Beyond a Hundred Kilometers

12May11

It was two months earlier since I registered for the North Face 100 Camsur. In two months, I prepared myself for the 100-kilometer trail ultramarathon. Some preparations were unconventional; I didn’t drink beer for two months; I denied myself from using the elevator- this meant climbing up four storeys every time I go to our office at the House of Representatives.

For the second time, I opened my race kit while I was seated inside the Isarog bus that will take me to CamSur. The first time was when I registered for the race to check that nothing is missing. As I tried to understand the map, struggling to come up with a game plan, I asked the bus conductor if there’s a body of water at Mt. Isarog. Still collecting the tickets of the passengers behind me, he got hold of the map and said that there is (or there are?). I thanked him as if his response was the final chip for my game plan.

When we arrived at the CWC, I told my family to go around and enjoy Naga City while I rest for tomorrow’s race. And I know that the race briefing, happening in a couple of hours, is something I shouldn’t miss.

At the race briefing, the 100-kilometer route was explained by the race director as if it’s simply a walk in park- Jurassic park.

The strategic and scenic points were identified and explained. You’ll find the waterfalls at kilometer X. You’ll cross rivers at these points. Mediamen will be staying at this kilometer so try to freshen up for possible interviews. The bamboo farm and the deer farm are at kilometer x. This is the highest point of the route, etc.

After the briefing, the organizers announced that they will be collecting drop-off bags that will contain the stuff we want to get at the Logistics Points (LP) which is approximately at kilometer 6o. Our drop-off bags will serve as lifelineto replenish our supplies and change apparels.

I decided to fill my drop-off bag with a big bottle of Gatorade and two cans of San Marino Paella- the only canned food that is easy to open and has rice in it. At this point, I had second thoughts if I should put in an extra pair of shoes. But which one? I brought a pair of road shoes and trail shoes. I made up my mind, foolishly convinced myself actually, that I will run the whole route using my road shoes. I justified this believing that I need a more pillow-soft footwear in order not to put so much stress on my feet.

I slept, confident that I will meet my 24-hour target.

First 21km

I woke up at 2:30 AM. I still have ample time to pack my things and bathe. I stuffed in my bag two cans of San Marino, a plastic bag of chocolate bars, and filled my bladder with three liters of Gatorade.

It was drizzling at the starting line, and the marshals were already inspecting if we had the things required for the run. I had it all: whistle, celphone with at least P100 credit, headlamp, blinker, hydration, and food. But more than anything else, I’m bringing with me the will to finish the race.

At 4AM and still drizzling, the race began.

The first 21km is relatively flat and is mostly concrete. I had this unexplainable pride that my game plan is working. My road shoes could have been smiling and whispering, “See, I told you this will work”.

I ran past some runners even after pausing to take a piss beside a tree. I was surprised to see an old man running who’s probably as old as my grandfather. I greeted him as I overtook.

Almost two hours after, the horizon became clearer. Mt. Isarog’s shape has become apparent as we tread a rice field. I should not stop running in order to cover longer distance while the temperature is still cool. But the concrete road has vanished. My feet have been feeling every shape of rock that I’m stepping on. I thought of my trail shoes I left at CWC.

 

 Rain at Kilometer 25

I’m already ascending Mt. Isarog. But there were some parts where we must use the rope, prepared by the marshals, to climb. The trekking pole I brought came in handy. Like an old man using a stick while walking, I was climbing the mountain stabbing the earth with the pole.

Then I heard a sound of rushing water. As I cross the river, hopping on one boulder to another, I can’t help but marvel at the waterfalls mightily dropping water from above. I slipped as I stepped on a rock precariously situated between two boulders. I chilled as I felt the water seeping into my shorts. But worse, my socks got wet.

I once heard Congressman Sonny Escudero saying”Nabasa naman na, maligo na”. This was when he countered Congressman Rufus Rodriguez’s motion for the omnibus referral of all communications to the Rules Committee.

I thought of that instance as heavy rain poured. I wasn’t even sure if my headlamp can withstand the rain. I stopped under a group of banana trees to cover my bag with its built-in raincoat. Though I kept my phone in zip lock plastic, I don’t want to take chances.

The rain was insane. The trail turning into mud is acceptable. But when rocks begin to roll from the slope, that’s something else.

The search for a toilet at Kilometer 30

I was already running with three other guys at this point. Victor Verry, whom I met at takbo.ph, Christian Onting and X Tan, both members of TEAM UNGAS.

The rain had stopped but I faced another hurdle. Something internal this time.

