THE GREATDNFDEBATE

THE MENWHO STARTEDTRIATHLONIN THE PHILIPPINES

WHO TOBLAME

OuR TAkE ONCOMPRESSION WEARAND THE RETuLBIkE FIT

DOES IT WORk?

THE HOW’S ANDHOW MuCH’SOF RACINGIM HAWAII 70.3

kAYEON kONA

BREAkS HERSILENCE

SANDRA ARAuLLO-

GONzALEz

FR

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kAYEPASCuAL

RAuLCuEvAS

RICkYLEDESMA

NINOSINCO

RICk REYES

ERICIMPERIO

RAFFYzAMORA

BOBBYGO

GLENN COLENDRINO

THE START

LIST

OCTOBER-NOvEMBER2013

SIT ZONE

• The SIT ZONE is located where you see perforations on the top of the saddle

• With the tapered shape of the Sit Zone there’s essentially an infinite amount of widths available to any rider, meaning only ONE SIZE of the saddle is needed

• RIDE LONGER in the aero position because pressure on the arms does not increase

• Outer cover is made from an ANTI-SLIP material and perforations help to hold the rider into place

A rider will naturally self-select their own position within the Sit Zone to match their individual anatomy. This provides the best structural support allowing for more anterior pelvic rotation, leading to an increased use of the glutes while keeping the hips more open, which helps transition to the run.

SITAERO

POSITION ON TRADITIONAL TRI SADDLE POSITION ON SITERO TRI SADDLE

> Pelvis rotated forward

> Flat back

PRESSURE MAPPING SHOWS BLOOD FLOW ON AERO-SPECIFIC SADDLES. A GOOD PRESSURE MAP SHOULD HAVE MINIMAL RED AREAS.

TRADITIONAL TRI SADDLE

POPULAR NOSE-LESS SADDLE DESIGN

SITEROVery little pressure up front allowing the rider to roll their pelvis forward, making them more aero.

WWW.DANS.PH DANSPHILIPPINES DANS_PH

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF : Monching RomanoASSOCIATE EDITOR : Richelle LigotCOPY EDITOR : Kabel Mishka LigotART DIRECTOR : Emmeline SiaCONTRIBUTORS : Bobby Go Raffy Zamora Art Fuentes

Publishers/Joint CEOsEdsel Ochoa and Monching RomanoCreativesEmmeline Sia and Johnmer Bautista MarketingRhycel MarceloEditorial AssistantsBabylou Dalida

For inquiries and feedback: Email us at racedaymagazine@gmail.comRaceDay Magazine is published bi-monthly. No part of this magazine may be reproduced, in part or in whole, without the written consent of the publishers. The views and opinions expressed in the articles are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official position of the publisher. All information, content and services are provided “as is” without any kind of warranty. In no way shall RaceDay Magazine be held liable for any direct, indirect, incidental, consequential damages that may arise from any of the products, advice, reviews or information obtained from this magazine.

Copyrights © 2013All rights reserved

OneSport Media Specialists, Inc.Unit 217 La Fuerza II Building, Pasong Tamo, Makati City

Are You One of us?n Ironman Cebu participant snatches a Garmin off another triathlete’s bike at the transition checkout. WTF right? Look guys, a lot of people sacrificed time, money and even careers to bring this sport into what it is now. So

don’t be the ultimate ingrate to smear triathlon’s current stature.

So just so you know who are some of these people to whom we should all be thankful to, we have for this issue a tribute piece for them—The Men Who Started Philippine Triathlon. I was the luckiest triathlete alive as I sat and listened to Raul Cuevas, Ricky Ledesma, Nino Sinco and Rick Reyes as they reminisced about the early days of Philippine triathlon and the things they had to endure and sacrifice to keep the sport going. Read the piece. Say your thanks. Salute these guys.

Now, let me give you another reason why you shouldn’t do anything stupid if you plan on joining our community: the people. Triathlon is filled with the most decent, intelligent, witty, motivated and hardworking folks you could ever assemble. Case in point: Sandra Araullo Gonzalez, our cover feature for this issue. I didn’t know Sandra personally before we did this piece. But I knew she was one of the most respected and loved triathletes by the community. So I started to research on her and—nothing, except for her stint as a national athlete and her race finishes, I couldn’t find anything else. So Edsel (my co-publisher) and I sat down with her. We were trying to get a compelling story out of her when Sandra said “if you want to know more about me, you should talk to somebody like a Bobby Go.” So we begged and pleaded with Bobby to write this one, on top of the other two articles he was doing for us. He had no choice: he and Sandra have been friends for the longest time. And Bobby wrote the most elegant picture of who and why Sandra is. Check it out on page 9.

Community. That’s still how we describe this group of people driven by the thrill of competition and the fire of dedication. There’s this shared value among us to conquer fiercest fears, do the difficult, achieve titanic dreams. This collective goal makes us push and motivate each other. If you want to join our community, you are welcome. But please be a true part of it.

Monching RomanoEditor-in-Chief

A

EDITOR’S GuNSTARTVol. 1 No. 2

Art FuentesRides motorcycles and maintains the blog www.outsideslacker.com where he writes about biking, running, climbing, zombies, and lots of other stuff.

Raffy ZamoraStarted his triathlon obsession with Xterra, the world’s premier off-road trialthlon event. He has since been competing in both off-road and regular triathlons including the prestigious Ironman 70.3 Cebu and the Xterra Triple Crown (Philippines, Saipan, and Guam) races this year alone.

Bobby GoGrammar nazi, ramen hunter, and all-around nitpicker. He believes it’s better to tell people off than to turn them on, and doesn’t mind being the designated SOB. Has put off plans of having his own radio talk show called ‘So, What’s It To You?’ due to personal safety issues, but still dreams of directing an indie that will blur the lines between art and bad taste.CONTENTS

CONTRIBuTORS4

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SIDESWIPE: Death before DNF! by Bobby Go

TRI MO kAYA: I ♥ DNF by Monching Romano

DOES IT WORk?Retül: If the Bike Fitsby Raffy zamoraThe Argument for Compressionby Bobby Go

How Much is anIronman Hawaii 70.3 Experience?by Monching Romano

COvER STORY:Sandra Araullo-Gonzalez:Paradigm Shifterby Bobby Go

The Men Who StartedPhilippine Triathlonby Art Fuentes

racedaymagazine

hat’s the point of racing if you’re going to quit?

In the May/June 2013 issue of Inside Triathlon magazine, columnist and elite triathlete Tim DeBoom (incidentally the last American to win all the marbles at fabled Kona) wrote about crossing the finish line as always better than quitting. “I know that I gained much more from persevering than dropping out. Crossing the finish line should always be your first goal.” Amen, Tim. Amen.

I’m a firm believer of finishing what I start. In triathlon, I would rather die than see the letters DNF occupy the space where my finish time should be. The athlete who said “Winning isn’t everything–it’s the only thing” probably never raced a triathlon. Unlike a number of games that pass themselves off as sports, a triathlon requires its practitioner to go through excruciating lengths to finish the race before actually winning it. Other sports can be won by default, disqualification, or even a horribly bad call. In triathlon, and pretty much all endurance sports, finishing is an unqualified win.

