Bike Hell of a Challenge

Warning: The blog post may be peppered with expletives. This is after all an account of my first attempt to ride through the hellish bike course of Challenge Philippines.

After reading a description of the bike course of Challenge Philippines (see Seven Hills of Bataan), I tried to negotiate for a shorter, lighter bike sentence from our course reconnaissance group. Can I just do 60m, and start from the center in Morong town? I can then just focus on the more difficult parts (near SBMA Morong Gate and Bagac, Bataan). I was thinking that while I have been regulalry doing Nuvali hill repeats, I haven't gone past 50kms the last few weeks. Besides, while I have lost about 5 pounds recently, I am still heavy.

Dead ma, no reaction from my recon teammates.  Hmmmnnnn....Minutes later, biker chick/kikayrunner teammate Noelle authoritatively wrote in our Endure WhatsApp group chat, "Do the whole course." Hanna also pleaded, "Do the whole course with me." The ladies have spoken, so help me God!  I countered, "Ok, but you have to follow my slow pace." It did not help that teammate BongZ cannot make it to the recon ride. He would have taken some load off me and I can bike in my leisurely pace. While I have been making progress in my cardio-vascular fitness, I am still cautious about taxing my heart too much at current weight.

I planned to use my hybrid bike (mtb frame with disc brakes, road bike wheel size) and have made arrangements to get it back from an officemate who borrowed it for his first tri. I need those disc brakes as security blanket in those terrifying downhills. Give me hills to climb and I shall dare, but please spare me from those terrifying down spirals. I love my life so much I can admit to being a downhill sissy.

Should I muster courage and opportunity to try, I did bring along my ride bike. Upon seeing my road bike inside my vehicle at course start, Challenge ambassador Noelle once again spoke:  Use the roadie. You might be left behind. Everyone else are using road bikes." The female tribe has spoken; I gulped and offloaded the road bike.

Surprisingly, the 4km uphill along Ilanin Road was a relative breeze. A month back, I struggled a bit there during the Subic Fit Festival triathlon. Yehey, I am improving! But I was still slow and still hogging the last man slot. 

I was rejoicing a bit in conquering hill one when suddenly I felt signs of the terrifying downhill. The downhill came like a thief in the night, stealing my wits and sapping all courage within me. It came so fast. I was mentally expecting it after seeing the course map, but I could not have prepared for that level of fright. It was swift, curving, blind descent into the depths of my fears. I was silently screaming in fright. In a hollow, silent voice the child in me cried:  Please, please, please God, make it stop. Make the bike slow down. Imagine a toddler crying asking his mom to make the mini-roller coaster stop. That was me, only silently agonizing.

My right hand was on the hoods with three fingers clasping the brake dearly for life. Friends have repeatedly advised me to put my hand inside the drop bar for better brake grip. I tried before but I only came down much faster. My left hand was clasping the handle bar tightly for balance and stability. They say a biker must do finger brakes to control his descent. I was braking all throughout, but I  still rolled down like a wreaking ball. My effin' weight is pulling me down fast! I wanted to stop and get off the bike, and end my mental suffering, but the damn bike won't stop no matter how hard I press the brake. I wish it was only a dream and I could stop the nightmare by simply waking, but the reality is I was trapped in that mad descent until the ground levels off. I only prayed I would not meet head on any obstruction, and that I would not fly off the bike. Just keep your hands on the bike. Wag kang bibitiw, no matter how much your mind wants to give in. Minutes later, the terror stopped. I was horribly shaken, but alive. I survived. Thank you God and all the saints. I would learn later from Waze that that mad descent is about 2kms of terror. I wish it will get less frightening with time and experience.

I passed moderate climbs enroute to Anvaya Cove. The next challenge was surviving the partially eroded cements road after Anvaya. Rains have removed the top layer cement and exposed the gravelly rocks. It was a gradual but very rocky descent. I was riding an all aluminum Giant, and I felt every rock of that mad road. The vibration was so bad I could feel my mouth and teeth chattering, so bad I wanted to take off my hand off the handle bar. And I was already wearing some shock absorbing gloves! There are also some potholes and deep cracks, so beware.

The second hill (Anvaya Hill) felt a bit more challenging than the Ilanin Road climb. It was at this point that I made my first bike stop. I was already breathing heavily through my mouth and I could feel my heart pounding fast. My objective at that time was to recon the course, not have a heart attack on the road. My legs could take the work even if I was actually riding on Mizuno running shoes, but I dared not test the limits of my heart. I was just happy my bike resistance training in the gym and my Nuvali hill repeats were working. For the cardio endurance, I am still progressively working on it.

