The good and the bad of the Aboitiz race

I joined the Aboitiz Race to Reduce Challenge two mornings ago. It was a good race. Good—but not great. I’ll explain why.

The Good? Including a full marathon. Apart from the Three-Sixty Pharmacy Kawasan Falls Marathon (organized by Dr. Potenciano “Yong” Larrazabal III) and the Cebu Marathon (held every second Sunday of January), the Aboitiz 42K is only the third full marathon distance in Cebu. This is advantageous to us. As more people run, the target post moves farther away. After joining an initial 5K, the next goal is a 10K… then 21K… then more…

The 42K is the ultimate distance (although 100K ultra-marathoners like Joel Garganera, Haide Acuña and Bro. Carlo Bacalla will disagree with that).

The bad? Aboitiz’s timing. While the Kawasan Falls Marathon announced their 42K distance many months ago, Aboitiz decided only recently. The Kawasan Falls Marathon was held last July 23; Aboitiz, last Sunday. Back-to-back 42Ks in three weeks is ridiculous. This “temptation” invites injury. There ought to be spacing in organizing 42Ks.

More good points… Seeing the CEO himself, Erramon “Monchu” Aboitiz, at the finish line. I’ve said this last year and I’ll write it again: How many of the big-named industry chieftains are willing to disrupt their Sunday 5 a.m. sleep to cheer-on the runners? Monchu, whom I spoke to last Sunday, is one of them. He stands out.

Other good marks include: the printing of a two-page advertisement yesterday, enlisting all the finishers with their finishing times. Thanks to Sebastian “Basti” Lacson, the Chief Reputation Officer of Aboitiz, for this idea (which, if I’m not mistaken, Basti got from a sporting event in Spain). This is admirable.

The high-quality Race Bib is tiptop. The use of timing chips—including the 5K—is exemplary. The offering of a lowered registration fee for a non-singlet—this is wise. “The Race to Reduce” tagline is put to use here.

The weather. Although it poured heavily past 9 a.m., at least for the 3K to 21K participants, the early-morning weather was perfect. Like last year, it rained at 2 a.m.—hours before the start.

The route for the 10K was desirable. It was flat. The orderly finish line area—complete with clocks for each category—was commendable. So were all the freebies at the finish (Gatorade plus bread, banana, candies and a hard-boiled egg).

THE BAD? With my 10K category, very minimal. I arrived at 4:45 a.m., a quarter-of-an-hour early. The first person to pat me on the back? My mom, Allen. I did not know she also registered the same 10,000-meter distance. Looking slim and fit, I have an embarrassing admission to make: I was once mistaken as the husband of my mom! Ouch. I hope this is a testament to her looking young instead to my “mature” looks.

While strolling about the race area 10 minutes before the published 5 a.m. race time, my mom and I were shocked when people started running. No countdown. No starting gun. No announcement. It was the start! And nobody knew. Plus, it was 10 minutes in advance. (I later saw Gerry Malixi; he arrived at the CICC at 4:55—only to see that everyone had left! He joined but was disappointed.)

But that was minor. The major, major BAD was the lack of water for the 42K. I spoke to many friends and they echoed the same complaint: on the second half of the 42K (that’s 21 kms. to go) there was no water! This is a cardinal sin in races.

Safety, above all, is important; but next is hydration—the availability of water. Runners had to resort to stopping-by carenderias to drink. (I had this same experience at the Quezon City Marathon two years ago and it’s the worst. Imaging the pain of running for 4 to 6 hours… aggravated by a super dry throat.)

Worse, at the finish line, 5-gallon containers full of water were stockpiled. Some finishers even sat on them! As to why these were not hurriedly dispatched, I don’t know.

This is a pity because this was an A-1 race organized by an A+ company. If only the word “Reduce” did not refer to water.