My Facebook State of Mind

The thing I like about running is that it engages your mind. The thing I hate about running is that it engages your mind so much that at times that it feels like "Insomnia".

I never thought that I'd fall in love, love, love, love
But it grew from a simple crush, crush, crush, crush
Being without you girl, I was all messed up, up, up, up
When you walked out, said that you'd had enough-nough-nough-nough

Because i can't sleep til you're next to me
No i can't live without you no more
Oh i stay up til you're next to me
Til this house feels like it did before
Feels like insomnia ah ah, Feels like insomnia ah ah
Feels like insomnia ah ah, Feels like insomnia ah ah

Insomnia is also something you get when you stick around way too long in the takbo.ph shoutbox, hang around with the forum members for weekend and weeknight runs, throw pool parties, go for videoke marathon, and have liquid carbo loading after. What's the title of that song again where the male singer raps, "Save Me!!!", while a beautiful girl hauntingly sings, "Bring Me to Life"

how can you see into my eyes like open doors
leading you down into my core
where I’ve become so numb without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold
until you find it there and lead it back home

(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can’t wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
bid my blood to run
(I can’t wake up)
before I come undone
(Save me)
save me from the nothing I’ve become

Well this last song has been in my running thoughts for months now. I was supposed to sing this in the recent takbo.ph videoke session, and had been practicing it actually, but unfortunately Music 21 is not updated on this Jason Mraz potential classic. This song is something I associate with full marathon. I guess I am not yet ready to sing "I'm Yours" beyond the confines of my car.

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 trying to get back
Before the cool done run out
I'll be giving it my bestest
And nothin's going to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some

But I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm yours

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

Of Great Adventures and Ominous Starts

Great adventures could still spring from ominous starts. One simply needs to persist.

First ominous sign of the day was that I left the house in Paranaque at 5am, for a trail run in Rodriguez town of Rizal that was supposed to start at that same time. A night person, I always struggled waking up early and it didn't help that I lacked sleep for the last 5 days. In addition, I suffered from slight nasal congestion and throat irritation, and I was tired and drenched from a short but terrible bike ride in pouring rain the previous day. Ominous indeed.

I wanted to experience trail running, however, and I wanted to spend my weekend with fellow takbo.ph addicts - diverse group of people with just the right mix of passion, non-chalance, seriousness and comedic gifts. So I ventured on hoping to catch up with the guys. The problem was I was not familiar with the route going there. Rizal for me is a province connoting serious distance from the metropolis. I called run coordinator Mar for some directions. From Philcoa, you turn right at Batasan Road, make two more turns, and then follow the directional signs to San Mateo and Wawa Dam. Hearing them from Mar, the directions sounded easy. I did make it to Batasan Road and followed signs pointing to San Mateo, but after some point I was no longer sure I was on the right track. I tried to find Wawa dam in my map book of Metro Manila, but sadly, Rodriguez town is NOT in Metro Manila.

I was getting distraught. I wanted to follow after the group but I did not want to inconvenience or bother them further. I was late by my own making and I had no one else to blame. It was at this time that I texted Mar to tell him I was lost and that I would just settle on going to La Mesa ecopark which fortunately was on my Metro Manila map. I tried to cheer myself that La Mesa ecopark, which I had not seen yet, looked suitable for trail running and possibly even for some bike time on the roadie I brought with me.

But first I needed to know where I was. I asked an amiable old man at the street intersection which happened to be near Puregold San Mateo. Manong, paano ho pumunta ng La Mesa ecopark? Gaano ho kalayo? San Mateo na ho pala ito. Gaano ba kalayo ang Wawa dam? The helpful man's responses felt like a crossroads of sorts for me: Do I go to nearby La Mesa ecopark via 3-5kms of circuitous, small roads? Or do I follow 9-10kms of straight highway to Wawa Dam. Already lost, I opted for the long but less complicated way to Wawa Dam. I was at least an 1hour late and behind the takbo.ph group, so I would just go to Wawa to do trail run and possibly bike, not necessarily counting on the possibility that I could still see my group. Faced with the sad prospect of doing this alone, I passed by a Mercury Drug store and got a bagful of chips, choco bars, hopia and fluids to sustain me in my lonely run or ride.

Hills. After kilometers of flat concrete roads, I finally saw some hills.

The dam must be near. That was my first smile of the morning.