Morong, Bataan, past Anvaya Cove

It was at the Anvaya Hill climb that the driver of the support vehicle of the Team Black Pearl would repeatedly and patiently check on me. Black Pearl was kind enough to support everyone, especially big fat laggards like me. To the group of Chance, MJ, Carmina, E. Sanchez and others whose names I failed to catch, a big Thank You. It is support and camaraderie like this that make triathlon a great sport.

The next kilometers are also undulating, hard by themselves, but pale in difficulty compared to the rest of the course. I would pass mahogany forests, seaside views, irrigated rice fields, small communities, the Morong town proper, the Pawikan Center and resorts like Vista Venice which I visited by car last summer. Yes, I have driven the bike course before, and even in my Altis 2.0 I had some difficulty traversing those roads, what more if I am riding a low-end aluminum Giant road bike.

I actually rode part of the relatively flat bike course portion on the pick-up of Team Black Pearl, upon the nth prodding of the driver. My teammate Hanna, whom I was supposed to guide and guard provided she keeps my pace, was already kilometers ahead and the support vehicle driver was worried about her as she rode through the town proper. Baka kasi raw my loko-loko who might get an interest on her or her bike. The Morong people I saw along the way were all nice, but I saw the wisdom in manong driver's point. Hanna would also look for me minutes later and call me to rejoin her. It was also the flat portion I am already familiar with so no loss in training for me.

I tried to keep up with Hanna enroute to Bagac. I was starting to feel the mountain inclines again, pushed a few kilometers and made my second voluntary stop about 2-3 kms from the Bagac course turnaround. The ever reliable support vehicle asked me again if wanted a ride, but I said I needed just about 5 minutes to bring back my heart rate to more cautious levels. After minutes, I did ride up again. Minutes later, I would see the Black Pearl riders going back and also advising me to turn back already. I would also catch teammate Noelle, but I wanted to see Hanna, make my turnaround and join her. I knew I would miss part of the Bagac climb, but in my mind I knew there are tougher hills on the way back anyway.

Somewhere near the resorts our bike contingent met for a quick check on each other. At this point, Chance asked if my quads are already fired up after seeing me not using bike cleats. I told our group that my quads were still fine, pero yung puso at baga ko hirap!  We decided to have Petron Morong town proper as next stop before we assault the climb back to SBMA. There are a few tricky turns at the Morong town proper so I repeaedtly asked bystanders for directions just to be sure. The correct route is to pass through BTPI (Bataan Technical Plant Inc).

I was hoping to catch the group in Petron, and hopefully the support vehicle. I missed the group by 5 minutes although our Endure girl Hanna was loyally waiting for me. Thanks, thanks. Noelle had to guide the rest of the bikers. That time was the only time I wanted the ride the support vehicle back because I thought I had enough lung and heart work-out for the day, but it had to attend to its proper master. But team Black Pearl, thanks really for sharing your resources with us. At that moment, I wished my kennel hand slash weekend driver was not on provincial home leave. 

We initially intended to eat at Petron as it was already lunchtime but there was not real food there. I just replenished my drinks and ate a Magnum bar. Hanna castigated me for the ice cream bar, but I countered that my mind was already set on a heavy lunch. My big body needed calories to propel itself up those damn hills!  Hanna also noticed the 500 peso bills I brought along. Why so much money she asked. I was hoping there were gourmet meals in Morong as reward, and should something happen to me, maybe I can rent out a car or chopper perhaps!

The way to BTPI was a gentle climb full of interesting villas, but mostly the roads are deserted. The abandoned Vietnamese refugee camp looked quaint but eerie. The next big challenge was the Karaoke Hill. I thought it was named as such because you will be coaxed to sing because of the difficulty. It was difficult yes, but it is an actual karaoke machine that gave the hill its name. Midway through the Karaoke hill, probably a few hundred meters from the singing machine, I made my third voluntary stop. Again, I did not want to tax the heart. Not yet. It was at this third personal stop that I felt my left quad muscle finally protesting. The large muscle was not yet twitching, but throbbing and threatening to cramp. The sensation actually worsened when I stopped, but improved when I began to walk up the hill. At the top of the hills, my lungs, heart and left quadricep have recovered.

It was at the Karaoke Hill when I wondered how high was I in terms of elevation. The mountains across seemed already at my eye level, and trees higher than my eye level seemed getting less and less. I must be reaching a peak. The course map actually has this as the second highest peak after Bagac. At that precise moment I shuddered. What goes up, must come down. The memory of the terrifying downhill earlier was still fresh.

