Iloilo Sports Complex

Can you jog around this track oval four times - straight without stopping? I can. Or I mean, I did.

I am a frequent jogger at the Iloilo Sports Complex. Or, I jog when the weather or my schedule permits. In the morning, after I drop my kids at the nearby West Visayas State University where they are attending elementary classes, I pass by the complex to do at least 1 hour of walking, jogging and calisthenics. Many of the regular joggers are already familiar to me, and perhaps, I to them. But while most regulars jog in groups, I do my routine alone to be on my own pace. Of course, I don’t talk to strangers.

One day, as I started to jog after two rounds of walking, a regular ran to my direction and paced beside me. He looked old in contrast to his body which was lean and bereft of a beer belly. I heard the other joggers called him Tatang perhaps because he looked the oldest among the regulars. I usually saw him jogging beside the others and he seemed at home with everyone.

‘Kumusta ‘To? Amo na maayo. Umpisahan mo jogging nga bata ka pa. (How are you, kid? It’s good you start jogging while you are still young.)’. He called me Toto. With everyone calling me Sir, Manong, Tito, and one visibly 50ish fish vendor calling me Tatay, how could you not love this man? No wonder the other joggers loved the company of Tatang.



‘Ako nag-umpisa cincuenta na. Subong sobra citenta na ako. Pero sigi pa gihapon ako jogging para layo sakit. Naga entra pa gani ako sa mga marathon. (I started jogging when I was already 50. Now I am already over 70. But I continue on jogging to evade being sick. I even joined marathons.)’ Tatang talked as easily as he jogged. He talked about his experiences as a marathon runner. Sometimes he asked me questions.

I learned from a friend who was a member of the Makati Runners Club the basics of jogging. ‘Jog at the right speed, at the right pace’, he would say. And what was the right pace? ‘You are doing the right pace when, while running, you can still talk coherently without you catching your breath. If you can no longer talk straight, if you can only manage monosyllabic words, slow down. Better still, just walk until you catch your breath,’ my friend explained. And I followed his advice since then, many years ago.

So I answered Tatang with long sentences. I didn’t like this old man to think that he could beat the young man in me. Ano papierde?

But as I neared the end of my first round, I was conscious of my limits. I only did one straight round around the oval before; after that I slowed down to walking until I could catch my breath. Isang ikot lang humihingal na ako. I looked at Tatang and wished he would stop. He was still pacing beside me, blabbering away his zest for life, as if I was the best listener and jogging partner he ever had.

Then we were starting my second round. I was praying I could still make it. Tatang was asking me about my job, my family, my everything. Now I could only give a one-word answer. Should I slow down? I could no longer speak coherently. But what will this old man say? That I was a wimp? Should I give him the ultimate high of bragging to others that he can outjog me, who was decades younger than him? Basi hambalon niya maayo lang ako sa porma.

I focused on other things hoping that I would forget the distance I had run so far. I psyched myself up. I can do it. I can do it.

‘Ga-entra ka sa Milo marathon? Kada tuig ga-entra ako. (Are you joining the Milo marathon? Every year I am joining),’ Tatang boasted. I could not say even a Yes. I could only blurt a sound which even I could not understand. We were nearing the end of my second round. I needed to slow down. I was thinking, ‘Please Tatang stop. Go and run with others.’



We started my third round. I felt my left side aching. I could hardly breathe. My sight seemed to dim. No I still can do it, I thought. I still can do it. I still can do it. Tatang please stay away from me.

I remembered my classmate Andres. He was a stroke survivor. He used to be one of the engineers during the construction of the new Iloilo Airport. He narrated to me and our other classmates his experience when he had a stroke. ‘First your sight dims. Then you see stars. You get dizzy. The stars become so many. Then you black out. And collapse.’ Andres adviced us that when we experience the same situation, we better pray. And pray hard.

‘Ga-entra man ako sa iba nga marathon. Sang isa ka bulan, sa Guimaras ako. Nagdalagan man kag nag-tapos sang marathon. (I joined other marathons. Last month I was in Guimaras. I ran and finished a marathon there)'. Tatang kept on talking. He reminded me that the marathon covered a distance of about 52 kilometers. The great distance he uttered was like salt rubbed on the boils I felt growing on my feet. Was he running a marathon or jogging two ovals with me? I thought I was about to collapse.



