The Pain of Victory

Just a month ago, after my trip to Shanghai, I accomplished a feat which some friends my age would envy: I ran my first 10K and timed in at 57'21". The nike plus website puts me at #144 among the fastest males in the Philippines who have run that distance. And among the same set but within the 4o-44 age bracket, I am ranked #14 (in 5K, I am ranked #9 clocking in at 25'11"). I am hoping of course that there are at least over 20 Filipino males aged 40-44 with a Nike iPod, subscribing to that website!

But it seems the euphoria of running my first 10K dampened the performance of my succeeding runs. The next 2, which were 5Ks, were decent, but they lowered my average pace per km by some 5 or so seconds. Worse, on March 29, during an 8K jog, I hurt my right foot badly. By the 2nd km, I noticed a sharp pain between my 3rd and 4th toes; but not wanting to disrupt my routine, I instead endured the entire distance by shifting weight and applying less pressure on the troubled spot in my foot. I seemed fine after the run. The next morning, however, was a different story.

A dose of 120mg of Arcoxia for 3 days relieved the pain significantly, though a stabbing hint would persist the following weeks. Today, thankfully, I hardly feel a thing (except when I deliberately apply sustained pressure to the area). I'm counting on nature to heal me completely in the near future. That's because running has become a dear friend. And like those who go away for an extended length of time, I am missing this friend sorely.

Shanghai Sojourn

Among the treats of my job is the occasional opportunity to travel, whether that be to gather consumers insights around the country or to exchange notes with colleagues around the world. Most recently, my sister Monique and I were invited to a business conference in Shanghai; and though we looked forward to the learnings we would take home from the exhaustive sessions, a good part of us was longing for the little downtime we had to enjoy the city's splendid offerings.

Admittedly, I have had the chance to visit a good number of cities around the world in my youth, as my parents believed the best gift they could give their children apart from education was travel. Oh, but unlike my sister, I have not had the pleasure of visiting this part of China, and heck, who knew if I would have another chance?

We did our share of shopping at the copy markets (a fancy name for tiangge of fakes) in Xiang Yang and Pudong and in the luxury retail outlets of Huai Hai and Nanjing Xi Lu, but perhaps the most interesting was the antique market at Dongtai Lu. While I had considered buying a pair of Chinese cymbals (those things that keep clashing and crashing during Chinese opera), I chose instead to photograph the many curios that lined the street.

Of course it would be a sin not to sample the local cuisine, and so we made time for one local Chinese meal outside our hotel. Armed with just our fingers to point at photos of dishes that piqued our visual interest, we prepared our tongues for the unknown. First off, a crispy chicken dish that was more chili than fowl. Then some minced meat with tofu, baby shrimp and peanuts. And how could one go wrong with fried noodles? This one had asparagus, more shrimp, bamboo shoot, mushrooms, and ham. And for dessert? Sticky rice sweetened with light syrup and molasses, and filled with various seeds and nuts. Each dish seemed good for three. Nothing was left (save for some pepper pods). The bill? the equivalent of Php 500. Beat that!

Notable too about Shanghai would be the unique architectural shapes that grace its cityscape. Our hotel (Grand Hyatt) and the one across it (Park Hyatt--once the world's tallest hotel) are pillars of contrast in the business district of Lujiazui, with one like a many-faceted crystalline tower, and the other sleek and smooth. Pudong's Science and Technology Museum, on the other hand, is cosmopolitan glass complex that feels like a city in itself, and the nearby Oriental Pearl Tower (the third tallest TV and radio tower in the world) is a virtual rocket ship. I wish I had more time to survey this city with so much eye candy scraping the sky.

I believe that one is never too old for globe trotting (does it not seem that wherever tourists are, elderly folks are there, perpetually on travel mode?), so I hope I get many years still to tour the world. Although I have started young, there is just so much world to see but just one life to live. I've got to start planning my next itinerary.

Concert at the Tent

Forget that I had to be at the airport by 5:30 am the next day; I wasn't missing Dianne Reeves's concert at the Rockwell Tent last March 2nd.

When I hit forty, I noticed that I had more frequently begun checking out upcoming concerts and purchasing tickets even if no one else I knew could join me. Who cares if I went alone? Live concerts present an electrifying experience that no CD can ever duplicate, and I wasn't going to deny myself the sensation. Luckily this time, fellow music enthusiasts Eric and Marge Barro, who live minutes away from Rockwell, were game for an intimate evening with jazz diva Dianne Reeves.

After a brief dinner of dimsum and rice toppings at Mongkok in Powerplant, we took our seats at the tent, mere meters away from the stage, in time for the opening act--The Mike Stern Quartet. The set was a most curious blend of syncopated jazz rhythms and haunting melodies from this 4-time Grammy nominee. 

"She's going to sing her ass off," the guitarist soon warned, and then it was time for Reeves to mesmerize the crowd. 

There is a masochistic pleasure in attending the performances of such accomplished artists (at least for a part-time musician like me); it is in being enveloped by someone else's art, surrendering to their music, and realizing you will never be as talented as they! Unless of course, even at forty plus years, you still see yourself as a work in progress and heed the advice of Reeves's grandma: if you want to see better days, you've gotta be patient.

Dianne Reeves was a most gracious entertainer and dedicated performer, praising the Filipino audience for being such natural musicians, and thanking us all with every heartfelt note. There is a reason why she is most respected in the global music industry. And while I may never approach the status of artists like her or any of those in her band, I'm glad I can witness such virtuosity in my lifetime.

Fatal foods, deadly delicacies.