I was already on my bike when I noticed the descent. I was familiar with the descent to Anvaya having driven through it before, but I was totally caught unaware by this downhill. I looked at the map just now and indeed this is actually the steepest and longest descent. Whereas the SMBA Morong gate descent was full of trees and spirals, this one is clear space with mostly straight descents. What made this descent highly technical is the gradient and the occasional blind corners due to overgrowth of talahib grass. I keep debating within myself which descent is more terrifying. Let me just tell how I felt about this second one.

Suddenly, I was whisked once more into the depths of my downhill fears. This one was so steep that my brakes were screeching, crying. I thought this type of screeching only happens on carbon brake surfaces, but for the first time in my cycling life, I could hear the wailing of the rubber pads as it tries to hold on to the aluminum rims. It was a scary wailing. I tried to settle for feathering the brakes, but I was simply going down too fast. Once more, I was pleading. Please Lord, make it stop. Please make me slow down. I had the scare of my life when out of the blue, the mostly deserted road end up with an SUV powering up the climb towards me on the left and at the same time, a boy appeared from the tall grass on the right. I think I muttered a quick curse and prayer as I tried to squeeze through them at breakneck speed. I was still moving at dizzying speed when my phone would be ringing incessantly. I rightly thought it was Hanna checking on me. I wanted to stop and answer, but there was no flat ground to stop, only descents that seemingly do not end. The long ringing happened twice, with intervals of quiet, but all throughout that ringing I was clinging and praying that the ground would finally level off. I could not stand my heart being on my throat any longer.

Finally, the ringing stopped, and a little later I was on more solid ground. I felt emotionally spent. Earlier, I gave Hanna the vehicle keys because I know she would finish first anyway. After that descent, I wished Hanna would simply whisked me away. When I finally found opportunity to answer the phone, I realized there was no signal. I was in the middle of nowhere. It was just tall brown grass everywhere. It would take me another 5-10 minutes of biking before I could reply to Hanna. I was probably 8kms from Ocean Adventure at that time. When I finally managed to call her supposedly to request her to get me, she was crying. She thought something bad happened to me because I was not responding. It was thoughtful of the girl to worry about me, when I being older and supposedly more experienced should be protecting her, except that I am not yet fit enough to effectively do that.

I threw in the towel at roughly 6kms from finish line. All in all, I logged in 57kms of mostly hills that day. I missed out on the last hill climb, Manang's special, but it was ok. Hill climbing for me is all about strength training and giving it respect. I shall be prepared for them when race day comes. As for the descents, I wished those twin devils of terrifying descents would transform into knowledge and confidence I can use on race day.

When I signed up for Challenge Philippines on its first day of registration, I embraced wholeheartedly its race slogan:  Challenge Your Self. I am doing it by facing my fears, two terrifying downhills at a time.

Lord, with you I can conquer my fears. Keep me safe.

The Gift of Hope

January 31, 2009
Saturday morning

The morning's long anticipated activity was supposed to be a special run - a leg-and-lung busting power 10K or an extra-special LSD. Weeks before I already envisioned the dream outcome - me finally breaking my mythical sub-60 10K goal, or me doing at least a half-marathon of dream-filled, rejuvenating long, slow run. Alas, my left leg had other plans! Afters 3 days of rest following a speed work-out, soreness finally vacated my leg on Saturday morning. But the confidence to do what I originally planned simply wasn't there. If I race a 10K, how many more days do I suffer after? After doing mainly easy 5Ks or 10ks, was I really ready to push again for great distance? Overextending my mileage was what got me into this rut in the first place.

That Saturday was my special day and this birthday boy intended to get a gift for himself! Happiness is not only a state of mind; it is also making the most out of given circumstances. So I got my reliable road bike and set to ride for a LONG distance. Just the other weekend I successfully increased my bike distance from standard duathlon requirement of 40K to a personal record of 60K. That was 2 months after I fumbled my way into riding my first road bike. This Saturday morning, as a birthday gift to myself, I would do half-ironman bike distance of 90K. Yes, another 50% increase from previous mileage. But I know my body, and this body deserved the gift of hope that someday it could actually bike the half-ironman distance.

It was already 11am when I began my half-ironman attempt. Yes, birthday boy deserved a longer stay in bed, and I dilly-dallied that long before deciding on how I would spend my day. Even my second shift morning cycling "classmate" was already half-way through his ride when I began mine. Still, it was comforting to know that I was not the only regular cyclist who woke up late and was crazy enough to start when the sun was already way up there.

