Oftentimes, I get to pick worthwhile life lessons along the road. But this Batanes trip had a uniquely hard & explicit way of presenting such—in packets of idiocy, blowing winds, and bursting rain showers.
At the rate at which the weather was improving on those December days, things were sure bound to a looming disaster, with the effects of Typhoon Tisoy steadily intensifying by the hour. As I was already way past due the supposed five days of Batanes indulgence, the terror brought by uncertainty courtesy of a series of canceled flights back to Manila had eaten my sanity (and work leave credits!). It was a hopeless guessing game designed for me to lose.
There was nothing much left to do except for waiting. Unfortunately, waiting isn’t exactly my strong suit. The trip was a hardcore test of patience, with me frustratedly caught up in the endless eat-Netflix-sleep loop. Metaphorically, I was imprisoned in a paradise cage. Clearly, I needed some partial way out. And left nothing much of a choice, the most logical and plausible other thing to do was run.
So, I did run. Hard. Hard enough that it almost cost me my life; another of those careless encounters I get to involve myself with while on travel.
That fateful day, I decided to push for a daredevil 24k run. Compared to previous days, the weather was relatively fine with the wind blowing calmly and the sea breezing softly just like a typical normal Batanes day. Aside from the occasional rain showers, the weather was quite good featuring vast ocean views on the side and green slopes on the other. The sun was showing off as well, finally a good sign of better days to come.
Or so I thought.
Fate decided to change its course halfway en route to my run-around Itbud. Odds started to go in the wrong direction: tides crashed harder, skies turned grayer, and a heavy outpour came shortly after. This led to a perfect storm ruining my supposedly breakthrough run. Upon reaching 8- or 9-kilometer off my starting point, the roads were a series of narrow curves exposed enough to allow direct wind contact. Nature unleashed its wrath; howling winds and heavy rains, the dread felt like forever. Occasionally I had to literally crawl, my hands tightly gripped on the road fence to prevent myself from falling off the ravine. My heart felt like coming out of my chest, even maxed out the bp reading on my smartwatch.
For a few seconds, I found myself thinking that maybe that was it, that it was my time, that it was the end for me right then and there, somewhere along a mountainside overlooking a vast ocean, which was a good consolation anyhow. I confirmed how it is for life to flash entirely before my eyes at such a time—a storm of cascades and recollections of all things I have and had. And, everything I stand to lose.
I was in the midst of such realizations when it struck me to muster all the courage left within to fight. I clung on and uttered a desperate call for the nature gods' help, mercy, and deliverance. Fortunately, I managed to get through that dangerous spot alive, safe enough to later resume the run, more careful and with calculated moves this time.
In the past, I was countlessly accused of always taking the safe side. Yet there I was playfully dancing with unimaginable things other than safe; definitely one of those calls, again. So close that it makes me second guess myself now and whenever I run since then. Running, in all sense of the word, is now a double-edged sword, tucked in some part of my brain. Guess I need to slow down this time around, give it more thought and weighing if certain things and places are really worth running for, running to, or running from.
