Runnex 26th Open: A Memory of Light

Nostalgia gripped me as I parked the car.  The place was so familiar like a second home away from home.  I spent my glory college days in these grounds.  And this was where it started – my return romance with running.  Six months ago, December 2008, at Runnex 25th Executive Run, I was practically a greenhorn in the sport. Same organizer, same distance, same route…

Blink.  I was wearing a plain white cotton shirt and basketball shoes.  In my hand was a cellphone-turned-timer.  I was nervous as a cat in a dog kennel.  I was skeptical to walk to the assembly area like a groom grudgingly entering the church.

…but the person has somewhat improved.  Wearing a cool dri-fit Adidas runner shirt, a light Asics racer shoes, a Garmin sports watch, I walked to the starting point with much more confidence and surety.

It was a good weather.  The mood was jovial.  The participants seemed few, most probably due to the three other races simultaneously happening within the day.  The announcer called the runners for the check-in to the starting line…

Blink.  Minutes before the start, adrenaline rushed through my system.  My senses were ultra-heightened.  I can see the distinct blades of the grass, smell the rotting sweetness of tree saps, heard every rustle of leaves shuffled by the soft wind.  My stomach was revolting and my bladders were screaming for justice.

…I was calm like an undisturbed pool of water as I waited for the start.  First to go were the wheelchair racers.  They were sent-off with runners, marshals, on-lookers, cheering and clapping.  It was an inspiring sight.  A couple of minutes later, the 10K participants were released.  I planned to have a sub-50 minutes finish, so I settled to a sub-5 minutes per kilometer pace.

Trees, shades and greeneries marked the route.  Joggers, picnickers, bikers, football players, frisbee throwers and even early-morning-lovers-holding-hands-while-walking-slowly dotted the area.  A balance of open areas, college buildings and historic structures back-dropped the setting…

Blink.  I was maintaining a conservative pace and I was wondering if I would overtake the runner in front of me.  I know I can do it but I was unsure and even shy to do so.  I glanced at the oblation.  It seemed to raise its eyebrows challenging me to go ahead.  It even threatened to go down its pedestal and kick me in the butt.  I was insane.

…I used the technique of marking and overtaking runners ahead of me.  Of course, there were others who used me as their targets and went ahead.  Near the finish, I was still running at a good effort when my Garmin alarmed marking the 10th kilometer.  It was 48.5 minutes.  But the finish was still hundreds of meters away.  So I kicked my pace faster…

Blink.  I was puffing and huffing as I approached the finish line.  My shoulders were cramping and I can feel strain in my calf and toes.  My shirt, heavy with sweat and water, was starting to hurt my nipples.  I noticed people clapping and cheering. I raised both hands in victory still holding my phone-cum-timer as I crossed the line.  I clocked 1 hour and 3 minutes.

…I crossed the finish line at 50 minutes.  The Garmin registered 10.45 kilometers.

After that race, 6 months ago, I was delighted joining that race.  It was like a light that suddenly illuminated a new path to a new lifestyle.  I have improved much, surpassing many targets, but there are much to learn, many more objectives to achieve, and more memories to cherish.  The journey continues.

The Price of Pride

The small holiday get-together of the once mountaineers were both nostalgic and sassy. It was an unholy hour; everybody has had their fill of food and booze. Christmas spirit was out and about complemented by the cool temperature. Infectious laughter from different tables of the watering hole can be heard. Songs and carols were jingling in the background. In our gathering, gossips and small talks drifted from small groups to whole group to small groups swinging back and forth with occasional slapping, giggling and jeering. At one time, I approached JI and engaged him in a conversation about the Runnex 25^th Executive Classic race held at UP Diliman the week before. JI was my running companion during our glory days. We represented our organization (UPLB mountaineers) in running events more than any other member. He returned to running years earlier than I did and he clocked 49 minutes in the last Runnex. He was complimenting me for a strong finish for a “beginner”. I was still ecstatic with my performance, finishing 63 minutes for the 10K run, despite almost 18 years of absence. I remembered extending my limits in that race giving way to pride and bravery. And the price I paid for that moment of recklessness was lingering sores in both muscles and bones. The whole week after the race, I was practically limping resembling a wounded dog after a brutal fight. It took more than half week before the muscle pain subsided, not yet gone, but much better. The big toe of my left foot was ugly black and throbbing; and both my knees were still hurting already a week since. JI said “the shoe was the culprit!” with full certainty; I ran with my Nike basketball shoes that race. “And lack of training!” I emphasized. We were planning the next event we were to join and he gave advice on the preparation. He also recommended gadgets that he was sure to help my cause. I was resolved to be serious in this sport. I agreed that I needed the proper tools and toys for this aim. But, first and foremost, I needed a new pair shoes…

Manny Pacqioao’s victory over Dela Hoya still hugged the headline while I, apart from the whole citizens of the nation, frantically search for the perfect footwear like a nocked arrow looking for a target. How the industry had evolved! Every manufacturer brandished their own unique technology with myriads of options to choose. The “Air”, the “Gel”, the “Wave”, the “Abzorb”, all of them complicated, all of them beautifully explained, all of them convincing! To the point of being silly, I decided to trust the shoes that have took my fancy way, way back during financially challenged times for the simple reason that I’m amused with their old commercial about its ability to protect an egg from breakage. The last issue was picking the right model and after more deep involvement, the task at hand was reduced to visiting the store and trying out the remaining two contenders. Like an arrow finding its target straight and true, I was content and delighted with the Asics Gel Bandito. When I stepped out the store, my pocket was way far lighter. The shopping bag not only contained the shoes but also a couple of cool dry-fit jerseys and a hot red Speedo shorts.