After numerous directions from strangers, eventually, I found the Wawa Dam. Under the shade of trees and in front of the local tourism office, a horde of cars presumably from my takbo.ph buddies were neatly parked. The person manning the gateway confirmed my impression.

I felt strange starting my trail run/walk. There I was in some small town clad in blazing red dry-fit shirt, black cycling shorts, and attention-grabbing red, white and black Fuel (hydration) Belt. The locals were looking at me respectfully but with quiet curiosity. They must be thinking, Ano ang ginagawa ng taga-ciudad na ito sa bayan natin? Inside me I wanted to retort. Probinsyano - isang Tagalog - rin ho ako tulad ninyo. But I knew I would not sound convincing for the occasion. The children were more amusing but direct: Kuya, ano yang nasa beywang mo? I took everything in stride and smiled back at every local I met along the way.

Less than a kilometer into my trail run/hike, I realized: Schumacher, this trail seemed forever uphill! What have I gotten myself into? Does Rene the jazzrunner always do trail runs like this? My God, no wonder he did well in the Condura Run! I intended to test-run my NB 812 all-terrain shoes by running, not by hiking and panting my way up. This lethal potion of doubt and regret corroded my resolve for a good 2-3kms of the run. The lore of trail running was supposedly filled with stories of wonderful adventures. What I had been having was the drudgery of pulling myself up and forward over initially gravelly/grainy dirt road. I tried to amuse myself by examining my immediate surroundings, but all I saw were grass, small herbs or shrubs, and banana plants.

I recalled my childhood and teenage years growing up on the foothills of Mt. Makiling in Los Banos, Laguna. Boy scouting meant the requisite climb up the resident mountain, pass through asphalt university roads, through the lush rainforest, and often ending up on the other side of the town with a splendid view of Laguna de Bay. I hated the compulsion and perfunctory of those treks, but I remember with vividness the sight of birds, ferns, majestic trees, and exotic flowers along the way. I might not know all their scientifc names, but I could identify most of them and be able to differentiate them. I have had two decades of mountain memories. These include lazy summer days lying on our rooftop proving with our own eyes that the mountain was indeed shaped like the legendary Maria Makiling lying down. From our rooftop, it was very clear.

Did I need to do hill or mountain trail runs to relive the mountain memories? It was rather ironic that I could not remember a single townmate who ended up being a mountain climber. Well, our batch produced a champion mountain biker, but that was it. If you grew up on the mountain, would you be inclined to take its beauty for granted? Or would you simply be not as mountain hungry as the city-bred? Such thoughts raced through my mind as I hiked up the trail in pursuit of my supposed companions. Loneliness has an insidious and creeping way of testing one's resolve, but I persevered. You wanted to do Baguio half-marathon right? You would be doing your first short trail race in a few days, right? Be careful what you wish for, for they will be granted! Be prepared to receive them!

Every now and then great vistas would lift my spirits.

At a certain point I thought this was the top of the hills
and on top I would find friends...


But behind these hills I only found more challenges...

Yesterday' s rain has turned the red clay into sticky mud
at least 2-inched thick on my trail shoe soles

Walking with mud weighing down your feet was an arduous experience. Along the way I would often ask the local villagers if they saw a gaggle of runners/hikers. All said yes but I was not certain I could still catch up with them, or if they would make a U-turn and follow the same path back. I asked myself if I should call/text them, if not to bother them at least to inform them that I was on the same mountain. The place radiated calmness and serenity but tourists have been known to be hurt or killed in calm Sagada or Ifugao. I cringed at the thought but banished it instantly. In my heart I knew no harm will befall me.

Eventually I was rewarded with the most gratifying view: hordes of takbo.ph runners having a blast on top of the mountain. Many meters away I could already hear their merry banter.

On top of that hill are my photo crazy friends.

And from above my people saw me and called my name.
I rejoiced with them.
The doubts, regrets, drudgery: they all vanished,
engulfed by the memory of being one with them.

Can you see me against the red clay wall?
photo courtesy of Edu Fabian

I've never felt happier in recent days.

photo courtesy of Rodel (Argonaut)

photo courtesy of Carlo Serrano

On the way down I asked myself: how could 5kms of torture suddenly seem short and easy. Well, everything seems easy if everyone does things together.

photo courtesy of Rodel (Argonaut)

photo courtesy of Timmy Sebastian

photo courtesy of Carlo Serrano

photo courtesy of Carlo Serrano

photo courtesy of Carlo Serrano

photo courtesy of Carlo Serrano

photo courtesy of Carlo Serrano

Will these pair of legs and shoes run trails like these again?

