WARNING: This “story” has no plot.
They announced that the start finish tarp had been attached the wrong way so that, before the race started, we had to do a fake start in the wrong direction for the press. Maman Rach and I were too busy taking our own pictures to pay much attention.
They announced that there were 20 seconds left. I fiddled with my camera trying to find a way to keep it within reach without having it bounce while I ran. 10 seconds. I was still fiddling. Start! Without looking up, I followed Maman and Rach as they walked along the cement road going towards the trail. Dozens jogged past us, a few others walked with us.
Though it’s always nice to run with friends, something told me to go on ahead, I wanted to go it alone. So, I did.
“It’s flat!” I told Maman, “Lets go!”
I meant to tell him that we should jog while it was flat and walk when we got to the hills but I was too excited.
“Relax lang muna,” he replied in that no-worries tone of voice he often used with me. None-the-less, I didn’t want to relax. Yes, I wanted to be smart and conserve my energy for the 99.7 more kilometers ahead but I also wanted to have fun and get the feel for the race. So, I jogged. Though completely superficial this early on, passing people on the trail still made me feel good about myself. It was a combination of my competitive nature and being such amateur that I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was done.
I passed Simon.
I passed Miles.
I took some pictures along the way.
When familiar faces began to pass me when I’d stop to take a picture, I stopped taking pictures and stuffed my camera hastily in my bag’s pocket. At this point, every second was still precious. When even more people passed me, I thought, I’ll, at least, catch up. But, I’d eaten breakfast too late. My sides began to stitch. And so I did. The first Logistical Point (LP01) was about 8k in.
Simon, a bit tired looking, had caught up. He offered me some dried Mango as we drank water provided by LP01.
Simon Passed me.
I drank.
Miles Passed me.
I drank.
I hadn’t drank much of my own water, so there was no need to refill my bladder.
Back on the trail, I considered waiting for Maman and Rach to catch up but I knew I’d grow too impatient to wait. So, I jogged on.
More people caught up.
I jogged faster.
More people caught up.
I ran.
My left sole began to flip and flop with every step. I looked down.
Flip.
Flop.
Flip.
Flip.
Flop.
I slowed to a stop. On the side of the road I opened my pack for the first time, hassled by the stop. At this point every second was still precious.
“Okay ka lang?” They asked as the passed me.
They passed me.
“Okay lang, salamat.”
They passed me.
I figured I’d tape my other shoe for preventive measures, so, they passed me some more.
And, I ran again.
Cramps. I didn’t want to stop. Every second was still precious. Instead of stopping, I tried to walk it off. I walked and walked and when the pain on my upper right calf subsided I jogged again.
Cramps.
Crap.
“Okay ka lang?”
“Cramps lang. Salamat.”
I stopped, I stretched then I walked.
I drank my Gatorade and I walked.
I drank my Gatorade and my but I’d eaten breakfast too late and I was still feeling it bounce around in my stomach.
I walked until I hit the road part of the course. It was flat.
Slowly, I worked up to jog. Cars were whizzing by and it would have been smart of me to get off the pavement and work the dirt but dirt was harder to run on.
Cars continued to whiz by.
Until the end of the paved part, I’ll jog until the end of the paved part. At this point, every minute was still precious and every minute I spent jogging was two minutes I wouldn’t have to walk.
Until the end of the paved part.
Until the end of the paved part.
I’m getting too tired. This is ridiculous. 80+ kilometers to go.
Shit.
Shit.
I walked again.
I drank my Gatorade and I walked again.
Finally, the paved part was done but after a less than a kilometer of trail, it was paved again. But, I was getting too tired anyway. I needed to conserve my energy.
“Lets go!” Cheered an old man from behind me.
The old man passed me.
I went.
I jogged.
I kept up with him.
I drank my Gatorade and I went.
Finally, I began to pass some of the ones who’d passed me before. Some had even stopped at a sari-sari store to grab a cold drink. Sparkle. They’re gonna regret that later. With that, I let the old man get away as I walked and drank more Gatorade. I had to stop and pee every two minutes.
Another man passed.
I followed him. I followed him until LP2.
LP02
16K
74K
9K to LP3.
This was where they brought my care package. I hadn’t even eaten any trail food yet so I didn’t even bother with it. It would serve me well the second time around. They had bananas. I had one but I’d eaten my breakfast too late. Still, I had another. I could have used another for the cramps but I’d eaten my breakfast much too late, only 10 minutes before the race. I didn’t want to be heavy. I didn’t refill my bladder.
