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. 

#0091…TNF100 2012: My journey, my story

Feeling limited and inadequate, I kept my feet busy for months, though I know the road and altitude here were not enough for this monster ultra. This is what I came home for. To once again test myself if I could run it and finish it this time.

DNFing in TNF100 2010 was memorable. That time was different. I quit. I was too weak to fight and find a way how to counter my pain. Realizing that I quit was more painful. It taught me a lot.

 

Reuniting with my running pals was a celebration. Hugs and kisses were given here and there and photo ops were endless.  It felt so good to be with people who share the same obsession. A bonus was meeting ultra greats Andre Blumberg, and Iker Karrera and Julia of team Salomon.

April 21, 2012. Bang! It’s 3am. Runners in their colorful jerseys went zooming. The rhythm of their feet were like music; their blinkers like fireflies spread out in the pitch darkness. I bid my pals good luck and ran alone. Prayers for strength were repeating in my mind. I knew it will not be easy (as there are two cut off stages), but something within tells me, this second journey will be different and quitting is not a part of it.

The weather was perfect, though the sunrise promised a hot day. Temperature was rising. The road-trail leading to AS2 was dusty and full of loose stones. I saw several runners slipped and cursed. Seeing the Gold Creek in Sangilo mines was my first time. The local volunteers were very pleasant to talk to, one even offered me coffee. How I wanted that cup of brew! After turning a bend, a view of what was to come greeted me with intimidation. An abrupt assault leading to the next stage. The mountain offered lush pine trees for cover from the burning morning sun. As I drew nearer to the top, I caught up with some runners and exchanged pleasantries with them. I was more of a listener to their stories of their recent runs and ultras and they amaze me. Then I saw my pal, Jules and walked with her for a while, until we reached a store and got us some cold drinks. In between, I had to massage my thighs with counter pain cream for cramps were creeping in. I started to crawl like a duck at that stage until I was able to ignore it. That was a little of a victory for me.

Runners indulged in cold water, ice, kamote, bananas, energy drinks at AS3 along Ampucao-Philex. I wanted to take a cold bath, the sun was just excruciating. After getting my refill, our small pack proceeded to take on Philex Ridge, another 11km or so ‘til the next stage. The trail was soft and shady until a clearing presented itself and showed the sun-baked ridge. Runners, kilometers up ahead on the ridge were like small dots on a sonar connecting. Our pack of seven looked like the Fellowship in the Lord of the Rings. Conversation was becoming more interesting as we head on further. It grew into a sharing of snippets of who we are. I truly admired these extraordinary runners I was with at that moment. I know I was going to miss them. The view on top of the ridge was a cool 360 degrees. We could see the provinces of Pangasinan, La Union, and parts of the Cordillera region.

Much as I enjoyed the company of my trail buddies, I knew I had to go try and and go a little faster and they graciously acknowledged that; they let me go. I headed fast to the mossy area after the ridge. Entering it was a relief. It was ‘airconditioned’ as the marshal promised. Being inside the canopy of vines, mossy trees, dried twigs, ferns and soft ground offered a temporary shelter from the sun. However, this course  was long, kind of ‘curly’ and tight. After a long way out from the mossy hole was another narrow path. I followed and caught up with a couple of runners and head on to AS4, which felt so agonizingly so long to get to.

Again bananas and kamotes were there for the taking. I was silently wishing for a bowl of ‘arroz caldo’, my mouth watering. I had to wake myself up from that stupor. Got myself bananas, I couldn’t take in anymore of those kamote, they were becoming difficult to chew and swallow. Refilling my water was the most important thing, I drank 4 liters since gunstart.

Leaving AS4 was made in a rush. I had a few hours left to the first cut off. I jogged and  walked and did everything to entertain myself. I kept singing Rolling Stones’ ‘I can’t get no satisfaction’ to fight off my weariness. The rocky pathway was unforgiving. Though it’s downhill, it put so much stress on runners’ knees and feet. I slid and slipped a couple of times. My butt got tiny bruises from it. The route was an oven, no shade from the piercing sun. Lucky me, a runner (Laurence Toquero) was kind enough to get me a banana leaf to shield me from the sun. How ingeniously thoughtful. Such kindness that I’ll never forget. This is the kind of bond that runners have for each other. A bond that is deeper and more meaningful than winning.