Alone, maybe not. The owner has enough personal memories of mountains.
With friends and people who matter, certainly yes, for there are more memories to be made and shared.


Special thanks to Mar Marilag and Rene Vallarta for making this run possible.

Greenfields are made of these

Another finisher's medal within eight months of resuming active running. Let me make a roll-call: (1) New Balance Powerrace 25K, (2) Run for Their Lives 10K, (3) Condura Run 21K, and now this, (4) Greenfields City Run 21K.

I must admit that the come-on for me for this race were the distance, the medal and the location. After the Condura 21K where I had an injured run time of 2:46, I was itching to create a new 21K PR. That a medal would go with a new PR was a real sweetener. Also, I liked the location. The family always passed by the wide expanse that is Greenfields from my mom's hometown of Calamba enroute to Tagaytay. By cultural affinity and sentimental attachment though, I still considered neighboring town of Los Banos - a cultural melting pot, a quaint college town and my birth place - as my hometown despite my family being based in Calamba in recent years.

I was late coming from my adopted city of Paranaque. I planned to leave the city at 4am and woke up early enough, but I was not as excited to race as I was during the Condura Run. Well, Condura was really special. Truth was, I was more excited about the post-race breakfast. Anyhow, I managed to drag myself away from home at 4:30am and was in Paseo de Sta Rosa intersection at exactly 5am. It took me a while (an eternity from where I was seated then) to enter the complex and park.

In classic but not-to-be-proud-of fashion, I started the race late - five minutes lang naman this time. I even took my sweet time passing through the starting line. It was dark and I was the lone runner. More than catching up I was bothered about taking a leak. I should have looked for the rest room first before starting! At about 1.5km, I decided to release water. It was dark and I was alone on the road anyway. Taking a leak by a young acacia tree was liberating. Minutes after my leaky deed, I heard runners - runningpinoy Dennis of takbo.ph and another female runner. I was not so alone after all. But Dennis was fast and breezed through us. I tried to keep up with the female runner. I was still in the sleepy, not-yet-warmed up mode though.

The spa-like music at the entrance of Pramana village was soothing and a good marketing touch (subliminal association) for the village, but it did not help me wake up from my stupor. Maybe I was oscillating between sleepy and meditative that a female marshall loudly blurted: "Kaya pa ba? Kaya pa ba?" Well this comment woke me up. Three kilometers into the run I maybe sleepy but I was far from exhausted. Because I was late and so behind other runners, maybe the girl thought I already lost steam that early. Nevertheless, that remark is NOT encouraging at all. Was she trying to be cute and perky? Maybe, but thing was neither the remark nor its source was cute.

I finally jolted out of my stupor when I saw the lead batch of runners from their first U-turn. As usual, I was so energized by their presence that I found myself running as fast as 5:30min/km. I also got a huge high from greeting fellow runners, especially those I personally know. My plan was to do a positive split on account of projected heat at second half, but the plan was simply a conservative 6:30-7min/km on first half, and 7-7:30min/km on the latter half. Still, for a good 500m running opposite the strong runners, I sped up and finally overtook a few runners. I was a little faster than originally planned but the darkness and cool temperature emboldened me to run a little faster. On hindsight, I thought I could have gotten a better overall time had I been less conservative and milked the positive split strategy for all its worth while the sun was still down.

Eventually I settled into the vicinity of my target pace of 7-7:20min/km. At the entrance of Techo Park Hotel, strains of Beyonce (All the Single Ladies, I think) beckoned and instantaneously I imagined Beyonce doing her signature moves in front of me. Beyonce's gyrations powered me through about 3 minutes of below 6min/km paced run. Once again, I ran faster than planned, but I reasoned out it was still cool anyway. Beyonce may have pumped up my blood a bit, but I was still doing okay. The kilometers that followed passed lazily like summer mornings. True to expectations of a classic Rio race, water was overfollowing, markers were presents, and marshalls were everywhere.

The Color of Greenfields is Yellow

At about km15 I saw a familiar runner in familiar bright colored shorts. Familiar because I struggled to avoid the frog kicks of this same dude during the swim leg of a mini-sprint triathlon. Toward the end of the bike lap I saw the yellow shorts again for the guy was struggling with the gears of his roadie. Yellow shorts greeted me again when the dude passed by me during the run leg. That yellow was unmistakable.

I thought that was it and I was over with visions of yellow. But no, yellow shorts would appear again in the Speedo aquathlon and yes, on the roads of Greenfields. In the Speedo aquathlon I found dude in yellow running beside me on the Ultra oval for the last 200 meters of the aquathlon. I think he had some difficulty in the swim but he was proving once again that he is a better runner than swimmer. I was so surprised to see someone coming from behind that I could not decide that moment whether to sprint past him or let him go past me. I simply decided to keep my pace and let the guy take his moment. Looking back I think I could have outran him but I didn't bother. Honestly, I would have preferred an impromptu small bet of who could reach the finish line first, or even a simultaneous finish. But there was really no time to discuss finish line scenarios.

When I saw the yellow shorts again on the roads of Greenfields, I decided to pace with him a bit. (I think he was also treating me as some easy and familiar benchmark to overtake hehe). After brief chit-chat I left behind my now familiar friend. I knew yellow shorts was just behind me so I simply did my best to sustain if not improve my pace. In my last turn right to the finish line (less than 100 meters away from endline), my friend re-appeared again - panting a bit but still eager to do better. Had to decide again: would I give in, claim my round this time, or finish together? With no time once more for negotiations, I turned on my accelerator and raced to the finish line. I finished in 2:39:38, about 9 seconds ahead of my friend. My time could have been 5 minutes faster had I come on time. But dude in yellow actually started later than me so in truth he was the faster runner. In all sincerity I think he really is the better runner. But officially for now I am better - 9 seconds better. Haha.

Dude, if by any chance you read this, let me just tell you that next time we can finish together para wala na lang lamangan. Basta maayos lang ang usapan. Or pwede rin take turns na lang tayo sa finish line? Haha. See you in future races.

It's the people, not the perks

Greenfields for me was not about the new race route, the medal nor the new PR. Finishline.ph did raise the ante in race organization with a lot of thoughful touches here and there. I particularly commend the fact that certain model houses in Pramana were made open for rest room break and there were portalets along the route (Had I known I should not have watered the young acacia on the dark road). For all its professionalism, however, a race organizer could only think and do so much. A great deal also hinges on the sponsoring body or the group behind the race. Races are good promotional activities, but I hope behind every promoting body there are passionate runners out there willing to go the extra mile to put in the runner's touch. Just like the Concepcion brothers.

The runner's touch is some ex-factor. When a race is done by runners, for runners, it acquires a soul and exudes an aura hard to define but recognizable by every runner at heart. I yearn for these races, and I am optimistic there will be more Condura Runs, Happy Runs and New Balance Powerraces. I hope race-sponsoring companies reach out to us runners where it really matters: our hearts and minds. Give us a race equivalent of poignant McDonald's or Jollibee ads. More than flash and gimmickry, we appreciate honesty and sincerity.

It was the sincerity and generosity of one running family that really made my race day. Verdana-based runner Mhel De Leon, pretty wife Mai, cute kid Cyrus and little baby welcomed into their home for overnight stay one new runner friend they met at the takbo.ph carbo loading party and about half a dozen more runners who except for few online exchanges at takbo.ph forum were essentially still strangers. Mhel and family extended their generosity to other more runners by inviting them for post-race breakfast. About two dozen strangers came for hearty breakfast but everyone went home as running friends. Mhel and family, thank you once again for the invitation. You showed us a level of generosity I could only aspire to have. Yours is a Filipino family at its best - heart-warming and generous. I would like to come back, if only to relive the memories and be reminded of the values that makes us the friendliest nation in the world.

Group photos courtesy of Carlo (Hydraice)

Generous people. Good memories. Greenfields are made of these.

I will swim forever

The plan was a relaxation swim that will loosen some of the remaining tightness from my quads, hamstrings and gluteal muscles as a result of a 21K training run two nights ago. I started very, very slow - at what I love to call as meditative pace. I missed that pace. That swim pace in college helped me unravel philosophical conundrums, digest history of economic thought, solve quadratic equations, and fathom the complexities of women and relationships. Till now, when I hit the occasional doldrums, I wallow in the water, loosen my baggage, clear the mind, and emerge a better person.

Tonight I simply wanted to feel the water. Enjoy the magic of how a heavy person like me manage to slice through water with minimal effort. Tonight I had no puzzle to solve. I simply wanted the waters to cool my skin and knead my aching muscles. I had no intention of beating certain times, but I timed my laps just the same using the my new Timex Ironman watch. I get a child's thrill pushing that lap button every lap completed. When I decided last year to try triathlon again, I got myself the most expensive Timex Ironman watch as some sort of an incentive. I specifically wanted the Ironman series for it reminded me of my rather lofty aspirations. Someday and a zillion hours of more training, I will... I lost the expensive and sentimental Ironman watch. I replaced it with Casio for a while, but the Casio did not seem to have the Ironman spirit in it. I ditched the Casio and acquired the cheapest Timex Ironman model this time. Cheap model actually has that big lap button that I like.

I was not only enjoying pressing the lap button each time. I was also enjoying the times I saw on its screen. They were VERY far from brag-worthy times, but with each lap I seemed to get faster given the same perceived level of effort. So encouraged was I that I thought maybe I could notch up this relaxation swim a bit. I remembered that recent Inquirer article on triathlete Fred Uytengsu entitled "How A CEO Becomes an Ironman". Idol Fred says he swims 3kms per session so maybe I can give that distance a shot (and be an ingot closer to becoming an Ironman). It was only last week when I first tried a continuous (rest-free and drink-free) 2km swim, and I was ok naman.

I was ok naman for the duration of my continuous 3km swim attempt. The magic was I didn't feel tired, run out of breath, get thirsty or hungry. I was OK, in the zone, and loving every moment of it! Yes, I was still relatively slow and well below race pace, but who cared? Certainly not me. What was running in my mind was that rush of a realization that if I just swim like that, I can swim forever! The realization came somewhere in the middle of my swim distance, and just like magic, I was surprisingly fast in my middle laps! Morale: think happy thoughts and you will dart away like a fish.

Towards my last two laps before hitting 3km, I toyed with the idea of shooting for 4km. I was in the zone anyway and still strong. But then I realized I have had enough swimmer's high for the night. Savor the moment and save the attempt for 4km for other nights.

On my finishing lap I sprinted like crazy - a mad, lung-busting, celebratory rush to touch the wall. Some meters from the wall I remembered: I can swim forever. True. But tonight, I celebrate. I touched the wall, pressed on the watch for the last time, and savored my bottle of sports drink till the last drop. Cheers to magical swim nights.


I will sing forever of Your love, O Lord
I will celebrate the wonder of Your Name
For the word that You speak is a song of forgiveness
And a song of gentle mercy and of peace

- I Will Sing Forever, Bukas Palad Choir

Anatomy of An Injury

Injury is every athlete's nightmare. It can be a result of an accident (e.g. a bad fall) or misuse. Most runners' injuries I surmise fall under the second category, which can be further broken down into two sub-categories. First is wanton disrespect for the body's need for rest and recovery - often riding on the belief of "no pain, no gain", disguised sometimes as "mind over matter," harking back to memories of youthful invincibility, and fueled incessantly by dreams of greatness or perhaps illusions of grandeur. The other is unfortunate and innocent lack of appreciation of one's limits and ignorance of the body's mechanisms to cope with physical stress.

If one limps as he walks and he cannot run no matter how hard he tries, I supposed that qualifies him as injured. I was in that condition last week of February 2009. After several weeks of denial, I finally graduated from "being sore" or "in slight pain" to accepting I was "injured." The thing is I do not know really what kind of injury hit me and what under what category of injured do I fall: the disrespectful or the ignorant? Obviously the injury was not an accident; the closest it came to that was being an accident waiting to happen.

Injury was something I abhorred from the start and took pains to understand so I could escape it. It hit me nevertheless and it better not hit me again (well may be one or two more time(s) is allowed, but nothing more, okay?) As I surface from this rut called injury, I look back and attempt to understand what hit me.

I never had running injury from 2003 to 2006. During those years, the severly overweight me would jog at slow pace of 7-8.5kph on treadmills, almost everyday (sometimes twice a day) for up to 3 months to lose weight. During those brief periods of running and quick, massive, weight loss, I managed to squeeze in races from 5K to 25K. Yes, I progressed rapidly in distance but maintained my relatively slow pace. Back then, I did not know what taper and tempo meant. Pronation was alien to me, but I instinctively selected shoes that are wide, well-cushioned inside and pliable at the mid-foot. I would often choose New Balance for it was the only one with the wide E size. The last NB shoe I could remember using then was NB 716 which was actually a cross-trainer.