To accomplish the half-ironman bike leg, I had to do 8 rounds of rolling 11K and do a 2K cool-down to complete the 90. The first 2 rounds were easy. I would trade hellos and quick banter with classmate and his driver/support crew. By noon and onto my 3rd round, I was already alone on the road. No cyclists, no runners, just cars and me. It was times like these when I would ask myself why the hell was I doing all these. Biking at noon time when I should be holed up in some hotel indulging myself, reserving strength for late-night dinner, drinks and videoke marathon with friends.

I suppose I just wanted to test myself. That even if I could not swim, bike or run fast, I certainly could go the distance. That what I might lack in speed and power, I made up with diligence, patience and tenacity to finish the seemingly impossible, when others would have long given up or would not even try. I suppose I long for accomplishment, beyond education or career. I suppose I long for something I can be passionate about. I suppose swimming, biking and running remind me that I am very much alive and must live life to its fullest. What is death anyway but a cessation of all movement. And so on the day of my birth I moved a lot and celebrated my capacity to enjoy life.

I continued my celebration and began my third round by singing. Yes I was singing out loud; no one would hear anyway. I was also not sure if I would still have strength for videoke later. I began with the last song I heard over the radio on my way to the village: Spongecola's take on videoke MRS Closer You and I. Hey there's a look in your eyes, it must be love at first sight....I was pleasantly surprised to hear myself singing well despite being crouched forward on bike. It seems biking, running and swimming have other benefits. I was hitting the high notes full-bodied and with gusto! Well at least till that part when road turned uphill - needed to focus back on the climb. As I passed through my favorite adrenaline rush downhill, I was rocking my way to You Give Love A Bad Name (is that the title?). You giiiivve loo-ovvve....a BAD name!!!

I was so pumped up despite my very limited repertoire of songs whose lyrics I could remember that the next 4-6 rounds came easy (note to self: update your songlist, memorize lyrics and practice!) Rounds 7-8 were the hardest. I was already beyond my historical longest distance, and Jesus Christ, I only had a pack of hopia and cashew tarts on quick breaks for lunch. This was the time I was trying to summon all the singers and saints I could think of. Running out of songs I actually did Climb Every Mountain just in time for that uphill again. I must be delirious from hunger and fatigue when I did Sharon Cuneta's Unti-unting Mararating Kalangitan at Bituin (yes, in another long uphill again). I found myself repeatedly singing Matchbox Twenty's Unwell. I was in denial when I sang, I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell... I must have sang that line a zillion times.

On my last round at close to 3pm, a senior cyclist came close, probably to ride along. My God, the afternoon cycling shift had aleady arrived and I was not yet done. I was too weak to mumble anything, but in my mind I said, Manong, kanina pa ho akong umaga. Last ko na ho 'to at ayoko na. Next time na lang ho. He must have read everything from my face and body posture, so he biked past me.

Ninety kilometers finally passed. It took 4.5 hours, but I did it. Ha! I now have that 90km badge of hope pinned on my jersey. Just have to work on speed, hill climbing, fear of buses. Oh I forgot again, get those cleats please, and practice on the aerobar. The dream event was still months away anyway. For the moment I celebrated. I treated myself to The Spa massage after the ordeal. The dinner, drinks and videoke could wait. As the skilled masseuse kneaded away the knots in my legs, I silently prayed I would have the strength to do the next day's aquathlon. God, thank you for another great birthday.

Frustration and Elation

This morning I was supposed to do a long run. After 2 weeks of nibbling on 5Ks and 10Ks on BHS sidewalk or on the treadmill, I needed to pig-out and take on at least 15K, preferably on wide, quiet roads inside tree-lined expanse. To reach 21K would be truly rewarding; to go beyond, almost an impossible dream. The long run is like sleep to me - as I daydream my body rejuvenates itself and my mind calms down and meditate.

I needed and missed my long run badly. After 2 weeks of refining my foot strike and strengthening my weaker left foot through short, slow practice runs, I checked on treadmill last Wednesday if I was ready to run longer and maybe, a tad faster. I started with a small goal: finish 10k at pace of around 7:30min/km without heel, mid-foot or ankle pain, and I would have a pass to do long run on weekend. Easy I told myself. With enough rest my legs felt like new. I felt so good running . At many points I would feel eureka moments and silently scream inside: Yes, yes, that how should you move your feet and legs! Capture and commit to memory whatever it was your doing! Imprint in your psyche how good it felt. Run like this and you could run forever!

