From Partyman to Half-Ironman
By Albert Philip A. Corpus

Imagine yourself in this situation.  This week, as with all your weeks before, you enjoy yourself on very late nights out.  Going to different parties, clubs and bars almost every night, indulging your every carnal wish.  Exercise and sports would be near the bottom of your priority list, after getting sleep, finishing your schoolwork or getting your boss off your back.  There may be a few twists and turns in between, but sounds pretty typical doesn't it?  Now imagine this, after all your months and years of having fun and living "the life", in a week, you will be joining the Philippine Half-Ironman Triathlon.  Yes, you read it right, a triathlon. 

To us common folk, with the slightest idea of what a triathlon is, we can just cringe at the idea of how hard it must be to do one.  What more the Half-Ironman, the longest triathlon in the country?  It's comprised of a 2-kilometer swim, followed by a 90-kilometer bike ride, and a grueling 21-kilometer run.  Sounds more like the Death March, doesn't it?  But as I was going to find out, there is so much more to the sport than what we see on TV.

My journey started on a Thursday morning while I was riding a cab on my way to work, and I heard the plug about the event on the radio.  As soon as I got to the office, the first and only thing in my head was joining the triathlon.  But wait!  Who was I kidding?  The last time I went swimming was on a surf trip during holy week, and I don't even own a bike?!  Not to mention the levels of alcohol and cigarette smoke in my system.  I must be insane to even think about joining.  Then again, as fate would have it, the following day my cousin lent me an old racer, which weighs like a ton of bricks.  And now that I got a bike, I had to force myself to quit smoking.  In the days to follow, I gave the bike a well-needed tune-up and rode it around Fort Bonifacio for an hour, and ran around 5K twice.  That was it for my training.  I must really be nuts now!

I e-mailed the organizers about my intention to join the race and requested them to send me the all the details.  I also told them that this was going to be my first triathlon, and I didn't really have any training for it.  They responded with questions regarding my background with sports and suggested that I join the sprint triathlon (750 meter swim - 20 kilometer bike - 5 kilometer run) instead.  The thought did cross my mind, and I knew I could finish the sprint.  But I also knew that I had a much smaller chance of finishing the Half, and I've always liked those kinds of odds.

The week passed and the day of the pre-race briefing arrived.  As I was driving with a friend to the race venue in Matabungkay, I couldn't stop thinking about all the words that my friends and family have been telling me the past week.  "Nasisiraan ka ba ng ulo?  Alam mo ba kung gano kalayo ang 90 kilometers?  Bahala ka, ingat ka na lang. (Are you insane?  You know how far 90 kilometers is?  Fine, do whatever you want, don't let us say I told you so.).  Have you even run 10K continuously in the past 10 years?  You've never even biked over 30K! "  I guess they weren't too hot with the idea that I was going to go through with it, but I must admit that they did have a point.

At the briefing, I sat alone most of the time, while looking at all the faces around me.  I needed to see a familiar face, I felt so uneasy, excited and afraid all at the same time.  I expected some of my friends from college to be there, but they were to arrive later that night.  So there I was, the lone mortal in the world of the demigods of sports.  The stage was set.  Race day begins at 7am the following day.

6am, with only 2 hours of sleep, I head to the transition area with my bike and all the gear a friend said I would need.  Thinking that I was the only one with hardly any sleep, it made me feel better to hear from some of the other participants that it was normal to be up from all the anxiety.  And as an old acquaintance and I made our warm-ups in the cold ocean water, we looked at the buoys that lined the 500-meter path that we would be taking.  It was the longest 500 meters of our lives. 

As the gun signaled the start of the race, I was in for the swim of my life.  It was like I was inside a washing machine with hands pulling me from all directions.  We had to go around the buoys twice (1K each round), and make our way to the transition area for the bike.  An hour later, I got out of the swim and I could hardly see any bike in the transition area.  Armed with my old quartz watch, I checked my time.  My plan to finish was very slowly coming together.  I gave myself 1 hour to finish the swim, 4 hours to do the bike, and 3 hours to complete the run.  By 11am, my legs started to feel like jello, and the sun was not being very friendly.  Yet somehow, I still felt that I could go on, and I continued to push myself.  You can have so many things go through your head while biking alone for 4 hours, yet the thought of giving up never entered my head.  How could it, when you see people you don't know urging you to go on, and hear cheers from crowds you've never seen in your life?

As I was making my way to the transition area, it seemed to me that everyone else was already doing their run.  Again, I checked my time.  It was around 12nn, nice pace I thought to myself.  Less than 20 minutes into my run, I got the first of my 3 cramps.  The front muscles of my thighs have never cramped like this before, and I started to cry.  As I stretched, the pain was so unbearable, I could not stand the thought of not finishing.  I have never done anything remotely close to what I had already gone through with the swim and the bike.  It was at this point I realized that the race had already evolved.  It was not just about finishing anymore, I was there for all those who didn't think I could do it, all those who don't think they could do it, and those who think they can never do it. 

I walked and very slowly ran, as I continued to make my way, fueled by the support of everyone there.  I hardly knew any of them, but I felt how sincere they were as they cheered all of the participants to go on.  With the finish line in sight, the third cramp hit my calves.  I was not about to stop and cry now.  I was about to finish my first-ever triathlon.  Somehow, I knew that things were never going to be the same after this experience.  My running shoes weren't going to be the same either; I believe they were pronounced DOA as soon as I crossed the finish line.  Their soles were already smiling at me in relief.    

After the race, through the awards ceremony and the following morning, I would hear words of appreciation for what I had done from other participants and organizers.  Not only had I finished the Half-Ironman without training, and not coming from any sport, I finished my first triathlon.  An old friend said that he dreamt about me as he slept the night before, and I had changed him.  I broke though so many stereotypes, and that he wanted to change many things about his life. 

If only I could tell all those people that I would never have finished if it wasn't for them.  It was a race that I finished not because of myself, but because of others.  I didn't even keep the race number, I gave it to someone very dear to me that wanted to join months before, but I didn't support in her effort.  I had a lot of time to think as I went though the Half, 8 hours, 15 minutes, and 33 seconds to be exact.  I felt that I was going through my life all over again.  As with life, we go through so many ups and downs.  There are times we feel so tired, yet we have no choice but to go on.  I don't regret any second of my journey to become a Half-Ironman.  I have nothing but the highest respect for those triathletes, organizers and their families.  They have opened my eyes and heart, not just to an astonishing sport, but also, to an amazing way of life.