When I decided to run again in August 2008 (to lose weight once more!), the NB 716 I bought in 2006 was miraculously still intact. I used it to run on treadmills once again (3-4x a week) and on two mini-sprint triathlons, and one each of 5K, 10K and 15K. I used it till first week of November 2008, when I finally decided to retire it and reward myself with a new pair in time for the New Balance Powerrace. From August to November I progressively upped the speed ante a bit to a max of 9-10kph, in preparation for the Powerrace. The only discomfort I felt during the period was some knee pain, which was quickly eliminated when I applied what I learned in the Running Aid series about slightly bending your knees when you run. I would still say my 2008 re-entry to running was still injury-free.

The critical period I think was that surrounding the Nov 16 Powerrace. There were 3 variables at play: distance, speed and shoes. One month prior to the race I made the crazy decision to run the 25K. While I have done this distance twice years before, it was a bit too soon for me to jump to 25K just two-and-a-half months after I resumed running. It was a crazy and ambitious plan but I managed to slowly increase my mileage, peak and taper within a month, with twice a week rest days even tucked in. For the race, I also slowly increased my speed from steady 8kph to 9/10kph during training runs. Lastly, I bought NB 859 a week before the race. Having read about pronation and motion control shoes, I chose this high stability pair for my supposedly wide, flat feet.

I finished the Powerrace in my NB 859 good enough relative to my level of preparation (time was 3:07 for 25K), but I was dead-tired after. My legs ached but not as much as my left heel hurt. My left foot became a concern that I even had to blog about it 2 weeks later (read here). I had signs of plantar fasciitis in my left heel.

To protect my left heel, I diligently tried to change my foot strike from heavy heel strike to mid-foot strike. I spent almost the whole of December doing this modification. I successfully eliminated my heel pain, but I suffered from mid-foot pain and symptoms of achilles tendinitis. Nevertheless, in December I somehow managed to run as far as 36K using the mid-foot strike.

In January, afraid of further hurting my delicate mid-foot bones and achilles tendon, I tried to settle for a foot-strike that was somewhere in between my original heavy heel strike and the exaggerated mid-foot strike I was recently doing. The pain in the mid-foot and the tendon disappeared, but some mild plantar fasciities symptoms reappeared. I consoled myself by saying that PF was the lesser evil. I lessened my mileage but PF was still there up to1-2 days after each run.

In February I decided to get a new pair of shoes as alternative to my sole pair that was NB 859. I was checking out some high stability (motion control) shoes of ASICS but the stores do not have my size for the model I want. Out of frustration I blurted out to the store clerk, "So what else do you have?" The store personnel suggested I have my feet checked first so they could better recommend shoes, and so I relented. I was made to stand on a contraption made of mirrors so the personnel can check my foot arch. I got the surprise of my running life when they told me I had high arches! How can that be? I have always had that image of having wide, flat feet. But the mirrors and two wet-feet-on-paper tests later did reveal I have high arches. I ended up buying the latest neutral cushioning shoes of New Balance, NB 1063. With this pair I managed to finish the 15K Power Run despite very low recent mileage prior to race, as well as do reasonably ok in the 5K run leg of the Ateneo Aquathlon. The best thing was I got rid of the plantar fasciitis symptoms.

I thought I already found salvation in the NB 1063, when one training run on asphalt oval I found myself running ridiculously slow (almost 9min/km). What the hell was happening? I was supposed to have the lastest cushioning shoes so why did my legs feel weak? I felt even worse the day after that I decided to skip work and went to see a doctor. Doctor said I did not seem to have stress fracture (I could opt for an x-ray if I wanted to be sure) and that what I had was probably muscle strain. A physical therapist did some stretches to my legs, applied gels on my calves and used ultrasound, but none of these seemed to have any temporary or medium-term effect. In fact, I even felt worse. From that day onward I did not run, not even bike.

