to John Hay - our race 'promoter' friend A, two party loving girls W and her friend (both intent on enjoying Baguio), and two guys fooled into joining the Milo 5K - myself and teammate C.

I was not sure about my buddy C, but my 5k race was just incidental to our Baguio trip. For me it was just one item in our itinerary - like visiting the butterfly garden or eating by the Cafe By The Ruins. Night before the race, I think our serious running friend A was sleeping early, while two party loving girls and their willing escorts (C and I) were surveying the Baguio night scene in some club imbibing music and sipping beer.

My first ever road race was a disaster. Designated driver, I woke up late and arrived late. Sorry A, because of us, you probably lost an opportunity to qualify. Without warm-up and scurrying to catch up, I ended up spraining my ankle in the first 500m (uphill climb out of Burnham park) and had to limp my way - through killer hills of Baguio - for almost an hour (59 minutes to be exact - how's that for a 5K PR?).

But what that 5K did was to plant a potent seed in me. Sheer will was probably discovered there as I forced myself to finish despite the sprain. Disappointed with my time and irate that I had to argue my way to get my finisher shirt (because the shame-faced and ignorant I did not pass through the finish line chute), I vowed to race again. On hindsight Mr. Rudy Biscocho, thank you for being a stickler for rules and refusing to give me the shirt. It made me badly wanting to redeem myself. Mr. Pat Goc-Ong of Milo, thank you too for relenting to my persistent "But I finished the race so I deserved the shirt" line and giving me a finisher shirt and a certificate.

In a few hours I will be going up to Baguio once again for a race. It is a Botak 21K race actually, but when I run the hills of Baguio once more, I will have my Milo 5K in mind. I am not aiming for a faster half-marathon time, I simply want to redeem myself in Baguio. This time, I hope to run. This half-marathon - my fourth in a span of 3 months - is also preparatory for a bigger and loftier aim. In July 2003, I hope to cap my six-year on-off-on-off love affair with running with a full marathon. It took a long while, I know, but I am ready this time. I consider my Baguio trip as my pamamanhikan.

Will You Mary Me?

To Running,


Life is a marathon, and I want to run it with you.
Will you mary me?


Love,

Rico

Well, you done done me and you bet I felt it 
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted 
I fell right through the cracks, now I'm tryin' to get back 
before the cool done run out I'll be givin' it my bestest 
and nothin's gonna stop me but divine intervention 
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some 

So I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm sure
There's no need to complicate, our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours.

- I'm Yours by Jason Mraz

Recovery Run

They say the way to destroy a man is to dampen his spirit.

It used to be that I would be physically hurting after a race. I would either have mild heel pain, aching calves or discomfort in the shins. After I shifted to light stability shoes, my recovery period drastically fell from 3-7 days to as fast as 12-24hrs. After Sunday's 21K, my legs were worked up but were otherwise fine. It was not my legs that took a beating – it was my spirit.

I used to think I was invincible. I may not be athletically gifted, but I was the opposite of sickly. In the rare times I was supposed to be down with some ailment, I would actually be still up and about. My parents would often tell me how one time when I was still a toddler I was down with very high fever. The town doctors could not understand what was wrong with me so they advised my parents to bring me to the city for consultation. Along the way I would bounce back and would end up jumping and playing before we reached the city. In elementary school I remember never being absent – I guess I loved playing and learning in school that much. In high school I would have repeated my perfect attendance record had one teacher not bluntly told the stubborn me, “You might not be bothered, but we are. Go home, you have chicken pox”. In the three decades of my life I have not been confined in a hospital, except of course for my short stay as a naturally delivered new-born. If I am not invincible, I must be at least lucky.

My Botak post-race experience reminded me again of my mortality. The experience erased all delusions of invincibility, and reminded that I was really just lucky – lucky that no serious harm befell on me. Truth was I was nth time lucky. As I sat there post-race on a metal bar, with my vision slowly blurring, I was transported to a not-so-pleasant memory.

I was in my early 20s in my mother's hometown of Calamba. I remembered waking up early, very hungry but needing to buy asap some item for a project I had been working on from previous night. I grabbed the household bike and set forth for the town square. I was on my way back when it happened. A tricycle cut through my path, I lost balance and fell off the bike. I had a deep cut in my knee with intense pain emanating from it. The pain was so much I felt blood draining from my head and going into that epicenter of pain. I felt dizzy, my vision blurred and chill enveloped my body. There was intense craving for something sweet. I was hungry when I left the house but that craving I had threatened to snuff out the lights off me. I blacked out. Minutes later I found myself in my house, transported by a kind tricycle driver who recognized me as my mother's son. I cried out for food when I regained consciousness, but I was too weak to get out and thank the Good Samaritan who helped me. A few minutes after I have eaten, it was if nothing happened to me.

I went back to the Metro to consult medical experts. I was aghast and confused with what happened. I consulted a doctor of internal medicine for possible diabetes, a cardiologist to rule out heart and circulatory problems, and a neurologist to check for epilepsy or nerve concerns. They all said nothing was wrong with me. It was just some random event where your body was hungry and some external stress depleted what ever energy stores you still had left. Instead of being elated, I became more worried. If I do not know the cause of a problem, how can I prevent it? The doctors simply said I should be extra careful – and should watch my caloric intake. I probably took the doctors' advice to the extreme. At the slightest hint of hunger I would eat. To a certain extent, fear of hypoglycemia had the genetically lean me (about 150 lbs) ballooning to 170lbs, and at several points in time, up to 200lbs.

