Full Moon

A bad day in the office; falling yields, machine breakdowns, a very angry client, it was a war zone!  Emotions were raw and voices were high.  Civility went down the drain and rationality thrown in the trash can.  I got out late and fuming, I was ready to chew rocks for dinner.  The night was cold and empty as I entered the car and drove off.

I have reached the northbound lane of the South Luzon Expressway (SLEX) and I was still reviewing the events of the day.  It was really bad.  I mused over the things that should have been said and the things that must have been done and felt very heavy and wanting.  Over and over, the scene repeated in the deep recesses of my mind which made me very tired and weary.  I needed a release.  I could not go home like this.

Amidst the pale light of vehicles in the opposite direction, I became aware of the clear evening sky.  Stars filled the heavens like the canvass of Van Gogh.  Then there’s the moon over the rice fields of Carmona – low, round, bright and enticing.  It was a good night to vanquish the demons that seemed to follow my wake, a good night to refresh, a good night to run and sweat it out.  I quickly exited to Carmona tollway and headed for the nearby market to park.  In no time I was geared and running.

Reaching a crossroad, I weighed my options.  To the left was Timbao, a backdoor to a technopark with moderate traffic.  The right leads to the main road, a busy artery going back to SLEX or Southwoods.  The road straight ahead was unknown to me.  It was well paved and lighted but bereft of movement.  No cars, no people, just road.  I could not see farther because of a bend some hundred meters away.  I could see the moon just beyond the trees in that direction.  I favored going left but seemed to be pulled straight like a bug hypnotized by the searing light.

The unknown… at night. I don’t know if it was an insatiable curiosity or misplaced seduction or mere wanderlust that pushed me to run straight ahead but there I went like a lone knight hunting for a dragon.  As I clear the bend, a wide rice paddy greeted me on the right side of the road.  On the left were sparse wooden houses with yellow lights.  The moon bathed the green rice field just weeks from turning into a golden carpet.  I passed people, some near a house, others walking in the other direction, all of them looking at me in askance.  Children playing stopped and openly stared at my passing.  I must have looked like an alien!  I realized I was an odd man in such neighborhood with my technical shirt, reflectorized shoes, fancy watch and … running at such an unholy hour.

On my fourth kilometer, I came upon a cemetery on the right.  More fields and fenced lots overgrown with tall grass were on the left side.  The cemetery was not eerie.  It was quite small and walled.  Inside were a few gravestones on a well-manicured lawn.  On one side was a “hotel” type grave where the dead were laid in small cubbyholes.  Some hundred of meters passed the cemetery, I entered a newly built subdivision with the moon on my back.  The clubhouse was immediately after the gate and beyond was barren lots and half-completed structures.  The site was more haunting than the cemetery.  Unfinished houses with dark windows and darker doorless entrance lined in one side like sentries with hollow eyes and mouth.  A dog barked somewhere beyond an unlighted building and strange rustling sounds seemed to come out of nowhere just beside the road.  Before reaching the fifth kilometer, I decided to turn back lest my fancy overwhelmed my sanity.

I was facing the moon and it seemed rounder, larger and brighter.  I could see its scar -  sometimes black, sometimes blue.  So stark.  I again passed by the cemetery and reached the vast rice field now on my left.  The bright moon was illuminating the countryside like a beacon.  Somewhere on the far side of the field, was a small pool where moonlight reflected a thousand ripples of sparkle competing with the twinkle of the stars above.  The stalk and leaves of the rice plants glossed, glittered and ebbed at my passing, colors changing from green to white to gray.

I spied on a woman and a man walking on the rice paddies.  The woman was leading the man by a couple of steps while the soft wind scattered their murmurs.  They looked like lovers, oh, I hope they were lovers because the moon and the stars and the wind demanded it.  The setting seemed to conspire to have lovers.  It was a picturesque sight worthy of a masterpiece by a painter depicting scenes from yesteryears when life was slow, simple and unadulterated.

I finished my run short of 10K.  But I was content.  I was like a new born babe.  I felt I was washed clean in heart and soul.  I was cleansed of the anger, weariness and false pride.  I was ready to go home.

