The Winds of November

Wind born out of the heights of Antipolo rushed swiftly down to the lowlands passing through sleeping towns east of the metropolis. It crossed a mighty river who just recently wrought havoc and distress. The wind continued to flow along the city avenues and elevated roads made of steel bars, concrete and asphalt. In the heart of the wide expansive land of Bonifacio where a running event has just started, the wind blew strong and cold. It hit the masses of runners excitedly starting their day with the usual festive Sunday race. The wind was chilly producing shivers and goose bumps. Autumn was about to end and the big guns of October have fallen silent. Amidst the settling dust, runners were left gaping and wanting. The promise of excitement and triumphs were replaced by remarks of mediocrity and stories of horror. But November has come and brought new wind.

Timex Run. I was climbing Kalayaan Bridge when light started to invade the dark. The sky was slowly transforming from blue-black to light blue. At the top of the Bridge before the sharp decent to Buendia Avenue, I spied on the cityscape dotted with small lights from houses like tiny twinkling stars. The chill of the wind has lessened to a welcome cool breeze. At the foot of Bridge, I met the lead runner on the return route, a Kenyan running easily with two more Kenyans and a local (Alley Quisay) hot on his trail. Then the first of the water stations appeared and it was a sight to behold. Long tables with hundreds of cups grouped alternately with water and 100Plus. A setup long requested by runners and tenaciously drawn attention to by noted bloggers. Same water station arrangement would be found throughout the course at unbelievingly close intervals.

The sun was already shining brightly when I entered the Heritage Park. Somehow, the heat was not so hot even in the absence of the wind. The Park was still and quiet as if afraid to wake its residents. Sparse trees, neatly manicured lawn and the calm waters of a pond further highlighted the required serenity of the place. The soft woosh-woosh of running shoes from hundreds of odd feet discretely invaded the silence competing with the chirps and strange calls of birds. The two-kilometer run inside the Park was enough respite from the oft-used worn-out route.

Chasing my shadow

The last kilometers took an interesting detour around the entrance of the American Cemetery and Trion Towers. On the last turn, the sun was high on my back casting long shadows in front of me. I was running strongly

as I chased my shadow to the finish line with a new PR.

NB Power Run. The sun was already a third to its zenith floating like a molten ball above the thin clouds. We just passed the U-turn at C5 when,

JI, my companion suddenly attacked the long incline after Heritage. I was reluctant to go after him; I should be taking it easy being in taper mode but the thrill of the chase got me going. At the top, we paused to catch our breath and waited for our other companion, NH, to catch up. We would repeat the hill assault like madmen at Bayani Road exiting to

Lawton and at the dreaded long McKinley Hill. At each the peak, JI and I would stop, rest and chat idly like oldwives having coffee while waiting for NH. Runners that we overtook along the rise would look at us in askance as they passed us again. What are these two doing?

Like returning soldiers

JI and I were preparing to attack the hill along Essensa when suddenly, NH sprinted away like a boar chased by feral dogs. At the top, he roared in triumph, spent and wincing in pain. We finished the race side by side, waving to our friends like relieved soldiers coming home from a war.

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Two pristine races left runners in delight and full of hope. The winds of November have swept the dust of past disenchantment. Redemption was served cold.

KR Urbanite: Boiling Point

We were approaching the big tents where race kits were being distributed when we noticed the long lines.  My wife and I took a deep breath and prepared ourselves for a long wait.  But when we entered the premises, there was neither line nor attendant at the “C” area.  The queue was on the “P-Z” and it was a tense atmosphere.  A quiet buzz was emanating from the people waiting for their turn.

We were skeptical that we asked a distraught looking guy manning the “D” table if the “C” kits were available.
“Yes, its there” he said pointing at the empty table while looking at us blankly.  He really looked lost.
“Can you assist us?” I asked.  He blinked and realizing he has no customer, he whispered in the affirmative.

In the background, a raised voice can be heard.  The buzzing was getting louder.  Fortunately for us, our kits were there and we were off after less than 5 minutes.  The overwrought tent was like a kettle ready to blow its top when we left.

These are birth pains for the organizers.  New concept, new technology and new processes were sliding on the knife-edge of acceptance and rejection.  The organizers should learn and adapt fast.  Patience seemed to be in short supply this rainy season.

Days after the distribution of kits, complaints and frustrations exploded in the web. And the maelstrom was not over until the race started and it looked like it will spill over after the race.