I had fear of dehydration to recover from when I did my post-race run. I find it ironic that someone who downs al least 12 glasses of water each day, who has at least 3 hydration belts and who brings at least 2 tall water bottles in the car during training runs, now faces the fear of dehydration during a race. As if the fear of swimming in deep water or open sea, riding downhill, and biking alongside trucks and buses are not enough challenges in a beginner triathlete's life. It is just that dehydration is a sly enemy – it hits you faster than Pacquiao can say, “I drink Vitwater, you know.” Whereas I could feel when my sugar levels are dipping, I only managed to recognize dehydration when I was already weak and almost powerless to address it. And I thought all along overhydration was the enemy.

But if there is one thing I learn in life, it is never to let fear take the better of you. To live a life in constant fear is to live a life of regret and what-ifs. You face fear by staring back at it at its face – aware of its hold on you but more aware that you ultimately have the power over it. When fear creeps forward you gnaw back at it. You bite, you chew, bit by bit until fear retreats into some manageable entitity, concealed in the recesses of your memory.

That was what I did with my fear of deep pool water. Children are said to be born fearless so one summer day the then ten-year old me ventured out of the kiddie pool into the adult pool about 8-ft at its deepest. I only knew backstroke then, but fearless that I was, I backstroked my way from 4ft onto the deep end of the pool. I was about 2 meters away from wall safey when somebody bumped into me. I panicked, lost form, swallowed water and found myself sinking. For a few seconds I was underwater, sinking and not knowing what to do. Thank God a nearby adult scooped me out of the water just in time. I coughed out a lot of water, but I was otherwise okay. But I began to fear and revere the deep water since then.

Every summer and every pool opportunity I would slowly convert my fear of the deep into an all consuming love for water. Meter by meter I would go around the pool perimeter slowly re-acquainting myself with the deep. Meter by weter I would veer away from the wall, wade in my fear, and go back to the safety of the wall. It took many pool visits and many summers for me to embrace my fear, but embrace it I did. I still am wary of the deep, but it has since transformed it into a fear that ennobles instead of immobilizes, safely tucked in the recesses of my memory.

I did the same with my fear of riding downhills. I went to the downhill of my despair and studied it. I started at the lowest point riding it down. I went back to it higher and higher until I covered the whole downhill. I chipped at my fear meter by meter, degree by degree. When I first fell of my road bike because of poor bike handling and braking skills, I spent a whole hour in the parking lot just practicing braking, imagining every possible scenario: left foot first, right foot first, both feet quickly on the ground, front brakes, back brake, combinations, etc.). I think I exhausted the combinations in the first 30 minutes, but I went at it some more.

Unfortunately, fear has a way of reasserting itself and dampening your spirit. My misadventures with new bike shoes and cleats brought about old fears of falling of the bike – simply because I could not untangle my feet quick enough from those damn cleats! My confidence took a nosedive. From supposedly joining the Subit standard distance triathlon, I did not even consider myself confident enough to do the sprint distance. Timing was not right. I needed time to chip away at my fears but I was busy running and did not have enough cycling time. But I would attend to this soon enough.

It is with the same diminished confidence that I started my supposed recovery run from Sunday's half-marathon. By mid-week my legs were already fine but my confidence was still flagging. To boost my confidence I made sure my route was close to my vehicle or a store where I could recharge with drinks and food. I carried with me several nutribars and had in my palm a bottle of Gatorade. Maybe if I hold tight my drink I would imbibe all of its promised benefits. With this belief I began to cover the roads of McKinley Hills. I started slow as my spirit was low. Eventually running worked its magic. I rediscovered why I love running.

Running allows you to see things in perspective. Running allows you to know yourself intimately – your body's capabilities and limits as well as the many layers and facets of your personality. In running you discover that your body is a wonderland – a resilient handiwork capable of absorbing stress and converting it into something beautiful and edifying. In running you also discover that your mind is an even more complex, intricate work of art. It is amazing how several pounds of neurons had so much power to create or destroy. You alone choose how you wield that power.

I finished 15kms of running hills exhilarated. As I downed my last bottle of Gatorade, I smiled knowing my mind has recovered enough to continue running – cautious but unafraid.

I realize love conquers all fears.

Finish Strong

Eversince a TRAP (Triathlon Association of the Philippines) official cajoled me to "Finish strong" in a comeback race, a mini-sprint triathlon to be exact, I would always aim to end each race - be it a foot race, an aquathlon, or a triathlon - with a strong run to the finish. For the last 500m or 1K, I would sprint toward the finish line in celebration of all things I love about running. The sight of the finish line elicits a Pavlovian response in me - no matter how tired I am, my legs would suddenly speed up in anticipation of race completion. Every now and then I would dedicate my rush to the finish line to some person, thing or cause.

My Botak 21K finish elicited the usual Pavlovian response. My finish was actually very strong (of course strong is relative to my capabilities), next only in power and intensity to my 2008 New Balance experience. But for some reason, I went home wilted. While hanging around after the race, I heard the race host enjoining volunteers to share their Botak story. I almost choked on the irony. This is my Botak story.

