Mt. Rinjani, Lombok, Indonesia 2012

 

This account of my skyrun of Mt. Rinjani is long overdue. I got so preoccupied that it became a dilly dally. I wasn’t sure if I would ever write about it. But of course my conscience won’t allow me. Not reliving the images and the feel of my encounter of the beautiful Rinjani is just not right. I had to share it.

I don’t know how to make it short. I hope you have the time reading my story.

As I decided not to renew my working contract in Indonesia, I made sure that I climb one of its celebrated mountains in Lombok island. And like the other volcanic summits I climbed in the Indonesian archipelago, Mt. Rinjani left such a remarkable impression on me. And a big thanks to a good friend who partly sponsored this trip.

From Bandar Lampung in Sumatra, I flew to Bali then to Lombok island. Clouds hover above at touchdown on Praya airport, a few kilometers away from the old Mataram airfield. Four strangers met up with me. I was a bit scared not knowing who these people are--who are taking me to one of my dream mountains. I entrusted my life to these men thru the intercession of a very good Indonesian friend who is based in Bali.

From Praya, a place of a thousand masjid (muslim temple), we drove to Pancor which seemed like 50 kilometers away. Coconut trees, rice fields, and bananas abound the rolling hills. I saw old people carrying their produce on their heads with such good balance and grace. They remind me of home—the cordilleras.

The trip was long. Bahasa music was playing and my companions we’re engaging in Bahasa Sasak, quite more difficult to decipher unlike the standard language of Indonesia. My escorts tried to speak in their best english so they could practice. They told me stories and they made me laugh, making me more comfortable. I trusted them.

We stopped by at Aikmel in Lombok Timur for supplies. My guides promised to cook me my favorite nasi goreng and the best brewed coffee Luwak (which is by the way one of the most expensive coffee in the world. Why? I guess you already know that). Indonesian food tastes so good and mouthwatering. I’ll surely miss it when I leave Indonesia.

Just after entering the arc of National Park Rinjani, the surroundings got dark. It was so green and forested! Tall fig trees, coffee, cacao, wild orchids, giant fern tress and huge pandans abound. Monkeys were dangling from the trees, seemingly laughing at us.

From our uphill ride, there was a clearing and there I saw the imposing slope of Gunung Rinjani. The mountain’s huge and its tip so far. Clouds of smoke was coming out of the summit. Temperature dropped to about 10 degrees celsius.

Arriving at dusk at the village of Sembalun which is inhabited by the indigenous Sasak people, we bought kerosene and additional food ration. I particularly reminded our cook to buy my favorite Tempe for my dinner. My guides booked me at the Sembalun Lawang Lombok Timur Homestay. It was cozy and comfy but it was expensive. Had I known, I could have just spread out my sleeping bag nearby. Climbing in Indonesia is expensive— and you’ll be charged more if you speak English.

Two guides picked me up after breakfast around 6:30 am and drove me to Senaru—the common jump off point. In my limited bahasa, I recapped my plan for the ascent of Rinjani to Eman--the stronger guide who could run and powerwalk with me. Though he told me he was fasting, he assured me that I have nothing to worry about. We just had to stop about twice or thrice for him to pray.

The sun-kissed savannah slope was vast and humid. From afar it looked like a stretch of soft brown cotton wrap. It was exquisite. The terrain was rolling and it felt good to run. Reaching the woods was a relief. It felt cooler. This time Eman warned me of occasional drop in temperature as we head higher and to be ready to keep myself warm.

Going up the woods was technical. The surface was ashy dry--it made me sneeze a lot. During compressions, the view behind me was stunning. Drenched with sweat and quads feeling the strain after covering about 15 kilometers, I took a peek of where I’m heading to and it looked so far and yes—so high.

Exhausted and hungry now at 2:00 pm, Eman told me the best news that we have arrived at camp site which locals call Pelawangan Sembalun. We are now at 2,715 masl and it was cold. Rinjani stands at 3,726 masl. Temperature’s now 4 degrees celsius and will get colder into the night.