Unchartered Water

Summer solstice has ended and the season is at the thick of autumnal equinox, where the length of night evens out with the length of day.  It was 6PM in the evening and it was already dark as night can be.  A few weeks back, bright light still suffused this part of the world at this hour.  Lights from arrays of streetlamps made pools of dim glow along the pavement.  It had drizzled a while ago and pockets of dark clouds hovered just below the skyline.    The road was slightly damp and a soft wind was blowing.  It was cool and it was a good evening to run.

I was preparing for an easy run both to keep my body tuned and to uplift my spirits.  Whew, people’s suffering has not ended two weeks after the wake of typhoon “Ondoy”.  Their miseries and tragedies were more than enough to put anyone down and mull over one’s mortality.

I was in taper mode after 12 weeks of training for my first 42K.  I had waded into unfamiliar waters.  The week before Ondoy’s madness, I reached, for the first time, over 70km mileage and 75km on the week after.  Last week, I went over 80kms culminating with a reconnaissance run (organized by Jazzrunner) on the actual route.  That was more than twice my usual weekly mileage.  And I could not explain my body response to the increase in intensity.  Sometimes I felt so good and conditioned but other times I felt tired and spent.  The sensation ebbed from one to the other without pattern like an erratic heart seizure.  Did I overtrain?

I started my run on the usual route on the road around Palms Country Club.  After two rounds, sweat broke out profusely despite the wind.  While running, I played in my mind over and over my goals for the race.  Can I do 4.5 hours or target 5 hours?  Will I go negative splits or even-paced?  Or perhaps join one of the pace groups?

I changed course and trot to the road going to Filinvest Mall.  Glaring lights from a driving range to my left illuminated the area while the packed Manong’s restaurant beside it provided the merry, rowdy noise from its patrons.  I passed the stately Vivant and Aspen Towers to my right with parked cars along the road and elegantly uniformed guards manning the gates.  My thoughts wandered on the running gears to wear.  Definitely, I’ll be using the Asics Nimbus 11 for my footwear.  Its thick comfortable cushioning will help with the shocks of the hard cemented surface of the course.  I haven’t decided on the jersey between Nike Fit and the Adidas ClimaCool.

Just before reaching Filinvest Mall, I made a U-turn and went back turning right to the street before Manong’s.  This street is seldom used by vehicles.  I passed beside the length of the golf driving range spying on the golfers practicing their swings.  “Tick!” as the club hit the sweet spot sending the balls hundreds of yards forward.  Ball pickers on the other end of the range, protected by iron cage on their back scooped the balls from the green.  Sometimes a flying ball will struck the cage and makes a loud sound, “Clang!”  I would start on a pasta diet days before the race.  I usually cook my pasta, so I thought about recipes.  Red sauce, oil-based, pesto, no, not the white ones.  How about a little classy in one or two occasions to break the monotone: Vologne, Putanesca and so on.

I passed Parque España condominium to my left and was approaching Commerce Avenue across South Super Market.  I made a U-turn and retraced my route back to Palms Country Club.  A lap gone and nothing have been firmed.  A couple of laps more and I would be more involved hoping to put some order to my still disarrayed mind while sweet sweat rolled down my forehead under the cool soft wind.

I’m like a sailor voyaging into the far and the unknown.  Are my provisions enough?  Will the storm god let me pass?  Will I be devoured by the monster Scylla or be sucked by the whirlpools of Charybdis?  Or perhaps fall at World’s End?  This is my maiden full marathon.  This is uncharted water.

Fortitude

I crossed the line clocking 1 hour 58 minutes in a wet but pleasurable Ayala Mall Eco-Dash 21K event.  It was a very good negative split run allowing me to finish strong and still have juices left for the next stage of the day’s plan.  My training program called me to run 32K after weeks of build up.  By many accounts, I would be threading the zone of the dreaded “wall”.

The sky was carpeted with white, gray clouds.  Four kilometers after the start of the race, heavy rains had fallen and the wind howled across the rooftops like a thousand keening mourners.  The rain has longed stopped its downpour yet the threat of more was thick in the air.  The road was wet and fraught with puddles.  Parts of the cemented sidewalk were covered with slimy slippery moss made greener by the flowing water.  Runners were still crossing the line in exuberance with the drenched experience.