I rested my legs for at least 2 weeks. The first week my calf muscles (gastrocnemius and soleus) were tense but weak. At one point during a recovery swim I accidently stumped on my left foot with slight force and my calves instantaneously tensed up and cramped up. The tension abated but lasted a few days more. The second week seemed to provide some improvement. After two weeks the pains and tension were gone. I was not in the best physical condition but I was strong enough to do a 15K LSD using my NB 1063. But how slow it was - about 9-10min/km.

At this point I was already in a deep quandary. I already rested for 2 weeks. Why couldn't I return at least to my easy jogging pace of 8min/km? No specific part of my legs were in pain, but my legs seemed to be made of jelly - too soft to prop up my weight and carry me forward. The only hypothesis that made sense to me back then was that my leg muscles were so used to motion control shoes that they were at a loss now with all the freedom of movement that a neutral cushioning shoes brought. Maybe I needed a transition shoe - something that still gave support but was flexible enough. It was then I decided to scout for light stability or supportive cushioning shoes.

My search for light stability shoes, greatly aided by Runner's World, led me to New Balance's 769 and ASICS Kayano series and the 1100 series. An NB fan, I was leaning towards the 769, but for a change I decided to try ASICS. I can go back to NB for the next pair if indeed light stability is the shoe type for me. This time around, I let my feet decide. For some reason, my feet did not like the feel of Kayano 14, but they received well the Gel 1130 model.

I broke-in my ASICS Gel 1130 during the 10K Run for Their Lives. From a 9-10min/km an LSD week earlier, my race pace averaged 8min/km. I even had moments when I was running comfortably at below 6min/km. Just like that I ran better. The result was so overwhelming I quickly shifted from wondering if I could run the Condura 21K to thinking what my 21K pace ought to be. The shoes and Condura weaved their magic and I ran at average pace of 7:30min/km, two weeks after a self-imposed moratorium from running.

Hoping to prove that my Run for Their Lives and Condura performances are no flukes, I did the Men's Health 10k Miracle Run yet another week after Condura. I even did better and average 7min/km. The best part was I seemed to be free from symptoms of plantar fasciitis and muscle soreness. The recovery periods after each race or run was fast shortening from as much as 4 days to as little as 24 hrs.

I have since done several short runs and LSDs completely pain-free. I have resumed biking and have begun increasing leg weights while in the gym. So how exactly did I recover? Was it my running moratorium? Was it a simple matter of changing shoes? Can I attribute it to the intensive stretching and yoga poses I did? I wish I could have experimented on myself and alter each variable separately to determine true causation. Unfortunately, I am not a guinea pig.

My hunch tells me the most critical factor was the shoes. After my personal experience, I have grown wary of motion control shoes. Moreso when I learned from a friend who bought the same NB 859 for his wide flat feet that he suffered doing his 10K Powerrace. He would stop and walk every now and then during the race, and would require deep sports massage after. When the same friend did the 21K Condura (his next race after the Powerrace), he wisely used his old trainers and easily and happily finished ahead of me! To think all the training my newbie friend had after Powerrace and prior to Condura were 5-8Ks you could count in your one hand.

The right shoes are so important that I am thinking of going to Second Wind Store for personalised foot analysis by store owner Hector Yuzon before getting my next pair. While I am leaning forward now to the concept of running shoes being ideally neutral and non-stride altering, I think my best ally and defense against the ardent (and possibly self-serving) marketing people of shoe companies is a person like Hector who knows his shoes. Like Hector, I am now inspired to learn more about shoes, running form and injuries. While still new in the learning curve, it is helpful to learn from someone who has already been there.

Next to shoes, the other important consideration is recovery time. I admit I tend to make dramatic increases in race length or run mileage, but I think those could still be done had I made time for recovery. In my haste to make progress and puffed up with confidence that I could actually ran longer distances, I pushed, pushed and pushed until my body finally threw in the towel! I forgot the cardinal rule: progress is not made during the run, but while in recovery. I do not get faster and stronger by doing intervals and long runs. I become so when my muscles finally adapt to the stress inflicted on them.

Lastly, I belittled the importance of stretching. I would cool down but not stretch after races or runs. When my muscles remained tight even during my running moratorium, I realized how much tightness my muscles accumulated through the months. Since the realization, I would devote at least 30 minutes to doing deep muscle stretches or yoga poses.

I often learn my lessons the hard way. I hope my lessons have been hard enough - etched forever in my mental and muscle memories so I will not forget them.