Dinner was a bit late as one of our porters got sick on his way up. Eman had to go back for them. I was left admiring the view of the Segara Anak (Child of the Sea) lake half-way thru the summit. The walls of the caldera were long and deep crevices and the small volcano Gunung Baru Jari (New Mountain) which was born during the 1994 and 1995 eruptions. Puffs of smoke were visible at the small crater. Looking beyond the ridges was the setting sun and the full moon that presented a picturesque drama of wonder.

I was in company of trekkers from Europe and Asia. Just like me they’re in awe at how they’re going to manage to reach the steep-sided conical summit before sunrise with its loose and steep vertical. Recalling the story of the danger at the summit due to sulfuric smoke, slipping and spontaneous eruptions, Eman told me to take it slow and keep myself close behind him. Rinjani last erupted in 2010.

Dinner was sumptuous. Brewed hot coffee and tea, nasi goreng (fried rice), telur asin (salted eggs), and noodles were served by our cook. I ate them all.

The full moon hovered like a giant golden plate against the dark horizon. It lit the campsite as we prepared for the night’s rest. It was hard to sleep as it was too cold for comfort. It’s now about –4 degrees celsius.

At 2:00 am, Eman and I started our ascent. We decided to go ahead of the other tourists to avoid huddling up at some portions of the way up the summit. The moonlight bathe the slopes in a beautiful silence and that my trudging was the only noise. Arriving at a plane ridge brought a much needed respite from my aching quads. The air was thin—it was hard to breathe.

The final assault was dizzying. It was difficult to be still as the wind was too strong to keep my balance. Eman was my eyes in the dusty and shadowy track. At 5:00 am, I was at the mercy of my optimism to summit. I had to dig in my feet for balance before making any further step. That was laborious. Behind me were tourists who looked like fireflies catching up at the ridge column.

I crawled up a few meters and dragged myself to the summit. I was in tears because I knew I made it the. I dropped myself to the ground and kissed it. The view from the top at 5:30 am and was one of the most beautiful sight I have encountered. It was too cold for me that It was hard taking photos. It was –8 degrees celsius.

I took my time at the summit knowing that it would take some time before I get to visit Rinjani again. The journey was worth it. Another dream came true. Until the next summit…quack quack

Half full at TNF Philippines 2013

 

This time I liked the subtlety—the half of it. It felt just right. I’m back in my playground, I am home. I have no qualms but I did feel a bit of an envy of those going full. But hey this is the second best thing and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

Months before, I flew back to recall the old familiar sweet tinge run up and down my whole being. The scent of the grass, the pines, the sweat moved me while the loose edges of the rocks tickled my feet that made me dance a little. These I always miss. It makes me happy.

Good cheer filled the crowd of racers, most of them familiar stars that swarms timelines in facebook and sports pages. My eyes wandered as usual observing the emotion of the sea of faces—mostly excited, while some locked in a deep thought. I could relate more to the latter. I felt anxious, asking myself if i could finish this year. Images of 2012 played back reducing me to pieces. There’s no turning back as it is not an option. With several nights of restful sleep, I felt alive. Though prep wasn’t enough (again), I chose not to cram but rather go for several feel-good runs and verticals in my building. Fresh legs and feet, and a strong heart mattered the most I say as I came inside the shoot to be checked.

Of we went like fireflies into the darkness of the woods. Heart pounding and lungs telling that it’s functioning okay. Caught up with the middle pack at a muddy and slippery downhill. Happy with my Salomon speedcross my feet felt stable and had a good grip of the earth.

Approaching the airport strip shortly before 5am changed everything. Irritated of my windbreaker behind me did my fall so early in the race. I lost my footing at a hump and the ground just came up to kiss me. For a few seconds, I laid there on the hard surface then reflex pulled me up. As I pointed my headlamp to my knees, there was blood from different spots. My face felt funny too. The right part was thicker and blood was there too from a gash. I didn’t realize I hit my head too. My right cheek was bigger than my left and my right eye felt thicker and lumpy—just like what we see in boxing. I wasn’t sure how I looked but I was thankful because there was no pain at all. Adrenaline’s working kindly. I felt numb.