The chosen route was just on the streets around BHS.  7th Ave, 30th St, 11th Ave, and 26th St formed a boring 1.6km (1 mile) square.  I wanted to be within hearing distance to the festivities; it could be lonely out there in this weather.  After a quick rest and hydration, I began, or rather, continued my run.  It was a dragging start.  My legs and feet were like shackled to an iron ball.  It took me half a kilometer before settling to my easy pace.

After 3 kilometers (24th Km), I felt that I already ran for hours over and above my race time.  Eight more kilometers and it seemed a very, very long distance.  Before reaching the fourth kilometer, muscle pain started creeping at the back of my left shoulder.  I tried shaking it off to no avail.  I slowed down and the pain slowly went away.  Then both my knees started to ache.  It was not a sudden pain.  It was a twinge that made its presence felt slowly but surely.

At the fifth kilometer (26th Km), my ankles started to hurt and the shoulder pain returned forcing me to further slow down.  Hunger pangs clawed my innards.  It was six kilometers more, surely a short distance.  But on the contrary, it seemed daunting, I wanted to stop.  “Four loops to go, four loops to go” I psyched myself.  I can hear the Eco-Dash host announcing the winner of the 5Km race female category.

I just nailed another kilometer (27th Km) as I turned to 30th St from 7th Ave.  What I saw was a 400 meter inclined stretch to 11th Ave.  The road truly has a slight gradient but under normal circumstances, it could be considered as flat.  Running 30th St at my labored condition was like climbing Bayani St.  When I reached 11th Ave, my thighs were throbbing like an angry cat.

It was a battle between good and evil within my mind.  One side wanted me to rest a bit, to walk or even stop.  The other side harried me to go on, to continue and complete the day’s goal.  It was a mental effort for me to always choose the latter.

“I can do it…one more kilometer…one more corner…one more street lamp” became my litany as I toiled through the pavement.  Completing 8 kilometers (29th Km), I was energized by the thought of hitting 30 kilometers.  I felt adrenaline seeping through my system.  I felt nimble and ran faster.  I did not notice I was breathing hard reaching the 30th kilometer.  Somehow, it was a delight achieving this milestone.  Then, the good and evil debate surged again into my wits.

“Surely, you can rest now”
“No, there’s 2Km more”
“What’s 2Km from 30Km, it’s just a speck, its irrelevant!”
“You must finish this.  Your mission is incomplete!”
“You might injure yourself, you’re in pain, and you’re tired”
“Just 2 more kilometers man, just a little more”
“You must rest. Stop! Stop! Stop!
“Finish it.  Go! Go! Go!”

With a rictus snarl, I continued running.  The aches were all over.  Shoulder, thighs, knees, ankles, all screaming for justice.  I stooped and bowed looking at my shoes pounding the pavement.  I could not bear looking ahead where the distance mocked and teased.  Serendra buildings on my left looked like faces with hollow eyes watching my folly.  The noise from the festivities has stopped.  When did it stop? It was a very long 2Km distance that I have run.

I finally reached the 32nd kilometer after an eternity.  It felt like a heavy burden was unloaded from my back.  I inhaled deeply and exhaled in great relief.  I felt very light and lively.  I did not stop running.  I felt I could do more.  I pushed for another 400 meters both as a reward for achieving and punishment for faltering.

I knew, a marathon would be twice the challenge and tenfold more difficult.  I need more training.  I need more mileage.  I need more fortitude.

Frogs and Fireflies

I was sitting in my office chair looking outside through a glass wall to see the weather. The rain had stopped but the fast moving gray clouds threatened another downpour. Two hours to go before I check out and have my early evening run. I was hoping that the rain would not fall further. I really don’t mind if the rain fell while I was in the middle of the run, I would have welcomed it, but if it poured before my run, well, that’s another issue altogether.

The clock ticked. Seconds passed… minutes… hours…, the sky held the rain like a dam of clouds holding water almost to its breaking point. The light was fading when I drove 5 minutes to my running ground at the foot of Palms Country Club.

