This post is archived from my old website.
In the dark the couple sleeps. Suddenly the alarm goes off on the man’s wristwatch, joined together by the alarm set on his cellphone. It’s 4:00 A.M. He awakens, moves, reaches for his watch, turns off the alarm. As he reaches for his cellphone his wife groans from the noise. Snooze. Silence. Sleep comes back, but he fights it away, knowing full well a friend will be waiting for him by 6:00 A.M.
After loading and securing his bike, a 2008 Fuji Outland Pro (named Darna!!!) with a Shimano Alivio groupset, on his 4×4 the Junkie starts the journey to the meeting place. He’s running late but nothing can be done about that now. During the drive Dante, the friend he’ll be meeting at All Terra, sent an SMS saying it should be better to just meet somewhere nearer Aling Tina’s, the eatery wel-known to mountain bikers as the base camp for those who plan to do the climbs up Timberland or the more gruelling Shotgun trail.
Reaching Aling Tina’s Eatery, the Junkie moved quick (or not, depending on who you ask) and prepared for takeoff. After a quick drink of bottled water Dante and the Junkie are now on their way. Destination is the killer Shotgun climb. Dante’s first attempt and the Junkie’s second time. He plans to conquer it again, but this time with no stopping.
The Junkie leads the way, confirming from fellow riders where Shotgun is. Upon reaching the barricade marking the start of the climb he asks Dante behind him, “Continue?” and Dante says go, so they did, as the Junkie shifts to the smallest chain ring and bigger cogs. Granny gears. He checks his watch. It reads 8:15 A.M.
Conserving energy
As the dirt road slopes up mis-shifts can be heard coming from Dante’s bike. “Dismount and fix your gears! Use your hands!” the Junkie shouts back at Dante but falling on deaf ears. Dante can be hard-headed sometimes, he finds out, but he can only smile and shake his head.
The Junkie continues pedaling. Can I do this, he asks himself? Sweat starts to drip, more and more. He pedals lighter and slower, trying to conserve energy. You don’t need to use everything yet, pace yourself and use more power on the steeper parts, he continues to think to himself.
In the early turns of the track he looks back, making sure Dante is still pedaling. He still is. Good. He reaches the part where they stopped the first time on his first ascent with Mark, Jun, Kenneth, Hyubs, and Doc Raffy (NOTE: Original blog post of the first ascent is lost.) Keep pedaling, he urges. You’re not tired yet, he tries to convince himself.
All along the climb he can see other people, locals walking and with bikes, other groups of mountain bikers enjoying the climb, the views, the exercise, but ignoring them all and avoiding collisions. He just keeps pedaling.
Recovery, stretching without dismounting
He reaches a part where the track flattens out and gradually slopes down a little past the midpoint of the whole climb. Recovery! He stays on this current gearing and pedals slow for recovery. His thighs are tired. He unclips his left foot and while pedaling with his right he stretches and rotates his left ankle and leg. He does the same to his other leg. Again. He shifts a heavier gears, but not too much.
He clips his feet back in as the track slopes down more. He lightly squeezes on his brake levers to lengthen the time he can rest on his bike. Two older bikers pass him. He ignores them. In no time at all the track flattens out again, curves to the right, and starts to climb up again. Let’s do this, he encourages himself. Before the weight can be felt his right thumb automatically pushes the lever for the gears, calling on granny again in preparation for the climb.
Mr. Momentum
The two older bikers stop to rest just before the climb, but a 3rd one, their friend, continues on and passes me by, using his downhill momentum to climb. The Junkie ignores him, too, as he knows the momentum won’t really do much as the climb is too long for the momentum to really help. He keeps pedaling slowly but keeping his own pace. In just a few seconds Mr. Momentum is leveled with the Junkie. “Good morning, sir,” the Junkie says, not disrupting his own pace. “Hi. This is tiring!” the man says. The Junkie smiles, “Yes, sir.”
They both keep pedaling, concentrating, silently encouraging the other to keep on going, that they can both do this. They keep the pace level. This is not a race, but an unwritten contract between two riders sharing the climb, sharing the hardship, sharing the sensation of possibly conquering this mountain once more. The cheers and support for the other rider cannot be heard, but it’s cheering on, it’s shouting out, inside each others’ heads. You can do this, comrade, WE can do this, the Junkie thinks. Small talk can be heard back and forth between the two riders, but only the bikers, the bikes, and the mountain can hear it.
The spinning continues
They pass two more bikers resting. “Good morning, sirs,” the Junkie breathlessly says. “Take a breather for a while,” they call out. The Junkie just smiles and nods a thank you — but the spinning continues. Just a few meters more four more riders are resting. Another set of “Good mornings,” were thrown at them and the Junkie and Mr. Momentum gets a few back. The spinning continues.