Instead, I drank.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
The next stop didn’t have water.
I drank.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
The next stop didn’t have water.
I drank.
Somewhere along the way, the tape came off of my right shoe. It was the preventive tape so I was fine.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
I’ll refill at the next stop.
Cramps.
This time, it was on the quad of the same leg. The Gatorade wasn’t cutting it so I ate the first of three Cloud 9’s. I looked around and I was alone. As I walked and walked farther, following the red and white North Face flags and stickers, I tried to take in each turn, hoping to remember them for the second lap when it would be dark. And, I was alone, so there wasn’t much else to think about except…
Cramps on the other leg.
I walked and walked it off and I finished my Gatorade.
Multiple cramping areas, I walked off.
Finally, just as I began to see people again, the river crossing.
Simon was already on the other side with his friend drying off their feet. It seemed that no one wanted to run in wet shoes so I took mine off as well. I sighed at the refreshing temperature of the water as it penetrated my skin to my upper right calf. But, maneuvering over lose rocks in murky water was a challenge to my cramping legs. I barely made it to the other side.
Miles was there too. Because I knew that they’d be faster than me, I didn’t take the time to rest and wipe but left right away.
“Sarap ng Bengay.” Miles said.
“Ang init, sarap.”
Cramps, I remembered.
So I asked for some and smeared it on before I left. As I waited for the init, I thought I hadn’t put enough until my balls began to burn. The vapory heat had crawled up my legs. It burned. It burned, but my legs were good as new. Thank God for Miles.
But It wouldn’t last, so I walked again.
And, Simon and his friend ran passed.
And, Miles and his friends ran passed and I followed. I followed behind their slowest guy. I followed until I couldn’t follow anymore and my legs began to cramp up in places they’d never cramped before. So, I walked again.
The tape came off of my other shoe, the broken one. I taped it up again. If I had to tape it every 3 kilometers, there was no way my shoes would last 80 more. When the tape came off again, I decided to leave it.
Finally, there was an aid station. I filled my bladder with. I didn’t need to fill it up. I shouldn’t have but I did.
“May duct tape kayo?”
“Wala, sorry.”
Damn.
As I negotiated the sticky mud that seemed to be sucking the soles off my shoes with every step, I found myself talking out loud to them.
“If I can last 70+ more kilometers, you can last 70+ more kilometers.”
Later, I felt too inhibited to do it at the aid station so I walked passed that and passed another martial point through the mud until I was out of sight before I took out an Enervon multivitamin which I drank and a hydrite tablet for my water.
I drank and I drank and I peed and I peed until my piss was on the fringe of apple-green but my cramps never went away completely.
I walked until the worst was over, I jogged until it came back.
I walked, I jogged, I walked again but mostly I walked from then on.
Recovery mode.
Two girls that I’d noticed at the river crossing came up behind me, keeping pace with me as we walked.
At the next river crossing, my socks were still moist from the first. They took their time, I didn’t. Not long after, there was a third crossing where I did the same while they wiped their feet dry. Still, the two girls caught up while I was negotiating a particularly muddy patch of trail. They’d gone off trail to a parallel higher level to avoid the mud.
“Dyan ka talaga dumaan! Hehe.”
They, too, passed me as I was left to feel the wet and sticky mud that seemed to be sucking the soles off my shoes with every step.
I don’t remember the facts and figures but I remember computing them in my head in anticipation of the 14 hour cut off for the first fifty kilometer loop.
Another old man passed me and he was only walking.
I walked faster.
I walked faster and almost constantly had him in sight though the forest, on to the road until we hit a martial station and, as he stopped to ask for directions, I caught up. Back in the forest, he stopped, looked back at me and said, “San kaya?” The trail seemed to be corded off with nowhere to go. He hadn’t noticed that the trail went down.
“Dun o!”
I passed him and wondered if I’d taken his position somewhat unethically or tactlessly. I was too tired to look back, so I didn’t. Along the way, walking briskly, we passed others. The trail was heading uphill where I could comfortably keep my pace while others, probably not used to walking on trails, faltered.
I wanted to conserve my hydrite tablets so when I’d finished one, I stuck with water. I remembered my trail food. My mom had bought me random things at the supermarket based on vague descriptions of what trail food was.