I felt so elated I become emboldened to slowly raise the speed. There was actually a speed range where the higher it was the better my running became. I figured I was in the zone. I was so consumed by the process that towards the last 2 kilometers I was already running beyond my psychological barrier of 6min/km. In fact, in my last 500m, I was sprinting on treadmill at less than 5:30min/km. The best part was there was no sign of pain. No pain, only elation.

The pain greeted me in the morning. It was like my legs were deadweight. First I asked: Could it be stress fracture? I progressively applied pressure on various points to check if there was wincing pain, especially toward the bones, but there was none. I just felt slightly sore near the shins and had knots on portions of calf. All the discomfort were in my problematic left leg by the way. After encounters with intial symptoms of plantar fasciitis, Achilles tendinitis and metatarsal concerns, was shin splints next? As I redo my foot strike, am I supposed to acquaint myself with the litany of runners' pains? Truth was for the past few weeks I have been reading and boning up (pun intended) on foot and leg anatomy. I was so afraid to be sidelined for long by injury I figured I should be aware and do I my best to prevent it. My mind, instincts and gut told me the pain was simply sore muscles. As I change my foot strike, I figured other, lesser worked muscles were now being engaged. I hope. I figured the worst was over - my biggest concern was the delicate midfoot bones and Achilles heel. The discomfort has moved to the bigger bones, which could better handle stress, I reasoned out. Overall, the level of pain has lessened since last month. If it does not go away within February, maybe it would be time for consultation.

After two days of rest, Saturday morning came. My legs felt better but teeny-weeny discomfort was still felt near my shins. I did not want to take chances so running was out of the question. So what should I do with all the energy built up inside me during two days of rest? I decided to simply bike my running frustration away.

The thing I loved about cycling vis-a-vis running is that no matter how hard I biked, the worst I can get from it is the feeling of being tired. Sometimes my quads would complain a bit but it was really nothing important. I even take pride in the quad pain. It meant my muscles are getting bigger and that I would be a stronger runner. Cycling uses the bigger muscles and puts less direct stress on them. You want long runs? I shall do long rides.

I decided to do intervals, er, laps. I did 5 rounds of 11kms each and dutifully timed myself. Just when I was about to finally use the lap function on my Garmin, the device ran out of battery. That the juice ran out only reminded me I was not doing outside runs lately. Anyhow, with my digital watch I recorded my times. I had the following times:

Lap 1: 34:54
Lap 2: 30:40
Lap 3: 29:56
Lap 4: 28.56
Lap 5: 28:55

Not bad I think. I compared it with the times of October mini-sprinters. Some of the Top Ten finishers had 28, 29, 30, so I guess pwede na times ko. Ooops, I haven't added the transition time pala - maybe 2-3 minutes? Buti pa sa biking, kahit once a week lang ako nagpa-practice, pumi-PR ako. My last lap time in that route was 31min. Last time I did this route on an actual race was the Oct mini-sprint where I had an already improved time of 38min on my mountain bike. Of the ten minutes I shaved, I wonder how much was due to training and how much was due to bike? My records showed that my best practice time for the mtb was 31:32 on that course! Uh-oh, I better train more so I can squeeze more juice from that road bike investment.

I had a good ride - 60kms including my cool down romp! This is the longest I biked in a single session! Twenty kilometers na lang baka pwede na ako sa Half-Ironman. Hahaha. Baka. For now I celebrate. The best part of my late morning till over lunch ride was getting to practice how to harness gravity to become a more efficient rider. I had a blast crouching and moving forward to speed down the road. The speed fast rising on my cyclometer only added to the thrill. Finally I threw away my aversion to wearing shades and I could now ride faster with the wind and not involuntarily cry from taking on dust and micro-particles.

Thank God my Saturday turned out well. I hope to have a Happy Run with my dog and friends tomorrow Sunday.

Back to Basics: Maintaining Balance

Biking is all about maintaining your balance on two moving wheels. I was lucky as a kid to learn to balance myself soon enough to enjoy the thrills and adventures of riding a BMX bike. With fingers near the handbrake and legs long enough to reach the ground, I was a confident kid biker patrolling the streets and outskirts of my neighborhood. Sometimes I would even sneak out onto the main avenues to get the latest food or gadget kids crave. As a child, you think you are Superman. You do not think much about danger; you think only about adventure.