Finishing As WinningSports history is replete with unrivaled drama of athletes who did not climb atop the medal podium, but whose outstanding shows of perseverance and iron will have made them the stuff of legends. At the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City, more than an hour after the gold medalist Mamo Wolde of Ethiopia finished the race, Tanzanian runner John Stephen Ahkwari entered the stadium as the last runner in the marathon. With a heavily taped and bloodied right leg favoring a dislocated knee and injured shoulder sustained in a bad fall early in the race, Ahkwari hobbled his way to the finish line amidst cheers from the remaining crowd of spectators that stayed to applaud his effort. When asked by a television crew why he chose to continue rather than quit the race altogether due to his enervated state, Ahkwari was quoted to have replied, “My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start the race; they sent me 5,000 miles to finish the race.”

Closer to home is Julie Moss’s story of courage and mental tenacity at the 1982 Ironman triathlon in Kona. Moss competed in the world’s most prestigious multi-sport race as part of her research for her exercise physiology thesis. With a comfortable lead up to the last two miles of the race, Moss’s legs turned to jelly as she struggled to stay upright. With her legs eventually buckling under her, she crawled to a hard-fought second place, just 29 seconds behind first placer Kathleen McCartney (Trivia: The 29-second differential stands as the smallest margin of victory at Kona for both male/female categories). That gritty performance of grim determination put triathlon racing on the sports map, and in the hearts and minds of the stunned audience at Kona and those watching the televised race that day. McCartney may have won the race, but Moss was and is remembered as the face of

triathlon’s enduring allure to both new and seasoned racers. McCartney was gracious to acknowledge how Moss inspired her, declaring, “Julie inspired thousands of people that day. It wasn’t about winning anymore. It was about finishing.”

Race Like No One Is WatchingFor myself, the biggest challenge that has so far tested my resolve arrived early in my short endurance sport career. It wasn’t the 160 km Bataan Death March ultra marathon that took more than a day to complete, nor was it the Timex 226 triathlon where I had food poisoning and made enough visits to the toilet to leave me with that Brokeback Mountain feeling. In 2011, I signed up for what appeared to be an understated, unintimidating ultra-trail run that spanned fifty kilometers over the trails of Nuvali, Laguna. It was organized by Jonel Mendoza, known for his “no frills, all thrills” spirit, and the same feature that represented the irresistible draw of his many long-distance races. I remember Jonel telling us at the race briefing, “We scouted the route and it turns out that there’s an additional seven kilometers of trail to cover. So you’re all getting a bargain here: seven extra kilometers at no extra charge. What race has ever been so generous?” Only Jonel could turn seven extra kilometers of agony into something you’d wish was on your Christmas wish list.

It never occurred to me on race day that my navigational skills, or lack thereof, would be put to the test. Sure, there were directional arrows along the course, but these were few and far between. And what of the map that I was given? That crumbled and disintegrated in my shorts pocket that was damp with sweat and water. Long story short, I lost my bearings not once, not twice, but three effing times while trudging through the grassy, muddy trail under a scorching summer sun. The third time was the ultimate mind screw: the path I had taken led me to a short cut that would take me to the finish in under two kilometers. By this time, the needle on my morale meter was inching towards Empty, as more than seven hours had elapsed since I started my run. My cellphone battery was dead and I had no means of telling the missus I was lost (again). Who’s going to know if I take the shortcut? Who’s going to tell? No one. No one but me. So going against conventional wimp out rules, I grit my teeth, retraced my steps, and proceeded along the straight and narrow.

I probably finished among the bottom twenty percent that day, and caused the missus a mild scare, but reaching the finish after almost nine hours brought me more satisfaction than a marathon PR.

What’s Your Excuse?I’m way past the phase where guilt-tripping myself over Team Hoyt and the accomplishments of this father-son tandem that’s

done over a thousand races used to spur me on. I’m done with pushing myself through heavy rains prodded by images of disabled athletes dragging themselves across the finish line to the ecstatic cheers of a teary-eyed crowd. And I am so over vignettes of battered athletes, who soldier on the football pitch, the track oval, or the basketball court, carrying their anguished expressions

and taped-up bodies to give it one final push. Though these poignant portraits still impress and inspire me, I’ve moved on, and maintained a different tact at approaching my internal scuffles these days.

Whenever I find myself struggling through a long ride, or the first five kilometers (Oh, I just hate those first few clicks) of a planned LSD over the weekend, I remind myself that I have everything needed to finish the task. A fully-functioning and relatively healthy physique, a complete set of limbs, plus a mind so stubborn it could cut diamonds are the tools that equip me to keep going and eventually carry out what I set out to do. I don’t have a debilitating disability to really speak of (unless being annoying and abrasive count), nor do I come from an economically disadvantaged position that doesn’t allow me to get sufficient training, hydration, or nutrition on a regular basis. With the exception of irreparable bike damage (flats and broken bike chains don’t qualify as irreparable), having to pick up internal organs from the road following a bad crash, or missing the next episode of The Voice (if only for the annoying judges), I have absolutely no excuse to quit. And just between us girls, I would still walk the bike course, if it were a reasonable distance (touch wood).

But that’s just me.

Here’s what’s in it for you: If you still decide to quit, be my guest, diva up and cry by the roadside. Pull out that list of excuses (some people call it by its more acceptable title: reasons) detailing why you can’t, didn’t, or couldn’t finish the race, and put on your best despondent face to complete the ensemble. People will remember that, together with your not finishing the race. Or you could get off your sorry ass and drag it along with the rest of you across the finish line, no matter what your finish time is. Forget making the cut-off. Just finish what you started.

I like a good race. Even if that race requires me to swim through a piranha-infested lake, bike through a hailstorm, and run through a minefield. I am going to finish it…or die trying.

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DEATHbeforeDNF!

BY

BOBBY GO

SIDESWIPE

04

“Whenever I find myself struggling through a long ride, or the first five kilometers,...I remind myself that I have everything needed to finishthe task.”

I know I’m going to get ganged and beaten up with what I’m going to say. But I’m going to say it anyway: Yes, I’m going to say it—DNF is a beautiful thing. It’s a graceful exit; a safety net. DNF saves lives.

DNF stands for DID NOT FINISH, which means you started a race but never crossed the finish line, or at least not within the cut-off time. It may be for any of the following reasons: mechanical failure of your bike, an irreparable flat tire, injury, you got lost, felt ill, or you just simply wanted to stop.

Lest you think I’m just googling stuff for this article, you’ll be glad to know that I am a certified DNFer. It is on record that I have DNF’d more races than the average triathlete. My first one came early in my triathlon journey. I have been riding for only a couple of months and my training buddy Jonah Rivera had this bright idea to do our first duathlon—a standard distance dua at that. In Nuvali, no less. The run was easy since Jonah and I have been running for a couple of years before we started our triathlon training. We aced it, sub1. Then on to the bike. First loop down, and it was already a struggle for me. I never had a brick session to prep me for this, but was able to finish the first. On the second loop, climbing to the rotunda, a truck in front of me stopped. I gripped my brakes to avoid hitting it, swerved to my left and stood-up for more power on the pedal. No such power came: only cramps. Both my legs stiffened and I crashed. DNF #1. Was I particularly disappointed about not finishing my first duathlon? No. But there it was in the race results—Romano, Ramon Noel – DNF.

But why was I bothered with that race result? Because DNF has gotten a bad rap lately. Facebook is filled with posts such as WINNERS NEVER QUIT, QUITTERS NEVER WIN, and as my neighbor here would say, DEATH BEFORE DNF. The logic being if you DNF, you are a loser. And some even extrapolate it as a quitter in races is a quitter in life. Harsh, but yes, some people do think that. Reminds me of that time when a reporter asked former President Estrada, “Sir, some people call you a quitter. You never finished your college degree;

and now you even cut-short your presidency?” to which Estrada answered, “Quitter?! Ako?! Facebook nga hindi ako marunong, quitter pa.” (Ok, irrelevant joke, but a nice one, you have to admit.)

