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Earlier today, my sister who was arriving from Indonesia had a close-call with airport baggage theft which eventually turned out to be just another "Hey I picked up somebody else's bag" mishap. During those first 20 minutes when I learned that her baggage had disappeared, every conceivable thought - good and bad - flashed through my eyes. On the one hand, I so desperately wanted to punch whoever I thought stole her bag. I wasn't thrilled by the idea that my sister lost her stuff. But an equally nagging concern was about how "some" in our midst can just flip their value switch and say "Hey, I want to steal something today" especially in an international airport where the mere act of touching somebody else's bag can send the wrong information about how we are as a people. I'm not a big believer in first impressions but if I was a foreigner visiting this country for the first time and the moment I land my bag disappears, I wouldn't be touting praises for this country nor would I be arranging a trip back.

But then again, it got me into thinking about the logic behind theft. There is a logic, yes, and while it can be the worst logic in the world, at least in the eyes of the doer the act is justified. (I know that sounds twisted but bear with me here.) I don't think it's beyond comprehension to think that some people just need money for them to be able to eat, buy medicines, whatever. I ended up consoling myself by saying whoever stole my sister's bags should be blessed by God so they won't have to steal ever again. I was hating the deed, but not the doer. For a few good minutes, I was guessing the stealing was merely a reaction - albeit a stupid, idiotic, immoral, and selfish one - to being pushed into a wall because of real needs that could not be remedied by anything else.

I know we're not the only country in the world with crooks in the street; I am even inclined to think we're not the worst. Walk in the Bronx in New York City and chances are, you'd be missing a watch, a wallet, a cellphone and whatever else you have on you. Be careless in a train station in Italy and you'll be traveling light whether you like it or not. Mexico, Colombia, China, India, Nigeria - these countries and still more that I don't have the time to name have more or less developed a reputation that aren't conducive for people who do not pay attention and are not careful. But for every country that has developed a notoriety for stealing and cheating, there is a country where you can just let loose and nobody will care. Leave your car door open in Switzerland and nothing's going to happen; I tell you, nothing! Canada, Japan, Australia - for every country with bums and crooks, there is one with level-headed and honest people. We once dropped a shopping bag in Phoenix, Arizona and conveniently found it at the Lost and Found desk, intact and safe.

Not by coincidence, it is the countries that are poor, bluntly speaking, where stealing and cheating are everyday occurrences. Governments who have not implemented universal health care policies covering every single citizen will have people who are willing to steal for medicines; countries without food stamps and government subsidies for every day substinence will have people willing to steal for food; countries where the average income per family is at or even below the amount needed to live a decent life have people who are willing to risk going to jail just so that they can get by.

By no means are these acts acceptable, but they can be explained by the circumstances around us. It might not be easy to explain or digest the truth, but it continues to remain true regardless. People who have needs that continue to be unmet will be pushed to do something beyond moral, normal, and expected because the rules have changed for them.

The sad part is, these acts are stinging indictments of the kind of governments and government policies that we have. We have politicians who promise the stars but can't even reach the clouds. Our poor continue to remain poor. Our hospitals are stuffed, our classrooms are bursting at the seams, our health centers and hospitals are understaffed and under-equipped, our roads are clogged, our drainage systems are choked, our air is dirty, our medicines are expensive, power - even more. Food, well food remains cheap, but unfortunately it is still too expensive for the many of us.

Today, PNoy has sat in his office for a year. Where are we? What has changed? Are there fewer people on the streets and more food on the tables? Have we built more houses, given jobs to more people, increased wages, lowered taxes, put more criminals in jail?

I've done my share of thinking on those topics so I now leave the thinking to you. It's been a year; but I feel it hasn't been a year worth remembering!

Most say there's a good chance people experience cold feet as your wedding day draws near. Given the immensity of the decision and what follows after that, such experiences aren't really surprising. What's more, in a country that doesn't have divorce as an opt out in case it doesn't pan out well, the decision becomes all the more crucial and life-changing.

Perhaps I'm wired differently because there's no cold feet thus far. My feet continues to be a warm 37C and  getting warmer by the minute, we might as well call it Happy Feet. Or perhaps, as God's word puts it quite clearly, "There is no fear in love. Perfect love drives away fear." You can either choose to fear the unknown and making mistakes, or you can choose to relish the chance to build something beautiful with somebody you know will hold your hand no matter what happens. For the first time in my life, I am never more sure of a decision than now. I look at Nej and everytime, I feel assured that everything's going to be fine. Nope, we don't believe in roses on well-paved roads or cherry blossoms the whole year round; we only believe that God will see us through as long as we stay truthful to the vows we will formally make on October 22.