Worried of an infection, I had a medic attend to my wounds. The medic offered to cover the wounds as it was swelly but I felt better when they are exposed and dried. The sun’s up and bright and everyone I pass by and meet on the trail seemed appalled when they saw me. Perhaps I really looked horrible that time. A runner from Hongkong asked me…”oh my are you okay…did you get that running down?” I smiled and candidly said…”nah I was just stupid.” And we both laughed.

Surprisingly I lost thought of my wounds. I was busy running, walking, eating and drinking. It was terribly hot. I was tempted to join in a small group of runners resting at a very nice shaded spot. But no. I had a plan and it has to be done. Forward relentless motion. If needed, 5 minutes is max for any rest. I opted for that after the turning point just in time for some happy food.

Good cheer from fellow runners were nice to hear on the trails. Near the half-the-course mark, you would hear the usual—“it’s not that far”. Who were they kidding?, I live here—my playground. I just smiled and acknowledged.

My four-wheels were all good despite the cuts. No signs of cramps after that nonstop, long haul up. To boost that, I made sure that I had water and electrolytes and some little happy bites of something salty and sweet in between. I also took a quick cold bath at the summit and changed my shirt. I made a stop at a small store and bought ice on my way back. 

Passing by a maze of pathways at a community leading to the last haul to the finish was the longest as always. Time was still good and on my side. But the sun was breathing down my neck at every turn. There was no cover at that portion of that haul. I was desperate to find a shade. I was toast and ready to fry.

Pounding my way at the John Hay area was a break. Drank more of my remaining boosters and kept moving as I drew nearer, though that stretch seemed endless. I finally heard music echoing and crowds cheering. So this is how it feels to officially finish. Addicting—I want more of this. I came inspired and will go home inspired-- to do and come back for more. It’s the sweetest moment.

…quack quack!

 

Salomon XTrail Test Run 2013

 

The trails are calling once again. And what a pull it is making. Arriving at Hamilo Coast for the 2013 Salomon Xtrail Test Run kept me in a pensive feel. What am I going to be in this time? But does it really matter—I just know that what I see in front of me: the cove, the beach, the hot sun, and the panorama of the trails that I, and the others with the trail itch will be running to will be full of a different kind of amusement.

 

The Salomon XTrail menu on March 23 offers a 6km, 12km and 24km distances to trail runners who want to bring their fitness level to the next.

Welcomed by race organizers from Salomon led by Janice Tañada – the brand manager of Salomon Philipppines and the gracious host for this year’s Salomon XTrail Run – Hamilo Coast, treated the runners, media friends, and bloggers to overflowing refreshments, and unlimited delectable food.

The pretty triathlete Pen Nepomuceno, who designed the course dubbed the road-trail route as full of ‘fun’. Showing the elevation and course map, it made me think and I’m sure the others too that it is one heck of a technical trail. Verticals were obviously there. You can’t miss them.

 

It’s 10 am and off we went. Pen Nepomuceno took the lead and gave us instructions on how to go about and what to expect on the trails. We were told to have a feel and the vibes of the first 6km of the 24km trail. The sun was excruciating and blinding. Thankful though of the winds from the west Philippine sea. Participants—not minding being fried under the sun, ran and walked by the beach up to the hills and back, appreciating the tranquil blue sea and the picturesque coastline which is something unusual for trail runners.

The heat would be a big factor on race day especially for those running the 24km distance. One would want to pray for rain or to have iced water at the water stops—all through out the race! The surface were like flaky and slippery due to pebbles, loose rocks and mossy pathways. Just like other runners, I dread the rocky and uneven stairs. You would feel your knees getting the intensity of the impact as you run down.

Challenging as it is and experiencing a bit of the route of the Salomon XTrail made us breathless and keyed up for race day. As we all headed back to end our test run at the white beach of Hamilo Coast, I felt my legs working again, and my lungs telling me that I’m in for a great trail run this March. What a partnership of Salomon and Hamilo Coast. See you all at the Salomon XTrail Run!