Is quitting never justified? Take my Pico Tri race this year. Temperature was sub-hell. You could actually feel yourself perspiring during the swim leg. That morning, excited for the race, I forgot to take my meds. (Being a diabetic, I am in this never-have-a-stroke regimen of aspirin, anti-cholesterol and anti-hypertensive pills). If you’ve ever raced Pico, you’ll know that for the bike leg, the course, off the bat, slaps you with three demanding climbs. I was just short of 20 meters to clear the 3rd climb when I felt a sudden and heavy pain at the back of my neck. I stopped and got off my bike. Walked the 20 meters until the downhill part, lowered my heart rate. Then I proceeded to bike the flat parts of the course. But the pain persisted. To finish the course, you have to ride the climbs again. I asked myself, “Am I ready to die for this race? If reincarnation is true, or if salvation is indeed through good works, today would not be a good day to die.” So just before the hills, I got off my bike, hailed a scooter, rode it, DNF again. Was I wrong in quitting?

This whole quitting issue reminds me of a book written by marketing guru and bestselling author Seth Godin. The book, The Dip, describes itself as “a little book that teaches you when to quit.” It offers a counter-argument to the winners-never-quit thinking. As a matter of fact, it says, “Winners quit fast, quit often, and quit without guilt.” The key is choosing intelligently when to quit and when to push through. Take my TBR Dream Marathon this year, wherein I wanted a 4:30 time. I trained for it and even asked my coach Norman Pascual to pace me. We were on track, a steady 5:30min/km pace, then very early at the 5th kilometer, I felt my ITB act up. “Don’t mind it, adjust your stride.” I told myself. At the 12th km, I was already taking walk breaks due to the extreme pain. Time

to make a decision: if I continue with this pace, will I better the time of my first marathon? Probably not. In a few weeks time, I would have also been racing TriUnited1. Given that this marathon won’t give me my desired results, would it be best to prevent getting worse injury and save my knees for the more important TriUnited1? So on the 19th km, I DNF’d. Went to my car, changed my clothes. There was a band playing along the run route. I sang a couple of songs with them. Then I proceeded to the support tent of Bea Hernandez; helped with the nutrition and hydration of the runners. In the end, it was still the best marathon experience I had so far. And when TriUnited1 came, I did better than my previous year. I think I made the right decision.

I believed so strongly in this DNF issue that early this year I contemplated on going on a crusade. To show that you don’t need to finish a race to be able to enjoy it or its benefits. My plan was to DNF all my races. Yes, ALL MY

RACES: even if I am 5 meters from the finish line, I will stop. I bounced off the idea to friends and teammates and they were all in agreement—it was a stupid idea. But then, most revolutionary ideas are rejected by their generation; as Apple’s print ad campaign said “Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” So I vowed to march on. But then I thought, apart from a handful of friends and teammates, I was a virtual unknown in the triathlon community. So who would know of my crusade? It’ll be a useless attempt if people fail to know about it. So I abandoned the idea. I quit.

Maybe this article won’t prove any point. But let me be clear in my message to the people who dismiss athletes who DNF: to you, I say this

(Editor’s note: The author DNF’d this article.)

I ♥ DNF

BY

MONCHINGROMANO

TRIMO

kAYA

“ My plan was toDNF all my races.

Yes, ALL MY RACES.”

05

06

hen I first started triathlon, like most beginners, I didn’t have a single clue about getting a bike fit. The Who’s, How’s, and Why’s weren’t

questions I’d bothered to ask because I didn’t think it was really necessary: just a luxury other people could afford because they had nothing better to do with their money and had every upgrade known to man already installed on their bikes. To give it some context, I had come from a mountain biking culture where bike fits, especially if you’re not racing and just doing it for fun, have little or no rules. Aside from bike sizing, you were pretty much on your own when it came to choosing proper saddle height, stem length, stem height, saddle position, crank length, etc. Whatever felt comfortable is what you went with. So when I bought my tri bike I thought the same rules applied. Then I went out on my first 3-hour ride and absolutely hated my bike right after. After the first hour I was in serious discomfort: my neck was sore, my legs were shot, and my lower back was in agony.

I thought “No bueno. This can’t be good.”

Rather than choosing to give up on my new bike, I looked for ways to remedy my situation. During my research, I discovered that one of the easiest and least expensive cures was to get a proper bike fit. Bike fits are as much science are they are art. To feel good, you ought to look good, and I don’t mean by what you’re wearing. For example, if your saddle is too low, your back could be giving you problems; stem too long, and it could cause neck and shoulder pain, and the list goes on.

Traditional bike fits are very measurement-heavy but also call for a lot of static measurements and ballpark guesses. I tried a few with no luck. I would still have neck and lower back pain on long rides and I’d always have burnt-out legs on my brick sessions when I had to do my runs. I was starting to get desperate. Ironman 70.3 Cebu was a couple of months away and riding pain-free was still a huge issue for me.

Thankfully, on one of my rides with my usual training group, someone had mentioned they spent on a Retül bike fit that dramatically changed the way they felt on the bike. They felt more comfortable, fresher, even claimed that they were transferring power better. Being the skeptic, I threw question

after question trying to break down the process (and maybe seeing if I could just DIY this) but the guy lost me on “They hook up probes on you and map out your measurements with a camera and a computer program.” The first thought that entered my head was, “Well, that’s new.”

So I decided to bite the bullet and called Primo Cycles for a bike fit session. I spoke to Glenn Colendrino, GM of Primo and master bike fitter. Fortunately, they had a slot open that week and could squeeze me in (there was a sudden demand for Retül at this point because Ironman was only a few months out) so I decided to (finally) spend the cash and get a proper Retül bike fit.

As expected, Glenn hooked up probes via Velcro stickers to different parts of my body and had me ride my bike as I normally would. As I rode, a camera hooked up to a computer would take my real time or actual riding measurements and angles. These served as his base measurements for me, and from hereon, he would begin to tweak my saddle height, fore and aft position, stem height, etc. The tweaks were made in millimeters; they weren’t huge jumps in numbers but made absolutely all the difference in the world.

The results were phenomenal. On my next ride I had noticed a few things: my back pain was nonexistent, I felt like my hips

had opened up and noticed I was pedaling more efficiently, getting more out of my bike than I previously had. It felt like I had gotten a brand new bike. Since then, every bike I’ve owned, including my mountain bike, got a Retül fit. It’s one of the best investments I’ve ever made for my bike, and myself.

Recently, I sat down with Glenn for RaceDay to explain the merits of getting a bike fit, specifically a Retül fit:

Raffy Zamora: Let’s start with “What’s a bike fit?” Let’s define “bike fit.”

Glenn Colendrino: Basically it’s setting up the bike with the rider’s correct posture. So, forward, the height, the fore and aft, the numbers of spacers sa stem, how you set up the bike with regards to how the rider would actually ride the bike. Di ba?

RZ: Why get a bike fit?

GC: Okay, good question. Of course just like what I say to some of the people that I (talk to), introducing the whole bike fit idea where you may have the most expensive bike in the world, but if the fit is wrong, another guy with an aluminum (cheaper) bike with a decent bike fit would enjoy his bike more than the guy with the most expensive (ill-fitting) bike. So it’s very critical, because you may not know it, but you may be setting yourself up for an injury if you don’t get a proper bike fit. Each bike has its own fit protocols or ideal positioning, so depending on the type of bike you ride, there is supposedly a standard for how you’re supposed to ride it.