Then the short, steep, uphill part is approaching. Just beyond this the heavy equipment are parked. We can do this, the Junkie encourages both of them, but only in his head. Mr. Momentum has fallen back but his labored breathing can still be heard. The Junkie knows he’s just right there behind him, not quitting. He knows they’re nearing the end, but not quite as there are still a few short and sudden uphill bursts — but this is not the time to quit. He has gotten this far without stopping, without stepping on the ground, so the spinning continues.
The end is near
Voices can be heard behind. It sounded like the four riders. He ignores it. Nearing the place where the view of the surrounding city can be seen, and where the deep dug out portion of land is, covered by some sort of plastic or tarpaulin, the voices grow soft. They seem to be falling behind. He doesn’t care. In between the short, steep uphill bursts the track is relatively flat. Recovery.
He then sees another rider slowly pedaling a few meters in front of him. He keeps his pace. Slowly he reaches the other rider. “Good morning,” the Junkie says. The rider looked shock and breathed a surprise gasp. “Is the end of the Shotgun the gate we’ll be reaching?” the Junkie asks. “Yeah,” the other says breathlessly. “Thanks.” They both continue pedaling, the other rider slowly falling back. The Junkie just keeps to his own pace.
Goal! 1-1
The track curves to the right, a huge tree by the left side of the curve. It looks familiar. Just beyond this is the gate, he tries to remember. Upon reaching the curve he sees the gate! Wide open, welcoming him, congratulating him. He passes the gate that tells him he succeeded. He feels elated. A huge smile on his face. He almost shouted out a loud “YES!” but he didn’t. He checks his watch. 9:04 A.M. He starts braking and unclipping. He dismounts. He has reached his goal. Shotgun Hill conquered, no stops, 49 minutes.
Are we done yet?
He checks his cellphone as a few messages were received during the journey up. He gets one from Dante. It read:
5mins then returning. Di na din kaya (I can’t continue anymore). Thanks
The Junkie replied saying OK, to be careful and ride safe, and thanking him, too. After a few photos (1st one was of Darna leaning on the gate, the 2nd of the rider and the bike — taken by a lone biker who arrived, taking the reverse route) he mounts and starts the descent back to Aling Tina’s. The cellphone beeps. It could be Dante. He checks his new message and it read:
Went forward w/ spme (typo) riders. Lapit na daw c house (?; We’re near the house)
A reply was sent saying he’ll track back, so the Junkie turns back and starts pedaling back to the gate. If they’re not there yet I’ll try to go back further. Further down back the road he sees 3 riders. Dante isn’t with them. He continues on. Another group of 3 riders. Another set of hi’s and hello’s, and the 3rd rider looks familiar. It’s Dante.
“How are you?”
“Fine,” he says breathlessly.
The Junkie chuckles.
He hears music, it was coming from the other guy with the Spongebob jersey. The Junkie pedals faster. “I wanna stay in pace with these 2, they’ve got sounds!” he tells Dante.
Lost?
So the foursome continues on. Upon reaching the gate the 3 stop, hydrate, and prepare for the descent. Dante rides past. “This is the end of Shotgun! Take a drink!” but Dante only waved his hand saying he doesn’t need to and continues riding. The 3 follow suit. The Junkie passed the 2 riders chasing Dante. They both pass the left turn going back to Timberland. They went straight, as it was what was told them. The dirt road turns to gravel, the grass in the middle of the road becomes thicker. “Is this the way?” Dante asks. Being a first-timer on this route, also, the Junkie said he wasn’t sure. So they track back, the Junkie riding the climb to check if the 2 riders are still there. They’re gone.
“OK, we should have taken this left.”
As they start riding the track that will lead them to Timberland, then The Wall, the lone rider/photographer was seen approaching. Directions were asked. Thank you’s were given. The ride continues — going home.
Going home
Driving down the flyover crossing Ortigas Avenue along C-5 annoying honks can be heard. He keeps to the right lane since he drives slow, scared Darna might fall off the bike rack. Then a vehicle pulls alongside him and the driver calls out, “CRAW!” calling the Junkie by his known forum nickname. He takes a quick look, notices the same Ateneo jersey on the driver, same jersey as he was wearing, and figures out who it is. It’s Arnel. A fellow southern rider.
Arnel shouted he’s going to the McKinley track in Fort Bonifacio. The Ateneo-UP-Ateneo jersey distribution ride left him wanting to ride more. He overtook the Junkie, maybe showing off his Ellsworth Truth? A call was received on the cell, Arnel was calling.
“Bro, I’m still itching to ride! I’m going to McKinley.”
“I just finished Shotgun… but what the hell, lead the way, let’s ride!”
The war continues… the war is won
As they park the cars, two Ateneans of different generations, separated by years, prepare to ride, brought together by one common thing: mountain biking.
One lap after, the itch is gone, and the Junkie survives yet another ride. This time the war is won.
In the McKinley track we see another rider wearing the Ateneo jersey. This time three generations have been brought together through mountain biking.
Time to go home.