To run or not to run

I first heard about the Botak Paa-tibayan race in February I think. Tired of shifting marathon schedules, I dismissed the Botak full marathon as "Nice to know, sige nga tingnan natin if you can deliver". I changed my view when I met Botak founder Cesar Guarin in the takbo.ph carbo-loading party for the Condura Race. Co-CLP coordinator MJ was gushing about how Mr. Guarin inspired him to be a runner and I fully believed him. When I was reading the introductory spiel for Mr. Guarin, I said to myself, "Wow, this guy is something." Marathoner, ultra-marathoner, businessman. I wanted to identify with him. After the party I approached their team and asked again about the planned full marathon. I asked, "Is this really a go? Have the permits already been secured?". Until then it was still promises and hazy answers.

Eventually the Botak Paa-tibayan registration began. I wanted to join the full marathon simply to do an LSD, but even that I was hesitant. Truth was I even wanted to persuade others to do the marathon LSD with me. But can a group who cannot commit actually deliver? I was still apprehensive. Moreso when they sort of leaked that a carbo-loading party would happen when there was really no such thing that materialized?

In my heart I wanted to support Botak and Mr. Guarin. I like the idea of a Filipino brand doing its best to establish a name and compete. But please, let Botak represent the best in the Filipino and not our weaknesses. Let Botak be about creativity, ingenuity and guts, as well as discipline, integrity and public trust. Not about bahala na at pwede na yan.

Eventually I downgraded my Botak participation to 21K. I wanted my first marathon experience to be extra special - not marred by uncertainty and concerns about water and race marshalls. Even for my 21K I was actually worried. I can memorize the map to avoid the need for marshalls, but I could only bring in my hydration belt water enough for 16km at best. At some point, I must claim the water promised me when I signed up and paid for the race. Still, I signed up for my 3rd half-marathon in 3 months. I wanted to master the half-marathon. IF I have intentions of doing half-ironman someday, my 21K must feel like a 10K.

I seldom really race an event. Since my running comeback last August 2008, I remember only three races where I was serious about a target time: the New Balance Powerrace 25K, UP Ictus Run 10K and this Botak race. Most of the time I join for the fun, camaraderie or the cause. For the Botak 21K however, I intended to get serious a bit and set 2:30hrs as my target finish time, a few minutes better than my Greenfields 2:34 (unofficial). I intended to do even split - negative split if weather was cooperative. My race mantra was simple: run below 7min/km for as long as I could.

The Race

I ended up on the starting line with a group of fast runners - Deo, Ian and Ziggy - all tall and fit. Chubby, slow and average, I felt out of place. Haha. I tried moving forward to my pace match Marvin, but I still ended up pacing with the tall group in my first kilometer or so. They said they were injured or lacking training so they would be running slowly. Ah ganun kaya kayo nakiki-pace sa akin. Few minutes into the run, the tall runners were running sub-6min/km. Akala ko ba injured or recovering kayo? Bakit ang bilis ninyo kaagad? As these guys were tempting me to stay away from my plan, I deliberately slowed down to my 6:45min/km pace and let the guys zoom past me.

Except for the uphill portions where I naturally slowed down, I pretty much kept within my race plan of hanging below 7min/km. At km 10.5, my Garmin time was almost on the dot: 1:15:xx. It is normally at the turn around where I reassess my strategy. The sun was beginning to get hot by that time (7:15am) so I opted to aim for even split. My legs were still strong so I figured I could make my 2:30 aim.

Except for the fact that I was at the tail-end of 21K runners, I was doing ok per my race plan. However, I was beginning to have doubts about this 21K race strategy. It used to be that I enjoyed overtaking the slower runners as they struggled with their second half (while I maintained pace or did negative split), but lately this had not been giving me the psychological boost I needed. I realized that while overtaking is an ego boost, it does not directly translate to better absolute time. At best, it is better ranking among the slow group. Now I find myself having to summon an inordinate amount of will power to run fast, instead of riding on the energy of faster runners had I tried to latch onto them. I simply must be able to start fast, and run faster (or maintain pace) at turnaround. I suppose it is about time I do speed drills. I think my fully recovered legs are ready for them.

The shade along Rockwell mall and drive inspired me to run fast. I only slowed down on the uphill back to Kalayaan as it was time for me to eat my nutribar while I brisk walked for a few minutes. I just finished my first bar when I noticed that the Kalayaan water station had water jugs but ran out of cups. As I was focused on my PR and I still had water in my belt, I hesitantly skipped this station hoping for better conditions in the next station. At the next station I was just a little luckier for I managed to get a teeny cup of water. Still intent on beating my old PR, I contented myself with this and ran off.

Along Buendia on my way back, I would still run below 7min/km under the building shade, and relax a bit when the hot sun showed itself again. I was a bit thirsty but I was still running well and in high spirits. I would even meet blogger Mesh (my ironshoes) and friends along the way. At about km16 I checked my Garmin. I had 40 minutes to finish the last 5K. At my target pace of 7min/km, the time should be more than enough. I only have one concern: I was getting thirsty and the last water station I passed had no more water - empty jugs, used cups. I only had about 25ml left in my water bottle. I saved that for my second and last nutribar I intend to take as I brisk walked again the Kalayaan flyover incline.

