Pinoy Weekend Warrior

Blackmores Sydney Marathon 2011

2011-09-26T22:47:00.001+08:00

Note from PWW: Thank you so much to everyone who supported the fundraiser for CREATE Foundation. We smashed the target and raised $1,290! I am deeply humbled by your generosity. If you still wish to donate, the fundraiser is open until October 4, 2011. Just visit the fundraising site here. Again, a million thanks to all of you.

Another note from PWW: This may be a long entry. You've been warned.

It was 4 AM when my alarm went off and I got out of bed with no hesitation. Despite not having raced in over a year, I fell straight into my usual pre-race rituals: morning ablutions, gear check, breakfast (oatmeal, bananas, granola bar, electrolyte drink), last minute gear re-check, out the door. We arrived at Milson's point just before 5:30 AM, an hour prior to the half-marathon start, and two hours before my race started. Mrs. PWW and I spent the next hour going through the pre-race motions of queuing up to use the portalets, going to baggage check, then queuing up to use the portalets again. It was all very familiar, but it felt like a dream, staring at the Sydney Opera House while warming up underneath the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Soon after sending the missus off with a good luck kiss to start her half, I sat on the grass to get myself ready for the race. The area was electric, as one would imagine it to be when you get a group of thousands of runners together in one place. In the midst of all the frenetic activity around me, inside, I felt surprisingly calm. Too calm, in fact, that I started to think there might be something wrong; like the calm before a storm. I shrugged the feeling off, and completely forgot about it when I finally saw my good friend, Kaloy. We had a chat, Kaloy ate a couple of mini chocolates, and started twitching a few minutes later (something he usually does when he consumes sugar).

Ready to go!

Just after 7:30 AM, as the first lines of Jon Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer" blasted through the warm morning air, we began the journey of 42.195 kilometres with a single step across the starting line.

SUGAR RUSH START

At the starting corral, Kaloy and I wished each other the best of luck, and agreed to meet at the end of the run just in case we lost each other during the race. I had an inkling that we wouldn't be running the marathon at the same pace, based on Kaloy's blistering fast training runs, combined with the sugar in his bloodstream courtesy of a few small bars of dark chocolate Toblerone. My prediction was spot on. Kaloy and I ran beside each other for a mere 200 metres before he sped off, weaving his way through the crowd. I tried to keep up, but figured there was no way in the world I'd be able to sustain that pace. I watched as Kaloy's figure slowly disappeared into the thick wave of runners. I later found out that he ran so quickly, he actually made his way into the 3:30 pace group.

I read somewhere that a runner is more likely to finish a race when running with a buddy, so I started looking around for someone who was running a pace which I would likely be able to sustain throughout the marathon. It was interesting how I saw another CREATE Champion (the term used for us who chose to raise funds for CREATE Foundation) so I decided to have a quick chat with him. There were, however, very few words exchanged, and I thought I ought to resign myself to the highly probable event that I would need to run this in solitude. Well, mental solitude, as running with 3,690 people is hardly solitary.

KM 0 - 10

Within a kilometre of running, we ran across the Sydney Harbour Bridge, one of the most iconic landmarks of Sydney, and Australia. I let out a few audible laughs at the bridge, thanks to my inability to contain my happiness. It was an incredible sight seeing one of the busiest bridges in the world completely overrun by fellow runners, flanked by spectators, devoid of any vehicular traffic. I was soaking it all in, giddily observing every single detail with any leftover focus I could muster.

One of the observations I made was that my Garmin beeped a bit earlier before arriving at the second kilometre marker. It was probably 200 metres or so short, and I figured it might just be because I pressed the start button too soon, even though I distinctly remember starting my watch right at the starting arch. Again, I shrugged it off, and just kept running.

At kilometre three, a jazz band was perched on the pavement along the street, on what appeared like a small cliff overlooking the road where we were running. Drums, bass, organ, saxophone, in unison played, of course, "Eye of the Tiger" to the cheers of runners. I gave them a quick few claps of appreciation as I ran past them thinking, "This is awesome."

I was running inside the Royal Botanical Gardens a few kilometres later, and ran past two men speaking in Tagalog. My initial thought was to strike up a conversation and gain myself a few running buddies to run with, but I figured I was feeling good and should try to keep up the pace if I was to make good time. Just the day before, I figured I'd be able to finish in 5 hours, easy. So I set a (not so) secret goal of finishing in 4:30 or better. I sped past them and made my way out of the botanical gardens, stopping at a first aid station along the way to slop on some sunscreen.

Running at a pace that felt like I could run in forever, I overtook a few people just before getting back on the main city roads.

KM 10 - 20

Along Oxford Street, in the heart of trendy Paddington, pub and club patrons were still enjoying their alcoholic beverages as we ran past the night spots. Some were only just emerging from the dark clubs out into the bright, 8:30 morning sun, with a few sober enough to cheer people on. (As I was writing this, Mrs. PWW told me she once was still in a pub when the marathon ran past. I am not the least bit surprised with her admission.) A big, bald, burly tattooed fella was standing behind one of the steel fences, clapping and dishing out some motivation. A couple of guys who looked to be on the verge of a massive hangover assisted each other as they tried to cross the street.

Interesting as it was to observe the inevitable end of a night out, we soon ran through roads empty of people other than runners, volunteers, and spectators. I studied the course map prior to the race, and I knew we were headed towards Centennial Park. After this section of the course, we would be heading back towards the city, physically closer to the finish. However, it seems I didn't study the course map well enough. I found myself surprised and frustrated at the way the course looped around itself, making the task feel Sisyphean.

Somewhere along kilometre 16, close to the entrance gates leading to the park, I disappeared into a portalet to answer nature's call and came out to a find a familiar face. Kaloy was walking past the water station and I ran to join him. He told me he ran out of juice and had significantly slowed down. We ran for a few metres together when he asked me how I was feeling. "I'm alright, man. You?" Kaloy said he was feeling the onset of cramps. "Feel free to have a walking break, bud" I said, and Kaloy slowed down to a walk. I continued to run deeper into Centennial Park.

What I found frustrating about this part of the course was seeing the lead pack running in the opposite direction, and I would start to think that the U-turn would probably be close ahead when in reality, it was a long way away. More mentally than physically, it was exhausting thinking about how much longer I had to run before heading back to the main road.

As if that wasn't enough, the discrepancy between my Garmin and the kilometre markers was getting bigger, prompting me to see if anyone else had the same issue. I ran beside a girl named Carmen, noticing she had a GPS enabled watch. I asked her what pace we were currently running in, and she said, 7:00. My watch displayed 6:24. It was way off.

My discovery started a snowball of negative thoughts. My head was going "If your watch had been wrong about your pace all this time, then you're not on the right track to meet your goal." Then I started thinking, "If my watch had been wrong all this time, then my training runs were all less than what I thought they were. Am I really ready for this race?" I was breaking down mentally, and it was the worst thing that could happen at this point. I knew that if I was to go on, I had to stop the train of negative thinking. I just told myself that my goal of 4:30 may no longer be realistic, and I'd have to settle for 5 hours.

KM 20 - 30

Cameras were on the ready at the halfway point. I raised my hands and flexed my biceps in a display of strength and victory, but in reality I was struggling. I did that to try and convince myself that I was strong. Perhaps if I acted that way, I'd fool my mind into thinking it was true. As if on cue, I felt the onset of leg cramps immediately afterwards. I decided to be prudent and stopped on the side of the road to stretch, a few other people followed suit. I continued to run but after another kilometre I had to do the same thing. However this time, after stretching and taking a few steps, my legs felt like jelly. Inside, I was panicking. I couldn't understand why it was happening. I kept my fluids up, took energy gels and electrolytes, yet my muscles were rebelling. So I did what I promised not to do. I walked.

I thought I'd graduated from walking in races, but if I was to prevent the cramps from setting in completely and finishing the race within the cut-off time, I had to keep moving. I ran when I could, and walked when I felt the cramps coming in. At the 25 kilometre mark, I saw Kaloy walking on the other side of the road. He said he'd cramped up five times since I last saw him. He asked if the U-turn point was still far away and I said yes, not wanting to give him false hope. Kaloy picked up the pace and I continued towards the exit out of the park.

At Anzac Parade, I was running in silence right beside this lady and she commented on my running. "Nice running style. Same as mine." She laughed and we had a brief chat. After the usual introductions, I asked her what time she was hoping to finish in. "Five hours." Perfect. I asked if she'd mind if I ran with her, as it would be nice to have someone to pace with. She said she didn't mind at all. Excellent. I ran with her for less than a kilometre until I had to stop yet again to keep my legs from cramping. I told her to run ahead, and I was on my lonesome yet again.

The stretch heading back to the city was getting tougher as the heat became more oppressive. I sought solace from the sun by running in the shade as much as possible, and by partaking in every single spray shower from volunteers on the side of the road.

KM 30 - 40

After Hyde Park, a huge Japanese group was cheering runners on near Elizabeth Street. Perhaps they thought I was Japanese, and they started to shout what I imagine were positive, motivational messages. I had no idea since the cheers were in Japanese. Nevertheless, I said "Thank you," and one of them asked me if I wanted some spray for my muscles (to help alleviate cramping). I told him I would love some, and he proceeded to spray my legs with a cool mist that made it feel a semblance of rejuvenation. I thanked him profusely, and he wished me luck for the rest of the race.

Kilometre 32. I was back in the city, close but still far from the finish line. There was non-stop pandemonium from the crowd as runners made their way closer to the Sydney Opera House. The crowd served to give runners a boost, yet it also made me cringe to think that while the finish was in sight, I still had to run away from it to inch closer. Right in front of the dreaded "wall", despite the cheers from the crowd, I had to stop and walk. It was demoralising.

Until I suddenly saw another familiar face. It was Cherie! She quickly ran beside me and paced me for the next few kilometres, something she often did when I ran races in the Philippines. She pointed towards a small contingent that was my personal cheering squad, made up of my sister-in-law, her one and a half year old son, one of our friends, and my dad. I managed a smile, and thanked everyone for their support.

My personal pacer

When I arrived at kilometre 35, I looked at my watch to check how much time had elapsed. I had been running for the past four hours. With the cut-off time at the finish set at 5:30, I had an hour and a half to make 7.2 kilometres. Plenty of time on a good day. What followed next was what I consider to be the longest seven kilometres I had ever run in my life. I could see kilometre 40 on the other side of the road and fervently wished I was already there, but I still had five more kilometres to run to hit 40. With all the strength I could muster, I started the long trek.

I stopped at each water station to keep my fluids up, eat jelly beans and suck on sachets of GU. Even though I wasn't a big fan of Orange Burst and Mint Chocolate, at this point, it tasted like survival to me. On the mental battlefield, I started to break the big challenge down into smaller, more manageable bits. I would choose a spot ahead of me, like a sign post or an intersection, and run towards it. A minute of rest would follow, then I'd choose the next spot to run towards. It worked well. After a relatively easy ascent on a flyover, I finally reached the turn around point at Pyrmont and was soon past the final cut-off point I could remember, kilometre 38, where I saw the lady I was running with at Anzac Parade. I said hi (she remembered my name!) and I ran past. A young man was on the side of the road, motivating the runners, yelling out "All marathoners are heroes!" I gave him a smile and told him I really appreciated his support.

Just before kilometre 40, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Kaloy walking about a hundred metres in front of me (together with those two guys speaking in Tagalog earlier). I yelled out to him, and he shook his head, saying they missed the last checkpoint and were redirected to the finish. He was still positive about it, which says a lot about him. Kaloy said "there's always next year" before telling me to push through as there was still one more cut-off point ahead. Again, I panicked, thinking I had already gone through all the cut-off points. At the 40th kilometre marker, I asked the volunteers if there was still another cut-off point ahead.

I had 35 minutes to cover 2.2 kilometres.

KM 40 - FINISH

So much for Plan B. My goal to finish in five hours went out the window, and was replaced with the goal to simply finish. I was still struggling, but random people along the road and sitting on cafes continued to cheer us on, and it was enough to help me pick my feet up. About a kilometre away from the finish, Mrs. PWW coaxed a small group of people to yell out my name and keep me motivated. The closer I got to the finish line, the louder the claps, shouts, and cheers grew. It was incredible how the crowd stayed until final stragglers such as myself made it to the finish, and it was humbling to feel such unbelievable support coming from people I have never met before in my life.

Almost there. Less than two kilometres to the finish.

The Sydney Opera House was on the horizon. A sign on my left said I was 400 metres away from the finish. I ran. I ran with every last ounce of energy I had left in my battered body, and heard my name announced on the speakers as I ran over the final timing mat. A quick glance at the clock showed 5:20:23. I finished the race by the skin of my teeth. Far from the time I envisaged, but I achieved what I set out to do.

I just ran my first marathon.

POST MARATHON THOUGHTS

My official net time was 5:14:38, almost 45 minutes slower than my goal which in hindsight, may have been unrealistic given the level of training I did (or didn't do). When I ran in the Philippines, I always finished in the upper 50th percentile of the group, just slightly above average. On this race however, I was hovering somewhere in the 6th percentile. It was a reality (and ego) check, running behind the pack when all this time I thought I was much stronger than I was. Only now do I realise that the van I saw a number of times during the race was the vehicle that swept people off the course whenever they missed a cut-off point. I was that far back.

However, I'm not sweet-lemoning when I say I'm really happy about the fact that I "just" finished. I found out after the race that 16% did not finish the marathon course, which I thought was quite high. The conditions made it difficult, and while I thought the heat shouldn't bother me being a tropical boy, it did. I won over the weather and the course, and that's good enough for me. For now.

At this point, I'm certain this will not be my first and final marathon. I'm planning to run more in the future. In fact, I now plan to run at least one full marathon a year to help keep me on my toes. At least now I can look back at this race and remind myself of the lessons I learned. What works, what doesn't. More importantly, I'll remember the wise words of Juma Ikangaa: "The will to win means nothing without the will to prepare."

Marathon Chronicles: Done

2011-09-20T20:10:00.000+08:00

I did it! I ran and finished my first full marathon last Sunday. I'll tell you more about it soon.

Day Four: Beaches Galore

2011-09-08T20:57:00.001+08:00

Note from PWW: This is the fourth entry for the Epic Capricorn Coast Road Trip. To read other entries, click on these links: Intro, Day 1, 2, 3

The Royal Private Hotel, a morning shot

While we sat at the spacious balcony of the Royal Private Hotel the previous evening, I told myself I would get up early and go for a run around town. I figured it would be the best way to get some training done for my upcoming marathon, and see the sights along the way. The mornings were still cold, and I donned a splash jacket and gloves before heading out to run in unfamiliar streets. The roads were relatively empty, and I soon realised that I was the only person running. No one else was in a rush to get anywhere, apart from the half dozen people waiting at the bus stop. The town was still at the early stages of waking up, but I imagined Charters Towers would have been a far busier place in its heyday. With a lot of the buildings restored to its old glory from hundreds of years ago, pretending to be in another, earlier time was easy.

Intricate detail on every building in town

Charters Towers seems like one of those places where everyone knows everybody else, where the chance of bumping into a friend in the street is high, or if you were new to town, meeting friends would not be difficult. On my way back to the hotel after a (very) short run, I ran past a small camping store and had a chat to the person manning it. I told him I was in the market for a couple of camp chairs, and he gladly showed me all the different ones he had. I settled on his recommendation of a small, foldable stool with a backrest, made of canvas and aluminium. Since I bought two, he gave me a discount. He gave tips on what not to miss along the way, and wished us a safe travel. It's that kind of town.

Parking lot mural. Yep. Parking lot.

After a quick breakfast from a local bakery, we were on our way to drive around town and see more of the place. Or so we thought.

DETOUR

During the drive, there were many points along the way where we had no mobile phone reception, but at Charters, we had full bars. It was here that I caught a phone call from one of my colleagues, who was also doing the drive from Cairns to Brisbane, but in a much shorter time frame. We agreed to meet up somewhere further down the track, and changed our plans to suit. No more sightseeing at "The World", we would just head south and figure things along the way. Originally, the plan was to make it to Eungella National Park by sundown, as we'd made arrangements to camp there for the next two nights. Whether we would stick to the plan was another thing.

A couple more broken phone calls later, we settled on Airlie Beach as the meeting spot. Since we were about two hours ahead of him at that point, we decided to go on a little detour somewhere in the town of Ayr. We had been driving for a couple of hours and were looking for a place to get lunch when we saw a sign pointing towards the beach. Time was on our side, so we took a quick left and raced to the sand. I wasn't exactly sure how to get there, so I just decided to stay on Beach Road. I thought, "That sounds about right."

We arrived at Alva Beach, one that was almost completely deserted. An elderly couple, who I assume were married retirees touring the country (I just put them all in that box) were walking back from the beach with their fishing gear. I asked them if they caught anything. He replied "Nothin'. I couldn't even catch a cold out there, mate." You gotta love the friendly banter Down Under.

Another couple, much younger, but I assume they were also married and travelling around the country together based on their sticker-happy camper van and the amount of stuff they had in it, were preparing their gear for kite surfing. It was incredibly windy at the beach, and there were three other people out in the water, already carving the waves on their boards. Our car was parked right beside their vehicle, and whilst our gear was more terrestrial in nature, it was cool to see vehicles adorned with outdoor gear all in one spot, as if a meeting of kindred spirits. But since we didn't know how to kite-surf, we just spent a few minutes sitting on the shore, staring at the horizon. Mrs. PWW said "Let's meditate!" and said it with such enthusiasm that I got so excited and couldn't contain it, so failed to do so. Instead I sat and stared at the Coral Sea, and listened to the wind. It whispered, "I am the wind. As I travel, I bring with me grains of sand, and as you sit down on that log as such, I shall drop them in your shorts."

Low tide here is ridiculous!

EARLY AT AIRLIE

We left soon after my chat to the wind and made our way to Airlie Beach, about 200 kilometres from Alva. The drive was uneventful, filled with mainly a view of fields on either side of the highway. As we got closer to Airlie though, the scenery slowly began to change. Beautiful houses dotted the mountains overlooking the sea, and the road brought us to a bustling small town filled with other travellers. We got to the beach early enough to walk around, grab a cup of coffee (in the reusable silicone takeaway cups we brought) and walk along the beach for sunset. The wind was still coming in strong, so it was nice to warm up with a hot cuppa.

Second beach of the day

Airlie was gorgeous. The cove nearby offered lovely views of the sea and the sailboats moored close to the shore. Just a few metres away was the main strip, with restaurants, bars, cafés and shops catering to the multitude of visitors that flock to Airlie. At that point, Mrs. PWW and I thought it best to forego an evening of camping at Eungella, and we booked a camping site at a caravan park about five kilometres away from town called Flametree Tourist Village. We thought it best to stay the night, and get the tent set up and ready to accommodate us for sleep when we got back from a night in town.

Boy, were we right about that decision.

Day Three: Lava Tubes and Road Trains

2011-09-07T13:26:00.000+08:00

Note from PWW: This is Day Three of the Capricorn Coast Road Trip. Click on these links to read about Day 1 and 2. The intro is found here.

"Thirty minutes," I replied when Mrs. PWW asked me how much time we had before we needed to be at the meeting place for our tour of the lava tubes. So in the span of half an hour, we had to cook breakfast, eat, clean up, break camp, and pack the car up to "check out" of our camp site. "Plenty of time" she said. If we moved with military precision, I thought, it was possible. Unfortunately, my comrade lacked even the civilian precision to open tinned food (she wasn't vegetarian at that point), and ended up breaking the key to open the relatively overpriced can of corned beef we bought from a small store in Mount Garnet. Luckily, I was able to MacGyver it open with a Swiss Army Knife, but not after a lot of grunting and incoherent mumbles.

After 32 minutes, we were almost ready, and definitely late for the tour. I uncharacteristically threw our things haphazardly inside the car, and managed to find a parking space about a hundred metres away from the meeting point. With Mrs. PWW having went ahead to apologise for our tardiness and tell everyone there was still one person coming (me) I ran to the crowd huddled in front of the office, completely embarrassed and slightly annoyed, as I'm the kind of person who arrives five minutes early. Not today. As I arrived, someone asked for my excuse note, which I didn't find funny given the state my head was in.

So that was how Day Three started. With a lot of stress that could've easily been avoided by waking up early as planned.

UNDARA LAVA TUBES

Fortunately, we weren't too far away from the incredible Undara Lava Tubes, which easily took my thoughts away from the morning's false start.

These lava tubes were formed about 190,000 years ago when a major volcano erupted and its lava flowed down a dry river bed. The top layer cooled down and formed a crust, while the magma beneath continued to flow farther away from the volcano. As the eruption slowed and stopped, the lava drained out of the tubes and left a series of long, hollow tunnels. That explains its formation, in a plagiarised nutshell.