Sunmaid Mixed Dried Fruits.
Sunmaid Mixed Dried Fruits!
Sunmaid Mixed Dried Fruits!
The moment they hit my lips, I can’t describe the love I felt for my mom. It was heaven.
Sunmaid Mixed Dried Fruits and mom’s love got me through to the third logistical point with much of the same nuisances as before: broken shoes, wet socks and F’d up legs.
There was another river crossing along the way. Sitting on a rock to take my shoes off, I used the opportunity to cut the loose bits of sole off the bottom of my poor shoes.
“Retirement climb,” I told the marshal.
At about twelve o’clock, I planned to have lunch at LP04 and even take a nap. I estimated it would take an hour or so to get there. If I was in for lunch and a nap, I might as well jog and use up what energy I had left before the rest. Shoes no longer flip-floppy, I found a good stride in there. But, I estimated wrong. It took me closer to two hours. I don’t remember specifically but I probably got leg cramps again at this point. Luckily, I’d reached LP04 right before the heavy rains hit. Just as luckily, I’d caught up to Simon who happened to have a pair of. If the monoblock chair and Simon’s dry and soled shoes paired with my dry spare socks wasn’t heaven enough, after taking a few last pictures of my shoes that I’d probably never see again, I finally had lunch. “Zesto-packed” corned beef and bread. But as the people came in for shelter from the rain, I was lost for a place to rest my head for the nap I’d been anticipating. I settled to enjoy every moment of my sandwich before trudging on again. It was only drizzling by then. I felt that God was on my side.
Along the trail, I heard the rain strengthening from behind and retreated under a tree. A family of locals caught my eye and invited me into their home for better cover. They even had not-so-warm coffee. Coffee dehydrates but I had the whole mug anyway. They asked where I was from and asked about the race. I asked if the rain would stop any time soon. They said it should be gone in a while. My skepticism prepared me mentally for the worst while I prepared physically by switching back to my old socks and taking out my rain coat. By the time that they’d told me about the other runner who’d gotten hungry and had a quick merienda with them, the rain had gone.
And, I was off.
I walked and walked and jogged but mostly walked. I’d also picked up a stick along the way to help me walk.
It broke.
I picked up another.
Then, on my way down from a small paved path running down a hill, I saw it: Assault.
Every minute wasn’t so precious anymore so I waited at least fifteen at the saddle between the two hills before attempting to scale it.
Assault.
“It’s not so bad.”
“It’s not so bad.”
And it wasn’t. My mind had played a trick on me. The hill was no bigger or steeper than the one I’d just scaled.
So, I walked on until I finally caught up to my friend who I’d cut off before. At one of the stations, I’d learned his name and the names of the other familiar faces when the marshals asked for them. I’ve forgotten them already as I’m sure this group of guys who I’d walked side by side with for about 35 kilometers have forgotten my name as well. Again, there was much of the same. Walking, cramping up, resting, jogging and walking. This time though, I had my stick for company and some familiar faces for a semblance of familiarity in the depths of forests and small towns.
As we walked, the children would call out numbers, our numbers. I was: Zero-Six-Four. They’d also call out other numbers, two digit numbers. These were our estimated places: 32, 35, 41 and eventually as the day went on, 53, 55 and so on. But all we could do was walk a little, jog a little and walk a little more.
Night fell. Headlamp on, I saw Crow coming around for his second loop.
“Malapit-lapit na yan,” he volunteered without my asking.
About 5 Kilometers later I hated him for saying that.
Malapit-lapit my A*%
For a while now I’d been leading the pack, until I’d eventually left them. But it was all for naught when the trail seemed to split to two and there was not a trail marker in sight. I took the left which lead me to a dead end. When I looked back, I saw headlamp lights bouncing towards what would have been right.
Shit.
But all I could really do was walk.
So we walked.
So I walked.
And as dragging as this is to read at this point, it was a thousand times more dragging for us to walk.
We hit the road that we’d jogged in the beginning and expected the finish line to be beyond the bend and we continued to walk until I had thoughts of quitting again. I fell behind. I fell behind and was left alone. A motorcycle pulled up beside me to offer a ride. I thanked the driver but declined. I would walk.
For the rest of the evening, we walked and we walked and I walked.
50 kilometers I walked.