RZ: Would you say that a bike fit is for everyone?

GC: Yes. I strongly suggest it for everybody because, number 1, it makes biking easier. Why? It makes you pedal more efficiently. I will be able to set you up in such a way that you will get the most out of your pedaling stroke; you get the most comfortable riding position, so with those two alone you make good use of your power and comfort. I’ve seen so many riders kasi with very compromising positions that, after a ride, they’ll say their back is painful, and I’m not surprised because seeing them the way they ride—it’s really gonna be painful.

RZ: Would you know the differences between a Retül bike fit and other bike fit methods?

GC: OK, the other bike fit methods—case in point, there’s the competitive cyclist fit calculator: it’s a good determinant

RETÜL:IF THE BIkE FITS

Words : Raffy ZamoraImages : @edsizzle

W

DOES IT WORk?

Glenn Colendrino at the Retul Headquarters in Colorado. Class picture with Retul head instructor Todd Craver, who fitted the SKY Pinarello Team, Team Europear and the Cervelo Garmin Team

o they really work?

That’s the question in the minds of a lot of people who come across compression garments (CGs)

used for athletic activities. For more than half a decade, CGs, specifically stockings, have been used in the medical field for treatment and recovery from various ailments and injuries. These range from edema (ankle swelling) to deep vein thrombosis and other vein disorders.

In more recent times, manufacturers of athletic equipment and apparel have taken this technology and applied it to the various sporting activities that require the repair and rejuvenation which compression can provide. Nowhere is compression more visible than in the sport of triathlon.

For its application to sport, compression sleeves were created with the purpose

of reducing the repeated mechanical stresses induced by muscular exercise and to improve venous return in the lower limbs1. Studies conducted by different research institutes and sports scientists have yielded tangible evidence to support the efficacy of compression, at least in the area of calf compression.

During EffortOne study determined the positive implications rendered by wearing compression socks during effort/exercise, which resulted to lesser increase in lactic concentration/build-up.

This means that deficiency of oxygen supply, or hypoxia, is not as pronounced in subjects who wore compression vs. those who didn’t. The practical implication is that the muscles would be less prone to fatigue and would be able to perform better and, perhaps, for a longer period.The use of CGs during exercise is mainly based on reduced muscle oscillation, resulting from the vibrations generated by the impact on the ground2. By decreasing muscle oscillation, CGs could help minimize accumulative damage that builds up over many hours on foot. Wearing CGs was also found to prevent the risk of injury such as tendinitis, muscle inflammation, and joint dislocation. However, it has also been reported that only small effects have been noted in the use of CGs for short-duration sprints and time-trial performances.

One caveat: CGs will not prevent cramps. As cramps are still the great mystery of sports science, their treatment and prevention are on a case-to-case basis. That is, what works for Peter won’t necessarily work for Paul.

During RecoveryCGs compress superficial limb tissues, which in turn compress underlying veins, reduce their diameter, increase blood velocity and reduce pooling. Another explanation could be a compression-induced increase in local arterial flow1. But studies have shown that wearing CGs is not primarily based on a vascular problem, but on decreasing muscle oscillation.

Wearing CGs during recovery following an unaccustomed or eccentric exevrcise may limit the rise in muscle circumference, and limit the loss of range of motion. By reducing the magnitude of inflammation-associated swelling, CGs may mitigate muscle damage. Moreover, wearing CGs following exercise compared with no garment controls, has shown attenuated pain sensation, particularly delayed onset of muscle soreness, or DOMS, 24-72 hours following exercise3.

After all that has been said and done about compression, at the end of the day, there’s only way to find out if compression is the way to go: Try ‘em out.

Referenced from research papers and conducted studies of A. Menetrier, PhD Sports Science

1 Bringard A., Denis R., Belluye N., Perrey S. (2007) External elastic compression and muscle function in humans. Science & Sports; Feb 2007: 22(1) 3-132 MacRae BA et al. (2011) Compression garments and exercise: garment considerations, physiology and performance. Sports Med. 41: 815-843

3 Barnett A. (2006). Using recovery modalities between training sessions in elite athletes: does it help? Sports Med. 36: 781-796

for bike sizing, up to that point. But when you want to tweak the bike already as to stem length, the height of the saddle—because I see a lot of fits where the saddle is a bit too low—that’s a priority for Retül, especially when you talk about ankle positioning—like the six o’clock position of the pedal—it really has to be open. Most of the fits that I’ve seen, they don’t address this, and that’s where you’re going to generate your power from. I’ve experienced this already–[the] testimonials from some clients: when I raised their saddle and opened up their hip angle, they [were] able to pedal more efficient[ly].

RZ: Why RETÜL?

GC: Ok, we’ve looked at other systems, other bike fitting systems, most of the systems out there use a static fit, which is almost all other bike fitting systems. Meaning, they take your measurements, you are at rest. And then, they may put you on a rig but they measure you while you are at rest. When they use the geonometer and stuff like that (measuring tools), they still measure you at a rest. Sometimes there’s a video

capture and then they measure you on the screen. That’s still two-dimensional so for me. That’s still static because you are being measured while you are at rest, hence the idea that it’s static. The difference between that and Retül is [that] Retül sees you on a three-dimensional measurement. It’s the only fitting system wherein you get measured because all the measurements are done by the sensing machine so it’s more advanced data capturing. So it’s more precise, down to the last millimeter, last degree. It sees the rider and all those; and all those measurements are being generated while you are moving, in real time. So that’s what’s nice about the system.

RZ: Specifically for triathletes, what are the benefits of a Retül bike fit?

GC: The Retül bike fit isolates, specifically for tri fit, [which] muscles are going to be needed. Basically kasi we’re able to isolate your quads to take the pedaling load, and then save your hamstrings for the run. So Retül will be able to see that down to the last millimeter, down to the last degree: even your

positioning, even your back angle, how low you are on the aero bar. It will dictate so many things to maximize your pedaling. Even the pedaling stroke. [For] a lot of my fits, I always tend to raise people’s saddles, and then they feel it–they generate more power and then they’re fresher off the bike which is what we need in Triathlon. The (reason behind) Retül is conservation, conserving. Use only what’s needed, specifically for cycling, and save, save what you need for the run.

RZ: Lastly, well, you’re a triathlete yourself, does it work? What’s the verdict on this?

GC: For me, I can go on with testimonials from clients who have texted me, who have thanked me, for number 1: improving their bike splits, and then number 2: improving their run splits as well. I have a client who did a sub 50 10k fresh off the bike and I raised the saddle by 30 mm. which [is] almost more than 1½ inches, so dramatic yung change ng bike niya. But she swore, if not for that, she wouldn’t have accomplished this feat without the Retül fit.

THE ARGuMENT FOR

Words : Bobby Go

We asked triathlon veterans, Raffy Zamora and Bobby Go on their take on two performance-enhancing items. Now we have some answers.

COMPRESSION

D

o you want to have one of a triathlete’s ultimate bragging rights? Do what Kaye did. She raced Kona.

Kona, of course, is that part of Hawaii’s Big Island where the world-famous Ironman World Championship Triathlon is held each year in October. Kaye, on the other hand is triathlete Kaye Pascual; member of Tri-Avant Team; 4th yr law student at the 2nd best law school in the country (The Ateneo. Yes, this writer is from the State University); and owner of the cutest chinita eyes in all of Philippines’s Tri Kingdom.

