Category Archives: Gabriel Quezada

Silver (February 2006)

Here’s something I wrote shortly after winning my first UAAP Senior medal back in February 2006.

Finally. Got a silver this afternoon in the hurdles. I topped the overall list of qualifiers (15.85) but sadly, finished 2nd in the final heat. Damn. I was 0.03s away from the gold (Orlando Soriano – 15.72. I clocked 15.75s).

To add insult to injury, I celebrated too early by raising my arms half a meter before the finish line (Note: I actually rose from my dive too early. I did not celebrate early!).


Too early!

That cost me the race since I wasn’t able to outlean the gold medallist, whom I edged out in the same qualifying heat.

Nevertheless, this feels great. How badly I had missed finishing at the top echelons of the field. The cheers of my teammates were incomparable treasures. Seeing them happy because of what I had achieved made this victory a hundred times more sweet.

The Men’s team had a splendid first day, with 3 silver medals (Bryan – 100m dash, John Gregorio – Javelin Throw). In addition, Nina finished second in the 100m hurdles. Three more days to go. The team has to maintain this momentum in order to achieve a podium finish.

Some Photos:


110m Hurdles Heats.


110m Hurdles Heats Results.


Before the start of the 110m Hurdles Final.



Pound-per-pound, my strongest year in college was my pre-injury days. I was fresh out of a breakout junior year, unexpectedly winning a silver medal in the sprint hurdles. Coming into my senior year, I was given the honor of serving as the team’s co-captain.

As a 20-year old, I was running respectable hand-timed mid-15’s. That season, I brought down my hand-timed PR to 15.2s (from 15.8s a year earlier) and my automatically-timed PR to 15.65s (from 15.75s). My confidence was at all time highs. I was audaciously adventurous in my training approach, yearning to reach the thresholds of my bodily limits.

I was a man on a mission, hoping to finally snatch the UAAP gold that eluded me by a mere three-hundredths of a second.

The epitome of this spunky, glorious phase of my collegiate career transpired one particular September morning in 2006. We were competing at the PATAFA Weekly Relays. I came off the blocks slower than usual. FEU’s Orlando Soriano and UE’s Gabriel Quezada powered on to insurmountable leads.

The first race

At the end of the race, I was furiously disappointed. Despite my excellent training sessions, I couldn’t seem to notch a decent enough start. The faster sprinters almost always built up large leads at the start. More often than not, I had to play catch-up, relying on my superior hurdling technique.

When I got to the finish line to retrieve my things, my teammate Lech Velasco (who had a bad race as well) had the crazy idea of joining the next 110m high hurdles heat. I willingly obliged, wanting to vent off steam. As Lech and I assumed the starting position, I saw my befuddled coach look warily in our direction.

When the gun fired, I found myself at the forefront of the slower heat. At the halfway mark, I felt fatigue set in! I could barely sprint. Thankfully, my hurdling technique held true to form. I was able to stave off the fast-finishing Isagani Bayson of DLSU (a UAAP high jump champion and a decent sprint hurdler).

The second race (fast forward to 0:34)

I just ran two sprint hurdler races in a span of around 5 to 7 minutes. I timed a 15.6s in the first race and a 15.8s in the second.

At the finish line, I looked around for Lech. To my surprise I found him near the starting line! It turned out that he was actually referring to one more hurdle starts, not one more hurdle race! Nevertheless, I felt strangely vindicated as the endorphins set it. I was tired of course, but not exhausted – a testament to our fine conditioning regimen. More importantly, it felt great to finish first for a change!

Two months later, I broke my left forearm in a freak hurdling accident. Nine months later, I was back on the track. Physically, I was fully recovered from the injury. But something was wrong psychologically. Despite clocking much faster times in fifth and final year (new PR of 14.9s and 15.52s most of my races were low-15’s), something felt horribly out of place. Perhaps I never really did get the eye of the tiger back in such a short span of time.


My most eloquent moments seem to come at the heels of heartbreak. I wrote the following piece days after my final UAAP. My confidence was shattered; I was aimless. A months-long period of emotional erosion – then healing – took place.

Now that I’m older (and wiser, hopefully), looking back at these turbulent yet formative chapters evokes fond feelings of nostalgia.

