July 26, 2008. Nasugbu, Batangas.
Twenty-seven years old. Rainy season. Zero trail experience. Perfect conditions for doing something stupid.
I was already climbing mountains by then. Alam mo na, weekend warrior life. Tent here, summit there. But I had also started running roads — mostly 10Ks, once or twice a 21K. I remember my first-ever road race was in UP Diliman. Runnex Anniversary Run. ₱150 lang. May kasama pang singlet (not the best, pero meron) at isang Power Gel sa loot bag — my first encounter with a gel. I had to register in person at the organizer’s clinic in Cainta. Wala pang online form noon. Just faith.
My running watch? A round black Nike digital. Just time and date. Nothing else. But I felt like a pro.
Then one day, I heard about this thing called TNF100. A hundred-kilometer trail run. The first of its kind in the country. Parang biglang may narinig akong boses: “Subukan mo ‘to.” Why not? I already ran. I already climbed. I already descended trails na may bitbit na camping gear. Ayos na ‘yan, di ba?
I called my high school friend Carlos, who was into both running and outdoors. He knew the race director, si Neville. Jackpot. I also messaged Marc — a running buddy. Wala kaming alam sa trail running, so all our training was road-based. Our longest training run? 33K. Road. From Camp Aguinaldo to Timberland, then out to Cabading. Nag-jeep na pauwi kasi ubos na yung lakas at utak namin.
📦 Race Kit Claiming (a.k.a. Starstruck)
Friday before race day, we claimed our kits and attended the briefing. That was the first time I saw elite mountain athletes in real life. Parang Avengers: Mountain Edition. Leo Oracion, Miguel Lopez, Thumbie Remigio, DBB, Retzel Orquiza. Samantalang ako, mukhang naligaw lang, nautusan bumili ng suka. Kinabahan ako. Legit kabado.
🏁 Race Day: Rain, Ropes, and Regret
Outfit of the day:
– Black adidas drifit top
– Adidas running shorts
– TNF Arnuva hiking shoes (blue)
– Nathan bladder vest (with shallow front pockets — halos walang mailaman)
– Black adidas cap
From Evercrest, the gun start felt exciting. Carlos and I were eager. We started running, thinking, “Trail run ‘to, dapat tumatakbo tayo.” Then… BOOM. Steep climbs. Ropes. Slippery trails. We looked at each other like: “Teka, natatakbo ba ‘to?”
And then it rained. Continuously. Minsan malakas, minsan ambon, pero never tumigil. Lahat ng damo, basang-basa. The trails became mudslides. Every step was a gamble between staying upright or becoming a human sled.
Carlos started complaining of chafing — suot niya mountain bike shorts, not ideal. Aid stations? Saging, kamote, suman, at dasal. The vibe was… spiritual survival.
🌒 Darkness Fell
After finishing the first 50K loop, we arrived at Evercrest. Just before dark. That was the designated halfway point. There was fog, cold wind, and a thick layer of doubt. Feverish chills were starting to creep in.
I saw Leo and Retzel at the aid station — not continuing. I didn’t know why, but I thought, “If they stopped… eh ‘di ako rin?”
That’s when reality hit: this was serious business. This wasn’t a fun hike. This was Type 2 Fun. And it scared me.
We stopped. Not because we wanted to — but because we didn’t know better. We didn’t understand gear layering, we had no headlamp backups, no clue about cut-offs. We were playing poker with life, using baraha from the sari-sari store.
🔦 The Aftermath: Baptized by Mud
I was disappointed, but weirdly fulfilled. I saw something new that day: a version of myself I hadn’t met yet. One that liked being uncomfortable. One that liked not knowing if I’d finish. One that found joy in the unknown.
I also saw what was possible — not just the distance, but the culture. Trail running was different. It wasn’t about speed. It was about stories. About getting lost, then finding yourself somewhere in between those muddy footsteps.
Atty. Ralph Salvador was there, too — he’d later become a familiar face. Carlos and I never forgot the experience. And it’s safe to say: that day lit a spark that would later burn bright in ways I never imagined.
🏃♂️ TNF100 2008 was the beginning.
No social media buzz. No influencers. No reels or race vlogs. Just passion, rain, mud, and borrowed courage. That weekend in Nasugbu? That was the start of something big.
And maybe, without realizing it — that was the first step toward something called Ahon.
Ronald Declarador 
Leave a comment