(Photos by Running Atom, Kian Vicera, Romano Cortes Jorge)

Idle times

Bed is warm, comfortable and a magnet! Annoyingly I turned off my alarm clock—not just for days but for months. I just wanted silence.
I guess this happens to a few, but then again maybe not. Perhaps it is just me. I don’t know how it came about but I am to blame. I am guilty. It is a choice and I allowed it to happen. A few weeks ago, my rendezvous with Mt. Fuji was another dream come true. I remember bringing home a poster of it a couple of years ago from the Kinabalu International Climbathon and I knew in my heart it was set to happen. However, as I became a mediocre, I was in no shape. Training stalled and got lazy. Weeks of dullness and no action.  I consciously know that I’m not fit and most importantly I was not in my running self to compete. My body and mind weren't in unison.
Strange but I kind of like this moment of inaction. If you happen to read this post and can relate to my situation, I would like it very much to hear from you about  how you beat it or how you’re dealing with it. I am missing my runs---my long runs and the happy workouts. 
I looked for answers. A few friends were very consoling as I told them of my slump. Replies were almost all the same. In one word, they call it a ‘phase’. A juncture of time when the body is needing something to break a monotony, though I am sure I am not a hardcore distance runner as I don’t race much.
I also searched deep within me how to get back, to find myself. It boiled down to the word: ‘choice’. I made that choice to give in to a craving that I don’t understand. I allowed it to take charge of me. Being a good runner is all about devotion and consistency. Since moving to Indonesia, I kind of lost a whole bunch of that. It sounds an excuse but half of it is true. I submitted myself to the fact that I am weak. This acceptance of my limitation is liberating…therapeutic.
At the moment, I am close to going back. I am starting to feel the itch of going back on the road again. Though I know I need to take a break again soon for one personal reason that could change my life. I have no qualms as I know that I could always go back. I just need this 'space' to give something a chance. Running and races will always be there, they won’t go away. Roads, trails and mountains would always welcome me back. That I am sure.
You’ll know when I am back.

Sublime

I sat, relieved as I am done for the day’s work at school. ‘tis the time of the day when I’m in my usual hunting for quotes, which I take seriously, from great minds of running and share them daily to the running community, hoping a good amount  of reflection would be done and inspire more converts.

As I settled for a good four or five quotes ready to be shared, my copy of James E. Shapiro caught my eye. One of the few fave things that I brought while here in Indonesia. I went through the pages and saw oldschool greats like Ted Corbitt, Arthur Greatheart Newton, Don Ritchie, John Jewell, Mavis Hutchison, to name a few.

It’s more than a year since I’ve been hunting and reading quotes about running and it is just sublime. Ever since, I make sure I share a daily running quote, particularly in the Baguio Running Wall in Facebook.

The book Ultramarathon by James E. Shapiro, for me, is loaded with chunks of good read of unassuming runners of great feat. I slowly read the lines again, taking them in like how I eat my favorite yogurt, delighting in the taste and understanding the flavor.

Perhaps it is just right to share some significant thoughts of Shapiro’s personal accounts of his interviews and running competitively against some of the ultrarunning world’s remarkable distance runners that runners of this current period idolize.

At the classic 24-hour run enclosed in a track oval, Jim articulated  what was going through his mind while on the run.

 “Go easy. Go relaxed. Save energy. Ignore the world. Forget the deep habit of every runner who loves to race which makes you yearn to close up on the pair of heels in front. The 24-hour is a special monster. It required. I felt, obedience to special laws or it would flatten the runner as indifferently as a hippo flopping down on a blade of grass.”

Shapiro also has this to say why some run.

“We do this to experience the whole with the goal of finishing steadily drawing nearer all the while, as we climb and descend in a sometimes easy harmony with the hills and the rotaries and the shoulders of countless roadways that meander through the world. Something always happens; there is a bit of fullness at the end of such a day—nothing of stunning spiritual dimensions but deeply pleasurable all the same.”

And who would forget believers such as Dr. George Sheehan, Roger Bannister, John Bingham who gave their own delivery of how beautiful running is, in their books are all a confirmation of the truth in running. Their meaningful words are reverberating and well appreciated. They’re a classic to every runner’s heart.

“The runner does not know how or why he runs. He only knows that he must run, and in so doing he expresses himself as he can in no other way. He creates our of instability and conflict something that gives pleasure to himself and others, because it releases feelings of beauty and power latent within us all.” – Roger Bannister

"It's very hard in the beginning to understand that the whole idea is not to beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants you to quit."