Image via source

In a previous post, I mentioned that the word Undara means "a long way" in Aboriginal language. This not only refers to the fact that Undara Experience is practically in the middle of nowhere, but also effectively describes one of the lava flows which extends over 160 kilometres (over 100 miles), making it one of the longest lava flows from a single volcano in modern geological time. Several sections of this tube are accessible, and we went to quite a few of them during the tour. Being in the middle of a lava tube and imagining what occurred in that spot hundreds of thousands of years ago is a fascinating exercise which can be taken to extremes. Our guide, who is very good at his job, described taking "a bunch of complete freaks and weirdos" around during a global lava tube conference of some sort. These lava tube experts took a lot of equipment around with them to study what to us may seem like nothing but a hole in the earth, painstakingly figuring out what caused a certain pattern on the tube wall. He described them as being organised "to the point of keeping all blue pens on the right shirt pocket, and all black pens on the left."

Our first stop: Gawking at the lava tubes

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

We could have avoided the morning's hullabaloo by paying a measly $10 for a late checkout as I previously recommended, but I must admit, it was good to have everything packed and ready to go when we finished the tour. After fixing our bill (wherein we were entitled to a locals discount as we were technically, still Cairns locals), we were on the road again. I punched in the directions for our next destination on our GPS, drove, and was mildly surprised when I heard Karen (that's the name of the voice emanating from our GPS device) told me to "continue 350 kilometres" down the road we were on. It's not something I hear her say often.

But we couldn't go all the way, though, as we needed to fill ourselves up, as well as the loyal steed. It took us a while before seeing signs for a service station ahead. We pulled up, and I balked at the price of unleaded petrol: 167.9 cents per litre, the most expensive petrol I've ever paid for since moving here. I did not have the luxury of choice, as this was the last fuel stop for the next 256 kilometres. Luckily, greasy food was relatively affordable, and I was munching on a fish burger soon afterwards, and just stopped short of stocking up on junk food.

Fill her up! Expensive stuff, this petrol.

KING OF THE ROAD

Just before leaving Undara, I browsed through government paraphernalia, a brochure on safe outback driving, and read about certain precautions people are advised to take before going on a road trip such as having an ample supply of drinking water (check) and other tips to remember while on a trip in the outback. I didn't really think much about the information since I wasn't planning on driving through sand dunes and unsealed roads, but as luck would have it, I just caught a few bullets on driving etiquette concerning road trains.

Having lived in the Philippines for majority of my life, I haven't seen a road train until I moved to Australia, and had no idea whatsoever of how to behave as a driver when sharing the road with them. I soon found out that there was practically just one rule to follow: Get the f**k out of their way.

Australia has the largest and heaviest road-legal vehicles in the world, and because I don't have a particular interest in efficiently moving freight, I didn't know there were combinations for these things. Check this out:

The big boys' version of "My truck is bigger than yours." Image from Wikipedia

During the road trip, I think we mostly saw As, Bs, and Cs, and the longest we saw was a G. Fortunately, I didn't find myself behind a truck with a K configuration because if we had, we'd probably still be on the road today because there is no way I'm overtaking that one.

Portions of the Great Inland Way were damaged, reducing a double lane highway to a single lane, so quite a number of times, we had to pull over and wait until the kings of the road passed us safely.

Prime!

THE WORLD

Our stop for the evening was the historic town of Charters Towers, a town founded in the 1870s after the accidental discovery of gold. Once dubbed "The World" due to its cosmopolitan nature, Charters Towers still has that old world charm as the magnificent buildings of the era have been beautifully preserved. In fact, the hotel where we stayed was one of them.

Our home for the night

The Royal Private Hotel is a 19th century beauty which had been through rough times before the current owner turned the place around. In the 18 months that it has been operating under its current management, it has won a number of awards, and a good reputation among travellers who have passed through its doors. The building is decorated with antiques that create an atmosphere of elegance and old grandeur, but at the same time, feels quirky and homely. I particularly enjoyed the spacious veranda that looked onto the main street, which was where we enjoyed our takeaway pizza before retiring to our room to sleep on a proper bed. The plan was to get some sleep, and explore Charters Towers in the morning. Of course, we all know that plans always work out the way you want them to.

For Day Four, click here.

Marathon Chronicles: Create Champions

2011-08-18T19:50:00.001+08:00

When I signed up for the Sydney Marathon and chose Create Foundation as the beneficiary for my run, a lady from the organisation sent me an email of thanks and wished me luck with the run and the fundraiser. A few days ago, I received a package in the mail from Create, which solved my dilemma about which shirt I should wear for the run.

Represent!

It was interesting timing too. I was just getting ready for a training run and was looking for a shirt to wear when the courier arrived with the package. So I slipped the shirt on and took it for a 16K test run and it passed the comfort test. No chafing, moisture-wicking, and a perfect fit.

This small gesture of sending a shirt (and water bottle) made me feel very much part of the Create Champions team, and it was inspiring to be recognised for the small feat I'm trying to achieve. To the team at Create, I really appreciate the package you've sent, and will wear the shirt proudly on race day.

The goal is to raise $1,100 for Create Foundation, and we are currently at $432.10. We just need another $667.90 to reach it. If you would like to contribute towards the fundraiser for Create (or know of people who do), you can click here for more details.

Maraming salamat!

Marathon Chronicles: C is for Cookie, That's Good Enough for Me

2011-08-09T13:39:00.000+08:00

Time and again I have told every single person I know that my sister makes the best chocolate chip oatmeal cookies in the world. In fact, when I retire early at 40 and open up a café, her cookies will definitely be behind the counter for people to order. I don't care where she is in terms of her career when that happens; she needs to drop everything and come work for me and get paid a nominal amount because we're family. I jest. But seriously, her cookies are incredible: moist, chewy (just the way I like it) and chockfull of chocolate chips. In fact, I reckon there would be more chips on those cookies now that my brother and I aren't there to help ourselves to the bag prior to baking.

So why am I talking about my sister's cookies? Recently, she and my brother's girlfriend baked a massive batch of the cookies to sell at their weekly market stall in Singapore. Not surprisingly, they sold heaps. And, being the fantastic people they are, they donated their earnings to my fundraiser for CREATE Foundation!

The fundraising cookies

I am so humbled by the support that people have shown towards the fundraiser for my first marathon. Efforts such as these truly inspire me to make sure I reach the finish in September, and they definitely provide me with the push I need to get going. Many thanks to my sister and Denvie, and to everyone who has contributed to the fundraiser so far. I really appreciate all your support.

As for training, I'm planning an LSD run tomorrow, and augmenting my self-made, experimental program with much needed cross training and strength. Yesterday, I became a member at my local gym (open 24 hours!) and went for my first session this morning. It was a great break from the running, which to be honest, was starting to feel very much like a chore. Don't get me wrong; I love to run, but what was missing was all the cross training I used to get from mountain biking while I was in the Philippines. The gym allows me to recharge my running batteries, and gives me a chance to strengthen my body holistically, which I'm very happy about. It was interesting being on a spin bike this morning--pedalling while watching the news--two activities I've never done simultaneously before. Until this morning. First time for everything.

If you would like to donate to the fundraiser for my first marathon, please visit my fundraiser site by clicking here. There you can see more information about the organisation I'm running for, CREATE Foundation. All your donations go directly to them. Thank you!

Day Two: Undara Experience

2011-08-03T14:48:00.002+08:00

PWW Note: This is Day Two of the Epic Capricorn Coast Road Trip. Click on these links to go to the Intro and Day One.

When I was in my early 20s, I remember becoming acutely aware of moments when I found myself in the midst of an event--be it big or small--that before, was a mere figment of my imagination. To me, it felt like the end of a thought's journey, when a concept becomes tangible; the physical manifestation of a desire. I'll go ahead and say it's the Law of Attraction demonstrated. Day two of our trip certainly falls under this category.

During the first few weeks when we moved to Cairns, Mrs. PWW and I rented a car to go for a drive and see the local sights. At the rental office was a wall of brochures for tourist spots, advertising local destinations for tourists to visit. One of the brochures that caught my attention was for "Australia's Accessible Outback". The wife saw it and said she's been there (she's been everywhere) and that we should go one day.

That "one day" has now come, and we were driving to Undara Experience. (I just found out that "Undara" is an aboriginal word meaning "a long way." Very apt.)

ON THE ROAD WITH UNSCHEDULED STOPS

Paronella Park was the farthest I've driven south since moving to Far North Queensland, so the rest of the drive from here is uncharted territory for me. With over 200 kilometres to drive to get to Undara, we stopped by a random roadside on the Atherton Tablelands, right beside vast tea fields, to make a phone call. Reception was starting to get intermittent, and to drive the distance only to find out that we have no spot to pitch a tent would be annoying, to put it mildly. The travel gods have looked upon our spontaneous itinerary with favour, and we were able to reserve one campsite out of the final two left.

We were going to Undara. Things have come full circle since that fateful day of searching through travel advertisements.

Westward we drove along quiet, almost deserted country roads. We felt like the only travellers in such a massive expanse of land where the only eyes that stared at you belong to livestock. Entertainment came mostly in the form of music playing in the car stereo, from old bands of my youth like Gin Blossoms, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and Blind Melon. The missus was taking snapshots when towering structures suddenly broke through the horizon.

It was a wind farm.

Windy Hill. The first of many unscheduled stops.

Back in 2008 (I guess), Mrs. PWW and I tried to get to the wind farm in Bangui, Ilocos Norte, during a trip we took with her folks to Vigan. Unfortunately, a spanner was thrown in the works of our carefully planned schedule thanks to a broken radiator hose. We didn't make it Bangui, but managed to get to the airport in time for our flight. As we stood in front of the gargantuan turbines in Windy Hill, I could only imagine the ones in Ilocos Norte to be as breathtaking.

I stepped out of the car and because I experienced a failure in observing the obvious, the car door almost slammed me back inside because I did not expect it to be windy, having been ensconced in a fully enclosed sedan. Crushed bones averted, we ran through the chilly blast of wind and frolicked (the best word to describe what we did) in the grass, taking photos of the farm. We were on the road and this was the first of what we imagine would be plenty of interesting, unplanned pitstops. And speaking of pitstops, we needed one soon, to sate our empty bellies.

Quite literally, we drove past the small town of Mount Garnet. We were moving slowly along its main street, looking for a place to eat when we suddenly realised we ran out of main street to drive on. Blink and you'd miss it. I chucked a u-ey (made a U-turn) and stopped in front of a small bakery. Little did I know that the bakery would change my mind in such a spectacular fashion.

Vibrant. The Shire Hall at Mount Garnet.