After the Kalayaan ascent I finished off the contents of my Fuel Belt's 4 mid-size water bottles. I had to content myself with just half a nutribar for I do not have enough water to wash away the whole bar. When I saw the water spray at the flover, I muttered, I do not need to get wet. I do not want to wet my shoes and invite blisters. I ONLY want drinking water! At km18 my thirst was getting the better of me. My 2:30 was becoming a remote possibility but equaling my Greenfields time of 2:34:39 was still within reach. I just had to run still within 7min/km. My will was still strong so every now and then I would hit my target pace even in the last kilometers. I kept telling myself, You could still match your current PR and it would still be sweet victory given the harsh race conditions.

On my last 1km I summoned what was left of me and sprinted with my Garmin distance as my Pavlov indicator. On my supposed last 500 meters I was running my heart out when I realized, Geez, I am still far from the finish line! I clocked 2:35 on my Garmin at km21 but the marshall said we still have 500 meters to go before finish line. What!!!! I remembered the marshall instruction at probably km 13 at Ayala-Buendia intersection to go back to the Chino Roces turn-around. That was NOT in the race map but the marshall said so and the runners followed. My heart sank with this realization. I have already done my 'finish strong' bit; I didn't know if I had more to give. It was at this time that I saw a fellow takbo.ph member who seemed in worse condition than I was. I chatted for while, but sprinted once more when I had the chance. It was Pavlovian response asserting itself once again. And sure enough it kicked in. With PR gone, I gave this run my best finish in months. My heart and spirit were leaping with joy doing it. It was a treat to see blogger Javy and Quennie of takbo.ph getting my photo as I sprinted to the finish line. I probably lost a few seconds posing for cameras but damn I was happy to see friends there.

Finish line photo courtesy of Quennie

Crossing the finish line I was so jubilant notwithstanding the lost PR opportunity for I ran a good run and I pushed myself to the limit. Minutes later I would realized how close to the limit I was pushed.

Post-race

This was me about 15 minutes after my 'strong finish'

I came out of the finish line chute ecstatic. With heart still pounding and adrenaline still circling in my system, I remember being greeted by friends and being pointed to where the takbo.ph people were. I remember wanting to cool down and having that dying thirst at the same time. Where is the finish line water? It seems organizers have been forgetting this as well. Friend Bong Yu pointed me to where the Gatorade line was but the line was several people long. Eventually I got my Gatorade and downed it instantly.

I went to look for friends. As I hear my friends' race stories, I began to feel dizzy. I remember Deo telling me how the heat and lack of water made his time worse by at least 10 minutes, and how I would need to put my hand on the tent pole to maintain balance. I would remember many more takbo.ph friends and another photo opportunity for recent finishers. I managed to pose for several photos but at some point I had to move away and go to the shade. I remember Jinoe showing me a printed copy of the yearbook and I was still sound enough to sign, but I was getting more light-headed by the minute. I seated myself by an iron bar as seen in the picture to hold my balance.

Then it happened...my vision was blurring. Oh my, I hoped it was not hypoglycemia or low blood sugar. I have had a lone attack of that in my lifetime and it was not a good experience. It starts with blurry vision, followed by chills and clammy fingers, epilepsy-like fit and momentary loss of consciousness - all this because my body ran out of food or sugar. But it was not hypoglycemia - the symptoms stop at dizziness, blurry vision and severely intense craving for food and drinks. At some point I was stable enough to invite friends to eat breakfast but everyone was still caught in the race euphoria and were waiting for other runners. I just asked a friend to accompany me to Pancake House but as we were about to walk, I got dizzier. I told my friend I had to sit down first and I went back to the metal bar. Within minutes, my gray vision was turning black. Before I blacked out I managed to call the attention of Timmy and Bong Yu. I told them I need to eat or drink something. Bong readily gave me his Gatorade. The Gatorade seemed to help but I was still light-headed. It was then I realized I must be suffering from low blood pressure, because I felt dizzy everytime I stand. I rested for a while on the metal bar. Eventually, I took the takbo.ph banner with me to a tent and lied on the banner to rest. Like magic I felt better, but got dizzy everytime I attempted to stand.

I lied down for about 5 minutes and stood up to go to my vehicle before I get dizzy again. My plan was to rest on my vehicle, eat the chocolate bar I have there and empty my reserve water bottle there. After that I can probably rejoin the group for breakfast. Once in my vehicle, I opted not to lie there for fear I might lose consciousness inside. I hurriedly changed shirt and dragged myself to the nearby Pancake House. After a glass of grape shake and a bowl of halo-halo, I felt better enough to drive home.

I had to miss the family's mother's day celebration. At home I drank lots of fluids and slept. I woke up at around 2pm and decided to check my blood pressure. I was shocked to find my blood pressure was closer to borderline low blood pressure than my usual normal to occasional high blood pressure. I drank more fluids and ate as much I could tolerate to normalize my blood pressure. By night time, my blood pressure was back to normal. Running doctor Eric de Belen told me I might have suffered from relatively lower blood pressure due to dehydration, but it was best to have actual physical exam. I instinctively felt I was already ok but I followed the doctor-friend's advice and went to Makati Med for ECG, blood test and physical examination. All test showed normal results as expected.