"To keep from decaying, to be a winner, the athlete must accept pain--not only accept it, but look for it, live with it, learn not to fear it." – Dr. George Sheehan

“Frustration is the first step towards improvement. I have no incentive to improve if I’m content with what I can do and if I’m completely satisfied with my pace, distance and form as a runner. It’s only when I face frustration and use it to fuel my dedication that I feel myself moving forwards.”

“The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.” – John Bingham

As my running continues, so is my love for it. The memories of my marathons, my joyful halfs, ultra trails--I just couldn’t get enough. The pull of distances longer than 26.2 miles is deep, intimate…passionate. An attraction that I don’t want to end nor cut.

Thanks to these extraordinary people, who inspired all of us to go further and rouse more souls to continue the love for running.

Blind Optimism

BLIND OPTIMISM

 The 25th Mt. Kinabalu International Climbathon 2011

Oct. 22-23, 2011, Sabah, Malaysia

(PART 1 of 2)

by RASHEL M PEÑA

 (ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Rashel M. Peña, a native of Baguio City, is a graduate of Saint Louis University and a former radio announcer at GMA Campus Radio. She has been a member of the Philippine Skyrunning Association since 2008, after joining the Mt. Kinabalu International Climbathon Skyrace in that same year, and the first from Baguio-Benguet to join the skyrunning group.

She started serious running since 2005 and has been running marathons and ultra marathons since then. She is currently working as a teacher and a trainor at Sekolah Darma Bangsa in Bandar Lampung, Sumatra, Indonesia. 

She says running mountains and pounding on the roads just makes her happy. She just runs; no 'what if's'.  It is her form of meditation and her way of celebrating God's blessings.)

I BOOKED my ticket to Kota Kinabalu months before the 25^th Kinabalu Climbathon. I saved hard for it. Having a meager pay as a teacher and a trainor is difficult.

It all started when my friends from the Philippine Skyrunning Association (PSA) sent word about the upcoming skyrace. I didn’t think twice. I knew I’m meant to be there, with my friends, with my team, to run and experience Mt. Kinabalu again.

Days, months passed by swiftly. While my friends went for their practice and altitude runs, I was stuck at work. I was limited to just a few runs and climbs whenever there’s a holiday coming which is very limited from where I am. Another is the expenses I would have to face. Climbing mountains in Indonesia is quite expensive. I didn’t have much choice.

Practice runs for me included five times a week of at least 15km each day. I was able to run and climb four mountains above 2,000 meters above sea level in Indonesia for my altitude runs and culminating it with 17-kilometer footrace in the Adidas King of the road Indonesia. I was careful not to get injured and I ate more than usual and incorporated a lot of rest days. I had to gain more weight for muscle strength, so I had this ratio of 30 percent of carbohydrates and about 15-20 percent of protein. Hydration was vital too and a good amount of sleep.

A week before the race I weighed 51 kilos, good enough from a light 48 kilograms. I tried hard not to think of the race, though deep within it is just at the back of my mind taunting me. Good thing, I could sleep well every night, but the moment my mind starts to remember, I could hear my heart racing fast again. Recalling back what happened in 2008, I just know how it would feel like to be racing, to be crawling, to have my legs screaming for rest, for my heart to beat so fast, have short breaths as the thinning air starts to affect me mentally and physically. I just knew what I’m going to be up to again.

Rushing everything at work, making sure that everything will be ok once I leave for Malaysia. I asked several of my colleagues to hold the fort for me and it was kind and responsible of them to take charge while I am away. I was appreciative of their help. Packing for my stuff was another serious matter for me. I didn’t have much running clothes with me. I tried to go hunting for second-hand shops here in Indonesia to see if there are some stuffs suitable for me, something appropriate for the weather in Kinabalu. There are only a few sports shops here in Bandar Lampung, Sumatra Indonesia and are very expensive. I didn’t have a choice but to content myself with running with my old running gears.