It was here that I had my first taste of apple turnover with fresh cream. I've read about it in books, I've seen it on movies and TV shows, but never have I truly understood the magic that is an apple turnover with fresh cream (always with fresh cream) until I was licking the powdery white sugar from my fingers, trying to chase the taste of heaven long after it has gone down my gullet.

A few times my wife has told me that I may have been an Australian during a previous life, as I assimilated with the culture so effortlessly. She said this after I ordered an iced coffee, a meat pie, and an apple turnover with fresh cream for lunch which apparently, is very Aussie. But thing is, had there been a karinderya beside the bakery that served tinola or KBL (kadyos, baboy, langka) it would've been a different story.

UNDARA EXPERIENCE

Thanks to our second-hand navigation system, we arrived at Undara Experience to "check in" to our campsite a couple of hours after lunch. The area was dry but far from desolate; with hundreds of families packing the caravan park, it was actually bordering on festive.

We had been looking forward to taking our bikes off the rack and riding some tracks so soon after setting up camp, we searched for tracks in the area. Below is an excerpt taken straight from my personal journal, the entry written while I was warmly huddled inside our tent after a camp-cooked dinner.

Let's rock'n roll! Our camp site at Undara.

7:25 PM: What a fantastic afternoon! After arriving at Undara Experience, we set up camp on site 518, with the ground so hard, our tent pegs buckled. Nonetheless, the area looks incredible, and soon after pitching the tent, we took our bikes from the rack and asked the staff for tracks.

There were a couple of walking tracks we could go to. (The rest were still flooded from the January floods) The first was named "Bush Walk" and to be honest, I was unimpressed at the start, as there were steps leading up towards the bush. Steps! Upward! Not very amenable to a bike. However, after a few hundred metres, things started to get interesting. The steps disappeared and slowly was replaced with gravel and rocks, bordered by tall grass. Then suddenly, singletracks! I was in heaven. The track led us to rocky outcrops and dry bushland, although my favourite part, the area I found most beautiful, was ironically a display of devastation. We rode through an area which appeared to have been recently destroyed by a bush fire. Black soot and ash was everywhere, turning the vast field ahead into a palette of greys and browns. Despite the utter destruction brought about by the fire, the cycle of life continues, and the resilience of nature sprouted in random spots of green shrubs and grass. The trees burnt black from their roots showed life at its branches, with leaves falling prey to winter, but showing promise to bloom in spring. It was a mind-blowing view.

Our ride this afternoon was just over 10 kilometres. That is a mere fraction of the distances I used to ride. However, that ride was one of the most enjoyable I've had in a very long time.

Even Cherie was giddy with excitement, saying "I never knew mountain-biking could be so much fun!" Compared to the rides we used to take in the metro back in the Philippines, I completely understood. I mean, it's not everyday you can go cycling and need to stop because a kangaroo is in the middle of the track, right in front of you.

Mrs. PWW discovers the joy of singletracks

Again, one of the best rides in a very long time.

OUTDOOR EDUCATION

Some time after 8 PM, we attended an evening activity at Undara, a talk on astronomy. We arrived late, seeing only the final slide of the presentation, but just in time to go for a walk to look at the stars. Our group was led to an open area where we could lay down on a big rock surface to stare into space. The speaker was talking about stars and constellations, and the first thing I thought about was "Okay, how's he going to tell us exactly which star or constellation he's talking about?" With approximately 6000 stars visible to the naked eye, it's always a challenge to ensure that you're all looking at the same one.

The speaker continued to talk about constellations and told us to look at "this star right here." Suddenly, a bright green laser beam appeared, seeming to connect his hand to a specific star. My jaw dropped. I've never seen anything like it before, and as an outdoor educator (yes, I still consider myself one) I found this to be an astonishing tool which practically turned the night sky into a giant blackboard. I imagine it would make for an awesome night activity during a camping trip, especially for kids. I'm definitely going to brush up on my astronomy and do this when I go back to teaching outdoors.

Something to look forward to. I wished on a falling star for it.

Marathon Chronicles: It's Shoe Time

2011-07-23T18:45:00.000+08:00

This morning, I ran a long, slow distance of 25 kilometres. Being the longest training run I have been on so far, it was terra incognita for me after 21.1 kilometres and frankly, I feel truly spent right now. Exhausted, but still on a running high so it's all good.

I am currently using my Mizuno Wave Inspire 6 for all of my runs; this was the pair I bought just before leaving for Australia. Remember that? It was the shopping trip where Mrs. PWW and I ended up buying the same shoe. I had my stride assessed at Second Wind and Hector Yuzon gave me a run-down of the shoes that were apt for my slightly overpronating right foot, with the Wave Inspire being one of them. I chose the pair because I was looking for something new, despite his initial warning that because I was used to lightweight racers, I might struggle with the added weight on the stability shoe.

Now that I think about it, I have never truly raced with my Mizunos. I did run a 10K race with them but I didn't run it at my usual race pace, so I guess I never really broke the shoe in properly. But I wasn't worried, and it appeared that Hec's warning about the weight didn't really bother me. Until today.

I've noticed that since I've been running LSDs (that's long, slow distance) my legs would definitely struggle after a certain distance (about 15 kilometres) and my feet felt like they were dragging shoes filled with cement. I should've known better than to question the expertise of a shoe expert and accomplished runner. Good thing is, I haven't cramped like he said I might.

But I'm not taking the chance. Not for a first marathon.

This afternoon, while enjoying a lovely day at South Bank, I invited Mrs. PWW to check out a running store in the area called Active Stride. I've read about them online and have wanted to visit for the longest time, as I've been thinking about getting a pair of lightweight racers again. Arriving at the shop, I was surprised that it was relatively smaller than what I imagined (think maybe half the area of RUNNR at The Fort). But within the confines of its walls was a veritable nirvana of running gear, from apparel to shoes, accessories and even nutrition.

Usually, I'm a very straightforward shopper. I get in, buy what I need and leave. But with gear, I can be a pain in the neck, especially if I haven't done my research beforehand. This afternoon, I was the latter. I was mulling over which shoe to take home among the plethora of pairs in front of me, until I saw the Brooks Green Silence. Over a year ago, I wrote about this shoe as I was impressed by the company's contribution to sustainable technology, and because it was endorsed by Scott Jurek, my all-time ultra marathoner man-crush. So it was interesting to note that things have come full-circle since I first said I wanted a pair, and to see that desire materialise. The ladies at Active Stride were a great help, and were gracious to leave the store open for another 15 minutes after closing time so we could finish our purchases.

Yes. Our purchases. Mrs. PWW picked up a few things too. One of them being a new pair of running shoes. Which one? Well, looks like history repeats itself.

His and Hers, again. In PWW colours!

Can't wait to take these babies out for a run soon.

PWW Note: Fundraising for the organisation I have chosen to run for is still ongoing! Please help me reach my target goal before the marathon. You can donate by visiting the fundraiser site here. All donations go directly to charity. Pass the word on, and thanks in advance!

Day One: Leaving Cairns and Heading South

2011-07-19T12:45:00.000+08:00

It felt like I was in a time machine. Or the twilight zone. The sight of our bare apartment seemed to take me back 10 months when I first inspected the space which we would call home for what then was "the foreseeable future." Little did we know that less than a year on, we would be moving on to another phase of our life together. Perhaps it was not that big a surprise, living the lives akin to the proverbial rolling stone.

"Should we wait for it?" I was referring to the accessory plate I ordered to put on the bike rack I just installed on the car. Being a stickler for following rules, I purchased a plate (it's a smaller version of the usual, specifically made for racks and stuff) online exactly a week before we were due to leave Cairns, fully confident that it would arrive prior to us starting the trip. Now, it was the only thing that was holding us up. I did not want to fashion a small plate using cardboard as I read somewhere that you might get pulled over and fined about $300 for not having an official plate.

"I think we should just head off" said the missus. As the appointed person-in-charge of our spontaneous itinerary, she reasoned it would be a massive waste of time if we held ourselves up north for the weekend simply to wait for a $70 plate. We can write that expense off if we lose it (we redirected our mail a bit too late). I couldn't agree more. In lieu of an accessory plate, I removed the rear plate number of the car and affixed it to one of the bikes. We dropped the keys off at the real estate office, and started the long journey down.

Our beast of a car, recently fully serviced, was filled with nothing but essentials: clothes, toiletries, a tent, camping gear, food, water, a guitar, two mountain bikes and cycling gear, a copy of Lonely Planet Australia, maps, a second-hand Garmin GPS navigation system, an iPod Touch with music and podcasts (mostly Good Times with Mo: The Podcast and Good Times Acoustic), a tank full of petrol, and a pocketful of kryptonite. I've openly confessed that I am one of the most obsessive-compulsive people when it comes to organising and storing things, so I appointed myself the person in charge of packing the car, and I think I did a pretty good job at it, considering the amount of things we had. I actually packed it in a way that provided easier access to things which were more frequently used, reducing the need to move things around.

Yes, I am a geek.

Someone I recently met put it very eloquently, the art of packing a car up for a trip. "It's just like playing Tetris." And I'd like to think I'm a pretty good Tetris player.

Game! Tara Na!

Now, we were ready for the trip.

But it was almost 4 PM. We wouldn't be able to cover much ground before needing to stop and set-up camp for the night.

"So where to, navigator?" I asked Mrs. PWW.

She whipped her phone out, made a call, and we were on the road heading about a hundred kilometres south.

A SPANISH CASTLE IN THE MIDDLE OF A RAINFOREST

One of the structures at Paronella Park. Image from source

We went to Paronella Park during our first few weeks in Cairns. Our friend Tracey took us there for the day, and we eventually made a return trip with my parents-in-law when they visited us in Far North Queensland. A place rife in history, the park was quite literally a labour of love by a man named Jose Paronella, who dreamt of having his own castle since he was a young boy. I don't want to put too much detail of the story here, as the story-telling is one of the most interesting things about going there for a tour. During the two times we were previously there, our guide was a guy named Dean, and he did a great job of sharing the park's story.

On our first trip to Paronella Park, we paid an entrance fee of $36 each, which included a pass card which allowed you to make as many return trips as you wish for an entire year. In addition to that, each time you visit, you can get the card updated, and that will extend its validity for another year. So if you do things right, you potentially will never have to pay for another visit to the park ever again.