My hypothesis is that I did get dehydrated because of the water lack. I do not think it was heat exhaustion as I was used to running and biking from 9am-2pm. I involuntarily train in the heat because I always wake up late. I do not think it was hypoglycemia as I ate about 4 big pieces of hopia (probably 100 calories each) prior to my run and took 1.5 bars of nutribars of 140 calories each during my run. I also did not have the chills and clammy fingers. I reverted quickly to normal blood pressure when I took more fluids and slightly salty foods. I was initially afraid it was aneurysm or mild stroke but the test showed otherwise. My Garmin data showed an average heart rate of 165 which is higher than my LSD rate but normal for a race pace.

I actually still considered myself lucky. A friend suffered legs cramps, then stiff hands and eventually hyperventilated 500 meters before the finish line. If only the route was exactly 21K and not the 21.62 that my Garmin registered. He already had some hydration device with him already but he sure suffered the same water lack as he was running some 500-800m behind me. He had to be brought to Makati Med for emergency treatment, but thankfully he was discharged quickly after 2 hrs.


I blame no one but myself for this unpleasant experience. The buck stops at me as every self-respecting person should do.

• I blame myself for disregarding initials signs and registering for this race notwithstanding these signs.
• I blame myself for aiming for a new PR and pushing myself to my limits despite the race conditions.
• I blame myself for not having the patience to refill my water bottles when the cups ran out.
• I blame myself for not being resourceful enough to get water elsewhere along the way and at the finish line.
• I blame myself for not training at race pace under adverse conditions like hot weather and lack of water.
• I blame myself for tolerating this type of race organization and condition.
  

I have no one else to blame but me. I will act accordingly. Ako mismo. I still want to finish strong - strong enough to celebrate each run completion and to look forward to another run. Maybe I should just do my own 21K run, or my own full marathon. My personal record might not get published or broadcasted, but it will be something I will certainly cherish.

Running with Craig

Craig & Justin Logan at the Southern Race

I first noticed the tandem of Craig and Justin Logan late last year in a race either along Roxas Boulevard or around Mall of Asia. Race was probably Milo 10K, Yakult 10-miler or Animo Run. From the corner of my eye I saw a middle-aged, Caucasian male speeding along the flat road with a stroller in front of him. I immediately thought there was cute baby inside the stroller, and with a hint of envy and sour graping (because he was faster than me), I said to myself that that stroller was actually an advantage - easier to cruise along with.

Several races after I would learn that a special-needs kid named Justin rides inside the stroller. I said to myself, WOW. After that I would be on the look-out for the pair. I longed to be part - even for a moment - of whatever special bond the father-and-son have. When Craig indicated then in takbo.ph forum that he would be joining the Condura 21K and that he was looking for pace groupmates, I replied enthusiastically that I would like to try pushing Justin - even for just a few meters. Eventually I would formally meet the Logan family (including wife Michelle) in the takbo.ph carbo-loading party for the Condura race. Unfortunately at that time I was already injured and lost all hope that I could run along with them on the Skyway. I heard from Jinoe and Quennie that the tandem had a challenging but relatively fast half-marathon.

In the Greenfields City Run I thought I might be able to run with Craig & Justin. I even had lunch with the Logan family (and Verdana resident Runnermhel) the day before where I hinted that I might try to run along with the Logans. Unfortunately, I was at least 5 minutes late for that race.

Then I heard Craig and family will be doing the Southern Race. I was still itching to run with the Logans and I have always loved running in Alabang, but I already signed up for an out-of-town aquathlon (Camaya Coast Aquathlon challenge). But the call of the race cause, the location and the Logans were so strong I threw caution aside and decided to go for a back-to-back race weekend. I told my fellow Camaya aquathlon friends that they were free to go all-out in the beach trail run and swim, but I would just be chilling. I needed to conserve my energy for the more important 10K happening the following day.

While I was excited for the novelty and camaraderie of my Camaya experience, I was also looking forward to finally running with the Logans, going back to the place where I truly fell in love with running, and possibly get a new 10K PR post-injury. I was actually feeling stronger post-injury. Perhaps also wiser and more mature. I had a finish line scenario in my mind: I would ran the whole course with the Logans, beat my December 2008 10K PR of 1:06, Team Logan would also get their PR and all these good things would happen in my favorite running place. The bonus was that everything would happen in a run for a good cause (the children of SOS). Splendid!

To prepare for this miracle of a run, I was looking for a catalyst to inspire me further to run faster. Truth was I needed all the help I could get to pull through this ambitious weekend treat I signed myself into. For the past few days there was this song going on-an-on in my mind. I kept hearing Craig David blurting out these lines from "Insomnia":

I never thought I'd fall in love, love, love, love,
But it grew from a simple crush, crush, crush, crush
................................
Feels like insomnia ah ah, Feels like insomnia ah ah


For some inspired (or was it strange) reason, I chose this song for my Southern Run. I didn't know actually if insomnia was the right term for my physical and mental state, I but did realize I terribly lacked sleep because of either training, or bonding over drinks or via the takbo.ph shoutbox with fellow running addicts. A song entitled Addiction might have been more appropriate, but I happened to like the beat of Insomnia and the cool vibe of its singer Craig. Perhaps the beat would prevent me from going into dreamzone during a race, and egg me on to actually run faster.