I flew to Kota Kinabalu four days before the race day. Months earlier, I was apprehensive since I will be travelling alone and I had no place to stay. I was particularly short of money. Every single cent counts. I’ve already psyched myself that I won’t be buying anything nor indulging in shopping or eating at fine restaurants. I worked on my very limited budget. I was ready to eat just rotti and drink just water. I didn’t mind that at all.

All these I accepted until one day, a message from Facebook got my attention. A Good Samaritan asked me if I’d be racing in 25^th Kinabalu Climbathon. I said ‘yes’ and he offered to help. He works with the climbathon’s race director, Sabah Tourism and one of the radio-communications personnel for the race. He arranged to pick me up at the airport and my accommodation for the night, including my taxi to Kundasang, near Kinabalu Park the next morning --- all for free. Getting this generous treatment confirmed how much the event coordinators and race organizers appreciate the Philippine Skyrunning Association’s love for the Kinabalu Climbathon.  And I’m very thankful.

The drive to Kundasang took almost two hours. The taxi was fast and my chat with a retired high school principal was a bonus. He shared his wisdom about education and how much of a proud man he is to be the first man in his village to get an education through sheer hard work and go back and teach the youth in his village. He’s admirable and inspiring.

Reaching our lodge (Ceasar’s Place) in Kundasang was breathtaking. Mt. Kinabalu is beautifully wrapped in swirling clouds, seemingly welcoming me back in her arms.  Maite Abellanosa and Merlita Arias-Dunkin greeted me when I came.  Tita Maite, as she is fondly called was cooking a mouth-watering vegetable dish as Philippine Skyrunning Association-sponsored athlete; Merlita Dunkin helps out. The others were out for their practice run to the summit.

I was later introduced to Romano Cortes Jorge of the PSA. We talked for hours and then decided to go meet the others at a nearby restaurant, just the time when they’re all back from the summit.

First, we met was Jules Picato and Roland Wang, a ‘kababayan’ from the Cordillera and soon I got reunited with the other members of the PSA. We were all happy to see each other.

The next morning was my turn for a practice run with Mia, Charina, Roland, and Luke. The view of the mountain that morning was clear with the sun coming out perfectly, compared to the previous days when it’s cloudy and raining. I felt good to run it.

We set off at 7:30 from Timpohon Gate. I made a promise to my body that I will only go as far as I can. My plan was to acclimatize and let my legs and feet feel the trails and the granite pathways and get reacquainted with the usual stress on my muscles as I go higher. Again I was extra careful not to injure myself.

I stayed in the middle of the pack. Mia was ahead, while I was just a couple of hundred meters behind until Roland caught up with me. Luke joined us later too near Laban Ratta while Charina just took her time and was at the back of the pack, taking her own pace.

Then the site of the ropes signaled that it was time to crawl up and the soft rain came, slowly soaking us. We are now 3,400 meters above sea level and going higher. It is freezing cold!

I was particularly worried about Luke. He was already feeling sick due to lack of sleep the previous nights. He was starting to have altitude sickness --- splitting headache, dizziness and sleepiness. But his determination to push on is admirable. The rain poured stronger as we reached Sayat-sayat at KM. 7.

We pushed even harder. Roland and I were still okay but as soon as I saw the fog zero-in on us from above, covering the mountain, plus the strong rain drenching us. I just knew deep within that it is no longer safe to move forward so I decided to call off the assault to the summit. Roland agreed and I just knew that we had to go back soon, especially for Luke. It was already dark up the summit due to the thick clouds and pouring rain. Safety first.

The trek down wasn’t easy. We all met up at Laban Ratta to eat and warm our stomachs. Instant noodles were just perfect. I welcomed the little sodium into my system and it felt energizing.  Luke looked better and felt better too. After fuelling ourselves, we went off in a hurry, lest we get caught in the dark and pouring rain. It was raining all the way to the forest. There were some compression stops and met some interesting runners on our way. We were fascinated by the runners from Nepal. They looked so simple; none of those famous shoe brands, all they had was their friendly smiles, road shoes and sweat pants.