Paronella Park is home to a number of magnificent old structures, all built by hand by Jose. These buildings are surrounded by lush rainforest, making the place appear so mystifying. It was a thrill imagining the park in its heyday, with tennis courts and a grand ballroom, both of which fell prey to time (or for the grand ballroom, fire). But its current state is in itself a sight to behold, and I particularly enjoy the plants and wildlife in the premises. There are tall kauri trees that line an eponymously named avenue, and a massive waterfall feeds a creek that teems with jungle perch, eels which were huge and slimy and frankly, disgustingly scary. Following slowly behind them are turtles who often lose to the faster fish when it comes to feeding time. Of course, one of the things I thought about when I was walking around the place was "This would make for an awesome Nature Trip!" And it made me miss doing Barefootprint activities, that's for sure.

SETTING UP CAMP

As if free entrance for the next year was not enough, the pass card we received from Paronella Park also entitled us to one night's free use of a spot at their caravan park. As we were planning to camp as much as possible during the drive down, this was a perfect start to the trip, not to mention a great way to save money, as understandably, expenses can add up during a long trip.

This was also a great opportunity to try out our new tent, the Kathmandu Taku, which we recently purchased. Since most of the camping I did in the Philippines involved massive hikes, most of the tents I used were small, light tadpoles. The Taku, however, is a three person tent, or spacious living for two. It also has a huge vestibule at the front (and an extra at the rear), making it perfect to store gear. With just the two of us in the tent, we were not wanting for space, and it made rest a pleasant experience, especially with the new thermarests and sleeping bag we had, specifically designed for winter; something I never looked into while living in the Philippines, for obvious reasons.

The Kathmandu Taku Tent. Image from Kathmandu

Our camping spot was in a relatively secluded space in the caravan, and we noticed that we were one of only two spots with tents pitched. Everyone else had either camper trailers or motor homes. It was plain to see those travelling on a budget!

We managed to set up camp just before dark, and proceeded to freshen up before asking the next important question. "What are we going to do for dinner?"

THE 'OL AUSSIE PUB

We had rations in the car which would tide us over for the next few days. However, it seemed a bit much to set up "the camp kitchen" which consists of a cheap portable butane stove we purchased months ago in case of a cyclone. We just spent the past two days cleaning our apartment, and the last thing on our mind was trying to prepare dinner. So we reverted to a tried and tested method of biological refuelling. The pub meal.

Just a few hundred metres from our caravan was Mena Creek Pub, which is as genuinely Australian as any pub can get. The place was filled with chatter from the bar, where boisterous laughter erupted intermittently with the clinking of beer bottles. Another fella was selling raffle tickets, and a group was huddled right beside an outdoor fireplace which made everyone's clothes smell like burnt wood.

Mrs. PWW at the Mena Creek Pub

Sitting outside the pub, I delightfully wolfed down a plate of fish and chips with salad and washed it down with beer. I was officially on vacation.

THE NIGHT TOUR

Mrs. PWW and I were anticipating the night tour with excitement, as we imagined it would be very different from the day tours around Paronella Park. Unfortunately, I found it a bit disappointing as it seemed to be nothing more than a walk around the park to take photos of the buildings which at night, was lighted somewhat artistically. The main differentiating factor which I recall was the light and music display of one of the structures in the park, which understandably would not have the same effect if done in the day. It was still a very nice experience walking around the park at night, though I much prefer the day tours in terms of entertainment value.

"BREAKING CAMP"

When I woke up in the morning, Mrs. PWW and I were talking about how to tackle the day and where our next destination would be. Afterwards, I said "Well, let's break camp and get going." She laughed, saying "break camp" was such a funny term to use in such circumstances (being in the controlled environment of a caravan park). I laughed too, and realised I said that because I haven't slept in a tent for ages, and when I woke up, I thought I'd be unzipping my tent door to see myself in a random camp site in the Philippines, with my buddies Dabid, Kaloy, and Dave in adjacent tents.

We made use of the camp amenities to set up our cooking equipment and made a fortifying breakfast of baked beans on toast, and coffee. Beside us was a family with three generations of men (the grandfather, the son-in-law, and the son) cooking at the camp barbecue. We had friendly banter and they were just about to end their trip by going up to Cairns, where they live. It was an interesting chat. They were close to the end of their journey, and we've only just begun.

Like I said before, this is going to be epic.

For more information about Paronella Park, please visit their official website.

For Day Two of the Epic Capricorn Coast Road Trip, click here.

The Epic Capricorn Coast Road Trip: An Introduction

2011-07-18T16:12:00.009+08:00

"What's a Grey Nomad?" I remember asking that question when I first saw the term at a sign at a roadside motel during a trip along one of the long highways of Australia. On a piece of sheet metal (at least that's what I recall), the words "Grey Nomads Welcome" were written using white paint. I initially thought it might be some sort of group or gang, but to be sure, I asked my then soon-to-be-father-in-law.

A Grey Nomad is a term used to refer to folks who are travelling the country, stereotypically retired couples (hence, grey) who tow a camper trailer behind their 4X4, or drive around in a mobile home. When I first hear about it I thought, "Hey, there's a great idea." What better way to enjoy your retirement by driving from one place to another until you've seen the entire country? It certainly appealed to me, and I now think of it as a goal to strive towards. A kind of final, long-term adventure to be enjoyed during the twilight of your years.

I still have a long way to go before retirement (unless I somehow amass a ridiculous amount of money which will allow me to retire by the time I'm 45), but I had a small taste of what it would be like to live the life of a Grey Nomad.

Mrs. PWW and I recently made a change in our lives which involved moving to Brisbane, a city about 1,700 kilometres south of where we lived in Cairns. One could fly the distance in about two and a half hours, but why do that when you can drive it and have an epic road trip? Even before we made the official arrangements we needed to move, we were already thinking of a possible itinerary, knowing fully well that we were going to take our time driving down.

THE ROAD TRIP: AN OVERVIEW

When I first came to Australia in 2008, one of the things I noticed is the incredible infrastructure in place for travellers on the road, some which just don't exist in the Philippines. For instance, good roads and highways (insert rimshot here). Caravan parks dot the major highways for people to stop and rest or have a shower, rest areas are plentiful and at times, there are "Driver Reviver" stations which offer a cup of coffee and a snack to give a tired driver the pick me up he or she needs. Needless to say, I was excited about this.

Now, time for a little amateur lesson on geography and scale, kids. Below you can see a map of Australia, and a rough approximation of the distance we needed to travel. Unless universal laws have changed since the last time I checked, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, and the red scribble on the map shows perhaps the straightest possible route from Cairns to Brisbane.

Cairns to Brisbane along the Capricorn Coast

In the scheme of things, it doesn't really look like a big trip. And it doesn't sound like a big trip either, because we're just travelling in-state. We weren't even leaving Queensland. Then I did some research (because I'm a geek like that) and found out that the land area of Queensland is about 1.73 million km². Do you remember the land area of the Philippines? I do. It's 300,000 km². So if I was to compare the size of the Philippines to that of Australia, it would look something like this:

It's a bloody big country, mate.

So yeah, it was a bit of a drive. But it doesn't end there. Compared to the straightforward approach of travel illustrated in the map above (the one with the red line, in case you can't keep up), we did a few detours to see some sights on the way down, and ended up with a route that looks something like this:

This doesn't include the wrong turns.

In total, we travelled 2,700 kilometres before arriving in Brisbane, adding an extra thousand kilometres to the trip. But with those extra miles, we also gained countless incredible experiences and created memories we'll remember fondly.

With that, I invite you to join me in reliving these memories, and to travel with me vicariously through the next few posts I will be publishing. I'll try to churn them out as quickly and as frequently as I can, but if I hit a speed bump every now and then, please be patient. Just think, at least you don't have to worry about petrol like I did. Especially after seeing a sign like this:

Fill her up

Quick trip trivia: The service station this sign pertains to is where I have purchased the most expensive petrol per litre during the trip, and by far in my entire year in Australia. It was 167.9 cents per litre. I guess if you're in the middle of nowhere (which it obviously is), you have to pay a premium to buy things at what is essentially, an oasis.

To start the journey at Day One, click here.

Time for a Cool Change

2011-07-12T13:08:00.001+08:00

The sun's out, but it's still cold outside. It's something I need to get used to, quickly, because this is the daily climate (at least for another month or so) where we now live. I write this post in our lovely new rented flat in Hamilton, apparently a very posh suburb of Brisbane. As most of you already know, and I'm addressing my two or three avid followers, Mrs. PWW and I have recently moved from Cairns down to Brisbane, and we are completely loving it.

I'm posting this just as a quick update to let you in on what has happened the past few weeks. I plan to write about these "events" in more detail during the next few weeks; I imagine it will be much easier to do so once I get myself a new laptop to replace my old one which someone took on a five-finger discount. We have had such an incredible past few weeks before going back to so-called reality that it feels like such a daunting task to write about it all in one go, so I'll slowly chip away at the massive mountain of memories in my head by breaking them in small bits. These are the things that I will most probably be writing about in the very near future:

The Esplanade in Cairns, where I did majority of my running while up there
Fitzroy Island
Our big drive from Cairns to Brisbane, which would include:

Paronella Park
A stop at Windy Hill
Undara Experience
Charters Towers
Airlie Beach
Eungella and seeing a platypus for the first time
Capricorn Caves
Agnes Water and Town of 1770
Noosa
Fraser Island

Rediscovering Mountain Biking (as you can see with the current banner!)
Marathon Training updates
Gear Reviews
Random Stuff around Brisbane and its surrounds

Wow. Now that I've written all of that down, I can see roughly how much material I've been carrying around in my head these past few weeks. No wonder I've been itching to write. I also have loads of photos to share and upload on Flickr once I get it all sorted. Much to do, and I'm loving it! So keep tuned for the posts and I'll try to publish them as quickly, and as frequently as I can.

Also, I'm still raising funds for CREATE Foundation, which is the organisation I chose as the beneficiary for my first marathon. We have currently raised $261.50, which is a bit over 25% of the total amount I'm aiming for. Many, many thanks to everyone who has donated to the cause. I really appreciate all of your help, and I will carry the inspiration you have shared with me to the finish line in September.

If you or anyone you know wishes to donate to the fundraiser, you may visit the page by clicking here.

Again, many thanks to you all, and wishing you a great weekend! I know it's a Tuesday, but it's my day off, so technically I'm on my weekend, I think.

Off to the great outdoors!

Marathon Chronicles: With a Little Help From My Friends

2011-06-20T07:16:00.000+08:00

Training for the marathon has taken an interesting turn the past few weeks as plenty of things have happened. One of the reasons PWW has been bereft of posts lately is because a big change is afoot once more for Mrs. PWW and I, and we have been trying to fit an extra day to the week to get everything done. Long story short, being the rolling stones that we are, we are moving yet again. Goodbye Cairns, Hello Brisbane.