Passing by other runners taking a break from the heat, Laurence took the lead and kept telling me ‘we’re almost there’. But I heard that before. I just nodded and thought that maybe, this time it’s for real. A faint sound of a vehicle jolted me to life. I was smiling again. Laurence turned to look at me, delighted. He was telling the truth, we have arrived.

Reaching AS5 was almost like the finish line. Walking on a normal, flat road was an abrupt change to my tired feet. I waggled. I sat to rest and changed my socks. Displeasure followed as my comfort food was no longer good to eat. Supplies were left under the sun, spoiling what could have been a good fuel for the tired body and mind. Temptation was great to end my journey as I saw other runners opted to stop and be whisked back to base camp. I imagined them going back to the comfort of their beds, sipping hot chocolate or hot soup then dream away. I wanted that too. What a battle: me against me.

I set off alone and crossed the foot bridge across Camp 1. Drawing whatever strength I have left, I dragged myself up the hills. Several times I stopped and at one point I fell asleep on the trails. I was woken up by passing runners who saw me (Meljohn and Major Yllana) and egged me to join them. I let go of them as I needed more time to gather my wits. It was getting dark and getting colder too, I had to go on. I ate as I walked, downing water as I pleased. Just as I reached the dirt road, a man met me and asked if I’m runner #0091. He (Al) was told that runners saw me flat on the bushes and told him I might be injured. Al was a radio volunteer for the event. He walked with me halfway to AS6, to the car of his fellow volunteer (Manung Don). Don radioed base camp and told them they found me. For a while I felt significant hearing my race number on the radio. Don asked me if I’d quit and be driven back to base and I heard myself yelled a loud ‘No'!’. That voice within telling me to stop just went mum, defeated. Don offered to massage my thighs, legs and feet. It felt heaven, as Al made me the most delicious coffee. A five star treatment, I say. Another of the kindest gesture I got from total strangers. So thankful of these angels.

Don and Al let me go in the dark. With my legs fresh and with the biggest smile, I tried to catch up with the other runners who saw me earlier. I thought it was better to buddy with them as it was already dark, foggy and cold. They were happy to see me and welcomed me in their group. Majo and Ned were the same runners I saw going down to AS5. Ned became my buddy then we took turns in leading the pack. I appreciated his great stories as we climbed, a great diversion from our own individual pain which was too awful for words.

As the ascent was getting more and more brutal and it was difficult to see where we were, I got separated as Ned had to pace Majo and his other friends behind us. Again I was alone, groping in the dark as the fog was getting thick. I got lost several times, I had to use my whistle to get the attention of the marshals as the flags and markers were becoming fewer.

Guessing that I’m just somewhere leading to the Relay station, as I saw a blur of lights above me. Looking what’s behind me, blinkers were there slowly crawling up. I don’t know if the other runners were having the same pain as I did. Everything became cerebral now.

Crawling up the big rock near AS7 was like a prank. I turned around finding another way but it was for real, I really had to crawl up. I laughed.

I caught up with familiar pals, Billy and his pretty wife Merryl with a group. I was blown away by Billy’s question: ‘Rash, do you think will make it on time?’. I struggled to say, 'let’s try it Billy’ and off we went. It was past 12am, I blindly hammered up. I was like a half-crazed dude waggling with my walk when I reached AS7.

After being told that we’re too late to continue, everything came crushing. My watch says it’s 1:15am. It marked the end of my journey.

Numbness filled my body as I passed by AS8. I looked up at the stars. Running this ultra for the second time has taught me so much and covering 75km wasn't that bad at all. Perhaps it is still not the right time. I was able to keep my word that I will not quit--that is my own victory. I will keep trying until I can finish.

This year’s TNF was a celebration of strength and willpower, of learning , of meeting extraordinary people, and of seeing friends on the same playground that we all love…the trails. 


Big thumbs up to all who finished!

I’ll see you next year. Roar on!