Two days before the Southern Race I went to Alabang to register and had my phone blaring Craig's laments on Insomnia all afternoon while I did my business in the mall. Yup, one crazy little song playing in cycles. Pag naman hindi ko pa na-memorize yang lyrics and melody...At separate instances while in the mall I would meet Doc Lyndon who was registering for a contingent of runners from takbo.ph and finally Michelle Logan registering for the family and friends. I casually asked Michelle what Craig was targetting for the race and she mentioned he would probably run around 1:05, hopefully better. Oh my, I said to myself. That was even better than my personal best achieved in an ideal state of physical preparedness. Coming from my first open water swim, beach and trail run, I would attempt to run along someone with a better PR than me. I must be dreaming. Well, I love to dream, so I told Michelle I promise to be there race time and would TRY to give my best.

Come race day I was late - AGAIN! Just 5-6 hours earlier I was still drinking with friends to celebrate a friend's age group win in the aquathlon. God, I had lost track of the sleep debt I had been accumulating the past weeks. I had my earphone stuck into my phone with Craig David still feeling like insomnia. Yes, I memorized enough snippets of the song but I realize I was not gifted with strong lungs and heart to sing that song in my mind while running 10K at 6:30min/km or better. For the first time, I would be running with MP3 player on. So unlike me actually, but as I was still dead tired from my Camaya aquathlon and trip, maybe Craig D doing the singing would help me. Thankfully the race started late so I was able to position myself beside the Logans a few minutes before gun start.

I think I lasted only a kilometer running along with Craig. Only a kilometer had gone and I already felt my legs would fold up and my body would fall asleep. My plans were foiled once again. Craig was cheery and strong, but I felt power draining from me. Reluctantly, I let them speed past me. When, O, when would I run a longer course with them. At that stage I resigned to the idea that I should no longer plan it. The more I plan, the more it gets foiled. One day, it will simply happen. In even better circumstances.

I was there on the road chugging along between km 2 and 3, already entertaining a first time DNF - with only Craig David keeping me company with his insomnia rant, when officemate Oliver greeted me from behind. Like me, he lacked sleep and had a drinking celebration, but he showed up even if late. A new plan was hatched - two sleepy and alcohol-drowsy runners would brave this 10K till the end. As my quads were really hammered from the previous day's trail run, I let Oliver go ahead a bit but still within my eyesight. Going onto the Country Club and coming from a blind curve, I soon realized Oliver was gone. Uh-oh, I think my friend also had difficulty and he probably made a short cut back through the club. My spirit sank again. Thank God Oliver resurfaced a few minutes after - the dude simply took a liquidity break at the club. Gee-whiz!

All through-out my run Craig David was there. Sometimes I would listen to him, sometimes I dismissed him. At one point, what I used to consider as powersong and beat, now seemed so ironic and depressing. Why the hell did I chose a song about Insomnia as a powersong anyway? At kilometer 5 I got the answer. Suddenly these lines seemed fresh again:

Remember telling my boys that I'd never fall in love, love, love, love
You used to think I'd never find a girl I could trust, trust, trust, trust
....................................
Ah I just can't go to sleep
Cause it feels like I've fallen for you
It's getting way too deep...


Suddenly power infused through my legs. Here I was in the village where I fell in love with running - running with the most unorthodox of powersongs. But what power it had. I found myself running fast and effortlessly. In the past I've had eureka moments when I found myself saying: you are running well. This is how you should run. Run like this and you can run forever. Maybe Pearl Izumi was right all along - we are runners. Running is in our blood simply waiting to be rediscovered.

The last 5kms ran like a Craig David song - smooth, cool, hip, pulsating with energy. Still hoping to catch up with Craig, I sped through downhills, ran close to 6min/km, overtook at least 30 runners, and sprinted at my lactate threshold towards the finish line. It was the best 5kms I've ran in recent past.

I finished 5 minutes after Craig Logan and son Justin. The other Craig made me believe though my grand time with Team Logan would soon come.

Chillin' at Camaya

Camaya Coast Aquathlon Challenge

(3.5km beach & trail run - 1.5km open water swim - 3.5km beach & trail run)
May 2, Saturday, Summer of 2009

The first time I read about the Camaya Coast Aquathlon and Beach & Trail Run in the firstwavetri yahoogroup, I was already hooked. I MUST join this race. I have already done my first 2 aquathlons in the first quarter of 2009, but I haven't experienced an open water race, a beach run nor a trail run. The single biggest factor however was the fact that the event would happen in a beach resort setting. I looked at the photos of the Camaya Coast and I instantly fell in love with the place. Having grown up in the mountain-and-hotspring resort town of Los Banos, I have had enough of hills and hotsprings. I love my hometown, but my idea of a real summer getaway is lazing around on a beach. With my May race calendar fully booked with weekend races, the Camaya Coast aquathlon would be my 2009 summer getaway, with outing taking precedence over racing.

