A Race to Remember

My mom may not know it but she has been constantly teaching me three things in life. Strength, perseverance, and the power of prayer. And although she is miles away from us and all alone by herself in New York, Mama continues to guide me through my journeys of ups and downs. My Condura experience last Sunday, Feb 7, 5 am at the Fort and through the Skyway took me to great lengths of holding on to these three things. Sometimes one by one. At times, altogether. That morning, I was about to take a journey on my own, without a pacer or a friend to keep me grounded and I was fidgety, nervous, agitated, excited, anxious, apprehensive on a challenge that is towering high above me. My first 21k was with the very patient coach, who kept his peace beside me. I tapped out on my second one because of dysmenorrhea. This time, I promised myself that I will finish this race no matter what. I will finish this not for myself, but for Mama. I never thought that those same words looped inside my head for the nth time during my run.

Strength. I did not train for this run. My last run was the midnight run the Sunday before, which only took me 3 hours around the UP oval. Tuesday morning was a mere 30 minute run near the village before I went to work and an hour at the cross-trainer machine after office. And Wednesday evening was a date with the treadmill for only 30 minutes. No more, no less. Friday and Saturday were carboloading days, as advised by friends. It was a struggle to sleep Saturday night as thoughts of tapping out again gave me a significant increase in my heart rate. In short, I was utterly worried.

Perseverance. So while I was stretching and going around the coral 40 minutes before we took off, I tried to convince myself over and over again that I can do it. That I have done it before, what is there to lose this time. That I am not the only one with the same feelings. That I should just enjoy the run and it will be over sooner than I thought. So when the countdown marked 1, I breathed in and gazed at the cheerers on both sides to keep my mind off the anxious runners moving fast by me. I treaded up 32nd street on an easy pace, all the while reminding myself that I was there to enjoy every step and that there are more roads to conquer in a few more minutes. The darkness reminded me of my pace at the UP oval and how I kept my sanity intact then. The thought of singing “hit the road jack” in my head again didn’t falter and helped me on my way up to the Kalayaan flyover. Once up there, I inched in a one minute walk break so I can catch my breath and to bite into a piece of Goya chocolate as I was already getting hungry. A minute after, I ran off again until I reached the aid station and was glad to listen to the army band playing at the back. It was just the thing I needed.

It was a good thing I studied the route beforehand. This way, it was easier for me to gauge my strength and stamina on how much I need to preserve and how much more I need to give out as needed. I wasn’t at all thinking about my pace, although I know I was slow, because I was enjoying every minute of the run. It was a totally different experience when I got to the Skyway. It was still a bit dark but dawn was beginning to inch its way through when I reached the part of the Skyway near the Alphaland Southgate (I remember this building because I was trying hard to read through the word after ‘south’ because it was still a bit dark). I could not explain the feeling, it felt something like when you fall in love, or when your dad told you that you’re going on an airplane ride, or when you’re just lying in bed, under the sheets, while the rain is tapping on your windows outside and you have the whole day to stay in bed, or when you received a call from a loved one that you’ve been expecting the whole day, or when you’ve got your feet on the grass the morning after the rain. It was exhilirating to see the runners all around you and the morning smog hovering above the Skyway with the airplanes flying in and out in the distance. It was priceless.

Power of Prayer. As I reached the turnaround, I had to struggle for the cliff shot out of the arm band. It sliced off 7 minutes from my time from taking the cliff shot out of the arm band, slipping the contents into my mouth, and drinking one and a half cup of water. The way back was a bit more daunting but I kept the 5 minute run and 1 minute walk battle plan as far as I can. I thought of Mama and how she must have been going through similar stages of struggles and sacrifices every day on her own. And each time I do, I was hoping that she has someone with her who can give her the same inspiring markers on the road that I read and kept my mind off the pain. When I saw the last marker, “Congratulations! You have conquered the Skyway!” – I went, yes! Just a few more kilometers! I can do this! Passing through Buendia took a bit more time than I imagined. I had to walk most of the time as fatigue was already gaining its way ahead of me. After the last aid station at the foot of the Kalayaan flyover, I knew then that I have conquered not only the Skyway but my fears and made it through the challenge. I rejoiced silently when I crossed the finish line and breathed a moment of gratitude for the big man, who kept his promise to watch over me throughout this journey. At that moment, I could not believe that I survived and finished on my own. And while everyone else was caught up in their own moments of glory, I cried.