I am now trying my best to be that Superkid again - adventurous and unafraid. Main difference now is that I have outgrown my BMX and now ride a roadie. Whereas before I was riding upright, with feet ready to touch the ground when I wiggle or about to fall, on my road bike I am crouching and I my toes barely touch the ground. I now try to balance on thinner wheels and have to alight my seat when I make a full stop. If I am not careful in my dismount, the family jewels may be crushed.

Finding my balance on a roadie was actually easy for me. What bugs me as a new road biker is maintaining that balance when my so-called "stress factors" present themselves. I group those factors into those inducing me to make sudden stops and those distracting me from keeping my balance while moving. The "stop" group includes busy intersections and heavy human traffic aggravated by kids who suddenly bolt your way. The "distractions" group is composed of tricycles, jeepneys, and buses which threaten to push or squeeze me off the road. I am kinda used to cars and other bikes, but not yet to members of my distraction group.

Last December, less than a month after I got my roadie, I had an encounter with a stress factor. I was approaching an intersection when a car arrived from another side. I was biking on a descending road with gravity pulling me down and I actually have the right of way, but the car caught me by surpise and I needlessly panicked. I hesitated and debated whether to pedal on or stop. Panic prevailed over reason and I suddenly pulled the break. The bike jerked from the sudden stop and I fell off my bike. Good thing I somehow know how to fall - to roll with the force just like in aikido. Outcomes: very minor scrape on knee, minor scratch on bike, a bruised ego and a resolve to learn how to stop and alight properly from my bike so that I will never panic again. And so for the next 30 minutes I practiced several ways of alighting my bike, imagining each time I was in an intersection with cars crossing. I went home several notches more confident.

First week of January I resolved I must deal with the distraction or the annoying vehicles group. Instead of riding within my village, or transporting my bike on vehicle for cycling practice on another village, I figured I would bike my way to the nearest neighboring village. Now that entails biking along a stretch of busy, car-and-tricycle infested main avenue. It was just about a kilometer stretch actually between my village gate and the next one, but that is a traffic-congested stretch. No sidewalks and bike lanes here. Everyone competes for road space.

I was actually a little groggy from lack of sleep on my first foray into busy roads. I reasoned out however that risk is manageable as I am biking just a small stretch, and help and hospitals are just a kilometer away. I simply had to hit the busy roads eventually, and so I did it. About 500 meters on the busy road, still groggy me realized I forgot the my most important bike gear - my helmet! Stupid, stupid, stupid. I was half-way between accomplishing my mini-goal and going back to where I started. I bravely decided to pedal on, doubly alert and cautious until I reach the safety of the next village.

Inside my neighboring village I thought I could already bike worry-free. Well, that was about 80% true. It was Sunday and people and cars were milling their way into the 2 churches there along a busy village street. As I looped through the village roads, I had to pass through this busy street. So I got to practice my bike stops and dismounts. After doing this for at least 10 times, I suppose I am ready to bike farther away from home and move closer to becoming Superman. I can also settle for Lance Armstrong.

Animo Duathlon

First Leg: 10K Animo Run

I gave up my Unicef Run registration for this. I skipped the chance to behold the sunrise at Heritage park and participate in a Rio-organised event, so I can have a nice easy run with friends, who happen to be Lasallites (Lasallians? How do you call yourselves again? This is a true child of UP asking).

It was supposed to be my last 10K for the year so I wanted it done right. Maybe in the process I will break my PR. I woke up and left home early - enough to kill time while munching on a cheeseburger. I hurried to the registration table so I can get my race kit along with friends. Omen number 1 was that the registration table was meters away from the race start. WHY? There was a swarm of people at the registration/claim table. Two or three youngsters were manning the table, besieged by a crowd anxious to get their kits. My group was within that crowd. I was getting concerned as I wanted to do a proper warm-up and possibly take a pre-race leak. I was still in a good mood to take a photo though.

Weng and I from my camera phone.

Then the host announced "The race is about to start in 5 minutes. Are you ready?" I shouted a loud protest "No, we are not yet ready". Of course he didn't hear us as we are so far away. That's when my mood began to turn sour. What the hell was taking so long? Had we known that online registration would lead to this, we would have asked someone to do registration in person. The 10K group finally started and my heart sank further. Finally, the bibs came, sans the singlet. I was too upset to notice the missing singlet and grudgingly pinned my bib. We raced to the entry point to look for the scanner the host was blurting out earlier, but the race marshals there said "What scanner?". I saw an equally irate Caucasian woman having same problems as ours. Just go, said the marshal.

