Road to Redemption

The starting line of the 2012 Bataan Death March 160K Ultramarathon was filled with the usual suspects – hardened ultrarunners from all over the country including visiting runners from the United States and Singapore, the hyperactive support crew from running teams rooting for the warriors and then there were the BDM 160 repeaters (like me) who were out on a mission to redeem ourselves after missing the 30-hour cut-off in the first edition last year.

Amidst all the starting line chatter, I sat quietly in a corner and mentally reviewed my race plan. There wasn’t a hint of nervousness, not a sliver of doubt in my mind that, this time, the stars were all aligned and I would finish the race.

I was more nervous about leading the Philippine national anthem before the race than the actual race itself. I was ready and could not wait for the race to be over and done with.

It wasn’t just bravado. It was real confidence I felt which comes from knowing you’ve trained well and could not have done anything more to get any better.

It’s also the kind of confidence that comes from knowing that my whole town was rooting for me. (At least it felt as if the whole of Cebu was rooting for me when I read all the well wishes on Facebook, twitter and those sent via SMS in the days leading to the big day.)

This year, my support crew included my husband Eugene Cabusao as chief; ultrarunner Ken Alonte as my pacer from 102 to 160; and swimmer and triathlete Emily Cuizon as assistant. This assembly of three very generous, experienced and dedicated crew will prove crucial in my secret goal to land in the podium in my final attempt at the 100-mile distance.

I didn’t just want to finish 100 miles in 30 hours or less. I wanted my BDM 160 to end in a blaze of glory.

First 50k, run smart, not fast

There were 73 starters including six female runners. There was one runner who missed the gunstart by 30 minutes but was allowed to catch up making it 74 contenders for the elusive silver buckle — a coveted memento for official finishers of BDM 160 along with the trophy replica of the death march kilometer post and a medal showing your actual ranking. If you miss the cut-off, you get the medal and trophy, but no silver buckle. If you miss the cut-off, you’re also not listed in the official list of finishers. It’s as if your 160-kilometer trek did not happen.

Since July 2011, I trained to run BDM 160 at an 8-minute per kilometer pace. On race day, I made this target more conservative by running 9 minutes per kilometer or only 6.5 kilometers per hour.

I was dead last from KM 21 to 36. The military ambulance provided by Race Director retired BGen Jovie Narcise was at my heels for most of the way as if mocking me for my slow pace.

At first, it bothered me that I was last in a pack of 73, but I dug deep and remembered what the Bible had to say about those first being last and those last being first. I repeated it over and over in my head, trying to convince myself that to run slow means running fast when it matters in the final stretch of the 100-mile race. By the time I reached KM 36, I knew the Bible was right.

I found my target in Major Teresita Gangan at KM 40. She was at her pitstop, obviously struggling from the heat and from having run too fast at the start. I said hello and inquired if she’s OK. She said she signed up at the last minute and was undertrained and was now slowing down. I told her I was the last runner and that she should speed up a little bit if she doesn’t want to end up last. She sped-up but couldn’t keep up. I was no longer dead last. Lesson number one: run smart and never get sucked on someone else’s program. It destroys your pace and your mental game.

I arrived at KM 50 at number 66 at 7 hours 47 minutes from gun start.

We were six females at the start. Ellen Abigail Castillo dropped out at KM 23 and Major Gangan was now two kilometers behind me. This meant there were three other women in front of me. I only needed to overtake one more female runner in order to seriously gun for a podium finish. I shuffled along, still at 6.5-kilometers per hour and waited for my next target to appear.

(Next week, find out how a slow runner managed to land in the podium of the country’s longest road race.)