11 February 2008

Ah the race.

That race.

I tried to stay with the leaders during the first part of my relay leg, but decided against it after the 180m mark. I disengaged and coasted for about 50m, stayed in position for another 70m, but as I prepared for the final burst my legs simply could not go faster. We were in 5th place when I passed the baton to Mike Mendoza. Even though Mike and JP Azcueta overtook DLSU to get 4th place, we simply could not meet the targets that were set. I put the blame entirely on myself. If I only stayed with the race leaders all throughout. If only I had more speed endurance – more heart.

It was like February 2006 again, when the team failed to win 3rd place by a measly 4.5 points behind UE. Only this time, we lost a bigger prize, the 1st-runner up trophy by the infinitesimal amount of 3.5 points.

Again, there are a variety of “what-if” scenarios, with the aforementioned 4x400m race included. It’s a Pandora’s Box of situations that hardly does any good. But hey, we scored the highest ever aggregate score among all the Ateneo Men’s Track & Field teams that have competed through the years. So many people rose to the occasion and excelled.

I remember writing something several years back, about giving it your all and owing it to yourself in the end. The sun has set and I’m preparing to go down from the hill. In this momentary calm, I recollect my thoughts; put them in order amidst the chaos of these nightmares.

I feel really bad, but it could have been a lot worse. I didn’t meet my goals, but it sure as hell was a great season. I seem to forget that only a year ago, I was struggling to recover from a broken arm. I did break 15 seconds, even if it was only hand-timed, and had an almost forgettable string of low-15 second races. In the UAAP, I clocked a measly 15.52s in the heats and 15.75s in the final. I could have done much better, but the start, the sprint-in-between and the clearing simply didn’t have its usual spring. It could have been psychological; my collapse – my being outclassed – baffles me.

February 7 (and the 10th as well) simply wasn’t my day.

After the relay, which was the last event of the four-day meet, I took my time going back to the bleachers. Ashamed of my performance, I didn’t want to face my teammates. While I was sulking at one of the benches – “wallowing in self-pity” is a more creative and apt term – Orlando Soriano came to me to give his jersey. For a moment, I forgot the negative things and realized that sport did go beyond winning medals and scoring points. For all of track & field’s simplicity – those who throw and leap the farthest, those who run the fastest, wins – it really goes beyond beating the “7 nameless and faceless guys standing in my way.”**

One of the most relevant sports-related quotes out there are the ones by Martina Navratilova, the many-time Wimbledon champion; and Baron Pierre de Coubertin, the founder of the modern Olympics. Navratilova’s words are truthfully blunt: “Whoever said ‘It’s not whether you win or lose that counts’ probably lost.” For Baron de Coubertin, “The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not winning but taking part; the essential thing in life is not conquering but fighting well.”* At first glance, the two seem to lie on opposite poles, with the former viewing winning and losing from a black & white lens, and the latter, being more universal and philosophical.

If you made me chose between the two quotes a year ago, I would have chosen Navratilova’s. Now that I’ve been bitten by defeat’s rabid fangs, her words seem like virulent, bestial jaws devouring my skin – reminding me of the simple truth, that oh so painful of facts, that I’ve lost.

Through the excruciating pangs of failure, I had an epiphany – that these two quotes are not paradoxical. Each one complements the other; the latter builds upon the former: Indeed, sport is about winning; there can only be one winner, one gold medalist – one champion. But sport goes beyond winning and losing. Sport is beyond making a string of excuses that debunks sport’s very essence. Sport is about making goals and meeting them. Sport is facing adversity head on. Sport is about commitment, a wholehearted devotion to something that you love doing.

Sport is about winning yet it goes beyond winning.

In the end, I threw away all those notions of shame and negativity. I mustered enough courage to speak in front of the team – that fine collection of young men who had stood together, fought together, suffered and laughed together – to thank them for a lifetime’s worth of memories.

* – The Olympic creed actually came from a sermon by an American Bishop, Ethelbert Talbot, according to this BBC feature.

** – Quoted from Michael Johnson

*** – For a year after UAAP 70, I was unable to look at these video clips. It was pure agony at that time.

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