We arrived early and got a parking on a vacant lot beside our usual spot.  The area was full of people.  Runners in black, in orange and in yellow dominated the festive atmosphere.  I was scheduled for a long run, and I planned to burn 10K before the race.  Then at the race, I’ll be pacing my wife for her first 15K.

I did a couple of loops around BHS then went to the McKinley Hills for my pre-race run.  I was soiled due to the settling dust and smoke from vehicular emissions at Lawton Ave.  But I hardly noticed because I was focusing on the feel of my new Asics Gel-Nimbus 11.  This run and the race later would be a break-in moment for the new kicks.  So far, so good.

I finished my run with enough time to prepare for our first night race.  I changed my jersey to the yellow “iamninoy” shirt.  We would be showing our support for the cause in this run.  We went to the corral to wait out the start.  It was humid and uncomfortably warm.  The situation was not helped by the single strong light source that seemed to be focusing heat to the corral and trying to burn the participants to cinders.

The corral was filling and the temperature further rising.  After much wait and some kind of dancing on the stage, Mark Nelson finally fired the gun.  Thousands of souls passed through the blaring mat and the race was on.

I let my wife pace our run.  We both knew that she lacked training mileage for this race but she’s not the one to back down.  When she put her mind on something, she was as hard as cold hammered iron.

I already felt the heat, too much heat after just a few hundreds of meters.  On the first water station, I disregarded the cups.  I asked for the bottle.  And not just any bottle, I asked for 1 liter bottle.  I drank plenty and frequently poured water over my head, face and neck along the route.  At Lawton Avenue, traffic froze to the annoyance of the motorists.   Horns blaring, the drivers were at the edge.

Turning to Bayani Road, we were greeted by darkness.  The fear of hidden potholes, rocks or other obstacles made us nervous.  I frequently checked her condition asking her how she felt.  But she bore down on the road like a silent silken avalanche, icy and inexorable.

Entering Heritage Park was a new experience.  It was like being transported in another world, a surreal one.  Pleasant to run but shivering despite the heat.  Was it fear of the silent dead?  Or for what the night could reveal that the day hides?  If it was not for the company of hundreds of other runners, it would have been a world record breaking run.

Our pace deteriorated as we negotiated the return route of Bayani.  The long incline was insufferable.  We downed more bottles of water.  The heat and dust were again invading our concentration.

Back at Lawton Avenue, the boiling point has been breached.  Chaos.  Drivers were openly cursing the runners.  Shouts and the car horns were blaring incessantly.  The road Marshals were braving the torrents patiently.  Fumes from the stranded vehicle further exacerbated the heat.

It was a respite turning to McKinley Hills escaping the madness.  My wife was visibly spent but she kept her pace.  I watched her as she dragged her feet.  Sweat and water rivulets were poring down her neck.  Her hair fell to her shoulders like waterfalls of night.  I forced her to walk the inclines of the return route of McKinley.

“Let’s walk the climbs.  Reserve your energies on the flats” I told her.  She acquiesced reluctantly.

Back to Lawton Avenue, back to chaos, we ran with all of our remaining energy.  We skipped the last water station and overtook many.   We went faster as we reached 5th Avenue anticipating the sweet embrace of the finish line.

Lights, music, happy faces and a carnival of sorts hailed us as we approached the end.  Mark Nelson was wooing the crowd as we crossed the mat at 1 hour 48 minutes.  We were relieved, my wife was glad and I was proud.

Commentary:
On other times, I would have drawn a clear line between runners and vehicles.  I would have shouted “Runners are kings of the road”.  This time, I empathized with the trapped drivers.  It was an unholy hour and most of them were probably tired, on their way home or to a meeting, and to be caught in an unexpected quagmire.  As the sport evolve and flourish, I hope someday, we find an out-of-the box harmonious way of sharing the roads with the motorists.  It may be difficult and quite a challenge for different situations but as our community grows, as our power and influence increase, we should start thinking of taking responsibility on how we affect other sectors for the betterment of our passion.

Earth Run: A Fine Lover

My cellphone-turned-alarm clock rang at around 4AM cutting my dreamless sleep to an unwelcome consciousness. One eye tried to open and searched for the intruding noise. As I groped the phone in the dark, I heard rain pelting on our roof. Maybe, another 5 minutes and it would stop, I thought, so I pushed the snooze button and buried my head in the pillow. I was not sure if I dreamt repeating the wake-snooze-bury thrice but I forced myself out of the pillow’s deadly embrace when the phone alarmed again. I shook my wife beside me but she only stirred groggily. I quickly got up and prepared for the day’s race. It was still raining, not hard, but I began to doubt if the race will push on. My pillow was crooning seductively as it exposed its soft, fluffy comfortable bosom. The pillow was an irresistible mistress but my other lover, running, was waiting with promises of exotic pleasures. Ready to go, I tried again to wake my wife, the real one, but she further retreated under the blanket.