Palms Country Club sits on top of a hill like a fortress overlooking the cityscape of Alabang. It is circled by a 1.1 km of well-paved and well-lighted wide asphalt road on its feet. The road is a combination of an incline, downhill and flats which make it a well-rounded circuit.

I parked near the back entrance of the Club. It is the only segment of the road where cars were allowed to park. The road was still wet from the rain. The moist asphalt reflected light from the street lamps making it looked like ebony, dark and shiny. The breeze held that delicate balance between cool and warm.

I planned to run ten rounds tempo (11K) traversing the route in a counter-clockwise direction. The night sky was starless and there was a hint of rain. The first 400 meters of the run took me uphill towards the main entrance of the Club then downhill until the last gate of Palms Pointe. Palms Pointe is an exclusive subdivision across the Club. A few vehicles passed this way in and out of the Club and subdivision.

The next 400 meters was a long flat winding road. This was an eerie section. The road was deserted. The Country Club stood high to the left buffered by a creek and an empty lot overgrown by grasses. To the right was a dark open space with sparse trees. Further right, RITM was visible nestled on a cliff. No vehicle passed here. The wind howled and swayed the treetops but it does not seem to reach the ground. Silence prevailed, it was deafening. I could imagine grotesque disfigurement lurking on the dark sides. I continued running shutting my over imaginative mind.

As I ran the soulless road, I saw a large frog in the middle of the road like a fat king, sitting on its throne. It was steady, unmoving and almost invisible on the clammy road, watching me pass. It was as if it was daring me to do something stupid.

“Hey froggy. Maybe if I kiss you, you’ll turn into a beautiful princess”.

I imagined the frog replying, “Not a chance boy, if I’m just bigger, I’ll gobble you up”

There were more frogs down the road, big and small. All of them looking at me suspiciously as I passed by.

At the end of the flat, the road curved to a crossroad. To the left will bring me back to where I started. To the right is the way to RITM. There is an uphill portion there that could rival McKinley. But the road was unlighted and more haunting than the one I passed.

At this section, there is a wooded area hedging the Club premises. I was surprised to see small twinkling lights bobbing up and down below the trees. Fireflies! Fireflies in the city! I stopped and watched the flashing beetles. These bugs use bioluminescence to attract mates or prey. It is uncommon or almost non-existent in the city because of pollution and habitat degradation. I was lucky to have encountered these little fairies.

I finished my run without the heavens crying. It was a delight to be accompanied by animated kings and fairies. The road I traveled was not so scary after all – it was enchanting!

The Mystery of the Man in Pain

It was dawn yet light has prevailed early when I parked my car across the church. I was planning to have an easy 6-8 km run. Early joggers and walkers dotted the area. I was at Southwoods Ecocentrum, near Southwoods Exit, my training ground. The area was supposed to be developed into a themed destination that should have complimented Splash Island and Southwoods Golf and Country Club. But, it’s been years and there’s no sign of any construction. The roads, however, were done. Wide cemented avenues and sidewalks encircled vacant grass-filled lots. There were even surviving palm trees lining the boulevards. That was all and very few even remembered that the place has a name.

I was doing my warm-up lunges while enjoying the expansive view when I saw him. A man in his 60’s – tall, medium built, wearing navy blue shirt, black knee-length shorts, dark socks and black old-style Adidas shoes. He always wore dark. He wore no cap or timepiece. His skin was dark, a hue most likely caused by countless exposure to the sun. All signs of an old-time runner became him. It’s been a while since I last saw him but I knew exactly what to expect.

He was crossing a bridge from the other side of South Luzon Expressway. As he reached the church, he faced it and ran sideways doing the sign of the cross at a certain point. He resumed running forward once beyond the church. I was intently watching his face as he passed in front of me from across the street. It was a plain look, nothing extraordinary…waiting. Then his face contorted, eyes squinting, head slightly bowed and shoulders rising as if in extreme pain. Then it was gone like a passing spasm. He would repeat that hurting expression many more times in his run, I knew and have seen it many times before. What could be the matter with this man?