And the other reason I haven't been posting? My laptop got stolen. But I'm not going to dwell on that. I'm just looking at the brighter side of things--time to convert and shop for an Apple!

Anyway, back to training.

The mercury has dropped significantly these past few weeks, and we are officially in winter. Cold weather makes staying under the covers and sleeping in even more appealing than it usually is, so I've been employing the help of some "friends" to get me going.

TAMING THE SAVAGE BEAST

Just before my laptop got stolen (I promise not to focus on this), I've updated my running playlist with some old tracks to help motivate me during a run. As I've mentioned on a previous post, I have been finding it difficult to keep on running in silence as boredom quickly sets in, a feeling I had no issues with before. So I took on an old approach and kept my iPod Shuffle clipped with me during runs. Two days ago, I managed to complete a 15K training run, the longest I've run in over a year.

There are obviously staples in everyone's running playlist, and I would welcome anyone to post theirs on the comments section of this post. The classic being "Eye of the Tiger" from Rocky--a song with a bpm that's actually too slow for a good workout (I read that somewhere)--a track that I don't have. What I do have, though, is a selection of U2 hits such as Where the Streets Have No Name, Beautiful Day, and Vertigo to name a few. There's also a lot of rap and hip-hop there from my earlier years, focusing heavily on Jay-Z. On the other end of the spectrum, I also have tracks from Black Sabbath and Marilyn Manson.

But recently, I discovered some tracks which put me in such an incredible trance while running. And perhaps not surprisingly, I've loaded my Shuffle up with a whole load of OPM. Not just Pinoy songs; songs in Tagalog. This has truly transformed my training runs into a form of mental travel, as there is something strange yet comforting about listening to songs in Tagalog while you're in a foreign land. Some of my current favorites:

Umaaraw, Umuulan by Rivermaya
Yugto by Rico Blanco
Halik ni Hudas by Wolfgang
Alapaap by Eraserheads
Narda by Kamikazee
Voodoo Who Do? by Razorback (okay, this isn't in Tagalog, but a song from one of the top Pinoy rock bands)

I could go on, but I won't. What's obvious is that after living in Australia for over a year now (we moved to Oz in June 16 last year), I'm pining for everything Pinoy.

To make the running with music experience a tad better, I've also replaced my defunct Apple iPod earphones with the Sennheiser MX 680, a result of the collaboration between one of the top brands in sports, Adidas, and Sennheiser, makers of some of the best personal audio equipment. Having used the earphones for a number of training runs now, it's well worth the $79, if only to ensure that I did not need to replace the buds in my ears after every 30 seconds. Sound quality is good, and it still allows you to hear external sounds, which is important for running in the streets. The fact that it's durable (with Dupont™ Kevlar® reinforced cables) and sweat and water resistant is icing on the cake.

DO YOU NEED ANYBODY?

As some of you already know, my full-time job is not the typical M-F, 9-5 workweek, which wreaks havoc on a training program that is best followed to the letter. Right now, I get a run in whenever I can, and fortunately, I have found a little help from a friend.

I told the young person I am working with about my plan to run my first marathon in September, and since he found out, he has taken on the role of being my personal coach. It's incredible. If I am on shift, at half past eight in the morning, he would tell me to lace up and go for a run while he rides his bike beside me. We do this twice a day, once in the morning, and again in the evening. In terms of training, this is great for me; but with regard to personal development, this is a step towards the right direction for him. The set-up we have could not have worked better.

For the fundraising portion of the run, I have found inspiration with some of the kids I used to work with at Kids Ahoy. Together, they have all raised money to contribute to the organisation I'm running for, by performing chores around the house, or doing some fundraising of their own. I am grateful and truly inspired by the support they have shown.

So far, we have raised $111.50 for CREATE Foundation. We have already reached a bit over 10% of our total goal. Please help me raise funds for the cause by donating on the fundraiser site I have set up for the cause. You can visit the site by clicking here.

The next few weeks are going to be crazy, but I promise to keep you posted whenever I can.

Keep on keeping on!

The Marathon Chronicles: An Introduction

2011-05-20T10:32:00.004+08:00

Eight months ago, I picked this book up from one of the Sunday markets in Cairns. There was a stall that sold second-hand and discounted books, with volumes stacked on either end of a long table which itself held a massive amount of paperbacks. Of course, this book stood out amongst all others, and it hit me with the same effect as when you're looking for someone you know in a large crowd and suddenly find him or her in between an ocean of people. I've heard a lot about this book (from the usual running crowd) and have searched for months in the Philippines trying to find it to no avail. So I snatched the lone copy the second I saw it.

Interestingly enough, I stopped reading the book not even halfway into it. Why? Beats me. I guess during those months I was slowly slipping into that non-running stupor and quickly lost the plot. It went to the bookshelf along with books previously read, where it lived for the next few months. Last night, it found its way back to my hands and this time, with more fervour in my part.

Murakami's foreword states "...it's all right to read this as a kind of memoir centered on the act of running." It's a very cool perspective, but as I don't think the world would benefit from my memoirs, I aim to follow his footsteps in just trying to chronicle my journey in training for my first marathon. I find it incredibly inspiring, reading other peoples' forays into running, especially those who are masters of prose and weave words together with spellbinding ease. If I manage to inspire even just a single person to run or strive to reach a goal by putting my experiences to words, that would be well worth the time and effort.

I've been thinking about running a marathon for three years now, and I've always imagined the time would come for me to document the entire (well, hopefully most of it) experience. And I've always known what I would call it: The Marathon Chronicles.

Fine. I know I'm not the first one to use it, but I like how it sounds!

Training has already started a couple of weeks ago. No proper training program in place yet; just trying to get the feel back. I reckon it has been largely successful, and my craving for the runner's high has definitely become stronger. I've been logging my runs again and keeping track of the kilometres that I put into my legs. Old habits have made a comeback, specifically scouring the plethora of Pinoy running blogs for tips and inspiring entries. Everything feels very familiar, and I find comfort in that.

In fact, running has permeated my life yet again that I write of it not just in pixels, but with the scratch of pen on paper; a sure sign that it is constantly in my head.

Welcome to the Marathon Chronicles

Quick Update: Total amount of donations for the charity I'm supporting is $81.50! Thanks to everyone who donated! Please help raise much needed funds for charity. To learn more, you can visit the fundraiser page I've set up. Just click here.

My Goal for 2011 (Otherwise Known as A Long Post on Running)

2011-05-05T12:39:00.006+08:00

- Bart Yasso

This quote has been sitting on my laptop since June 2010, and I have wanted to post it under "Warrior Wisdom" with an accompanying entry about mentoring. It took me a long time to find my words, and well, to be honest I'm still searching for them. I know they're right inside my head but I just need them to coalesce. However, I'm certain this is the right time to try and write.

And just so you know, this may turn out to be a long one. Don't tell me I didn't warn you.

MENTORING

A few weeks ago, Mrs. PWW received a Facebook message from my uncle Albin, asking her to pass a message on to me, mainly because everyone communicates through Facebook now; a network where I have no account. I won't delve deeper into that here, but my uncle said "Please tell him that the gang here is into running now. Partly because of his influence and Alvin."

In all the years I've been running races and showing up at my grandma's door after a run to help myself to a warm breakfast (we call it "The Soup Kitchen") my uncles and cousins did not show any interest in the sport outside of asking me where I ran, and for how long. They were more inclined to participate in cycling, or if it were popular in the Philippines, pub crawls. So to hear that they're into running is incredible, and for him to tell me it was partly because of my influence (of which I didn't know I had any), is to me, a heart-fattening achievement. Or in Filipino, nakakataba ng puso. It doesn't really translate that well, does it?

The "Alvin" that was mentioned in that message is of course, my cousin and most fervent training buddy when I was back in the Philippines. He and I have run together in a number of events and countless training sessions. For Holy Week last year, we did an Alay-Takbo, a running (pun intended) tradition which he continued this year. We both participated in the 2nd Leg of RunRio 2010, All Terra King of the Mountain, and a few other trail and street runs around the metro. But like most of us, he started out running around the academic oval at UP, struggling to keep a pace which he probably considers a mere warm-up now.

I miss this training route! Image from Second Wind.

I remember training with Kuya Alvin for his first race, a 15K run around UP, The Amazing Kidney Race. We would meet in the evenings to run what I initially assumed would be the route, taking him to the infamous Heartbreak Hill. He was buggered after the first climb and had to stop to get his breath back. At that point, I've already participated in a few races, so I actually took on the mentor role and helped my cousin out before, during, and after training runs. He would send me text messages before a race, asking me questions on what to eat, what to wear, how much sleep he should get, and other pre-race rituals. It was somewhat surreal, as with him being the older one, practically my entire life (we've been tight since we were kids) I was the one who always looked up to him for guidance and information. This was one of those rare times when I could actually return the favour.

Throughout our runs and races, I would do the leg work and pre-race bureaucracies of registrations, setting up training runs, and at times, waking him up before the race. I provided him with information on the routes, some nutrition plans, and tips on running shoes and gear. With all the support I was able to give him, there was one thing that I could not be responsible for: character. But knowing my cousin, it was the one thing I was certain I need not worry about. Kuya Alvin is one of the most dedicated and determined people I know, and I have seen time and again how he succeeded through sheer will, doggedly pursuing any goal he sets his mind to. Once he got started, he never looked back.

Our last race together was the Nature Valley Run 21K, which he finished in around 2:30. Since then, he has demolished that time and broke through the two hour mark with a 1:59:58 performance in his last half mary. He recently became a marathoner, finishing the 2011 Condura Marathon in 5:24. He is now contemplating taking on an ultra, is training for an aquathlon, got back to cycling, and aims to complete a triathlon in the near future. I would not be surprised in the slightest when he achieves all this. It makes me beam with pride, following his achievements.

When he finished his first marathon, he sent me a message expressing gratitude, saying I inspired him to do it. Now our roles are reversed. I seek inspiration from him and find strength in what he has accomplished since we started this journey back in the running trails around UP. As any runner would know, it is close to impossible to finish a race, or even to start running, without some source of inspiration.

That is exactly what I need right now.

BACK TO SQUARE ONE

When I first moved to Australia, I tried to hold on to my routines, specifically running. Despite the drastic change in temperature when I was in Stanthorpe, I invested in winter running gear to continue the early morning pavement pounding regardless of the cold climate. I cross-trained by going cycling on country tracks (such heaven) and long-ish weekend rides to nearby towns. Then we moved to Cairns, back to tropical weather, and while I still was able to have some semblance of a training routine, it was waning and I knew it. Life happened.