But this one is not the Ironman World Championships, it’s half. It’s called Ironman Hawaii 70.3. It’s the chance to race in the very same course as the tri-gods do. Next time you’re with a bunch of triathletes talking about what they read about Kona being one of the hardest triathlon races in the world, you drop it casually, “Yes, it was the hardest race I ever did.” You just R.O.I.’d on your Kona race expense.

Yes, it costs money. Lots of it. For Hawaii 70.3, Kaye spent a total of P 153,500. And that already includes shared costs with her racemates. If you’re saying now that you’ll never blow that kind of cash for a race, don’t bank on it. For the race life cycle of a triathlete is: you do the local triathlons for a year or two, then you’ll covet for an international one. Kaye‘s bug bit early, after a year of racing Subic, Laiya and Cebu, she wanted a foreign taste. Your time will come too.

So it’s better to know now what’s involved. Let’s break down Kaye’s expenses:

Registration: The October registration was easy—no qualifying needed, just a $330 available credit line on your credit card.

Airfare: Kaye took a Hawaiian Airlines Manila-Honolulu flight then a local flight from Honolulu to Kona. Total roundtrip: P56,000. One problem though, Kaye has never visited the US thus doesn’t have a US Visa. So that’s an additional US$120.

Lodging: Kaye together with 2 other triathletes rented a 2-bedroom house that they booked online. The house was inside a race venue estate, which meant it was located very near the start and finish areas. It’s a bit more expensive than options outside the race venue; but with the transportation expenses incurred with a farther accommodation, this choice comes out cheaper. Kaye’s group decided to fly-in days before the race so they can recon the course, get used to the place. For a total of 8 nights, they paid US$2,800.

Transportation: Going around the island is not that hard. But Kaye wanted to be bad-ass so they rented a Suburban. While it had no bike racks, the Sub was big enough to lug their 3 bikes. For that tough image, they paid US$1,100.

Food: Renting a house gives you the added savings of being able to cook your meals. The house had a full-service kitchen. But they didn’t want to miss out on the cuisines that the island had to offer. So as a compromise, they cooked their own breakfasts but went out for lunch and dinner. Total food cost of Kaye: US$700

Contingencies: One thing sure about these trips, something will go wrong. Kaye’s was no different. Her bike decided to make things more exciting. A day before raceday, the brakes failed. Unlike here, where there’s always a friendly mechanic around, they had to bring her bike to a shop. For that, she paid US$50.

There’s more: while packing her bike in the house post-race, her bike once again wanted some excitement and grease-stained the carpet. For that, Kaye paid US$250.

So, for P153,500, was it all worth it? Kaye says it was an “enjoyable and unique racing experience”. Riding on roads that were “smooth as a baby’s butt” was delightful.Logistics-wise, she was awed by the flawless execution and organization of the race. It was a tough race. There were times during the race that she doubted whether she would finish it. But one thought looped inside her mind that made her push through, “It’s okay, I am racing Kona.”

D

HOW MuCH IS ANIRONMANHAWAII 70.3EXPERIENCE?

Words by Monching RomanoImages by Kaye Pascual

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Kaye Pascual shares her accountingof her first overseas triathlon.

Bike recon with fellow Filipino participants Macky Coronel and Iah Isip The Kaye HQ for Kona: a 2-bedroom house rental inside a race venue estate. To fit their three bikes, Kaye’s group rented a Suburban.

Kaye celebrating after the race with the members of the Fil-Am Tri Team

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PARADIGMSHIFTER

SANDRAARAuLLO-GONzALEz

Words : Bobby GoImages : @edsizzle

SMART, STuNNING AND SASSYSANDRA ARAuLLO - GONzALEz

BREAkS HER SILENCE —AND ALL THOSE

IMPRESSIONS ABOuT HER.

lessandra “Sandra” Araullo-Gonzalez is a nerd and proud of it.

That’s the big reveal and the end of the interview.

Not quite. Because there’s more to tell. Much more.

Until now, she has kept her personal life inversely proportional to the publicity she gets from the sport that has made her a household name in the multi-sport community. Try Googling “Sandra Araullo-Gonzalez” (just like the hapless editors of this publication did in a futile attempt at doing their homework before meeting her), and you’re likely to end up with trifling pieces of information ranging from not-so-recent athletic achievements (double-silver SEA Games medalist) and latest podium finishes, to a clutch of photos taken from her more current races. Oddly enough, younger brother Atom’s pictures even outnumber hers on Google Images under her name. So what’s with the near dead-end mystery?

The reason surprises: She’s shy.

Despite being thrust into the center of a sport that was far from what it has grown to today when she started over fifteen years ago, and witnessing the interest and participation grow over the years, Sandra has remained mostly reticent to press and celebrity. Because of this personal choice, there is the increased likelihood of being misunderstood as withdrawn, a trait she shares with husband, former national athlete and PH team coach, Peter Gonzalez. It’s the very trait that’s partly responsible for making their marital union of the last three years work. This reclusive quality is also liable for aligning their work schedules, training days, and shared personal time. It doesn’t affect her as much now that she’s older, this perceived aloofness. In her younger days, she would try to correct the perception by going out of her way to be more extroverted, but has since accepted the reality that “you can’t please everyone.”

“I want to change, and become more sociable. Socialization is not productive. I’ve graduated from post-race partying

and hard partying, since they’re not huge skill-builders. But I underestimate the art of socialization.”

Still, Sandra would rather show than tell. Which is what makes this interview such an effort for her. It’s all talk, and doesn’t allow her to simply show how fast she can run a 10k, how quickly she can pedal through that elevated bike course, or deliberate about the recent discovery of the Higgs boson and why it really is a big deal.

She doesn’t think she’s good copy, and hopes there’s a good story in here somewhere.

Unaware of her celebrity, she smiles embarrassingly when told that she’s a poster girl for multi-sport, easily landing among the country’s top most admired female triathletes, both for her abilities and appearance. She’s only begun to feel the brush of her esteemed stature with a couple of recent product endorsements, but cringes uncomfortably at the mention of the C-word. She is genuinely happy for “the other girls” who have been able to parlay their success on the athletic field to the commercial arena, but knows that her priorities lie elsewhere.

Family. Work. Triathlon. That’s the order of priority in her world now. Triathlon is a lifestyle, she asserts. It’s no longer a top priority, but a means to achieve her other priorities, and priority to her, means focusing on a field that provides room for growth and improvement. Growth and improvement are her drivers, and triathlon reinforces the type of discipline needed in her work. So it follows that triathlon is not a means to an end. But, she insists, sport is a necessary background as it is another commonality she shares with Peter, occupying a substantial place in their social life.

And sport has been part of her life as far as she can remember.

Her father, whom she calls Papa, always wanted his first-born to be a son. So when a daughter pushed her way into the world and into his arms, he obstinately kept to the original plan, driving young Sandra, together with Atom, into a multitude of sports that included competitive swimming, platform

diving, and taekwondo. Both parents were determined to raise a daughter who was strong both inside and out, and put her through the wringer of sport to see how she would respond. And respond she did. Filial piety extracted uncountable hours of training, forsaking holidays and weekends for laps in the pool or around the track oval. Papa sounded like a broken record, preaching about the discipline that sport provides, and its ability to get you through life. Dissent for lost carefree days of childhood that grew in the adolescent years, gradually evolved into appreciation for the strength of character built, which continues to pay dividends to this day.

Studies “kind of took care of itself,” and her parents never fussed over them. Papa being an engineer and Mama being a doctor may help explain the ease at which Sandra innately leaned towards her educational choices. Graduating from Philippine Science High School, majoring in Applied Physics at the state university, and following it up a year later with a master’s degree in Physics is far from the typical education profile for a national be-medalled athlete—but Sandra takes it all in stride, seeing this as the natural path for anyone fascinated with nature and the sciences.

Which brings us to the nerd label. Posting jokes and trivia about physics on Facebook and rattling on about pedantic topics like thermal expansion or entropy are “nothing unique to friends and family’ she says plainly. Scientific discussions are not normal to daily conversation, but Sandra will ruffle you if you decide to engage her. Yet she doesn’t, because that’s not her. She’s private when in public; the armor of reserve however, falls away in the company of those who know her best. Then she becomes animated, excitable, nerdy, geeky, and all things she’s not, to most who only know her from her general public demeanor.

“My sense of achievement comes from being able to do the several things I set out for myself at a high standard at the same time. Today, it’s work and training, tomorrow, maybe motherhood. I have a selective focus on work and sport, and I

A

try to find ways to be more efficient. If you’re managing things right, then you should be able to switch off (at the end of the day).”

She’s a late starter, having been part of the work force for a mere five years. Beginning in the trust department of a bank and assigned to risk management, she moved on to portfolio management with her current employer, where she began as an analyst three years ago. The established routine of rushing to work after early training (which she says she can’t give up), getting flak “for not being early enough,” and having to work harder “because I’m a girl” are part of the daily ordeal she surrenders to as being part of the rat race. The bit about being female and having to put in twice as much as a male counterpart? She doesn’t let it get to her. She keeps her head down and plods away. And she somehow manages to find the link between triathlon and portfolio management, stating succinctly that both are complex systems with similar moving parts that require discipline to master–the perfect marriage of science and art for both fields.

She harbors no regrets about pulling back “when the risk-to-reward ratio was no longer compelling enough.” She was twenty-seven summers long and finishing her studies when she made the decision. The sport had already extracted a good many years of her life, rewarding and punishing her at different turns. Her first South East Asian Games (SEA Games) experience in 2005, which she counts as her toughest race mentally and emotionally, was a major disappointment. Here was a won gold that slipped away because the teamwork on race day just wasn’t there.

Triathlon created opportunities for Sandra to travel for training, where she spent months at a time in New Zealand and Australia, as well as racing. She trained with other Philippine elites in Thailand (her last overseas training stint) under Aussie triathlon coach Brett Sutton, known for his grueling and morale-crushing workouts. There she met the likes of triathlon legend Chrissie Wellington and cycled alongside eventual 2012 Olympic triathlon gold medalist Nicola Spirig. Sandra was exposed to the rigors of high-intensity, unrelenting training and got more than a generous glimpse of what it took to become a pro triathlete.

The second SEA games experience two years later saw a more individualistic Sandra battling the same girl (who emerged victorious in the previous Games) for the gold. There was one major change: the competition had grown stronger. Now self-reliant in her quest for gold, Sandra once again came up short. This time armed with a more mature outlook, she accepted the loss with more grace. Looking back at her experience at these Games, she is exuberant and content, proud to have contributed to the national effort, and helping pave the way for the newer generation of national triathletes.

When the prospect of trying to qualify for the 2012 London Olympics came up, Sutton made Sandra realize that it meant turning professional and showed her just what it meant. By the time Sutton and his charges moved the training base to Subic, Sandra had made up her mind, though with great struggle. Having the training base in her backyard was an ideal proposition, but securing a stable and sustainable future

trumped that perspective of convenience. She eventually opted out, not quite sure if the decision was a wise one. But the fissures and fractures that later emerged from the internal conflicts within the Philippine triathlon associations, with athletes caught in the middle, convinced her that it was the best option at the time.

“I have nothing to prove to anyone or myself. I do it (racing) because of what I can get out of it, and not what I can showcase.”

Let’s talk racing. What makes Sandra tick? What drives her to excel?

There is no “digging deep” in Sandra’s race psyche. She simply looks at what she’s already invested in her training, and labors to get a fair return on it. That’s the financial analyst side of her spilling with quiet deliberation into her triathlon game. There’s control and intensity, which she points out is where she and Peter differ. “I’m intense, sometimes a bit too much for my own good. He brings me back to center with his cool and laid-back ways.” She believes in strategic racing, and finds herself still analyzing while racing, trying to make sense of why she’s fallen behind after the first transition, or why she seems to be playing catch up on the bike leg. And she doesn’t size up the competition these days. Not as much, at least.

“I hAvE NothINg to pRovE to ANYoNE oR MYSELF. I do it (racing) because of what I can get out of it, and not what I can showcase.”

11

“I AM MY bIggESt ENEMY.”

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“[I’m] happiest when the (racing) strategy comes together. Keeping it together is important, because losing it entails the biggest risk for failure. I am my biggest enemy.”

Surprisingly, she considers the 2011 Tokyo Marathon the race that beat her down the most, leaving her sufficiently humbled. After a much-better-than-expected 11:30:00 maiden finish at the 2010 Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii, Sandra immediately signed up for her second stand-alone full marathon, which would take place four months later. Having done her first stand-alone at the 2010 New York City Marathon, clocking an impressive 3:42:00, she figured a 3:35:00 Boston qualifying time target for Tokyo would be the logical and viable next step. In her mind, she was prepared; but preparation involves both mental and physical readiness, as Sandra soon rediscovered. She completely underestimated the race conditions and toed the start line undertrained and unprepared for the biting cold weather, which would wreak havoc on her body during and after the 42-kilometer run. She was a miserable mess in the days that followed, when she experienced the worst case of Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness (DOMS) in her athletic life. “Respect The Run” was a constant echo in her head, a maxim she hasn’t forgotten since.

These days, she relishes being active rather than competitive. She still enjoys the sport that she draws so much from, and surprises herself with some of her recent showings. When these (performances) happen, she ponders, “What if I put in more time? Maybe…” The thought is fleeting. And she falls back on her belief that being smart about everything is the logical path to tread. Now that she’s older, “There’s less pressure about being the best, so long as you know you did your best.”

She doesn’t fret over the abundance of celebrity in its genuine or fabricated forms, which has invaded the current triathlon landscape in as many ways as publicity can be created. She understands and appreciates the value of self-promotion, but also has her opinion of it.

“Talent is overrated, but you have to respect it and know how to use it. Self-regulate and be honest with yourself. I can’t stand people who believe their own hype and are mentally dishonest. Know when to scale down your hype. Not every girl can be a model, even if she wants to be. It’s better to re-assess your strengths and redirect them.”

Focus, discipline, productivity, and purpose: intrinsic elements that are virtually part of Sandra’s upbringing and DNA. While all these elements shape her personality and are responsible for much of the success she has attained, she still has moments when feeling like a girl is the best feeling there is. And that’s when she’s enjoying a great time shopping. The very activity that actually makes Sandra Araullo-Gonzalez lose control is a great shopping day. But these are few and far between, and generally reserved for the weekend. Most of the time, it’s off to the daily grind.

Unreasonably early morning training, the maddening drive through snarled traffic, and the long, demanding hours at work comprise her typical weekday. There are bouts of distraction within the day, mostly involving a hidden desire to channel her inner Martha Stewart and transform herself into the perfect home goddess capable of whipping up tasty treats from last night’s leftovers or crafting a conversation piece table ornament from old refrigerator parts. And then, there’s another seemingly endless commute through the gridlock on EDSA to endure before reaching home.

