By Ronald Declarador
April 5, 2009. The day I learned the sun doesn’t just shine—it attacks.
Two months before the big day, we had the BDM 50K test run. February weather, nice and cool. Perfect for building false confidence. The route took us from Mariveles, Bataan to San Fernando, Pampanga (if my memory serves me right). Back then, the roads were friendly, the breeze was forgiving, and the idea of running 102 kilometers on pavement felt… possible.
Come race day, the weather had other plans. April decided to be one of the hottest months on record. I swear, Pampanga turned into a desert that day. There were wavy heat mirages on the road, the kind you see in movies where cowboys hallucinate an oasis. I’d pour water on my arms, and in two minutes, bone dry. Not even sweat dared to stay.
The Fiesta Boys
We called ourselves “The Fiesta Boys”—not because we were the fastest, but because every aid station turned into a barangay fiesta for us. My teammates: Rico Cabusao, George Dolores, Atty. Red Samar, Nicko Nolasco, and me. We hired a van as our SAG (Support and Gear) vehicle. Nicko brought along volunteers, including the photographer responsible for most of the race-day shots.
We stayed together for most of the race, until the last 20K. Fatigue set in. Rico, George, and Red pushed ahead. Nicko and I lagged, exhausted. The last 10K was brutal—I had no SAG support. The van had to stick with Nicko, who slowed down and eventually became the last official finisher. I ran alone, relying on a friendly rival group’s SAG for water at least once. That moment cemented my belief in the tightness of the ultrarunning community back then.
Behind me was Jay Cu Unjieng. He finished just after me in 62nd place (I was 61st out of 63 finishers; there were 81 starters). He passed away a few years ago, before the pandemic. George used to secretly call him the “fashion guru” because he dressed so sharply even in races.
Race Day: Midnight to Sunrise
We started at midnight. Headlamps on. Most of the uphill was in the first 10K, so we took it easy. The streets were alive—but not with runners. Locals were confused. “What the hell are these people doing?!” Road ultras weren’t a thing back then. This was the very first road ultra in the Philippines. Dogs roamed the sidewalks. Drunks stumbled out of girly bars. We just kept moving.
The race was really two different beasts: Night mode—cool, manageable, even fun. And Day mode—the sun came out swinging.
Midway Madness
By midday, Pampanga roads felt like an open-air oven. We stopped at a roadside carinderia for lunch. Rice never tasted so good. The endless flat stretches were packed with tricycles, jeeps, buses, stray dogs, and the occasional puzzled pedestrian. Heat bounced off the asphalt, frying our brains along with our skin.
The Final Push
The last 10K was a battle. No support vehicle. My Nathan vest saved me, plus that one kind gesture from the other SAG team. Every step was a negotiation between my mind and my legs: “One more kilometer. Just one more.”
The Finish
Relief. Pure relief. Crossing that line wasn’t about glory—it was survival. No big fanfare, no medal ceremony. Just the quiet satisfaction of knowing you outlasted the road, the sun, and yourself.
Going Home
We piled into the van immediately. I sat in the front passenger seat, cramping the whole way back. We didn’t talk much. Just the sound of the road and the occasional grunt from someone shifting in their seat.
BDM 102 wasn’t just a race. It was a slice of Philippine ultrarunning history. Back then, we didn’t have fancy GPS watches, compression gear, or energy gels in 15 different flavors. We had willpower, friends, and the stubbornness to see it through.
For more on ultra or trail running tips and gear, check out Ahon’s blog.
Ronald Declarador 
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