I was so bent on having this summer outing, err, racing, I would join even if I was alone. Worst case, I would race and then lie on the beach and read a book. Best case I would mingle and meet new friends. However, outings are way more fun if done with friends so I did invite fellow new aquathletes Ian and MJ, and some runners from takbo.ph people. Ian readily agreed, MJ was out of country, Bong Z needed some more convincing, while the rest of my takbo.ph friends seemed lukewarm on the idea of a beach and trail run (why people why?). Bong it turned out was a fellow 2009 Ateneo Aquathon finisher, while Ian was a 'classmate' from our very first aquathlon in Speedo Aquathon Ultra. Thankfully, I was able to convince Bong to try for longer distance swim by pacing with him for a trial 1.5km swim (kudos to Bong for facing up (and rising well) to the challenge!). Eventually, Cathy and her friends saw the value in the beach and trail run and signed up for it. Great, I think we have sufficient quorum. There were even recent acquaintances Ziggy and Glenn who were registered for the aquathlon. Ellen would be joining us too as unofficial photographer and default cheerleader. This would be fun.

With giddy excitement, I prepared for the race and the outing. As I usually experience calf muscle tightness in the first 2 kms of road races, I was apprehensive I might develop cramps in this 3.5K run - 1.5K swim - 3.5K run challenge. I therefore practiced transitions 1 and 2 with Bong Z. We would even bump into Ian in the pool area. I practiced swimming alone for distance of up to 3km so 1.5km would feel like a beach stroll. With the race side taken cared of, I packed my summer outing backpack with loads of food. For me, long-distance outing meant munching on the road (or boat or plane). I was packed and ready.

Race day began at 4am with participants assembling in the resort office in EDSA-Boni for a 3-hr bus ride to Mariveles port. As this was our summer outing, we began clicking away our cameras as soon as we boarded the bus.

Bong, Ellen, Cathy and Jihan: fresh as Saturday morning
Participants were ferried to the site in 2 buses. Excited folks that we were, we were in bus 1.

Myself, Ian, Jihan and Cathy after taking our Jollibee breakfast along NLEX

Ian, Ziggy and myself: Sun was already up in Bataan but we were still clowning around.

3hrs after leaving Manila we were on Mariveles port
for a 30-min short boat ride to Camaya Coast

Myself, Bong and Ziggy: Aquamen excited to board the boat.
Si Ian yata mas excited nasa loob na ng bangka.

Now this trip was really beginning to feel like a trip to Boracay

Finally we were on the shores of Boracay, err, Camaya Coast pala.
Notice that while training buddy Bong was itching to race with his trail shoes on, I was ready to lounge on the beach with my flip-flops. Hehe.

Posing in the main pavilion of Camaya Coast. Ganda ng place!

Another proof of my outing mode: I already had a free henna tattoo
even before being bodymarked for the race. Hehe.


With my henna tattoo already dried up, I was now ready for race bodymark.

Ooops, I forgot I also signed up for a race - and not just free transportation, resort entrance and free food. After the arrival of the second bus and quick race briefings, the aquathlon and trail run started simultaneously - en masse - on the beautiful beach of Camaya Coast.

Aquathletes and trail runners first run to the far end of the beach,
make a U-turn and traverse the beach once again...

(From left: Glenn, Ziggy, Vince, Ian, Bong after the U-turn....myself at the back of the pack.)
Akala ko ba chill run lang 'to?

before entering the coconut groves and then the hilly forested area.

Posing with Ellen within the coconut grove: This is how you do a chill run
Caution: You will end up last doing this. Waah!!!

Now this is my idea of beautiful trails. Creek, rocks, trees: lovely

Why, there was even a charming bamboo bridge?
But don't let the beautiful photos deceive you. It was a mean, challenging trail,
with narrow paths and steep inclines. Whew!

My strategy for the first run was to take it easy. I needed to save my legs for the swim. It was supposed to be a chill run for me, but the mass start saw everyone scampering along the beach sand. For all its fabled beauty, loose, fine sand is NOT ideal for running. As much as possible everyone ran on the wet, compact sand near the waterline, but inevitably we had to hit the dry, loose sand. Waah, ang hirap tumakbo! This scampering on soft sand caused some tightness in my lower legs that I had to really slow down entering into the coconut groves. I would NOT want to suffer cramps during the open water swim. Ellen was nearby trying to take photos, and chill-mode me paused for 2-3 minutes posing for posterity. Needless to say I was left behind. But I was not really bothered at that time. I was just chillin', remember?

I was so smitten by the beauty of the trail (the resort's hiking trail to the waterfalls actually) that I went to contemplative/nostalgic mode again. In the middle of a race! As I passed through the narrow (about a meter) ground trail surrounded by trees, exotic plants and criss-crossed by charming brook, I was transported to my freshman year at high school. My high school buddies JC, Joaquin and I (and occasionally the whole class!) would opt to take the backtrail to UPLB Baker Hall where we had PE class instead of taking the jeepney ride. The trail meant passing through a foot-wide forest floor trail, with lush shrubs and giant, century old trees forming a vast canopy. We would walk through this foot trail in our uniforms and leather shoes (yes, leathers!) and sometimes run whenever we scare each other shitless with unfounded fears of baboy ramo and giant snakes (the boar had been probably driven off into the hinterlands, the occasional snake was no means considered giant, not even big). The memory was strongest when I reached the rocks as I crossed the creek. Our trail to Baker Hall meant crossing the Molawin Creek, where we would deliberately hang-out to catch guppies by hand, or the occasional tilapia if we were lucky with the aquarium fish net. I never realized till now that I was into 'fishing' then. JC would end up being a biologist (specializing on fish and birds), would discover a species of local bird (or was it fish?), and would now be in Oxford University, UK doing what he loves. You are a lucky guy, my friend!