So I found myself driving 35kms alone to the race site. Someday I would run this instead of driving as a warm-up, hah! Along the way, the rain poured then drizzled, poured then drizzled tirelessly, unrelenting. Again doubt prevailed over me and I almost went back. I doggedly reached the designated parking building but took me awhile to get out and head to the assembly area. I was walking heavily and rain seemed to add more weight to my steps. I finally reached the starting point after what seemed to be an eternity. The announcer was beckoning participants to check-in and kept on saying that it was a beautiful day and a perfect weather. She also explained that the race would be delayed by 30minutes and that all categories would start simultaneously. The runners seemed to accept the situation nonchalantly.

The sky was covered with heavy clouds and a thin curtain of water was sprinkling out of the sky. In the company of fellow runners, my mood slowly changed. I began to welcome the cool breeze and appreciated the refreshing streaks of water on my face. I remembered during the Botak Paa-Tibayan race earlier in the month that I wished for the rain to come but the sun muscled its way out. Now, the wish was finally granted at my maiden 10 miler.

I decided to run a notch above easy pace around a perceptive four-fifth effort. PR was not in my objectives, after all, whatever time I finish, it would be a PR. Furthermore, I planned to run another 10K after the race. I was cramming for fitness for the Milo event hoping to run my first full marathon. I was way behind my program.

Ten minutes to start, the rain ebbed and the runners started to get impatient. It was still a happy crowd in the corral wriggling this and that to shake off the cold and wet. The rain faded to droplets as the start was given. It was a tangle of bodies as 3K, 5K and 16K trotters delightedly ran in the wet.

At the first two kilometers, I was hovering above 6min/km due to traffic. There were already walkers on the steep uphill near the C5. Then more strugglers after the third kilometer climbing towards Lawton Avenue, in front of McDonalds could be seen. I was able to settle to my planned pace of 5:15min/km along Lawton Avenue. The stretch towards Pasong Tamo u-turn, 7th kilometer mark, was quite easy. Mostly, the road was on a downward gradient. Due to the rain, there were lots of puddles. I was forced into one of the pools that transformed my shoes from a soft wush-wush to an annoying squirt-squirt. My Asics shoes were not built for wet. It has a couple of air-holes at the soles and the meshed body is very porous. I was afraid of blisters and had to be conscious of my foot strike.

The 2 kilometer route towards Bayani was a little challenging because of the incline. I was able to overtake a number of runners. Somehow, the squirt-squirt was gone but my feet still felt clammy. The rain has cleansed the street. The leaves of the trees seemed greener and the reds, yellows and oranges seemed more vivid.

Running along Bayani street, the smell of dried fish cooking somewhere at the golf range wafted in the air and triggered hunger pangs in my stomach. Deja vu! I quicken my pace to escape the aroma. Then it was an easy downhill towards C5. My last run on this route was during the RUNew; it passed inside the Heritage Park. I remembered and missed the peaceful, scenic setting of the park and its abundance of resident birds. Not this time, the gates to Eden were barred.

The most challenging part of the race was before me, the return route to Bayani. It’s a long multiple uphill climb. As I’ve learned from the Bald Runner, I shorten my steps and quicken the swings of my arms. For more than 2.5 kilometers of steep climbs and short flats, I maintained that form.

By the time I reached the turn back to McKinley, it was already past 7AM. The sun was still hidden by dark unyielding clouds. The rain seemed to stop but another pour was imminent. It was around the 14th kilometer mark. At that point, I thought that the route length was severely short. I estimated less than 500 meters to the finish. Oh, what the heck, so I kicked my pace for a sprint to finish. But on the corner of what I thought was the last turn a marshal was pointing on the other direction away from the finish line. Ahhh, so, there was another loop. I continued my fast pace of 4:30min/km determined to finish strongly despite the unanticipated loop. At that speed, I was able to overtake two more runners.

I crossed the line 1:22:27 on my Garmin.

The event turned out to be a very fine run for me. I finished a decent time with just a right undemanding effort. No pain, no strain, no huffs, no puffs and plenty of juice left.

Running- true to form, this lover has thrown unexpected surprises… the sweet embrace of the cold wind, the playful splashes of raindrops, the thrill of the chase and the tender care of the heart…I have another 10K with this amoureux, but I need to find an easier but romantic route…