The pouring rain didn’t help us. The trek seemed too long for us. It was already dark when we reached Timpohon Gate and we called for ‘rescue’. We were feeling sick and shivering. There was no more transportation going back to the lodge. Thankfully, Jocelyn Saw was there with a handful of Malaysian rescuers who took us back to our lodge. Getting back was a real relief for everyone. We all ate, and slept soundly that night.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

 

BLIND OPTIMISM

 The 25th Mt. Kinabalu International Climbathon 2011

Oct. 22-23, 2011, Sabah, Malaysia

(PART 2 of 2)

by RASHEL M PEÑA

 (ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Rashel M. Peña, a native of Baguio City, is a graduate of Saint Louis University and a former radio announcer at GMA Campus Radio. She has been a member of the Philippine Skyrunning Association since 2008, after joining the Mt. Kinabalu International Climbathon Skyrace in that same year, and the first from Baguio-Benguet to join the skyrunning group.

She started serious running since 2005 and has been running marathons and ultra marathons since then. She is currently working as a teacher and a trainor at Sekolah Darma Bangsa in Bandar Lampung, Sumatra, Indonesia. 

She says running mountains and pounding on the roads just makes her happy. She just runs; no 'what if's'.  It is her form of meditation and her way of celebrating God's blessings.)

THE day before the race was about eating and resting. A brief meeting with the representatives from Benguet was part of our itinerary. They looked all fascinated and happy to join us. Upon getting our race kits, we all headed back to the lodge and started getting ready for an early meal, ready our jerseys and get an early sleep. I stayed up a bit late, waiting up for a friend, Alexander Cenzon coming from Baguio, who is racing in the men’s open in day two.

It’s race day and we all got up at 2 am. I did not sleep. I couldn’t sleep. I made my usual strong, black coffee for the kick, took a shower and got ready. The bus pick up is at 4:30am to take us to the starting line. It was cold and windy. The sky was clear and the stars were brightly twinkling. Then the bus came and whisked us off to Kinabalu Park.

We were the first contingent to arrive at the starting line. I was nervous but was not obvious due to the cold weather. Cameras started clicking from everywhere as other participants came and started to warm up. I was awaiting the arrival of the star runners. I was the usual fan once more. Almost all the athletes wore good brands of running shoes and shirts. They all looked colourful. Photos were taken here and there, got some good ones too. We all had fun taking our pictures with the best runners and other runners from other countries. They were all admirable.

Then finally the moment came, bang! and we were all off to the trails of 9 kilometers up and 12 kilometers coming back. I didn’t start well, my hydration belt was going up my chest. I’m not used to using it, so I decided to sling it over my head and shoulders and it felt better. I flet like ‘Rambo’, I could run better. My legs were a bit stiff but were okay. The other runners passed by me and I told myself to let them, as there’s still plenty of time. I relaxed.

Slowly I was passing by runners but didn’t notice who they were. My friends told me later, they saw me pass by them, but my mind was blank. I focused on my body, praying silently that I’d be able to maintain and save my strength as I go higher. It was interesting to see star runners, like Kilian Jornet of Spain  in the men’s open cheering us in the woods. My friend Jules, enjoyed that particular part.

The ascent was excruciating. The steps, the boulders were really punishing to the legs. The altitude was setting in. I saw several runners stopping to catch their breaths early on. I walked and ran but mostly speed walked. Upon reaching more of the stairs, that when I paused several times, I could already feel the pain in my thighs. I hydrated and pushed on. A Malaysian runner was behind me and he kept saying, ‘we can make it…let’s go go go’. Then I found myself exchanging stories with him and was later on joined by other runners. We were laughing as we climbed.

Taking photos is always a part of any event, whether running or not. It was good I brought mine to get some good shots of the summit and some of the runners too. The weather leading to the summit was great. It was in its azure blue. The clouds were puffy and the temperature was comfortable warm.

Each checkpoint was an achievement in itself. It felt good listening to someone radioing your number to base camp that you’ve arrived. The checkers were very nice and polite and very encouraging. They took pictures of us too,  I was thick enough to ask some of their food and water. I was hungry and they were very gracious.

