Flight Delay, Bag Left Behind, False Start, A Very Long Run and An Unexpected Podium Finish

5 min read

When a series of unfortunate events confound a certain plan, it would lead one to ponder whether soldiering on is a wise choice. I found myself in this situation two weeks ago when I decided that perhaps it is a wise idea to go back to Marbel to run a half marathon as part of the T’nalak Festival – my province’s annual foundation anniversary celebration. My doubts began when the first of unfortunate events occured, a flight delay. My red-eye on Friday night was delayed by two hours. Already dreading the discomfort of no frills economy class seats, the added couple of hours wandering about at Changi wasn’t really the kind of Friday night I looked forward to. Though in hindsight, couple of hours in Changi is still far better than even a couple of minutes at NAIA!

Here’s the catch. There’s no direct flight from Singapore to my hometown so the earlier flight’s delay meant I would have to cut it close to my domestic connection. The airline was cognizant enough of the trouble it meant for transit passengers so they allowed us to deplane first. Passing through immigration was surprisingly quick. NAIA being the nightmare that it is, I was pleased. I still had close to two hours to my flight so surely it was plenty of time to collect my bag, ceremoniously pass through customs, go through security, maybe even grab a quick bite and then board my flight to Gensan. But alas, one by one I start seeing familiar faces from my earlier flight arriving at baggage claim with our bags nowhere to be found. As the clock kept ticking and my patience started dwindling, I again begin to question the sanity of my choice. 18 hours until my race, I am both fatigued and sleepless. My bag arrives and I just about make it to my flight.

I did make it to Gensan, but my bag didn’t. I was too exhausted to make a fuss. I wasn’t anyhow fazed by it because I BCP-ed this very scenario (BCP is Business Continuity Plan in corporate speak). I wore my race shoes in flight and had carefully packed my running gear in my carry on, gels and water bottle included. I wasn’t taking any chances. I was on a mission. The airline did deliver my bag home eventually but I was too tired to inspect its state. I was passed out by 6pm.

Alarm went off at 1:30am. I make my preparations for the race. I ate a slice of bread, had a bite of banana which at that ungodly hour my stomach just wasn’t willing to put up with, put on my race gear, reached for grandma’s blessings, and headed out the door only to discover that my driveway is blocked! My aunt’s husband must have been shocked to be woken up by my panic stricken voice at 2:30am but I needed his truck out of the way.

In town, I meet Aning who will also race for the 21km. One of the reasons I was encouraged to come home for this race was that I was running with hometown friends. The energy was surprisingly electric at 3am, fifteen minutes to gun start. I did not take Zumba as an effective pre-race warm-up but I found it to be quite fun and dynamic. Adrenaline starts rushing as all 80 or so of us 21k runners await the countdown to start.

At the start, I ran alongside Aning for a few hundred meters before gradually increasing my pace. I felt generally relaxed and wasn’t worried about finishing since I’ve done it two times before. At the crossing of Arellano street and Gensan drive, I turn right following the other runners’ lead. To my delight, I spot my aunts and uncles cheering the runners ahead while waiting for me to pass. I felt gleeful breezing past them. That moment alone, being cheered on by the people I love, made all the effort worth it.

Feeling strong as I ran, I thought that I could push myself harder and reach for PR. However, four kilometers into the race I hear frantic honking from cars behind me. There was confusion as we were instructed to turn back. My first thought was that something terrible must have happened and that the race is being cancelled, the city was under red alert after all. Few moments later, it dawned on me what it really was. Wrong route. We took the wrong route. The same route the organizers published online. The route I surveyed on the way home from the airport the day before just to locate Susan’s Store, the designated turning point. Are you freaking kidding me?! 21km is not a joke distance. Most of us trained to try and do well in the event. It’s a mental curveball I wasn’t really prepared for. What. to. do.

Then I remembered the big picture. Full marathon. This is not the main race but the one few months later. It is this thought that roused me from disbelief to slowly break back into my running pace. I knew I was going to tackle an unfamiliar terrain. I will be running my longest distance. It unwittingly became my motivation, a challenge to overcome. I kept going.

As the day broke and the beautiful Mt. Matutum’s outline started showing on the horizon, I felt a shrill of giddiness, excitement, optimism and gratitude. I meet Rox and Pat on the way to finish as they race their 10k. I felt so happy to run at home with my people. Little did I know, the motorcycle tailing me on my last few kilometers were race marshals tracking and likely reporting my progress. They too cheered me on. “Lapit na lang Ma’am!” It gave me the much needed boost to keep propelling forward. As I saw the finish line approach, I summoned my remaining strenght for a final sprint. I came in 3rd place in the female category. An unexpected podium finish. All is well that ends well indeed.

“Competitive ka gid ya!” Few friends joked. Of course! “Next year sa Mutya bala ko masali”. I joked back.

Some outtakes: