Tribute Run

Profound grief, like love and affection, needs to be expressed.

Although the Marathon Foodie was just a small kid in the early eighties, I could still remember what it was like to live in fear during the waning days of martial law. We used to live very near the Malacanang Park where the PSG personnel also lived. When Ninoy died in 1983, even the simple act of tying a yellow ribbon outside our window – a simple expression of protest and defiance -- took a lot of courage on the part of my mom who was pro-Ninoy. My father was a Marcos loyalist then, so you can just imagine the tension at home.

I was only eight years old when the 1986 EDSA revolution happened. In February that year, my family was getting ready for the big move to Cebu that was to happen in March. All our things were packed and crated, except for one transistor radio and a few clothes. When news of people gathering at EDSA broke over Radyo Veritas, I told my mom that maybe we should just leave Manila ASAP and go to Cebu ahead of schedule where it was safer. But my mom, who was then two months pregnant with my brother Alex, told me that there was a revolution and we had to stay and contribute.

Photo by Drum and Run, taken along Biliran Road CBP, at the back of Ayala-FGU Center. Starting point of he Tribute Run.

And contribute we did. All the women living on our street took out all their big woks and cauldron and made batches after batches of chicken pospas and champorado in a make shift dirty kitchen outside a neighbor’s house; while the men and the unmarried women with no children to look after took the lugaw to EDSA for those who were keeping vigil outside Camp Crame and Camp Aguinaldo. It was community spirit at its best – a collective display of generosity, heroism and courage from simple folk, which I’ve not witnessed again since then.

Now that the Marathon Foodie is 32, I wonder why the passing of a woman so distant can have such a profound effect on me. From where does this grief come from? Thus, when fellow runner and blogger Drum and Run a.k.a. Carlo Serrano proposed that we do a tribute run on the day of President Cory’s burial, I did not hesitate to say yes. I thought that running was the most tangible thing I could do to honor the passing of a great woman and statesman, since I could not join the throng of men women and children lining up to pay their last respects at the Manila Cathedral. And just maybe, this pre-dawn run will help me put this grief in perspective.

Tribute Run Route

Thus, on Wednesday I found myself awake at 3:30 in the morning and getting ready for a tribute run for Tita Cory. Clad in our identical I Am Ninoy Runner’s shirt, Carlo and I began our tribute run at Starbucks in Ayala with the route traversing part of Archbishop Reyes Avenue, I.T. Park, Salinas Drive, Gorordo Avenue, Excario Street., M. Velez, V. Rama, B. Rodriguez, Fuente Osmena, Osmena Blvd., Escario Street and back to Ayala where we started. The tribute run spanned a total distance of 11.5 kilometers and we ran it at an easy pace ranging from 6:50 min/km to 7:20 min/km.

Training splits courtesy of Drum and Run. Thanks Carlo for sharing your Garmin!

Truth to tell, even after a great tribute run, I still can’t figure out exactly why I’m grief-stricken. Maybe I’m sad for my country and all the wasted opportunities for greatness. In 1986 anything was possible for the Philippines, but look where we are now. It seems nothing has changed. Maybe I feel ashamed of myself, a supposed true child of the EDSA Revolution becoming cynical and disillusioned about my country. Maybe I am mad at myself for giving in to the stupor and apathy in the face of great corruption. While I do not condone evil, I feel so utterly powerless to stop it. I forget how a simple housewife stood bravely, even in the face of death, and led a nation against a seemingly invincible dictator.

As a journalist, broadcaster and now a new blogger I have so much to thank Tita Cory for. I know I owe so much of my freedom to this woman. Without her, the freedom we take for granted today (including all the ranting and raving on Facebook and Twitter) would not have been possible. The least I can do to give back and honor her legacy is to shake off my own cynicism and apathy.

I guess this running and taking stock while I run is a good start. The mere fact that I’m feeling all these things and writing about it must be a prelude to an awakening. All true revolutions really do start from within.