As the gate closes behind her and she shuts off the car engine, she’s through the front door entering her personal sanctuary. She can finally tap out, park the day’s nuisances in the corner, and maybe ease into her indulgent diet of reality television and irreverent half-hour sitcoms (“Keeping Up With the Kardashians,” “Modern Family”). She is home, and eager to learn how Peter’s day went, likewise looking forward to offload on him whatever God-awful event at the office sent her through the roof on this otherwise typical day.

The best part of Sandra’s day is just coming up.

Authentic Tuscan cuisine can be found within the wooden doors of Balducci Ristorante. Its impressive gourmet dishes stay true to their country of origin - healthy, light and fresh with bold flavor.

The brick facade, large windows and comfortable seating gives an ambiance of Italian countryside familystyle dining.

Balducci offers hearty servings of appetizer, soup and salad. Pastas are homemade and pizza are slowly baked to bring out that palpable flavour.

Extra virgin olive oil figures well in most of its meat and seafood dishes. Enjoy a main course of grilled, fried or seared lamb, seafood, meat or the U.S. Certified Angus Beef. It offers the world-famous Bistecca Fiorentina which has certified Chianina beef - a melt in your mouth delight.

Desserts and its wide selection of wine and liquors are not to be missed.

Fresh from his trip in Italy, Chef Paolo Nesi, a sommelier and a native of Tuscan and globetrotter, brought home new ways to satisfy its guests. “I make sure that Balducci’s guests are always in for a delectable dining experience!”, says Chef Paolo .

Space C-104 G/F Retail Area Serendra, Bonifacio Global City, Taguig / (02) 856-0676

RISTORANTE

SINCE

2006

THE MENWHO STARTEDPHILIPPINE TRIATHLONIf you now have to wake up before dawn to run, swim after work and spend weekends pedaling your bike, these are the guys to blame.

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Words by Art Fuentes Images by Ricky Ledesma and Nino Sinco

The EveryMan Triathlon Series had it’s first race in 1996 at the Ateneo with a 400m swim-20k bike-4k run distance. It eventually

rolled out into key cities and provinces with standard distance races.

ike all things great, it started with curiosity.

Young triathletes who just recently entered the sport probably know only a little about how the “sufferfest” they’ve come to love and hate, first got off the ground. Some of the sport’s veterans may sometimes impart a tidbit or two to the young ones about how they entered their first triathlon, and what it was like way back then. However, the story of how the multisport movement got off its feet, hit its stride and sprinted into the major league of endurance sports has largely remained untold. At least until now.

And like all things that kick ass, the story of Philippine triathlon had humble beginnings. It had its inception in the curiosity of a bunch of fitness gonzos looking for the next great challenge.

Mountaineers and SwimmersLast August, as concerned citizens from all over Metro Manila flocked to Luneta to voice their anger over lawmakers’ pork barrel shenanigans, RaceDay gathered some of the godfathers of the Philippine multisport scene in Balducci Ristorante and Deli in Serendra. The gathering was supposed to start at 2:00 in the afternoon, but it got pushed by a few minutes as some of the invited ones were still making their way to the venue after joining the multitudes at Rizal Park.

As triathlon enters its 26th year in the Philippines, we at RaceDay wanted to brush up on the sport’s history and trace the birth and growth of the Philippine multisport movement. We also wanted to pay tribute to the people who painstakingly nurtured the triathlon scene from its infancy to the thriving, mature community it now is.

“It was so primitive...Our transition basket was [a] kaing ng mangga (basket of mangoes),” recalls Rick Reyes of the first event they organized in 1987. To the multisport community, Rick is known as one of the founding fathers of TRAP or the Triathlon Association of the Philippines.

But before he became active in the triathlon community, he was just a regular guy from UP Diliman who liked to go up and down mountains. Climbing mountains, of course, is no joke. You have to be exceptionally fit to haul a backpack that’s up to a third of your own weight, negotiating 30 to 80 degree slopes for several kilometers, over rugged terrain, and in all types of weather. Mountaineers, thus need to keep themselves physically fit. Aspiring mountaineers are not allowed to join climbs until they’ve proven their fitness by running several rounds of the 2.2km UP academic oval.

Like many other members of the UP Mountaineers, Rick was eager to push himself physically. The mountain-climbers were also on the lookout for something fresh and out of the ordinary.

“We were reading Outside Magazine one day and we saw this article about triathlons,” he recalls with fondness. Rick and his mountaineer buddies were immediately blown away by the sport’s unique format. It looked like a meat grinder and it sounded fun.

“So I called Noel, who [was] teaching swimming back then, and told him that he had to teach us swimming.” Noel Rivera is a swimming coach in the University of Philippines Diliman. He was thinking of ways to enhance the fitness of his athletes back then. He also saw how adding a running and biking regimen could give his swimmers an edge over the competition. Noel, together with Rick and Tom Carrasco, would form the backbone of TRAP.

They didn’t know a lot about how to properly train back in the late 80s and so Rick, his mountaineer buddies, and the UP swimmers practiced all three sports each day. Nowadays, coaches may raise their eyebrows and shake their heads over such unwarranted torment as only elite athletes do such brick sessions everyday. But such wisdom was not yet available in the early days of the sport. Neither was specialized equipment, nor even attire.

“We were all in Speedos then,” Rick says. He was talking about the first event they organized which was held in Matabungkay, Batangas. It was in a beach property owned by brothers Willy and Jet Benitez, who also owned a mango orchard, which explains why their transition baskets were kaing ng mangga.

Tri-suits were still unheard of back then. Rick recalls the first time some guy showed up in a race in a trisuit. “It was actually a trisuit made for females.” But nobody knew better back then.

Unlike today’s events, which draw hundreds of participants, TRAP’s first triathlon in Matabungkay drew only around 30 racers. The godfathers of the sport never had an inkling that their ward would grow into the fitness behemoth it now is.

Growing Pains“We used to pray for a lot of triathletes to register for our race. But now we have to turn back so many,” says Ricky Ledesma, another of the acknowledged pioneers of the sport. Nowadays, he says, they even have to put on the waiting list up to 300 participants for an event.

“Everything is so easy these days with social media. Just post it on Facebook and you can be sure that lots of people will register,” he says.

But back in the mid 80s and early 90s, race organizers really had no way of knowing how many people would turn up at an event. Communication and promotion were not as simple then as sending a tweet or posting on a timeline. Even cellphones were a rarity, and only the filthy rich would have them.

Ricky says organizers would make posters and put them up in bike shops and the numerous bulletin boards scattered around UP. Then they would cross their fingers and hope that people actually sign up for a race. Oftentimes, people would only sign

up on the day of the race itself. Onsite registration, which is unthinkable now, was the norm back then.

Despite their best efforts to promote races, the multisport scene remained a fringe movement. Ricky muses that they were like a secret society back then. Triathletes would see each other only during races, and more often than not, it was the same faces showing up in every event.

“I think there were only about 200 active triathletes in the 90s,” says Eric Imperio of Extribe. Eric’s group is now renowned for organizing offroad triathlons. In the early 90s, he was part of that secret society of multisport athletes who showed up race after race. Most of them wondered if the sport would ever catch on.

They were so desperate for promotion that they were even praying for someone in showbiz to swoop down Super Islaw-style and rescue the scene.

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Not much carbon tri-bikes then. Organizers allowed all kinds of bikes, even mountain bikes.

ERIC IMpERIo: “I think there were only about 200 active triathletes in the 90s.”

Remembering the old times—the reunion at the Balducci Ristorante and Deli: Nino Sinco, Ricky Ledesma, Raul Cuevas and Rick Reyes.

