The next day, I woke up at 4AM and took my place behind the starting line. Runners were warming up and jogging in place, the air charged with frenetic energy as the emcee counted down to gun start. At exactly 5AM, we trotted off into the course just as dawn was breaking, a troop of clouds splashed with pink and plum hovering above us.

 

 

I kept a steady pace for the first five kilometers, jogging along a narrow dirt path, bordered by overgrown weeds on both sides. It was actually pleasant, the morning light diffused and delicate. My running playlist was on and I got regular updates from my phone on the distance I had covered. Every kilometer felt like an achievement in itself; I thought, “Alright, I can do this.”

 

 

At ten kilometers, weariness started to creep in. This was the farthest I had ever gone in my months of running. I wasn’t even halfway yet. I was alternating between jogging and walking, and at eleven kilometers, I had slowed to a snail’s pace. My thoughts had devolved into curses following the stark realization that I’d have to endure eleven more kilometers of this.

 

 

Fourteen kilometers in, I felt the pain in my legs. In all my training, I had never experienced such strain and it was enough to make me question all my life decisions. I began bargaining with myself. “Stopping at 16 kilometers isn’t so bad – that’s six more than what you usually do.” No, just a little further, I’d retort stubbornly.

 

 

 

After a few kilometers of walking and moping, I realized I could jog again. The pain was suddenly bearable. Oh, thank God! I trotted through dirt and grass, quickening my pace a little by little, excited to get this race over and done with. 

At twenty kilometers, I could see the finish line in the distance. I braced myself and ran the last two kilometers, wanting to shout in frenzy, “It’s the final stretch!!” I had the biggest smile on my face as I crossed the finish line. Someone hung a medal on my neck. I jumped up and down then collapsed on the grass, sweat dripping all over. The emcee, Sir Chito, whom I had gotten to know in the R.O.X. Get Outside event, announced my race number over the speakers and wished me a very happy birthday.

 

 

After over three hours on the trail, I was exhausted but elated. I was over the moon; it felt like I could do anything, like I was ready to take the next step and conquer a full marathon. Probably. And to think, I had come this close to giving up.

I ate a hearty breakfast, showered off the sweat and grime, and sat on my bed, basking in the afterglow. As far as birthdays go, this was the best one yet. It made me excited and hopeful for the coming years – that even as I get older, I will continue to brave new trails, overcome obstacles, break through my threshold for pain, set even higher goals, and somehow, emerge victorious. 

For a list of the real victors of The North Face 100, you may check it out at https://www.thrillofthetrail.ph/winners