And go we did for we have no choice. I badly wanted to start on time so I can assess how I pace vis-a-vis other runners. If we would just end up timing ourselves, we should have not waited for those kits. And where is the singlet? We paid for it! For the next 2kms I tried to exorcise the demons. Thank God I found diversion in the elite runners passing by. For the next few kilometers I tried hard to amuse myself by observing other runners.

In the last 2kms I was debating within myself if I should accelerate. My flesh was far from weak, but my spirit is unwilling. What for? What do I hope to achieve? By sheer habit and training I did pick up speed on the last leg. I tried to count people I was overtaking, but the thrill was just not there. I was like a robot programmed to count, devoid of emotion and inspiration. I did overtake about 25 people till the finish, but I was not jubilant at finish line. Cheers from friends at finish line saved the day for me. I was surprised I did beat my PR -- shaved 2 minutes off my old record for a new time of 1:07:44 on my watch. But I wasn't ecstatic. On that I course I think I could do a 1:05, probably even beat my 1 hr year-end target if I was inspired and lucky enough. The cheeseburger I ate was supposed to fuel my drive for a strong PR. With this new PR, di ko trip magpa-cheeseburger. I did win free lunch from 2 of my friends whom I outran. But even this was not enough.

My biggest disappointment was that it could have been a good race, even a great one. I liked the venue, the breeze, the smooth, flat roads, the DLSU cheering squad, the organizers' youthful enthusiam and the huge runner turn-out representing various sectors of society. I actually find this crowd refreshing, different from what I was used to for the past few races I've had at the Fort. Some of my better memories were a Caucasian man pushing a baby stroller (Boy, was he fast. Is the stroller unfair advantage?), a group of senior citizens merrily chatting while running, and a beautiful couple full of love in their eyes, etc.

My friends and I had some merry banter after the race, and then we parted to go back to our individual responsibilities.

Gilbert, Oliver, Me-ann, Bunny and Weng after the race

Second Leg: 30Km Bike Around Mall Of Asia

It was a good thing I brought my bike. I was still heady with the joyride I had the last night and I thought I should log on more kilometers on that bike. Weekends are my only practice skeds so I better maximize them. Besides, MOA is a great place to bike in.

Bike practice was all I had in mind. I didn't even bother to change from my running shorts, singlet and wide, chunky New Balance running shoes as I figured I will just do a few rounds and be done in 30 minutes. But I was so underwhelmed by my Animo run that a crazy idea went up my head. Do an impromptu duathlon. How long is a sprint duathlon anyway? If my memory served me right, it is 10k run - 30k bike - 7.5k run. Ok go. Bahala na si Batman. The bike leg is a fun leg lang, okay?

For the next hour and a half I did my bike practices. I hit the slightly busy roads as well as those less travelled. I sometimes found myself accidentally in bike packs, but I wiggled my way out of them cause my ride was still , er, wiggly. Someday I will also be a groupie, but for now I prefer to be alone with my bike, free to explore her angles and curves. I tried various gear ratios and forced myself to go down on the curve handles instead of cruising along with my hands atop the horizontal bar. I felt like a poseur, a trying-hard, but I experimented with those clip-on aerobars. nonetheless. I was trying to imagine what angle and lenght will suit me best. I experimented with saddle height a couple of times. I adjusted my bike so many times my allen wrench eventually lost it shape.

Most of the time I was just cruising, enjoying the views, the breeze and the crowd. I saw a father on bike watching his fully suited son ride his own kiddie bike. I saw former rowing mates running; I wanted to cross over to them but I have yet to conquer my fear of busy streets and intersections. I would pass by the church twice. First was to give thanks to the Lord for my legs and feet. Imperfect and ugly they maybe, they allow me to run and bike. Second was to ask blessing for my family, friends and country. I also asked the Lord if he can give me strength to finish the last 5K of my impromptu duathlon. God help me, my back and my butt are already grunting in pain! In gratitude I promised my next triathlon is dedicated to Him. I hope I do not screw up.



Third Leg: 5K run on Treadmill

On the last transition I questioned my motivation. Why the hell would you want to continue with this? Triathlon season is still months away and you are a still newbie for Christ's sake. Why punish yourself? I know you love triathlons, especially the swim leg, but duathlon feeds on your weakest skills - biking and running. Do you honestly think there is still incremental gain by running again. You are already tired. Remember the principle of maintenance of efficient movement. You can't run correctly and optimally if you are tired. Yeah I know, but triathlon entails fatigued running, and I need to know my limits.

I finally retired my now very drenched singlet and put on a fresh shirt. On the airconditioned confines of the gym I would finish my duathlon. I would do an easy 5K. I thought I can do longer but I was getting hungry. For this duathlon, all I had was a bottle of water for the first run, another bottle for the bike leg, a bottle of Activade for the last run and my generous fat reserves. Where was GU when I needed it? I ran with little fanfare. I tried to focus on maintaining good form while doing 4K at 8kph, 800m at 9kph and the last 200 at 10kph. See, I can still end with a strong finish.

For all that effort I rewarded myself with a plateful of lumpiang bangus, maja blanca and bibingka. I threw in a new set of allen wrenches and a white cap I can wear for runs. I hope there will be more road races in MOA so I can do this again. By the way, is there a pool nearby that opens before a road race?

Joyride

I finally got myself a road bike. I have been wanting one since my last mini-triathlon in Alabang, where the rest of humanity whizzed by me while I eat their dust on my mountain bike. Over post-race breakfast, one old-timer told me that from his experience, time difference between riding those two bike types can be as big as 15 minutes for a 30km sprint leg. I am already a slow biker; I do not need to further lag behind.

So after months of window-shopping in R.O.X, Bike King, Bike Town, MT Pro Bikes and almost all the shops in Cartimar/Leveriza, I finally got my first roadie. Nothing fancy, but good enough for a newbie like me. I wanted it to be my reward for doing the New Balance 25K. Weeks before the race, I already placed an order for a specific model in R.O.X.. Shipment arrival seemed to take an eternity so Friday before going to Clark, I found myself going back to Cartimar/Leveriza. Lo and behold, I found a model very similar to the one I ordered, so I had it assembled in a jiffy to my specifications and liking. Friday night I found myself skipping the Nike Running Orientation to test-ride my new toy.

My God, the first time was painful. The high seat- low handlebar combination was totally alien to me. And what's with those special pedals? I know they are supposed to hold the bike cleats eventually, but what does a greenhorn do with them in the meantime. To make matters worst, the bike was so sensitive (the experienced ones will probably say responsive) that my whole body tensed up just so I can have a firm grasp of the bike. Even making a simple turn was excruciating as I tried to find dynamic balance. Haaay, I was relearning how to bike in my 30s. Fifteen or twenty minutes into it I gave up. I shall live to fight another day. Hours later I would feel aches on my body.

The roadie is still my 25km gift so I brought it with me to Clark, hoping I can savor it after the race. Except for a 2-minute up-down ride along the villa street after the I unloaded the bike from my vehicle, I pretty much avoided the gift. Scared of running with an aching torso, I contented myself admiring my new toy as it leans on the wall prior to the race. My hope of riding my bike in Clark dimmed further when my heels hurt after the race. Even after a massage my body still has dull aches. What a waste! Clark is so perfect for riding, and here I was good as invalid.

As our party set out to go back to Manila, my new-found friend Karen shouted from her car - "Just try riding it." Like a robot I followed her advice. Gingerly I rode it, fidgetted slightly with the pedal and the handlebar, and then I found myself cruising the streets around the villa. Surprisingly, my body aches disappeared, and slowly I discovered the secret of riding it. I cruised along nearby streets and came back within 30 minutes. I had logged on enough kilometers of happiness to take home with me. For now.

Saturday (Nov 22) was my next bike ride. I went to my favorite village to try it. I came in late afternoon, with hopefully at least an hour of biking left before the sun hides away for the night. I was not even 20 meters away when the first raindrops fell. Darn, my plans are being sabotaged again! My new bike was just a week-old but it already faced the prospect of rusting/corrosion from rain. The credit card billing cycle was not even completed!...Hmmmph, what the heck. To hell with the rain. So what if my bike gets wet? I can always dry it. I am the master of the bike, not it's slave. My bike wouldn't be some expensive Chinaware wasting away in a cabinet.

And so I biked with youthful abandon. I took the side streets to quietly explore the powers of my new machine. She didn't disappoint. She rode like a dream. I would smoothly race through the downhills and attack the inclines with fervor. The rustling leaves, wet asphalt roads, headwinds and raindrops threatening to blur my vision just added to the thrill. Why, I should I have brought goggles!

As a smart-aleck kid I would often wonder why my grown-up neighbors have that tall, thin bike they called racer. They should be old enough to know that they could see better if they were not crouched down on low, curved handlebars. And what's with those thin tires? Won't they easily get flat tire from that? As I crouched down to grab the handlebars, I looked at the thin tire in front. I chuckled inside and sped away in my racer.