The account is building and the bill for the pride continued to be paid.

Now, where do I get the Garmin…

Runnex 25th Executive Classic: A morning of triumphs

It was still dark when I arrived at the assembly area though light was slowly creeping in. The air was cool and crisp yet every now and then goose bumps dotted my exposed skin. My shirt was all white broken only by the pinned race bib displaying my number. I was wearing my favorite blue Speedo shorts and my versatile black Nike basketball shoes. This shoe I used in playing basketball (of course), futsal, badminton and even killing roaches. My precious gadget was the Sony Ericsson W800i which served as my timer and possibly to call for help in case something dire happened to me. It’s been 3 weeks and 20km since I returned to running after almost 18 years of absence and there I was, insanely registered for the 10km run. There was a 5km event, why did I not join that instead, I wondered. Pride, oh yes, “pride comes before a fall” so they say. This time the shiver did not come from the cold.

The stage was setup on the grassy space in front of the Music Hall. There were large speakers blaring music that seemed to energize the runners doing their warm-ups. Sponsor streamers wrapped the platform and hanged from the different booths on the right of the stage. The smell of excitement and anticipation was in the soft wind. Ladies and men wore shirts and sando of different cuts. There were a few blues and reds but these were drowned by whites and blacks. Clusters of people chatted idly while waiting for the program to start. The faces vary from smile to laughter to grimness to the determined. It was festive.

JI, a running companion during our UPLB days, found me and shouted “Hey you’re back!” and approached me clasping my shoulders. I said “Yeah, my boss forced me to run. He’s an officer here”. He’s fit and I learned that he’s been running for a long while and was in the sub-50 minute region for the 10K. I made a mental calculation, and concluded that in my condition, I might finish twice that time with luck, whew! As we parted, I met my boss, RM and his boss, AT among the crowd. RM was a regular runner but he’s in the wrong side of 50’s while AT was a tri-athlete and he’s near the golden age. I was ten years junior than AT and that should give me advantage, does it? I need something positive or I’ll bust. The two gave advises on the run and I was grateful. Same time, I was wondering where was my colleague RC, was he lost? RC started running only 6 months back and he has joined a number of races. I failed to notice that the program has started and the announcer was glorifying the sponsors and making well-thought jokes. I knew the start was near and bile started to rise. My heart was pounding like hell and I felt like emptying my stomach. What have I gotten myself into? This was a mistake!

It was already full light when we were asked to assemble. My nervousness was at its peak and I could feel adrenaline rushing through my veins. My senses were heightened. I could see the distinct blades of the grass; smelled smoke carried by the wind from afar and heard every conversation swirling around. “I can do this, stop acting like a fool”, I chided myself. I resolved to keep and maintain a respectable distance behind the bosses whatever the cost. Shocks! RC where the hell are you?

Pak! The gun boomed and we started to run. RM was pacing us. Though we started somewhere near the back, there were many overtaking us. As we went down slope, I spied on the long procession forward like a snake wading in the waters. I thought it was a good pace since I was keeping up in the first kilometer without the fast huh, hah of labored breathing. Going to the second kilometer was a down slope and it was easy. I enjoyed the shade of the trees covering the road. There were kids playing soccer at the Sunken Garden as we passed it. In front of the Melchor Hall, there was a water station but I was not thirsty so I planned to skip it. AT, however coerced me to take a drink and lectured on the need to hydrate in every opportunity. Of course I believed and took my ration. Second and third kilometers passed and I was still near their tails, self-confidence began to swell at this point. Towards the fourth kilometer, AT started to widen the gap. I’m just behind RM and I thought that I can give more. I restrained myself worrying that I might overdo and waste my effort. In the middle of the fourth and fifth kilometer, I began to question the pace of RM and I was debating inside whether to overtake or just keep up. We were in front of the oblation and it seems that the statue had a challenging look directed towards me. Imagination! Perhaps my brain was losing blood. But there it was, mocking, if only it was not obliged to hold its stance, it would have went down and kicked me. Bullied, I did a bold, brave move. I passed RM and set to catch AT who was becoming smaller and smaller. I was now oozing with confidence and determination. At this point, there was no doubt in my mind that I can complete the race. I fixed AT on my sights like a target within the crosshair of a rifle. I can feel the rigid road in every step as I increased my pace. “I am speed, I am strong” I chanted inside my head. My breathing was harder but steady. Meters passed the sixth kilometer, I was breathing behind AT’s neck. He was surprised when he finally noticed me and exclaimed “You’re here!” I kept pace with him and again knew I can give more. On the seventh kilometer, he slowed for water and I continue forward passing him. Water makes me heavy I reasoned. That was pride! “Dangerous! Pride comes before a fall” a nagging whisper warned me. I know AT would try to catch me so I lengthen my strides. That was pride! I started to pass runners and at this point, I lost distinction between confidence and pride. On the eighth kilometer, someone shouted “Hey you!” it was RC. He was at a slow pace, nostrils flaring, and hands on his sides. “Hey you…I…I can’t slow… or stop, I’ll see you at the line” I muttered. I was gliding! I don’t care if its pride but I’m flying! Approaching the ninth kilometer, I was alone, almost alone. I started to feel strain on my toes and calf. There’s also tightening behind the shoulders. My shirt was heavy with sweat and water. Less than 500 meters from the finish, I again passed oblation. This time, it was steady as a rock as it should be, staring at the clear blue beautiful sky. As I near the finish line, I saw JI waiting cheering me with clenched fist raised high. I noticed people clapping as if I was a champ. I raised both hands in victory still holding my W800i as I crossed the line. I clocked an hour and three minutes. I made it with flying colors! This was a morning of triumphs!