Stations of My Cross

I left the office early and excited last Holy Wednesday to go to Bike Room in Cartimar for the bike shoes I should have bought months earlier. After checking out bike shoes in various bike shops, I finally gave in and followed the recommendation of the authoritative but friendly store owner of Bike Room. She recommended this Italian brand which was priced way higher than my most expensive running shoes and certainly costlier than the soft leather shoes I wear for work. While I like the look and image of Italian patent leather shoes, I have long realized that my feet do not love those stiff shoes. Yet here I was in a bike store fitting and paying for italian leather sports shoes this time.

The next afternoon I found myself going to my favorite sports playground to test ride the Italian leathers. Along the way I passed two churches and pondered for few moments if I was capable of doing what Jesus did - you know, dying for others. I suppose if I love enough I can die for others too. Thank God there was no one to die for at moment. I think my parents would prefer that I live rather than die for them. My nieces and nephews, well they have their parents to die for them (haha). Besides, I still have to brake-in my new shoes! :-)

I will let you in on a secret: it took a long time for me to get those bike shoes because I was afraid of them. I have heard of horror stories from friends of semplangs (falls) because they were not able to uncleat their shoes on time. I am such a klutz. While I may be able to think fast, I have poor physical reflexes. Armed with those stories and aware of my weaknesses, I spent a good hour the night of my purchase cleating and uncleating those shoes while standing over my bike.

Before my actual bike ride in my playground, I tested uncleating and cleating again. Ten minutes into it and I assumed I was good to go. I finished one bike round without any incident. I even injected more drills (uncleating and cleating while cruising and uncleating prior to full stop) in the middle of the round. What a difference those bike shoes make! I reached a new max speed of 37kph without much effort, and I hope to clear 40kph soon. Give me long, flat roads and I will zoom away with my Italian shoes!

What I failed to prepare for was cleating on an incline. I found myself in this situation on the start of my second bike round. Still high on my stronger and faster ride (thanks to those stiff soles), I confidently mounted my bike. My right foot cleated quickly but my left gingerly groped for that click. I wobbled terribly with the road incline, but the bike would not move, until finally I fell - one foot cleated, other foot free. Splattered on the ground and surprised, I blurted out an expletive in the vernacular - crisp and loud enough to be heard by a cute girl passing at the most unfortunate time. I managed to rise and embarassingly look at her. I was too stunned to say anything. The girl was proper enough not to say anything and considerate enough to suppress her smile. Fall outcomes: leg scratches and bruised ego.

Cute girl has already passed when I attempted to ride again. Same things happened: right foot cleated, left foot failed to latch, bike still on an incline, pedals would not turn, and clumsy butt kissed the road again. Geez, not again! Eventually I got it. The incline - I was not prepared for it so I must walk with my bike a few meters ahead and start on relatively flat land. Fell twice, humbled nth number of times.

I am no saint but neither am I an evil person. I am an ordinary Juan struggling to make it alive to the finish line. Occasionally I sin and I probably tried all the seven deadly sins. I am certainly guilty of gluttony, sometimes lust, on certain days sloth, and probably more often than I like, pride - said to be the deadliest of them all. So falling is nothing new to me. Certainly not proud of it, but one thing I always endeavor to do is to stand up as quickly as I can. I was certainly quick when that cute girl was in sight.

The stations of my cross for this Holy Thursday were spread along 40kms of a bike ride. Come to think of it, I am still unclear what my current cross is supposed to be. But carry it I will. I have had two falls at km12. As I was about to complete 40kms, I slowed towards an intersection and debated with myself whether I should uncleat and make a full stop or hope for perfect timing that the intersection will be cleared just in time. I bet on the second option, but the passing car did not move quickly enough. I had to press that break without enough time to uncleat. I fell for the third time. The chain even disengaged this time.

I seemed to be destined to master the art of falling. What's a guy to do: practice, practice, practice. And pray. Obsessive-compulsive already I am but that cleating on incline still eluded my projections. I am still thankful all I have had are stupidity falls. When I signed up for this thing called sports I know there are some risks, but so does this thing called life. I do not mind falling and I would certainly continue to stand up each time I fall, but I do have one prayer request: that each fall may knock sense to me, but not knock me out entirely. I want to reach the pearly gates of the finish line strong and jubilant. I might fall over and over, but I will pick up the pieces each time.

I will finish life's races. Because I will it, my loved ones cheer for me, and my God awaits at the finish lines.