I burn roughly 60 calories during every kilometer that I run. So let's say I've been following the general rule of 3 meals a day at 600 calories per meal, plus 2 snacks a day at 200 calories per snack, then I would have to jog nearly 37 kilometers to burn everything I ate that day. Of course this assumes that nothing else I did, burned any calories. But I suppose you get the drift: shedding off unwanted mass can be daunting.

What more if you were as I am, who can't resist a food trip?

The website thisiswhyyourefat.com encourages viewers to "submit your deliciously gross food" by uploading pictures of treats that do a good job of ending your hunger pangs but an even better one at ending your life all together. The photo above is of a Krispy Kreme Sloppy Joe--uh huh, ground beef, onions, and sweetened tomato sauce, not in a hamburger bun but in those famous glazed doughnuts. Hmm...I wonder how many kilometers I'd have to run to burn one of those. 

Meanwhile, here are more photos (and mind you, these are the tamer ones) from that website. Hungry, anyone?

DEEP FRIED BATTERED MARS BAR 

CHOCOLATE-COVERED BACON

BACON-WRAPPED MEATLOAF WITH A LAYER OF MAC & CHEESE

FRENCH FRY-ENCASED HOTDOG ON A STICK

CHOCOLATE-COATED CHEESECAKE ON A STICK

CORNDOG PIZZA

NO EXPLANATION REQUIRED

Running for my life

As a Christmas and birthday gift to myself, I purchased a new pair of running shoes, the new iPod nano, and a Nike + iPod sports kit, all to hopefully kick into high gear my attempt to run a marathon.

Ok, I'm not aiming that far. But I am aiming to lower my blood pressure along the way.  In truth, I started running more consistently again last year, but not at the level that I feel I should to keep away the meds. Then high school buddy John Alcordo told me he had lost 30 lbs running 3 to 4 times a week, and that he was setting a personal goal of 10K in 1 hour by the end of 2008. And so I picked up the pace.

What I love about my Nike + iPod is the data I receive after each run. All this time, I had thought that my usual route was a 5K distance. Not. Apparently more like 6.5K. And so I pushed further, going 7K, 2-3 times a week.  Last week, I started doing 8K. My time, close to 42 mins. My average pace, 5'15" per kilometer. Hmmm, maybe I should challenge John to a 10K run soon.

I guess you could say I am running for my life. I know I am not getting any younger, and that I have to repent for all the crispy pata, binagoongan, sisig, bagnet that my youth consumed. But more than that, I am running for my life because there are so many wrongs to make right, so many colleagues to learn from, so much family to love. I want to live longer to behold the successes of my nieces and nephews, to commiserate with my friends on their misfortunes, to absorb the kindness of strangers. One more pupil I could mentor, one more secret I could share, one more miracle I could witness, would certainly be worth one more kilometer on the road.

My birthday martini

Tell me, must I be shaken or stirred by this birthday message that awaited me at the lobby of our office yesterday, January 26 (2 days late as my birthday fell on a Saturday)?

ABSOLUT NORMAN

Man of Style

This dashing PR and Advertising man

is the resident heartthrob of

Euro RSCG Manila,

known for his quiet presence,

boyish good looks and chic style.

He is a product of exceptional brilliance

in accordance to the strict standards of

28 years of Agatep tradition.

Distinction has been recognized under the name

Norman since 1966.

100% ILOCANO (43 PROOF) 1 HECK OF A GUY

EXQUISITE

Born and raised in Quezon City, Philippines

1 of 5 BROS & SIS  BS MGMT 87 AB COMM 88 (ADMU)

All right, so a martini is traditionally made with gin, and the classic drink is often stirred so as not to bruise the alcohol (whatever that means) though James Bond used to insist that his poison of choice be: shaken, not stirred. 

And me on this birthday message? Times have changed and today's bars often replace gin with the other clear spirit, vodka. Then there's Bond in the 2006 Casino Royale flick who, when asked about his martini, retorts: Does it look like I give a damn? While my supposed "quiet presence" might seem as aloof as Daniel Craig's Bond, I will at least admit to being slightly moved by my birthday poster.

So there. Thanks to fellow creatives and occasional drinking buddies Jojo and Lambert for the unique gift.

Meanwhile, should you wish to fix yourself a Dirty Martini, put together 6 parts of vodka (or gin), 1 part dry vermouth, and add a splash of the brine from a bottle of olives.  It's the olive juice that give this martini its twist. Shake or stir as you prefer.

I'm mixing one tonight.

Once more with feeling

During a post-Christmas dinner with close friends last December 28, Rica pointed out that I looked more tired than ever. Funny, I thought, since I was done quite early with all the panic-shopping (I tend to overdo the spending bit) precisely because I wanted a less stressed holiday; however, I admitted I was still reeling from the company Christmas bash that I organize every year (I tend to overdo that too). She suggested my haggardness was a result of everything that had elapsed in December, including all the activity during my high school reunion (come to think of it, I overdid my involvement there, didn't I?). 

There and then I began to sense the weight of the entire month descend upon my shoulders, and it didn't feel good. Plus the thought of the coming new year and my 43rd birthday rushing by seemed only to add to the burden--until all went numb.

But some days have passed since then. It's January 26th, and as I type from my laptop, a solar eclipse during the lunar new year is taking shape in front of me, outside my window. Not that it means anything to me except that the Earth has moved, and I with it, and perhaps during that brief period I've found some time to recover and to start feeling again.

I guess all I mean is that I'm back to writing. And boy, is there much to say.