To be fair, the week opened with one of the best Sundays I had this year, which I would like to think is a sign of better things to come. Of course, my Sundays are pretty laidback and open for whatever. I try valiantly each single time to get an early start so I could hit the gym for a mind-and-body morning rush, unfortunately usually to no avail. But at the very least I could count on regular detours to the mall for some extensive power walking. I totally swear by this activity. If it weren't for this fallback, I'd have ballooned beyond redemption on account of my manic love for food, which would cross out any effects that I more or less gain from a spasmodic exercise schedule. I mean, imagine walking around for hours on end to window-shop and people-watch and nothing more, stopping to rest only for dinner or the occasional movie with Soms, my Thai cuisine-craving partner-in-crime du jour. It's practically fail-safe for couch potato butts like me. Although it can get quite tiring having to stay upright for a few hours straight, at least you don't feel the sting of focused physical exertion that is typical of gym workouts.
Last Sunday, Soms was a no-show, mainly coz I failed to inform him ahead of time that I couldn't make it to our loosely planned dinner. It's usually touch and go with him anyway, so it's all well and good. Upon arriving home from exercising my rights to vagrancy at Glorietta and Greenbelt (was literally bumming around all over the place), I had planned a short siesta until around 5pm but found the opportunity to snuggle further into sleepiness too tempting to pass up. After all, I'm not your daily corporate zombie for nothing. While some folks dream of Jeannie, I for the most part dream of sleep.
So last Sunday, I was wiped out, I was history. It was a day for the books. I had completed my second 5K that morning at the Fil-Mus Foundation Run for Peace at Roxas Boulevard. And to think I had almost missed it! I didn't hear the damn alarm go off, maybe coz I had only 4 hours of sleep the night before. Thankfully, by some mysterious process I managed to be jolted out of my sleeping stupor at 5:15am (starting time was 6am). I have never showered so fast in my entire life, the very memory amazes me to this time. After downing Lipovitan (the store was fresh out of Red Bull at the time), I was so pumped up, I was running the short distance from my apartment to the main road to hail a taxi. The sun was way up already and all that vitamin D got me in panic mode that I was cussing at myself for jeopardizing what I had been looking forward to for weeks. Luckily, the heavens must be conspiring in my favor coz I got a cab right away to take me to Malate. Sitting through the ride and trying to keep my wavering hopes up, it became all the more self-evident that Roxas Boulevard is quite a distance from my core universe in Makati, even sans the usual traffic. I implored the cabbie to go as fast as legally possible while mouthing a silent prayer to up my chances of making it to the starting line. I really wanted to run in this race.
When I got to the place, I jumped out of the cab and sprinted to the baggage counter area (a couple of mini-minivans) only to find out that I actually wasn't late. Practically, no, but only coz the celebrity guest runner who was there to kick off the show, Robin Padilla, the quintessential bad boy of Pinoy showbiz, arrived at the starting area a good 10-15 minutes later than I did (which would make the official starting time around 6:15 instead of 6am). Being a newbie runner, I would think that by racing standards, that's an eternity. Whatever. As evidenced by the reception of the racing crowd that caught a glimpse of him as he swept into the scene with a gathering entourage in tow (which included his very pretty daughter, who jogged with him wearing a full hijab), I realize star power is raw power. Can't really argue with the power of charisma. You'd think it would be easy for the multitude of runners to get a little pissed off by the delay. Apparently, you couldn't get guys like these (starstruck or otherwise) that chug on happy hormones for racing fuel in a sour mood then.
The starter pistol was fired immediately upon his arrival, and off the throng went. Some 1,000 boys and girls of all ages and from all walks of Manila life thundered down the paved path that extended from Rajah Sulayman Plaza, turning the corner at TM Kalaw and further past the plaza to the stoplight at the end of the pedestrian stretch, and back to complete a lap. The 5K event covered one round of the straightforward route which, even with the lack of the slopes and curves that characterized the UP run, was still a tough one for me as I was ready to drop by the side of the road at 4K. But I soldiered on, stopping for a second only when my shoelace came undone and breaking my pace by about 20% to aim in the general direction of my trap water from the plastic cups that the nice water people at the opposite ends of the road stretch were handing out to the runners.
When you're not racing, 5K sounds like an easy number. But as I was reminded again, it was a long, arduous journey of the mind as halfway through the run, I was mighty ecstatic to see the looming visage of the plaza that would signify the end of my happy ordeal. My endorphin levels dipped considerably, however, upon being reminded that the route from TM Kalaw required another turn before hitting the finish line at the plaza area. Daayymm, suddenly it felt like a chore that I couldn't reconcile getting up so early and working my ass out that hard for. Somewhere in the fogged-up crevices of my sleep-deprived mind, I heard the question, "Why am I doing this again?" And then I got the answer a short while later in the end, my utter amazement apparent at seeing the LCD timer staring down at me suspended from its place above the finish line, as if to say, "Yes, you really did finish at 33:37."
I swear, that moment right there was really cool. It was tops. Later this week when I relayed the news to Bry, my co-running junkie at the UP run, he was floored. He said his last PR (he runs at UP with Jer every Sunday now) was around 34 minutes. For the Fil-Mus race, I figured I must be finishing within the neighborhood of 36 minutes. If I were to be technical about it, my first ever time of 41:07 at the Great UP Run should be slashed some 5 minutes in order for me to get a better picture of how my average running rate goes. But man, 33:37 is quite something, on a personal level. I'm happy with it, especially since I haven't even been kicking it in training. The only aerobic activity I got after the run at Diliman was at Muay Thai class the day before (see previous post).
Which provides the segue into the second part of this report, to be concluded as soon as I can snatch up some free time from my workload from hell.
Post-Run Pose with the Muay Thai National Team
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