I had to stop at houses to ask if I may be allowed to use their comfort rooms. I wasn’t surprised to find out that most of these houses didn’t have one. I remember staying in a hut of a fisherman in Quezon years ago who thought of comfort rooms as a luxury. If you have a vast backyard, why do you need one?

Fortunately, after four houses, I found one.

A woman was standing in front of their house with three children beside her. They were greeting the runners in front of me so that gave me an idea that they would accommodate me.

I greeted the woman and asked her if I can use their comfort room.  Manifesting the innate hospitality of Filipinos, she told her children “ihatid nyo si kuya nyo, bigyan nyo ng timba at sabon.”

My companion-runners went ahead but I was absolutely relieved for a wish come true.

Their comfort room was a separate structure outside their house. It’s as big as a phone booth. I was a bit uncomfortable as I walk nearer the structure since the three children were following me. I had no idea what they were saying but they were giggling. I giggled with them.

Inside the comfort room, I closed the door as I hurriedly undress. The door was made of rice sack framed by bamboo; it appeared like a giant kite. To my surprise, the sack had a huge hole staring at me as I sat on the bowl. The children saw me, I saw them too, and they chuckled again.

I joked, “nakikita nyo naman pwet ko.” The girl handed me a handkerchief, through the hole, to cover the opening. For the ten minutes that I’ve been sitting there, the children were a constant companion. They were regularly asking and telling me “nakikita mo dyan yung sabon?”, “may tubig ka pa dyan?”, “tapos ka na?”, “ang bantot.” I was answering them back.

When I was done, I thanked their mother for being such a great host. I bid the children goodbye.

Full Marathon at Kilometer 42

 Just like what I experience every time I ran a marathon, my knees were feeling cold. I had to stop and massage my muscles as if to warm it up. My shorts have also started to chafe my skin. I had to ask Christian for petroleum jelly to soothe the chafing.

Acquaintance at the highest point, Kilometer 50

The ascent was over as we reach Consocep, a park made at a high point in Mt. Isarog. A water station was also placed at this point. Then, I saw Mitch, a classmate from UP, who was manning the station. I told her how many times I regretted joining the race because of the difficulty. I relayed how funny it was when I had to stop to use the comfort room.  She, on the other hand, encouraged me saying that this was the highest point of the race and that the next stopover is the LP.

It is also at this point that I met Edison Maningat, aka Sinarapan, from takbo.ph. We exchanged views how hard the ascent was.

Since I estimated that it will take me another hour or two to reach the LP, I searched for the chocolates inside my bag. I was surprised to find only two Kit Kats inside. Gosh, I left the others inside the fridge at CWC. So I should economize.

 

On our way to LP, Kilometer 51 to 58.

As we enter the park, I asked a girl vending banana-cue how to say “Pogi ako” in Bicolano. She laughed for some strange reasons. Maybe she judges that I don’t deserve such phrase. So I told her I’d greet the people maurag – the only Bicolano word I know.

The park was amazing. It can equal that of Singapore. I saw people bathing in the raging albeit shallow river. There were children sliding from smoothened boulders down to the lower part of the river.

The steps were a bit mossy though. I had to use my trekking pole to balance myself especially that my road shoes is losing grip of the very slippery ground.

As we exit the park, we crossed the deer farm as the map suggested. But not a single deer was on sight. Maybe on Christmas they’ll appear. Instead, the sun angrily dried us up as we ran the unending stretch of sugarcane.

When we can’t bear the heat anymore, I decided to stop at an artesian well where an old woman was washing clothes. I asked if I can use the well to bathe. She allowed me to do so while she asked some questions about what we were doing. She thought, along with her neighbors, that we were measuring the land area of Mt. Isarog.  I responded “Opo, tinitingnan namin kung 100km talaga.”

When I was done, I thanked her and told her “Maurag ako”. She laughed.

 

Logistics Point at Kilometer 58.

 Finally, we reached the LP. Here I met Levi Nahayangan, a fraternity brod and also the one who designed the course. When he asked me how it felt, I told him that I was cursing North Face in every step of the way. I was joking of course.

I also asked Kelly, a Singaporean I met earlier, for some powder to put on my aching feet.  I gave her a can of San Marino since she didn’t bring what we call real food. She asked me why I chose to bring this kind of food, which is obviously heavy for the bag. I told her that it was endorsed by a sexy Filipina, that’s why.

We had to advance to another station and return to the LP to complete the turn-around. On our way to the next station, I greeted some police officers standing by the road “maurag” while showing them the thumbs up. They responded maurag, too. I felt like Kobe Bryant passing through Lakers fans that time.

