The road extended straight and far beyond sight. A dry hot wind blew across the rolling brown rice land fluttering the edges of my sleeves. The wind held no moisture and the sun seared away what little remained in the land. A few scattered trees lined the road offering pathetic but welcome shade, a very short respite form the torments of the elements.
Looking to my left was a picturesque view of the great lake back dropped by a misty mountain. It was a beautiful sight; I never knew that the bay has its enchanting face. It was a faultless scenery perceived only on old paintings of a time thought lost in the memories of the elders.
I was running the second leg of the second day of the race. It was the longest leg, a 30km stretch from Mabitac to Jalajala under the blistering heat. But it was much better than the forgettable labyrinth of day 1’s second leg…
…The narrow coastal streets of Sucat and Muntinlupa were pocked by potholes and littered with different debris and refuse. People swarmed the road and houses crowded its edges. Unruly jeepneys, tricycles and motorcycles belching smoke and dust ruled the road. The morning heat was penetrating and sour smell of decay was invasive…
The sun on the heights was a white fury. The heat was everything. It was the prime of my attention. What was an otherwise pleasant countryside run became a test of fortitude. Water was the life-giver. I had to literally bathe regularly to keep my temperature in check. But my run was steady. I was surprised to reach the 10th kilometer above my target time considering that my muscles were already sore from yesterday’s 20km leg…
...Twice I got lost from unmarked turns. I have already lost more than a kilometer retracing my steps. Heat, dust, smoke, smell and frustration were eating me. On the tenth kilometer, I got back on the right track and other runners had caught up and was already ahead…
On the 13th kilometer, I saw my support waiting by the side of the road. They were there to cheer and check on my state. I was glad and somehow it added strength to my waning resolve. I passed them and ran more nimbly with renewed doggedness. On my 17th kilometer, my support team passed me as they drove towards the transition point. They shouted that the following runners were 20 minutes behind. There were two and one of them was the injured runner who was sideswept by a jeepney the day before …
…I was pacing with another team’s runner when I caught up with him at the National Road at San Pedro. I could have surged forward but under the unrelenting heat and busy road, it would be better with a companion. We ran side by side encouraging each other and sharing that unseen strength formed by comrades trudging one purpose. As we entered Sta. Rosa, two kilometers from the transition point, a runner overtook us. He was limping! We learned from the marshals that he got hit by a testy jeepney. It was mind boggling…
Four kilometersto go and I was spent. My feet were heavy like they were made from cast iron. I could feel my calves and thighs stiffing. Cramps were on the brink of springing its ugly head. The sun high above seemed to be mocking. And the mountain beyond the lake was like watching, expectant, waiting for me to collapse. The road was still straight and far beyond sight. After clearing an incline, just on the fringes of the mirage, I saw a figure being escorted by a vehicle. It was a runner ahead of me. I caught up! A crooked smile formed on my face, a smile of anticipation I could not have wiped away if I wanted to. I forgot my hurts and fixed my gaze to my quarry as I chased him. As I close the distance, I could see clearly that my target was in a worse condition. Half-naked and limping, he was heavily plodding on as he was being cheered and egged by his support team.
Two kilometers to transition, I ran abreast the struggling runner. His eyes were red and his breathing was labored but I knew he would make it. I told him its just 2 kilometers to go and he should hang on a little more. After some more encouraging words, I pushed forward and ran the last kilometers like it was the beginning of my leg.
Epilogue
We cheered our team’s last runner on our vehicle along Ortigas Avenue as he plodded the last kilometers to the finish line. We watched him as he made the turn to Tiendesitas amidst the busy streets filled with uncaring motorists. At the finish line, we were ecstatic as he crossed the tape. We missed the cut-off time by 15 minutes but we were proud to have completely finished the course. Two days, 29 lakeshore towns and cities, 210 kilometers, our team of five runners survived the first Laguna Bay Relay Ultramarathon.
The Gleeman's Tale 