The thing about the trail...

While this is my second time to join the TNF100 trail race, some things just don’t get any easier the second time around. 36 hours after enduring the trails of the Sacobia River in Pampanga, I still have a lot of pain in every muscle and joint in my body. And that’s only the pansy 10 kilometer trail! Well, I still am a beginner so you’ll excuse me if I steer clear of more pain by way of the more gruesome 20 kilometer run, or commit myself to any suicidal tendencies with the almost unimaginable 100 kilometer odyssey.

Anyway, why do I subject myself to such misery high up in the mountain trails of Nasugbu, Batangas or the tortuous river crossings of the Sacobia? To be honest, at first I thought it was a mere walk in the park (quite literally, I’m afraid). I little under a year ago, my brod Jundel who works for TNF (Oh, that’s The North Face, by the way) told us of this race he was helping organize in Batangas. It seemed like any normal fun-run (10 and 20 kilometers) or ultra-marathon (any distance above 42 kilometers, is it?), except this one did not have the convenience nor the sure-footedness of a “road”. You ran up and down trails, makeshift paths through foliage, mud, rock and God knows what else.

Back then, I was trying out jogging to get myself in shape and 10 kilometers didn’t seem that hard. I said yes, of course and got myself a pair of TNF trail running shoes. Weeks prior to the race, my confidence was pretty high with my training getting more and more intense. This was going to be a breeze, I thought. Soon enough the day of my first trail run came, and those two plus hours, yes TWO PLUS HOURS of running/walking/crawling the trail seemed like days. I had made up the excuse of taking pictures throughout the race to explain my time, but the real reason I just stood there clicking away sure had a lot to do with my whole body becoming numb with pain.

Fast forward to yesterday morning, while lacing up the same pair TNF trail running shoes, my tummy was full of butterflies. How the heck am I getting myself through this? You see, unlike the usual marathons, trail running is peculiar because if you lose the willpower to continue, there is very little chance of a cab passing by to take you home. You stop, take a huge gulp of water and suddenly notice that all around you, there is little semblance of urban glam that you’re so used to. Plus you also run the risk of getting run over by other (more fit) runners, swallowed up by gigantic man-eating weeds and my personal favorite, getting mooed at by a stray cow, pretty “Jumanji”, huh? The only way to stop your race is to reach the finish line which was what you were trying to quit doing in the first place. There’s just no getting around it, I guess.

The inevitable time comes, I line up with other runners (victims?), and do this warm up ritual brought to us by the guys at Fitness First. Then they count down and before I knew what had happened, I was running involuntarily, actually fleeing the throng threatening to run me over from behind more than anything. The asphalt suddenly disappears from underneath my feet and in its place a dried up river bed? Where am I? I keep running though, and splash around streams, puddles and mud. Then I run out of breath and cramp up, so much for all that stretching. I walk it off, now way will I seem like the wimp that I really am! Too many cute girls on the trail… must keep moving…. must breathe… beam me up, Scottie!

I make it to the uphill climb, the blades of grass giving me “micro-cuts” and am starting to itch. My soggy socks are making this squishy noise that keeps bugging me and the sun is already heating up the early morning. I try to fool myself into thinking that I’m closer than I think to the finish line, then I reach the summit of the hill and it redefines my definition of “impending doom”.

Apparently, I did finish. All limbs still intact (though numb) and gaining an additional pound or two of mud, grime and foliage. I line up for pictures, the photographer says ‘smile!’ and I almost threw my shoes at him.

So to summarize, trail running is definitely a hellish version of the fun-run. Mention “trail running” and the words torture and pain come to mind. Weird thing is, I’m definitely coming back to get my ass kicked next year! Bring it on!

DISCLAIMER:

The author is a wimp. His idea of “pain” and “torture” are unlike normal people and views an ant-bite in pandemic proportions. His loose definition of “training” for the physical nature of trail running involves massive quantities of alcohol and the inhalation of whole tobacco plantations. Feel free to view his above post with mocking and ridicule, and save your pity and compassion for the people that he had pestered during the entirety of the trail run.