 

Last 40km

When we were back at the LP, the sun has started to set. The marshals said that a full marathon distance is left and we can soon rest. I recounted how long I finished the Condura Marathon last February. I was conjuring mathematical formula to approximate how many more hours will I run. I factored in my exhaustion, the trail, the darkness, and the blisters that have started to form in my feet. I didn’t come up with an answer.

I kidded Christian that this may be the day that we can beat the 3:45 cut-off of the Milo Marathon. I was fooling myself.

Interview just before Kilometer 70

I was frenzied when I saw a cameraman aiming at me as I was nearing his tent. I tried to appear refreshed. I foolishly mimicked how astronauts walked on the moon.

He said he’d like to interview me after drinking water. I obliged. Here’s what I remember during the interview:

 Cameraman: How is the race so far?

Ceazar: Great, great, mahirap. Sobrang hirap.

Cameraman: Can you finish it? What’s your target time?

Ceazar: Nung una ambisyoso ako, 24hours. Pero ngayon basta makatapos lang.

Cameraman: Nakita mo ba si Tatang? Anung message mo sa kanya? He’s 74 years old.

Ceazar: 74? Naku, 50 years agwat namin. Tatay, kung asan ka man ngayon, tibayan mo loob mo. Age is just a number.

The interview ended and I left without knowing for what TV Program that was.

Gang of dogs at the Kilometer 70

The only thing visible is the big white spot that my headlamp is illuminating. All else was total darkness. To have a clearer view of the rocks and plants, I held my spare headlamp to see what’s ahead.

A group of men were drinking at a sari-sari store where we passed. We declined their invitation for a shot excusing ourselves that we still have a long way to go.

It was midnight when I found myself in a neighborhood. That there were no lights that time gave me the goose bumps. I recalled playing the video game Silent Hill. My situation was similar: A deserted row of houses with just my headlamps.

What made the night more frightening is the gang of dogs obviously disturbed by my presence. Some would just bark, others were more aggressive. I stood my ground for every dog that came near. I aimed my spare headlamp at their eyes hoping to scare them away. It actually worked. The light blinded them and I had to this for every dog until kilometer 90.

 

Anti-climactic finish. Last ten kilometers.

As I reach the penultimate station, I asked Christian for pain relievers. I can now feel my feet with blisters all over. I took in three pain relievers, about 30 minutes apart, in the last stretch of the race. The marshals warned me to drink lots of water so as not to damage my kidneys.

I asked them how many kilometers were left. Their response was funny but true: walking distance.

I tried to summon every bit of energy inside me to walk the last ten kilometers. After taking in the third and last pain reliever, I can still feel the pain on my feet.

At last, I was entering the CWC. My time, 21 hours.

 

TNF 100

 All hopes and enthusiasm in me were lost when we had to traverse the park inside the CWC. I know the finish line was just around the corner when I entered the CamSur capitol.

This time, I had been cursing the North Face. I was comparing this leg of the race to an unnecessary school project. The organizers perhaps thought of showcasing every corner of the CWC. The problem is that they should have thought that some runners will be passing this area when it is still dark. I complained as I was crossing creeks and hopping on stones. Every landing  stung me as blisters were pressed. My left foot had been aching so much that I had to use my trekking pole to keep me standing and moving.

When we exited the park, we were at one side of the CWC lake. The finish line was finally on sight situated across the lake. It was during this 300 or 500 meters of walk towards the finish line that I felt triumphant.

After 22 hrs and 53 minutes, I crossed the finish line. I was very excited to claim the finisher’s token, which looked like a man dancing Itik-Itik, during the awarding ceremonies. I was also excited to get an extra North Face visor awarded to the first 50 finishers. I was the 40^th finisher.

As the marshals were recording my time, I thought of the day somebody told me that I’m not a real runner for reasons only known to him. Maybe he’s right. And maybe this thing I wrote isn’t really about the sport. The 100-kilometer journey has, as a matter of fact, fundamentally renewed my commitment that in my simple ways, I should strive to change the lives of people I meet along the way. The road in making the lives of people better will arguably be long, painful, and dark. At some point, one may even feel hopeless in doing so. Interestingly, even the word hopeless has hope in it.

When it comes to serving the people, there really is no finish line.

(The North Face 100 CamSur, April 30-May 1, 2011)

 

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Tags: 100 kilometers, Camsur, North Face Camsur, The North Face, TNF100, Ultramarathon