I snapped out of the memory lane when I heard footsteps. I knew I was already in the last pack of the aquathletes, but I got the shock when even the slowest of the recreational trail runners were catching up on me. Only then did it hit me. Sh*t, I think I would end up last on my 3rd aquathlon. This was a chill run/swim for me, yes, but I did not want to end up last. Certainly not now on my 3rd triathlon. Only then did I decide to run and scamper to the beach.

This is where we had our open water swim.

I took my sweet time during the first leg thinking I could still catch up on the swim leg. But I was several minutes behind. When I reached swim transition area, there were just few swimmers left, and most of them were already in their second and last loop. I was the last swimmer. Oh boy, poor boy! I spent some time in transition area to eat a piece of mooncake and down a bottle full of water. I entered the water confident I have done my swim homework. To soften the run to swim transition, I began with breaststroke. Soon enough I began my crawl which I had been practicing for weeks, even months. I was swimming effortlessly and strong - but in the wrong direction! I couldn't swim straight in the wavy, open water. My swim strategy was to stick close to the buoy at all costs. Unfortunately, I happen to breathe on my right side while the buoy line would be on my left the whole swim leg. Oh boy, I failed to consider that. I should have learned to breathe on any side. I could handle waves and occasional accidental swallowing of water, but I needed to see where I was supposed to go.

Exasperated with my zigzagging freestyle, I reverted to breaststroke. Days before I was kidding and encouraging training partner Bong that his breaststroke was actually more suited for open water, especially if there were waves. Risk-averse me considered reviving my long dormant breaststroke during practice swim, but busy me failed to do that. Proud me thought I could actually go faster if I stuck with the crawl. I was wrong. Dead wrong. And Bong had a good swim. So there I was in the open water alternating between crawl and breaststroke. At one point I tried to draft behind a strong freestyling swimmer, trying to apply what blogger Javy did in pool races before, but I ended up still veering away from a straight path. I just couldn't navigate well. Breaststroking me eventually managed to overtake the last two female aquathletes also suffering from the crawl, but I was really way behind the last of the men's group. I had no more swimmers to swim with or realistically overtake. Most of them were on their second loop already, or were already doing their second run.

The lone bright spot in my swim was when an aquathlete passed by me during my first loop. The guy in trisuit passed by me during the course part parallel to the beach. I noticed this guy had good swim form and seemed to know what he was doing so I decided to follow him. I was thrilled to know I could actually keep up with him freestyle so I became emboldened and swam faster alongside this guy (about half a meter away). For 50-100 meters or so, I swam along. I was swimming effortlessly and felt I was in the zone. The experience was actually surreal. It felt like swimming with a dolphin. I remembered 1988 six-time Olymic gold winner Matt Biondi remarking then that he trained by swimming with dolphins. This Camaya experience was probably the closet I could come to swimming with dolphins. I also realised then that if I wanted to swim to the best of my abilities, I must swim alongside good swimmers.

I wanted to swim alongside the human dolphin till the end but I lost him when he made the 90-degree turn towards the shore. Shocks, I haven't practiced sharp turns so I got disoriented for a while. Darn, I lost my navigator and pacer. This was also the point where Ziggy saw me and cheered me. I tried to chase after them but I couldn't see the buoy on my left. For the rest of my swim, I tried a combination of freestyle and breaststroke. I was mentally exasperated with the difficulty of navigation but I was not physically tired. Worst, I have no clue of how fast or slow I was going for I had no more benchmarks. My exasperation showed in my poor swim split.

Eventually the swim episode ended and I began the second and last trail run.

I saw the creek again but stopped the nostalgic trip this time. Despite being behind, I did my best to greet or smile at every returning runner I met along the way.

As I head back toward the finish line, I saw Bong running towards me with a camera.
Hey buddy, thanks for pacing with me for a few meters and taking my action shots.

Coming out of the woods: the faster I ran, the quicker I could eat!
I was running hard this time for I was really hungry! Lunch beckoned strongly.
Lunch and merienda buffet were simple, but healthy and filling. I must have drunk at least a pitcher of fresh buko juice all day. Winner!

Finally a few meters from finish line. On the background was the transition area.
Strong finish pa rin! Official announced your name as you finished. Cool - another race done.
I could now chill again. Yehey!

Winners and their supporters: Ziggy topping the 30-39 aquathlon age group.
Jihan and Cathy winning 2nd and 3rd on the women's division of the trail run.
Bong and Ian finishing well too, just a few minutes away from Ziggy.
Ellen, winning the action photography award from appreciative us.
Myself, getting what I wanted - a beach outing, open water experience,
and chill run on the beach and trail.

Chillin' at the kayak post-race. Got to row again and even taught the girls how to steer the kayak. Was this taken before or after we were told by the lifeguards not to venture again beyond the poontoon and their line of sight? Sorry, we didn't know the rule and we got carried away by the sights. Awesome views!

Jump of joy before we depart

Guys and gals, we are doing this again, ok? I had a blast. Thank you my friends. Thank you too TRAP and Speedo. I love Camaya! See you all at next year's race - that includes all of you who missed this experience!