We are in no position to lecture on relationships given our relative youthfulness but we've been able to weather  a ton of stuff thus far and in the process grow together closer, more trusting, more loving, more assured. With  us, it has always been a process of learning, knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses and discovering how best to complement each other. We know things will only get tougher ahead and today is the best day to be stronger together. And to be perfectly honest, that's really all that I keep thinking about when I look at her - she's already that much beautiful inside and out that the only thing I can do is make sure she continues to spread her wings, free from fear and confident that she can take the world. In the same way, she has empowered me to be somebody that keeps on striving for the better. Her continual words of support, encouragement, even pride over the littlest things that I do sometimes makes me feel I am a superhero capable of doing anything. In all these years I've been called Superman, Green Lantern, Iron Man - but only when I run, Aquaman (that one has a ton of funny stories behind it), even Flash and yes I'm looking forward to being called Captain America. In the same way, she to me has been Princess, Earth Warrior, Lois Lane... if only Captain Planet had a female counterpart.

But no matter what we give and take from each other, there is nothing more powerful than God's immense guidance, blessings, wisdom and the power through faith that once we commit to this relationship, He will see us through so that only His name is glorified. We stand on the edge of the aisle with a lot of anticipation and even more joy for what God is about to do through us being together.

It's all beautiful from where we stand. We hope you can join us when we finally take each other's hand in marriage.

I've been mum about the subject for a while but have carried it with me since I came back to the Philippines a little more than two weeks ago. My epiphany comes from a rather disconcerting brush with foreigner friends who were eager to learn what it is like to be in Philippines. I have loved the Philippines for as long as I can remember; I have resisted all invitations to work abroad and have remained steadfast in my resolve that I will spend my prime working years in the country where I belong. When I speak to friends and workmates who have not been in the Philippines, they will mostly hear praise about the things the Philippines has to offer. I have no qualms inviting them over, telling them it's an experience they are most likely not going to forget - in a good way of course; I hope.

But amidst all this, there is one thing that nags at me like sore thumb: there are just too many people in Manila. That brings me back to the story I was talking about in the opening sentence of this post. I was discussing with a Swiss friend who eventually settled on asking how many people live in Manila to which I promptly said "About 15 million." (Based on 2009 census figures, that number falls short by 5 million). For somebody who lives in a country with a total population of a little over 7 million people, it's pretty shocking to learn that some metropolitan area somewhere in the world has twice more people than his whole country combined. Sensing his distress at this information, I backpedaled by saying Manila is "around" third in the world in terms of urban population density and that cities like Tokyo and Mexico City are "probably" ranked higher. I didn't even had the courage to tell him that Metro Manila's land area of 638 square kilometers is only 1.5% of the size of his whole country; Switzerland, in contrast, has a "relatively small" land area of 41,285 square kilometers. Do the math!
 
I was stewing with these considerations when the succeeding day, he came back to me with information that turned my spinning head into a virtual Merry-Go-Round. He said he actually looked it up and Wikipedia told him Manila has the highest urban population density in the world, some 43 thousand people per square kilometer. I seriously had no answer for this; instead, I resorted to assuring him that we have some of the best beaches in the world, the most hospitable people, and "anytime you go outside of Manila, you are more than guaranteed to find a place that will feel just as normal as if you are home" referring to the wide open spaces and fresh air that Switzerland seems to have an over-abundance of. He promptly let it pass and even promising he'd try his best at planning a trip for the Philippines.

It’s been more than two weeks but these numbers are still festering in my head. The way he said it reminds me of my personal struggles with the MRT, my irk over Manila traffic, the obscenely dirty rivers and water ways, the shanties left and right, the understaffed and overpopulated schools, a severe lack of budget in almost all areas from medical to military, and the government's inordinate failure at providing what the people need. We are not on anyone's list of best countries to live in, mind you. We're on all sorts of bad lists from corruption to overpopulation and it would take a genie intervention to get us on a list of countries that are attractive migration destinations. Add to this the fact that we've only recently breached 90 million people and are primed for breaking the 100 million mark in less than 10 years and you know we have a problem.

How fitting is it then that the RH bill is a common water-cooler topic these days. To be honest, I can't even argue objectively about the RH bill because my experiences have convinced me that a little more prudence and planning in population control will go a long way into making us a better country. True, we cannot blame the innocent people for the failures of this government, but in turn you cannot expect the government to deliver beyond its means. There are only so much taxes and earnings going into the state's coffers that appropriating it for 90 million people is already a daunting challenge. We have a severe limitation in resources because there's only so much that can go around and THAT many to share it with.