I cut short my warm-up and followed the man. Impulsive but nothing drastic, just following. He was pacing around 6.5-7min/km. Upon reaching Splash Island, he made a U-turn then followed the route towards San Pedro. San Pedro-Biñan boundary was just a kilometer ahead. The sun has not yet fully risen and more joggers were arriving along our path. It was a clear day. Inside San Pedro, Rosario Avenue, the main road was lined with trees shading our way. But its sidewalk was broken or invaded by tree roots and grasses here and there. Shops were preparing to open. The man I was following never broke his stride.

Before Southwoods Exit was opened, this was a sleepy, remote village with nothing but houses and tall grasses. The access road had made the street a major thoroughfare for private cars. Then business establishment sprouted like mushrooms. Laundry shop, meat shop, convenience store, bakery eateries, fruit stands and other oddities successfully prospered.

From time to time, I could see the man cringed in pain. We passed by Chrysanthemum Village, Calendola Village, Sampaguita Village and GSIS Village. He passed by the parish churches of Calendola and Sampaguita doing his sideway runs. Sampaguita Village was my neighborhood around 5 kilometers from Southwoods Exit. Then we reached Christ the King Parish. This parish was at the foot of a high hill. That hill was steeper than the incline of the Kalayaan Bridge, and it winded like a dreadful sickle. Tricycles and unkept vehicles would let out loud gnashing noise and tons of smoke climbing this road. When the man in pain passed by the parish church, I was praying that he does a U-turn to where we came instead of continuing up the hill. The man started to make the climb slowly. Oh no, you can’t be serious. Don’t do it man. I would rather carry you on my back. But there he went while I hesitated and thinking of turning around. Darn it! I began jog-walk-breath-deeply intervals negotiating that climb. I would have walked all the way but the man in pain might get too far for me to catch. It was over a kilometer of steep winding ascent ending at the highest point in San Pedro, South Peak. It was a laborious climb and countless times, I mirrored the pained expression of my quarry.

South Peak housed a convent-school complex and an upscale subdivision. The view here was magnificent. Far in the south was the grandiose of Mount Makiling. East lies the vast Laguna de Bay. North outlined the cityscape of Alabang. Connecting these waypoints was the long snake-like South Luzon Expressway. Thousands of houses, factories and low buildings nestled in between. There were joggers at the rotunda in the middle of the road. Thankfully, all paths were downwards at this point.

The man, despite of his pains, seemed tireless as he continued his journey. This time, it was a 2-3 kms of downward winding run. We passed by the tranquil San Pedro Public Memorial Park, another convent and San Pedro Exit. We crossed South Luzon Expressway through an overpass and passed the Alaska manufacturing plant and Pure Gold Supermarket. We were approaching a populated and busy district. My knees were wobbly when we reached “Manok ni San Pedro”, the boundary between Metro Manila and Laguna where a stone cast of a rooster acted as a sentinel.

The man in pain continued straight towards the direction of the plaza, the heart of San Pedro. It was a busy street plied by tricycles, jeepneys and push carts. The sun was already shining brightly and I was drenched with sweat. I felt that I was mugged.

The plaza was a typical Spanish-designed community. An open square in the middle surrounded by church, municipal hall, school and other pertinent establishment. Nearby was a market. This time, the man in pain entered the church, San Pedro Apostol, the main church of the province. I did not follow him. I was standing at the gate and staring at the door where he entered. Is this the end of the journey? I followed a priest! I let out a gush of breath and looked around the surrounding. It was filled with people and noise. I hardly noticed the vendor who was trying to interest me with her rice cakes.

As I turned to leave, the man in pain suddenly burst out of the church and ran passed me. He went into the direction of the market. It’s not yet over. With a loud sigh, I followed him. I could hardly run at the market. The road was a tangled mix of vehicle, people and dead animals being carted or carried inside the market. The sidewalk was occupied by hawkers crying their wares. The street was wet with overflowing canal water. Refuse and litter were everywhere. But the man in pain was undaunted. We run the length of the national road towards Pacita Complex, a conspicuous commercial area. The street was filled with jeepneys, buses, tricycles and street urchins. Smoke and dust filled the air making me choke more than once. The sun was high and was burning my back. It was the worst place to be a runner. When we reached Pacita Complex, I gave up. The man in pain was still running towards Biñan steadily, unabated while I stopped and watch him go. My Garmin registered over 15 kilometers of distance. It’s almost 2 hours of running and I was so tired and weary. I felt so grimy and burned. I can feel rough sand in my face, neck and limbs. My mouth was a parched desert and I didn’t even have a single centavo. I was miserable.

