I did not start out as a track & field athlete. Although I took tennis, basketball and taekwondo lessons as a kid, I became engrossed in sports quite late – as a high school sophomore in 2000. Back then, I started participating in after-school pick-up games just to blow out steam. Soon enough, I was hooked to the hoops game
That summer was unforgettable. My first experience with organized athletic training (with the Ateneo High School “B” team) was an eye opener. It made me realize how puny my basketball skills were. Although I had a decent enough jump shot, I had no semblance of basketball IQ, in light of my late start as a 15 year old.
Despite the embarrassment wearing thick Rec Spec goggles and my poor game, one particular thing stood out – my legs had spring. In those grueling campus runs I did with the team, I re-discovered my talent for running (back in grade school, I used to run a lot in those games kids play). As the training progressed, I found myself ahead of everybody. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. A last-minute coaching change ensued. Despite earning the respect of the erstwhile head coach with my sterling work ethic, I had to prove myself yet again to the new head honcho. A month later, I got cut off from the lineup.
My basketball dreams were dashed; I was in shambles.
Vowing to return to the team better than ever, I joined the track & field squad, hoping to improve my overall athleticism. A year later, I attended the tryouts of my former basketball team. The hard court and the ball seemed so alien to me.
There and then, I realized where my field of dreams lay not on the high school basketball court, but on that quiet open space at edge of the Hill.
I can still remember the first time I ran on that grass track. It was a Wednesday afternoon way back in 2000. When I saw the wide expanse of the field and the multitude of people doing sports, I felt intimidated. I did two awkward laps.
In my senior year two years later, I spent an inordinate amount of time on the track. For hours I honed my hurdling technique and busted my lungs doing sprints. I spent the entire summer before my senior year training alone at that very field. I started at the break of dawn, fighting off the strong urge of boredom. I trained like a man possessed since I wanted to become the fastest man on campus and to win as many medals as possible. I had purpose and I knew what I wanted. The experience of training alone for two arduously long months was character building – a pivotal point in my young life.
Even in college, I made it a point to train at the high school oval from time to time. I felt attached to the place since this was where my dreams of track & field glory began. Amidst the peaks and troughs of competition, I found an oasis of solace in that grass track.
Looking back, I realized how much I’ve grown through the years. And how the high school track has been a constant fixture of that growth. I haven’t hung up my spikes yet, although for a good part of the past two years, I thought I had. I’m still running, sprinting and hurdling, albeit at a dramatically reduced pace. After all, there are far more bigger things in life than track & field.
With career and other more pressing issues taking center stage, that quiet spot at the Ateneo campus retains a certain sense of nostalgia – and more.
As the dreams of fading youth flicker, a momentary darkness sets on that fecund plain. In time, dawn arrives and the sun’s warmth bathe the field of dreams once more.
Hurdler49: Hurdling the Real World 