At the airport exit door someone tapped my shoulder and asked me, "Are you going to Kayapa?" With this curious question I made another runner friend, Rory. Together we shared taxi to Pasay bus terminal and express bus to Baguio. Between Baguio and Kayapa I squeezed between runner friends in budget hotel room and cramped inside swirling speedy van on a roller coaster road.
When the van snaked through a dense pine forest, I worked my nose hard to detect that natural pine scent so eagerly touted by Race Director, but I guessed my urban smoked nose had failed me.
The process of checking into homestay, bib collection, listening to pre-race briefing, carbo loading,and early sleep all went smoothly according to script.
Before the flag-off at 4am, Jonel the RD stirred up a minor excitement among the runners when he moved around to wish good luck. We giggled and competed to pat his shoulder, hoping to rub off some gold dust from this Legend Of Ultra.
As we warmed up the uphill trail in the first 10km, the moving headlamps formed a terrestrial constellation that mirrored the Pegasus on the Southwestern sky. Soon the distant barking of Kayapa dogs faded behind and we were on our way to Mt Ugo.
It was a great pleasure to run among the majestic pine trees at foot hill of Mt Ugo, but once on the steep mountain slope, I huffed and puffed to the greeting from Mt Ugo, "Welcome to Philippines, my son."
I made a mistake of rushing up Mt Ugo and strained my knees. On the descent I was a changed man, limping and groaning on every step. Eventually I was banished far behind, left alone to enjoy the solitude of Old Spanish Trail, that even the conversation between my Brooks Cascadia and the trail pebbles would prove too loud. I stopped awhile to listen to the silence. Then I started to realize there was a hidden waterfall in the deep valley that whispered serenades to the surrounding pine trees since time immemorial.
Kayapa East Market aid station served me Halo Halo (ais batu campur) at 20 peso, payable to the stall owner, and it cooled down my overheated engine after struggling to meet the 9 hours cut off time.
A high, long and dizzying hanging bridge was waiting at the hell gate of the dreaded slope to Amelong Labeng. I literally inched my steps up, to avoid further aggravating my knee pain. It was a three hours of meditation and prayer to get to the telecom tower.
The run to Castillo village junction was smooth sailing. Aimless cows stared at me in the middle of trail. Lonely woman vegetables farmer moved slowly at farm. The world seemed to stand still here. By the time I reached the dried up Buaca Lake, dusk had shown its color by turning the loitering white horse grey.
One runner and I trained our headlamps on the often-obscure path down the grass slope. Once we climbed up a pine forest, we heard whistle blowing and thought it came from Dayap aid station, but it was SOS from three lost runners. Checking my GPS I found we had strayed to the left according to preloaded gpx file. The grateful runners and I now had half an hour to sprint uphill to Dayap to meet the 16 hours cut off time. This urgency seized me and wings of angle had lifted my feet.
To my own bewilderment, I made it on the dot, not a minute more or less. I used up the last drop of childhood Dutch Lady milk that might still linger in me. This insane last-gasp exertion must have caused excessive break down of muscle, as I started to pass reddish urine (myoglobinuria).
In my heart there was a tussle between the steely desire to finish my first trail 100k, and the fear of kidney injury. After 10 minutes of deliberation with myself while heading to Banao -and lots of drinking water in one hour- another bout of reddish urine had convinced me to declare DNF. Finish 'at all cost' didn't find a customer in me, as I needed to bring back a viable body to my family.
Thank God my urine was back to normal after four to five pees in about six hours. DNF’s depression descended and shadowed me for the rest of my stay in Kayapa. I was only soothed and healed by the vibrant city life of Baguio and its stunning view of countryside.
The friendship and camaraderie I enjoyed with fellow Malaysian and Filipino runners were unbelievable.They just simply warmed my heart. The joy and satisfaction of the whole trip would serve as an excuse for me to return one day for the unfinished job.
view to die for at Mt Ugo
Boss for two minutes
I want a house like this
in the company of these two elite runners
conference of two nations- Malaysians and Filipinos
Malaysian contingent with RD Jonel
No comments:
Post a Comment