I got a tricycle to drive me to Southwoods where my car was parked with my drinks, wallet, towel and fresh shirt. I thought I could sleep despite the bumps, jerks and lurch of the damned carriage. It seemed forever before we reached our destination.

I had stretched, drunk, dried, changed clothes and was ready to go. I started the car when in the corner of my eyes I noticed a black speck from afar. It was the man in pain! I went out of the car to have a clearer view. And I was stupefied.

He was crossing the bridge from the other side of South Luzon Expressway. As he reached the church, he faced it and ran sideways doing the sign of the cross at a certain point. He resumed running forward once beyond the church. I was intently watching his face as he passed in front of me from across the street. It was a plain look, nothing extraordinary…waiting. Then his face contorted, eyes squinting, head slightly bowed and shoulders rising as if in extreme pain. Then it was gone like a passing spasm… No way! I must be dreaming! I knew my mouth was hanging open as he went towards Splash Island but I have no energy to shut it.

I had the mind to run to him and demand answers… but for what? Satisfy my curiosity? Assuage my bruised ego? Whatever it was, it would be selfish.

Whatever he was doing, it was beyond distance, beyond time, beyond speed or pace. Perhaps, running, to him has a deeper meaning. A sacrifice to strengthen the spirit or a test of faith or even an atonement of past sins. Whatever profound purpose he harbored, it transcends the elements, it transcends mortal health… it transcends pain.

I felt that I have trampled on sacred grounds. I drove home soiled inside.

Romancing the Rain

The Saturday morning was oddly dim. It was like December season, winter solstice, when the dark was lengthier than the light. Thin rain clouds rolled from the south heralding the coming of rain. The air was heavy with moisture, and the wind was ominously absent. Stillness. That early, I was the only one on the well-developed yet less-used road. I pleaded to the heavens to let me finish my short run before it let go its load. Just a short, quick run. It’s been five days since my last jog and I needed this one, very badly. I started my warm-up walk and droplets of water began pelting the earth. The drops slid off my dry-fit jersey like water slipping on waxy leaves. I raised my hands to test the drips and closed my eyes in resignation. It will be stronger. “Alright! Do your worse, I will not falter on my aim” I defied. I cut short my slow trot and proceeded to my planned pace, hoping to beat the imminent downpour. As if accepting my challenge, the sky sent more drizzles.

After my first kilometer, the rain has become a thin sheath curtain of water.  Not heavy but enough to drench my shirt.  My running shoes were not built for wet and soon my socks were soaked.  The smooth wush, wush sound of the shoes had become a splashing squirt, squirt.  I raked my chilled fingers on my hair and cool water slipped down my neck like a clear stream coming down the mountain.  My eyes were blurred but to my surprise my vision was clear.  The grass and leaves were greener.  The trunks of the trees, thick and thin, were glistening.  The soil was richer like a fertile land ready for plantation.  Everything was coming alive!

The brick wall of a Mediterranean inspired house turned from dull red to bright orange to dazzling red as I went by.  An oldwife at its balcony was looking at me in askance.  “A childish man running in the rain, he’ll get cold for sure!” she seemed to admonish.  I hopped at a break in the pavement and almost slipped on the moss-covered ground.  I did not look back at the lady but I can sensed her sniffing “No, a fool about to break his head!”

An unexpected feeling of gladness settled upon me.  This has turned into a pleasant and revealing experience.  Even the bird sitting on a wire seemed contented.  It fluffed its feather to lessen the wetness.  I can do that too! I shook my head, spraying water out of my hair.  The land has been cleansed and freshness hanged like an early morning bath.

The mighty sun was still hidden but light has prevailed as I finished my laps.  The rain trickled slowly until it too was done.  The rain clouds moved north and west, perhaps looking for another mortal to bless.

I thank the rain god for accompanying me on this run.  It has been a lesson of humility and appreciation. Much has been learned and none regretted.