At Km. 8, checkers reminded us of the time left. I was told I still have time to make it to the cut off time, which is 3:30. I asked one medic to spray my legs an anti-pain to fuel my last hurrah to the top.  I just had a few minutes left. I run and speed walked and arrived at Km. 8.5 when a checker told me that my time is up. I looked up and there the summit is looking down at me. All I needed was a few more minutes to cross the last 500 meters. I sat, then knelt and kissed the ground. I felt humbled by the mountain, by the experience of it being on top. I walked up to the summit and cried silently. I took photos of the summit, as I was told this would be the last time that the summit will be included in the race. Next year will be a different and a longer route for all the skyrunners.

After a few minutes of rest and taking photos, I started to go down quickly. But I just had to stop by at Laban Ratta, to eat a little. I was lucky enough to see Charina Javier for I didn’t bring money with me. We ate quickly then I ran off ahead of her.

Running down was tough to the knees. I ran and speedwalked. One would feel more of the pain if he or she stops, so I just pushed and pushed. It rained a little in the forest and it wasn’t helpful. The path was mushy and slippery.

Signposts reminded me how many more kilometers I need to cover. When I saw that I only had two kilometers left to the gate , I felt good. Once I’m there, I only need to do 3 kilometers of road run to the finish line and I’m done.

The last 3 Km. of road was a boost. Hearing from a distance the music and the cheers meant I’m almost there. I ran and ran along side an Indonesian runner who paced me. The happiness and excitement was too much, it was just overwhelming. Then I saw my friends cheering a few hundred meters away. I came running into their arms. I cried. It felt good seeing them, waiting for me. On my watch, I ran a total of 6 hours and 50 minutes, traversing the great mountain.

Running Mt. Kinabalu for the second time was a celebration of what I am inside. I never get tired of coming back and running it again. The experience of being with the star athletes and running with them always gave a moment of being equal and the oozing inspiration that they exude is just contagious. This experience drove me to keep running and share the love for the sport.  And above all, running with my team and friends who are there to support me and cheer me up is just invaluable.

With my team looking forward to come back next year is exciting enough. With the new and longer route makes everyone wonder and vow for a better result and that was obvious in each other’s eyes.

This is why I keep running, no matter what. The ‘high’ is never enough; it is an addiction. I keep coming back for more. Now Mt. Fuji awaits for the 2012 Skyrace.

 (Many thanks to Mr. Sly L. Quintos, Editor in chief of the Baguio Chronicle)

Impermanence

A soft breeze came in and touched my soul. I stopped breathing for a moment. Ever thought of that time when you can no longer run or when some circumstance has stopped you from doing what you love to do – running.




I know I am not the same as yesterday. The strength, the power, the will may a little not as resilient as the days, years passed. Seeing this playing in my mind, is a rip from my soul. But a truth that I can’t run away from. Sooner or later it will happen. Frankly though, that thought of becoming one of those people who ‘used to run’, hurts. It’s appalling. I still refuse to be that. I love meeting the sunrise, being kissed by the morning sun, embraced by the wind and bathed by my own sweat. The roads, the mountains are my playground.




Loving the runs that I do almost everyday and the races I took part in sized me up. A true humbling evaluation of who I am. Thankful that the roads were kind enough to my knees and feet, but I also had my own taste of cramps, blisters and dead toe nails, which I have all accepted as normal in my own Utopia.




I’ve never had a trip to the doctor due to injuries in running. Am I lucky? I don’t know. But I am thankful, very thankful. And I feel for those in that dilemma. Digesting stories about running injuries and long rehabilitation is revolting. Doctors telling their patients to take a break from running is usually an unwelcome route. Thus they find it difficult handling stubborn patients. But you can’t blame both. A rationale of each action is in every turn. It’s only a matter of time.




If I were the patient, I would be as stubborn. But I would like to run longer, until I can no longer make a step. I know I cannot remain as I am, as I am not permanent. I will do what I can to have every moment of my running life last. To feel that same goosebumps as I go with the wind, to have that repeated sensation as my pain embraces my joy in all of my races, my feel-good runs. A convergence that is as almost as magical. I can never give up running.




Tomorrow who knows what I’ll become. As the time ticks, it takes a way a fiber of me. It's inevitable. I would like to take it more as a beautiful transition to the next race, to the next stage of my existence.