‘I can do it. I can do it,’ I kept on saying to myself. ‘Don’t think about the running. Look at the trees. They are so green. And these special kids from a SPED school also on the oval. They were here with their teacher. Look at them innocently enjoying their freedom. Some could hardly run. But they are happy. Their teachers are happy. Aren’t you glad none of your kids are like them? Ahh.. today I will bring my kids to Jollibee. Forget the junk food. I just would like to be thankful my kids do not require this special attention.’

Scenes became vivid and comforting. The clouds were just perfect covers against the 8:00 am heat of the sun. The people were all smiling. Life was beautiful.

We were about to finish my third round. Tatang spoke softly now. Oh yeah? Could he be tired? Would he slow down? Oh yeah! He was decades older than I was. I felt my chest was about to burst.

‘Kon kaisa daw ginatamad man ako magkadto diri. Pero kinahanglan gid magkari. Daw nagamasakit ako kon indi kadalagan. (Sometimes I am too lazy to come here. But I have to force myself. I seem to get sick when I don’t run),’ Tatang said.

I was glad it was not a question. Because how could I answer? My tongue was wagging. My open mouth was not big enough to suck in oxygen for my lungs. I felt my mouth was sliding to the side. Most stroke victims had problems with their speech. And their mouths were somehow misplaced to the sides of their faces.

‘It’s a nice day.’, Tatang exclaimed.

We started my fourth round. My sight seemed to dim. Did I see stars? I refused to concede. No, it was just the glint of Tatang’s bald head. Or possibly the glint of his eyeglasses. I was looking straight ahead. Where were the other joggers. I couldn’t see one in front of me. Could it be my sight was really dimming? I felt my chest was aching. I could no longer feel my legs. Were they still moving? And stars again. No. They were just glints from Tatangs sweat. There were three stars. No the cars parked ahead were too shiny. And Andres’ advice echoed, ‘Better pray. And pray hard.’

‘Please, please. Let Tatang stop. I will now wash my car. And I promise not to say bad words against Arroyo. Please let Tatang stop.’

The blare of the disco music from the sound system was becoming softer. I used to time my steps with the beat of the music. This time, the beat was slowing down. My steps were slowing down. I could hardly lift my feet. We were about to finish my fourth round.

Then the best music of all that day. 'To tapos na ako. Nami ka gali updan mag-jogging. Sa sunod ulit. (Kid, I am done. I enjoyed jogging with you. Until next time.)'. And Tatang ran straight to his bicycle parked near the gate.

I closed my eyes in gratitude. I could not stop immediately. I had to gradually slow down. And cool down. I could not see the stars now. But I seemed to see everybody in the sports complex looking at me. Those on the sides stopped what they were doing and turned to my direction. They were all standing. With bated breath they were awaiting my entry into the stadium. Marathon is the last event during the Olympics. And there was drama, suspense, and euphoria when the lead runner entered the stadium. I was approaching the finish line. The crowd shouted my name. Electricity filled the air. I touched the finish line tape. And the crowd burst into celebration with tears in their eyes. Yes! I finished the fourth round. I jogged around the oval four times. Continuous. I slowed to a halt. I knelt and touched the rubber track. Yes! I did not see stars afterall. Yes! My mouth was still in the same place. Yes! I made it. I loved Tatang. Without him I would not have known my full potential. And he stopped first. Yes! He could never boast around that he beat me.

I opened my eyes. The heat of the sun was now searing. There were a few joggers left. And they jogged on as if nothing had happened. What? Are these guys blind? Didn’t they notice that I ran the oval for four times? Straight. Without resting. They should have known.

I returned to my car as soon as Tatang left the complex and my breathing came to normal. My calves were aching. My legs were not steady.

I rested the whole day. And the day after. And the week after.

Then I felt globules of cholesterol reticulating inside my arteries. I reckoned I needed exercise. So I returned back to the track to do my usual routine.

The sun was bright when I entered the complex. There were many joggers. I was about to start walking when I spotted Tatang. Daw astig gid. He was jogging with some of the regulars. Then he saw me. I chickened. Will he jog again with me? I remembered the side pains, the difficulty in breathing, my chest about to burst, my mouth about to sag, my sight getting dim, and stars appearing from nowhere.

I went back to my car. Maybe now I would take up swimming as my exercise. @

Note: Originally posted 7/30/09 10:00PM.

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