Just to show you how much my training has dipped--actually "dip" is an understatement; it's more a severe fall from running grace, not a trough but a chasm--here's my annual report from Daily Mile:

Such a geek. Thanks to Daily Mile!

Check out October to December. Two big zeroes and a two. This is exactly what a visual representation of data should do: show you how it really is. Of course, as I was in a pretty gruesome headspace, instead of seeing this as a message to lace up and run, I felt sorry for myself and continued to sit down on the couch, play the guitar, and drink beer. Not that that's a bad thing. But you can't exactly reach your running goals by sedentary beer belly building, can you?

I tried to proactively create opportunities for me to get inspired to run, starting with joining a local running club. My first run with them was the first monthly time trial of the year. So for one Wednesday a month, you nominate a distance to run and the time you think you'd be able to complete it. Then you do it again next month to see if you've improved. I chose to run 5K and wrote down a conservative 35 minutes to finish. When the run started, I was right beside an elderly lady runner (she was probably in her late 50s, 60s) who helped me out with the route as I obviously looked terribly unsure of what I was doing. We ran together for the first couple of kilometres, chatting amicably until she said she was apologising in advance if she is unable to keep up with the conversation, as she was struggling enough as it is. I said I was struggling too (we were running a sub 5:30 pace). No sooner than when I finished my sentence, she stepped up the pace and I was left eating her dust. I couldn't keep up! My pace slowed to 6:30, 6:45, and I finished the 5K at an okay 31 minutes, but not without a massive hit to the ego. To be honest, I missed a few runs with the club after that. To be really honest, I haven't returned since. I just lost the drive to run. Perhaps I was experiencing my first, full-blown running low.

So I decided to start from scratch. Back to square one. I took my Garmin off and ran without any care for pace or distance. I ran to rediscover the joy of running, and went back to my old ways. For instance, when I started seriously training, I left my iPod at home and focused on my breathing and my body. I even went so far as to do some research on the subject of running with music versus running without and decided for myself that running without music was better for mental focus. Pretty sure I wrote an entry about it, too. But of late, I went back to creating running playlists and listening to my favourite power songs while out on the road. I figured I can work on my focus later on, but now, it's better for me to just get out the door and keep on moving. If music distracts me from thoughts of stopping, then blast the U2 up. You can't help but feel inspired at hearing the opening line "I want to run" from Where the Streets Have No Name.

I can stop using this as a peg now

In the past few weeks, I've run more times than I have since January this year. Only one thing left to do. Set a goal.

GOAL SETTING

When I was living in Myanmar (Burma), one of my good friends shared that he always told his son to have a goal for the year. It doesn't necessarily need to be an academic one, but he needs to set a goal and achieve it. This idea struck a chord in me, and I started setting annual goals myself. In 2009, I set out to complete a Daily Photo Project, which I successfully pulled off. In 2010, it was setting up Pinoy Weekend Warrior, with the aim of getting it recognition. Okay, so my realisation of that goal may be debatable, as the success of a website can be measured in many ways. I was aiming to be known in the Pinoy outdoor scene and I guess I managed to achieve that. I don't have as many hits as other sites, but I've garnered incredible followers. Just take a look at the people who sent their well wishes to this site when it turned one. It's here.

I'm rambling. Getting back to the point, I just realised that I haven't set a goal for 2011. Well, actually, I did. About three years ago.

One of the excuses I've used in the past for not running is the fact that I have no races to run in. Unlike Manila, races in Cairns are few and far between, whereas I was used to having my pick of races to run any given weekend. But now, I've set my goal, and it's a big one.

I'm running my first full marathon.

Two evenings ago, I signed up for the Blackmores Sydney Marathon. The event is on September 18, 2011. I initially planned to run the Melbourne Marathon to coincide with my birthday weekend, as I've always thought that my gift to myself would be running a full mary on my birthday. But my buddy Kaloy told me about the Sydney Running Festival, and it made better sense to run it in a place where I could celebrate with family and friends after the race. Kaloy is running the same race, and Mrs. PWW is doing the half. And really, you can't dream up a more scenic marathon than this one, running on the Sydney Harbour Bridge and finishing at the Sydney Opera House!

What a race route. Image via source.

To top it all off, the best part about running in Sydney is being able to share the experience with friends and family. Whether they're cheering you on from the sidelines or downing beers after the race, it's one worth sharing.

On that note, I wish to use this race as a way to pay forward for all the support and inspiration I have received from all my mentors, whether in running or in life. I have decided share my efforts in achieving a personal life goal with a worthy cause by running for charity. I am raising funds for CREATE Foundation, an organisation that works with young people in care. To find out more about them, please visit my fundraising page and if you may be so inclined, please help me reach my goal of raising $1,100 for CREATE. All of your donations go straight to charity, and I would greatly appreciate your support in this endeavour. You may visit my fundraiser page by clicking on this link.

With this, I'll begin chronicling my training efforts on trying to ensure that I am physically and mentally fit to take on the distance come September. I'll keep you all updated on what I'm doing, and I would appreciate any online kicks on the behind to get me up and running during the difficult times. I think Pinoy Weekend Warrior is back, and in a big way.

There is no better way to end this entry than with gratitude. Thank you, everyone. In one way or another, you all have inspired me to be where I stand right now.

All my best,

The Philippines: A Set on Flickr

2011-04-21T14:38:00.000+08:00

Hey, I've got a new set on Flickr with some of my favourite photos from my travels in the Philippines. Check it out by clicking on the image below.

Tour of the Fireflies 2011

2011-04-16T13:18:00.000+08:00

If we were in Manila, we'd be sure to join this tomorrow, making it our third consecutive year riding on the Tour of the Fireflies. Wishing all cyclists a safe and memorable ride! Remember to thank your marshals--they're the ones who stick their necks out to keep everyone safe. Whenever you can, give them a hand. Remember, they are our brothers and sisters in this revolution.

And to all motorists in Metro Manila, keep your cool. This is the one day of the year that cyclists rule the road.

Here are a couple of photos of Mrs. PWW and I from the past two tours. Both images were made by our good friend Kaloy of Pinoy Phototrekker.

ToF 2009

ToF 2010

Mr. & Mrs. PWW in the (Lemon Pie) House!

2011-04-13T17:17:00.000+08:00

I've been using Flickr for over a year now to keep photos for the Pinoy Weekend Warrior site (visit my Flickr here!) and it was only tonight that I figured out how to see people's comments on the photos. That's how tech savvy I am, thank you very much.

Anyway, a 13-month old comment from the group Biyaheng Pinoy brought a smile to my face when they invited me to the group, and informed me that they included one of my photos on the official blog of The Lemon Pie House! The photo was taken during a trip we took to Sagada back in December 2009, and seeing the image brought back fond memories of the trip. Suffice to say, my feet are itching right now and I'm yearning to be back on a bus travelling to the Mountain Province!

Those lemon pies? They're awesome. Visit their blog here.

In the house!

PWW and Pinoy Phototrekker!

2011-04-12T08:48:00.000+08:00

During a recent trip to Sydney, I had the chance to catch up with one of my good friends from back in the Philippines. We only met up for about an hour over lunch as he had to go to Dubbo with family, but it was fantastic to spend time with someone who I have such close ties to, and with whom I've shared countless adventures in the backwaters of our country. It just made me feel like I was back home, especially since Tagalog ang gamit namin habang nagku-kuwentuhan! Akala ko tuloy nasa Makati lang kami.

Mga Sexy in the City

Kaloy moved to Australia two months (to the day) after we did but this is the first time we've seen each other since moving from the Philippine Islands. The two of us are separated by about 2,500 kilometers, which explains why it took a while before this meeting of kindred spirits happened. Being Kaloy, his first reaction upon learning what the distance is between us, was "Road trip!"

Follow Kaloy and his adventures at Pinoy Phototrekker. Until next time, buddy.

Bicycle Revolution: 13th Tour of the Fireflies

2011-04-06T16:38:00.000+08:00

The 13th Tour of the Fireflies will happen on April 17, 2011. Man, I sure wish I was back home for this one. Good times.

Go to The Firefly Brigade's Official Site here for further details. Keep on riding.

Life Happens

2011-04-04T12:59:00.007+08:00

Hi. Remember me? Yeah, that guy with unbridled enthusiasm about the outdoors and everything about cycling and running. The one who would not let a weekend pass without running a race or climbing up a mountain. I am still the same person, you know. I swear, I really am. Just a bit, different now, I guess. Yes, I know I've been completely slack about updating this site lately. Well, I use that term loosely as "lately" has been the past six months (half a year?!). Perhaps the reason I'm writing now is to try and figure out what happened during that time.

It has almost been 10 months since I have moved from the Philippines to Australia. My original plan was to work in the outdoors in one of the countries in the forefront of adventure learning and outdoor education. However, sometimes one needs to revert to Plan B, especially when you didn't know that Plan A was going to cost you upwards of $10,000 for an internship! Not really an option after spending your savings on moving here.

The irony of it all is not lost on me, though. Here I am, living in Cairns, in close proximity to the Great Barrier Reef and World Heritage Rainforests, and yet suddenly I seemed to have lost the flair for the outdoors. It's not that I haven't had the chance to get out. I've been on numerous trips with Mrs. PWW since we moved here (she is fantastic, the way she gets me off my butt to go and do stuff) but I haven't been as excited as before to document our travels. Needless to say, the minor events pass by unnoticed.

Which isn't me, is it? So what happened?

About a month or so ago, I felt a serious pang of homesickness. You know the kind that slowly creeps up on you? Where one moment you're making breakfast then the next your bowl of muesli is filling up with tears (not a good taste)? Yeah, I had one of those. I knew that it was going to come during one of those moments when everything was already in order, when we've "properly" moved, meaning we've got a routine going on, jobs to go to and what not; when you seem to have seamlessly re-created every single aspect of your old life in a different world, then boom. You see a picture of your dog and you start babbling like a baby. You start to think about all the small things that make a huge difference. In my case, I missed getting up in the morning while living in Project 6, running from my apartment to UP Diliman, logging in a 10K before going to work. Or getting up for a morning ride up the trails in Maarat with the Cainta Mountain Bikers.

Then I found myself slipping into a state of apathy, where I pretended to have no time for things that used to matter. I got stressed. And even when I knew that running, my personal therapeutic choice, would guarantee that I would feel better about things, I didn't lace up. I stayed home and came up with every pathetic little excuse I could muster to avoid going out. It was such a massive departure from the same person who, from the tropics, dressed up in winter clothes to go running in Stanthorpe during mornings where the temperature was in single digits. The same one who went out for a 40K bike ride at -2°C. Suddenly the weather became too hot, or wet, or windy to go out for a run. It was a bad head space.

I felt as if I was setting myself up for failure each time I went out to run. Without the miles on my legs, I was pushing my body to perform in the same manner it did during my prior half-marathons. Instead of improving my emotional state I would walk back home feeling dejected.

Until one day, when things just seemed to be too difficult to bear, I took my watch off and went for a run like it was my first. No pace in mind, no specific goal, just the catharsis of movement. I ran for a total of 20 minutes without stopping, and within that period, it was as if a fog lifted in my head. Troubled melted away, and I was laughing at myself for forgetting how this felt.

It wasn't just a run. It was a run-fuelled paradigm shift.

Hopefully this is the start of something new for Pinoy Weekend Warrior in Australia.

P.S. I missed you guys.

PWW Turns One!

2010-10-07T15:17:00.001+08:00

A year ago today, I decided to officially launch the site Pinoy Weekend Warrior. It's ridiculous--on one hand I can't believe that it has already been one entire year since I started this, and on the other I feel like I've been doing this for far longer than 365 days.

On day one, the purpose of this blog was to chronicle my exploits and to somehow sharpen my knowledge on outdoor sports and activities in the hope of helping me achieve my dream of living a fulfilling life in the outdoors. One year into it, does the goal remain the same? To be honest, I'm not sure. Perhaps it's something that I need to think about in the next couple of days.

Despite the uncertainty, I'm very happy about the fact that this blog has reached a relative degree of success. Actually, relative to a point of it being a bit of a stretch. Using conventional measures such as total hits and average visit length, this blog is mediocre at best. However, you can twist everything until you see a silver lining on an upside down frown.

Aside from the requests to use my written material (for free) and a letter of thanks from a multinational company that produces one of my favorite energy drinks, one of the things I'm really proud of is the fact that PWW has made it into the blog roll of a number of blogs which I follow religiously together with a few other thousand people. To me, that recognition is far better than receiving free stuff. Okay, maybe not, but you know what I mean.

It was not until this afternoon that I had a picture of the true success of this blog. With the internet connecting everyone and making the world a global village, I was surprised to see the amount of congratulatory messages for PWW's first year. But what left me completely flabbergasted was finding out who sent the well wishes. I think you'd be surprised, too.

Here they are:

Lance Armstrong

Arnulfo Quimare and Scott Jurek

Bear Grylls

Les Stroud

Lokelani McMichael

Unbelievable, no? I know. I had a hard time believing it myself until I saw the photographic proof. I'm just swimming in all the awesomeness that comes with it. Anyway, here's to more years for PWW, fingers crossed.

To you, dear reader, many thanks.

Pic of the Day: PWW in TBR Magazine

2010-09-23T06:34:00.000+08:00

This is a bit late, but I made it on the July-August 2010 issue of The Bull Runner Magazine! Many thanks to TBR for choosing my photo.

It's like a dream come true, really.

And thank you to my good friend Egg for scanning the page and sending it on. Suh-weet.

Cairns, Here We Come

2010-08-17T12:32:00.001+08:00

The next couple of weeks are going to be tumultuous yet again for Mrs. PWW and I, with the stuff we unpacked not too long ago in boxes once more, ready for another move. As much as I'm going to miss Stanthorpe and its close proximity to fantastic sites, I can't wait to finally settle down in a space we can call our own, comforted by the thought that we won't have to move again anytime soon. Come Friday, we'll be starting our journey to the city we'll be calling home for the next couple or so years--Cairns.

So far, I've heard nothing but positive reactions from people about the place. Despite being a touristy-spot (it's the fourth most popular destination in Australia for international tourists), apparently it has still maintained a small city feel, and is not as daunting as other well established metropolises. And to someone who's an outdoor addict, this image is certainly quite pleasing to the eyes:

See that? A city surrounded by a whole lot of nature, be it land or sea. As a matter of fact, that's why Cairns is also often referred to as a "gateway city", because right at its doorstep are two World Heritage listed areas; one of which is the Great Barrier Reef. Living this close to one of the most premier dive spots in the world only means that I need to make the most of it, lest my good friends from back home (all of whom are divers) curse me for wasting the opportunity. At some point in time I'll need to drastically improve my water skills and learn how to dive, but until then I can spend some time meandering around the Wet Tropics Rainforest, the other area on the Heritage list. Imagine how awesome it would be to walk around a rainforest like this:

Moving up to a warmer climate is also something I'm looking forward to. It's bound to make me feel more comfortable, and I'll have one less excuse to skip a run. I've already looked at some popular running routes in Cairns, and there's a number that I'm already dying to try, such as the 5K route along The Esplanade (where topless sunbathing was approved by the Mayor in 2003), which can be continued to either the Airport Mangrove Run or Mount Whitfield Conservation Park, home to a trail running track which involves a lot of hopping in between rocks and tree roots, and where there's always the danger of being attacked by a cassowary.

You don't wanna piss me off, mate.

And speaking of feeling like it is back home, my good friend Kaloy just arrived in Sydney yesterday and there's a chance he might move up to Cairns sometime in the future too! Now that would be incredible.

All roads lead to Cairns.

Sources: 1, 2, 3

Hold the Wheel and Drive

2010-08-10T14:39:00.000+08:00

One of the things I definitely look forward to doing here in Australia is hitting the road on a 4WD vehicle, with a camper trailer in tow, a couple of mountain bikes on the rack, and a tray filled with everything needed for an adventure in the outback. The missus and I would set-up camp in a caravan park close to a mountain (and a beach), ready to go hiking in the morning and retiring to foldable chairs, with a cold beer in my hand and a glass of wine in hers, to watch the sunset in the afternoon. But to get that scenario from daydream land to fruition, I’d need to start from scratch. And by scratch, I don’t mean getting a licence. I actually need to re-learn how to drive.

I’ve had a lot of experience driving in the Philippines and no one could fault me for thinking that because I’ve driven for years back home, I ought to be eligible for a non-expiring licence to drive anywhere in the planet. My skill to safely manoeuvre a vehicle from Point A to Point B in streets where unpredictability is the norm should render me exempt from all driving exams. Unfortunately, the state of Queensland does not agree with my logic. So, I went on my first driving lesson this morning.

There was just a bit of rain, my preferred driving weather. My instructor just told me to take him on a drive, and with confidence, I sat behind the wheel and carefully adjusted the seat, the side and rear-view mirrors before pulling out of the kerb. After five minutes of managing intersections and left and right turns, he asked me to pull over and enumerated a number of things I was doing wrong. As it turns out, there were a lot that I needed to unlearn and with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, I can pinpoint with accuracy how I picked up these habits, and there are two major factors at play here:

Factor 1: A 1990 Mitsubishi Galant
Factor 2: Cumulative time spent driving said car in the Philippines

Clutch Time

First driving habit which needs improvement: keeping my foot on top of the clutch most of the time. My instructor gave me a quick lesson on how the clutch works, and I learned that just by having my foot on top of the clutch, despite not applying any pressure to it, I’m wearing out the transmission’s bearing. If that happens, I would need to replace the bearing which costs about $35 plus labour, which could take five hours at about $80 an hour. If that doesn’t make you more conscious about placing your foot on the footrest beside the clutch, I don’t know what would. In addition to my heavy foot, I was clutch coasting—something which, if done during a practical driving test for four seconds, results to an automatic failure.

My habit of resting my foot on the clutch was formed heavily by the Galant’s history of transmission woes. The clutch was heavy, and at times I needed to dig it deep onto the floor just to shift from one gear to the next. This was exacerbated by the fact that during rush hour in Manila, you’re pretty much confined to neutral and first gear until you reach your destination.

Of course, all that traffic means you’re using a lot of petrol without actually going anywhere. And on an old gas guzzler with a 2-liter carburettor engine, that problem multiplies. Add the continuous fuel price hikes on top of that and anyone would go through any means to try and save petrol. And one of the things I picked up from my peers back in college (not the best crowd to learn driving from) was to coast. They said if you can move without needing to engage the gears and the gas pedal, you’re saving some cash. Ergo:

Hold It

The second habit I was asked to work on was the way I held the steering wheel. It’s easy enough to keep hands on the 10 and 2 o’clock positions, but where hands go while turning is a whole different story. Until this morning, I was unaware that there were names for the techniques in steering, namely Hand-over-Hand, Push-Pull, and Palming. I’d tell you more about the methods, but it’s pretty self-explanatory, and any effort I’d put in to teach it through mere words would only cause more confusion. To prove my point, here’s an explanation of Push-Pull steering I found on the net:

The hands grip the wheel on opposite sides at the same height, at the position of 10 to 2 on a clock. The hands alternate the grip, moving up and down the wheel at the same height. One hand pulls the wheel down to the bottom where it meets the other hand at 6 o'clock position. Changing grips, the opposite hand pushes the wheel to the top where the hands touch at 12 o'clock, ready to change again for the pull down and so on.

When the steering is turned to the desired amount, both hands hold the wheel opposite and at the same height as each other.

To straighten the wheel, reverse the procedure. The last hand to 'feed in' is the first hand to 'feed out'

‘Nuff said. Anyway, my preferred steering technique for turns was Palming, and of course, it’s the least advisable of the three (I also make turns by hooking my hand inside the wheel with my palm up and *surprise* I wasn’t supposed to do that either). For that bad habit, I blame the institute of “cool”. Seriously.

The primary reason we (guys) wanted to learn how to drive was because it made us exponentially cooler. Don’t agree? Think back to the week approaching your high school prom when you were practicing how to ask your father to borrow the car keys for the evening. For some, that was probably the closest they came to tapping their creativity during those years. But just because you had the wheels doesn’t mean you were instantly cool. You had to look the part. And the 10 and 2 o’clock position was nowhere near the look you were going for. Instead, you wanted “The Lean”.

I don’t think the Gangsta Lean merits any extra points on a driving test, though.

Practice!

My driving instructor did say that I drive better than a lot of the people on the road in town. (I learned from my dad, who’s a very prudent driver) However, the difference between them and I is that I still need to earn my Aussie licence. And to do that, I’m going to need to do everything by the book. He said I still probably need three more lessons before I can take the test, so before I can disappear into the outback with a ute; I’ve got some practicing to do.

And much to unlearn.

Sources: 1, 2, 3

Pic of the Day: Driveway

2010-08-04T16:07:00.000+08:00

In my vision of a perfect world, all driveways look like this