“We were waiting for Richard Gomez to take up triathlon to draw attention,” Ricky adds, referring to the most popular matinee idol back in the 90s. But while Gomez would dip his feet into a lot of sports, even becoming a poster boy for rock climbing, he would never try triathlon. “Now we have more than enough celebrities, and a lot more eager to (try) tri,” he says.

Sponsorships“I was always in the red,” says Raul Cuevas, another of the pioneers who nurtured triathlon in the Philippines when the sport was still akin to a toddler taking its first awkward but exhilarating steps. Raul is referring to the lack of financial support back then for multisport races.

“Sponsors would give prizes in kind, but only a few would give cash,” Raul says. Raul and the others give kudos to David Charlton, a triathlete who owns David’s Salon, for having consistently given cash to sponsor races.

To the triathlon community today, Raul is known as the race director of the Unilab Tri United, Bike United and Timex 226 events. He is an Ironman finisher, a two-time Iron Distance Triathlon finisher, and the former head coach of the National

Triathlon Team. Today, he has little trouble in getting enough financial backing for the events he oversees.

But back then, it was a completely different story. Raul was still young and fresh out of college when he started joining and organizing triathlons in the early 90s. His network was still quite narrow, and he relied on an army of volunteers to get races off the ground.

In the mid 90s, Raul was instrumental in organizing the first 70.3 triathlon in Matabungkay, the birthplace of multisport in the Philippines. He shakes his head when he looks back at how they handled things back then.

“I did it blindly, with the hope that all the costs would be covered... Since I wasn’t an accountant, it was bahala na.” If there was still anything left after all the suppliers and bills were paid, Raul and the other organizers would get to share it. But he says that hardly ever happened. More often than not, they would shoulder the expenses.

Ricky agrees. “Sponsors were hard to solicit [from] since they thought we were all crazy for doing all that (swim, bike, run) in one sport.”

“We all just did it for the love of the sport,” Raul continues.

Things began to change a bit when sponsors like Gatorade and Powerade entered the fray in the mid 90s. The duel between these sports drinks helped inject some much needed capital into the fledgling multisport scene. From having just one event a year, triathletes could now choose from two or more events.

Triathletes could also choose which race suited them best. There was the standard distance event, half Iron distance, and what was then called the Everyman distance which consisted of a 400 meter swim, a 15 to 20 kilometer bike stage, and a 4 to 5 kilometer run. The aim of such a short event was to make the sport more popular, as many athletes were unsure that they could compete in the longer distances.

The choices open to athletes grew further in 2003, when Extribe organized the first offroad triathlon in the Philippines. First held in San Juan, Batangas, the Extri has become the longest running offroad multisport race in the country.

But it was mostly still the same people joining race after race. Rick, Ricky and Raul recall an athlete who would join a Gatorade race wearing Powerade uniforms and then show up in a Powerade event sporting Gatorade colors.

No trisuits then, only Speedos... Raul Cuevas and David Charlton of David’s Salon awarding the finishers.Charlton was one of the very few who supported organizers with actual cash.

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Mass Start: Races in the 90’s drew, on the average, about 30 participants only.

Still, other race organizers like Extribe continued to bleed.

“We would produce races that did not have major sponsorships and did not have enough participants to cover the costs of a race,” Eric adds. Extribe, founded in 2003, operated at a loss for the first three years of its existence. But these guys were just too passionate for the sport to let a minor detail like finances get in the way.

“We were focused more on sustaining our projects than making a profit from them,” Eric says.

Adolescense and Maturity“Entry fees for the Everyman never went over 250 pesos,” says Nino Sinco, the brains behind the event. He and the other multisport pioneers around the table are amazed that entry to the Ironman 70.3 now costs 12,000 pesos and up. The sport has come a long way.

Nino first learned about triathlons in the early 80s via Sports Illustrated. But he has been doing triathlons as far back as the mid 80s even if there weren’t any official races yet then. He was the coach of the Ateneo swimming team that time and would do bricks with his athletes.

He officially became involved in the triathlon scene in the mid 90s when he became the Sports Marketing Manager of Gatorade. From his position in the sports drink giant, he saw the gradual ascendance of triathlon into a mainstream sport. While earlier events would draw fewer than a hundred participants, the newer events backed by major sports drink financial muscle were attracting nearly twice that number.

“In one event in Cebu, we were surprised that 180 signed up,” Nino says.

Event organizers were also more accommodating back then. They didn’t restrict participants to using highly specialized time trial bikes. Even mountain bikes were allowed in road triathlons, as long as they passed safety inspection. Only a few athletes had proper tri bikes.

“Now, you can hardly see an Ironman racer who isn’t on a carbon tri bike,” he says.

Raul credits the phenomenal growth of triathlon to the equally explosive growth of the running community in the Philippines. He says that a lot of runners eventually transitioned to tri in search of a greater challenge.

Rick meanwhile says that the entry of the Ironman franchise into the country greatly boosted the sport’s appeal. By his reckoning, the number of triathletes has been growing at around 20-25 percent per year since the franchise entered the Philippines.

“I had a feeling that it was going to be big, but not this fast,” says Ricky.

Some triathletes today would probably also be shocked to learn that back then, it wasn’t a mortal sin to have a drink or two the night before a race. Raul says that one time, he even stayed up drinking til 5 in the morning. Since the race was at 5 am, he didn’t bother to sleep at all.

“I miss the purity and simplicity of the races back then,” muses Nino.

Future DirectionsRick, Ricky, Raul, Eric and Nino all agree that triathlon’s amazing growth in popularity over the past few years is a great thing.

“Today you have several premium events the whole year round with thousands of active triathletes all over the country,” says Eric.

But it’s a growth that has surprised most of them. They are also wondering if it’s growing too big too fast. With several events now being held a month, sometimes within just a week of each other, they wonder if there would be enough participants to make these races profitable.

“Maybe there should be a governing body that would regulate the number of major events held each year,” Ricky says. He is concerned that the multisport’s amazing growth may not be sustainable, and that the scene may burn itself out.

Nino agrees and says that the sport may have reached fad status right now. He wonders if it will eventually lead to attrition in the number of participants, which would leave only the true multisport devotees to carry on.

They are, however, all certain of one thing: Triathlon has come a long way, and it is here to stay.

Editor’s Note: Eric Imperio of Extribe was not able to make it to the Balducci Restaurant interview last month due to a schedule conflict. However, we were able to interview him by email, and we included his contributions to triathlon in this story. Coach Noel Rivera was likewise not able to make it to Balducci, nor answer our questions via email. But since the weight of his contribution to Philippine triathlon is undeniable, we briefly made mention of his major part in the sport here, culled from the recollections of the other multisport godfathers who attended the RaceDay gathering.

triathlon got a boost when sponsors like gatorade and poweradecame in in the ‘90’s.

guess who? Nino Sinco as Sports Marketing Manager launchedthe Everyman triathlon Series

RAUL: “I did it(organizing triathlon) blindly...Since I wasn’t an accountant, it was bahala na...we all just did it for the love of the sport.”

NINo: “Entry fees for the Everyman never went over 250 peso.”

RICKY: “We used to pray for a lot of triathletes to register for our race. but now we have to turn back so many.”

RICK: “It was so primitive... our transition basket was kaing ng mangga.”

RAUL CUEVAS

RICKY LEDESMA

NINO SINCO

RICK REYES

December 7, 2013 - Anda, Bohol

STAMINA MATTERSIn Cooperation with www.enervonactiv.ph