I am convinced that the vicious cycles we are finding ourselves in today are heavily influenced by the dynamics of population. Some argue that with more people to go around, more people can work. However, because we don't have sufficient budget for education, we're left with people who have no training in any facet of professional work. In the same way, our streets are choked, our transportation systems are clogged, our hospitals are full, our schools are bursting at the seams, and the government is stretched beyond its means just to cope up with the current number. What little space in Manila we only dedicate for living space, streets or malls. We have a severe shortage of trees, parks. You won’t find a single soul who will say “I need to relax so I’m going to Manila!” When we've grown to a hundred million in a few years, I cannot even imagine the scenario.

RH bill dissenters who present deflecting arguments need to understand that reeling population back in is not mutually exclusive with the fight on corruption. We will not stop prosecuting crooks and exposing their greed when the RH Bill is passed into law. We won’t even try to argue that the RH Bill is the magic bullet to cure all ills; it’s not the magic kool-aid that will empower our wills. It doesn’t prohibit forming families and certainly not oppressive to merit comparisons with China’s One-Child Policy. It does not advocate abortion, neither does it open the way for sex education to fourth graders. In its simplest form, it is about granting easier access to reproductive health and mandating the government to make it a priority to develop programs that will inform couples of the better way to plan a family.

Of course there are still potential ethical pitfalls in this debate, I know. But it would have pleased me more if people debate about making the RH bill work by positively contributing to developing methods that make it more ethical, more enforceable, more responsible, and more socially aware. It pains me that some people only argue against it because it's the first opinion that comes into their heads even if they have not given it proper thought. For something as gravely important, people only argue in the black and white.

I don’t know how this will pan out; I am only sure of one thing. We need to responsibly grow as a people. Anything else will only serve to divide us more. And frankly, I’ve grown too tired about dividing.

As I write this, I am 36 hours from my second marathon. I can almost hear the gun that will signal the start of the race. I can almost hear the boisterous noise from a crowd of 1,200-strong first-time wanna-bes and past marathoners, all anxious and eager to conquer the great expanse that is the Skyway; all 42.2kms of it. I can almost see myself taking deep breaths to relax and lower down my heartrate. That's probably my biggest weakness as a runner; I get too excited even before I take my first step in a race that oftentimes I throttle out of the gates at a speed I can almost always not maintain until I run out of gas barely halfway into the route. And then I fall back and miss my time goals and kick myself hard for starting too fast and not having a plan for finishing strong.

As I prepared for this challenge, I keep going back to my first marathon, not more than 10 months ago. I didn't train hard enough for that run. I sleepwalked through most of the short training runs, waltzed through the long runs, barely had any speedwork and the rest of the runs on the training calendar I just skipped altogether. I ended up with roughly only 416km-worth of mileage, about 15% of which were probably done on the elliptical to maintain my cardio condition without being too harsh on my knees. I was heavier then. Every impact sent jarring forces through my heels and into my knees. I didn't know proper running form. I just ran, as a child would underneath a blissful afternoon in the barrio. And I survived that experience. I crossed the finish line in one piece, cramping in three places, but praising God for a marvelous and almost life-exchanging experience.

This time I can boldly say "I trained for this." In fact, to be more exact, I think I overtrained for this. I ran intelligently, mixing speedwork and long-runs and strength training to work on my weak areas. I ended up with a relatively healthy 680+ kms on my training odometer. From all this, I broke my 21k and 16k PRs and felt the whole time that I could have gone faster. Less than 4 weeks ago, I ran a 16k race in 1 hour, 20 minutes. My previous 16k PR was 1:39:00. I was stronger, faster, more enduring. I was feeling great.

And then this week came. Tuesday, I did one last dose of strength-training to work on my legs. My left calf was still a weakness. Two months ago, it was the first area that cramped when I ran 32ks. It needed help and I was determined to give it all the help it can get, except that I think I overdid it this time. Thursday, I woke up feeling so sore I couldn't walk straight for the rest of the day. The muscle hurts when I touch it. I couldn't even flex my leg straight, and even if I did after a lot of effort, I can't put any weight on the leg lest I grimace into an awful scowl. Walking was a chore; imagine running a marathon. My left calf was failing me again. My heart sank from frustration, disappointment, and regret.

Today, it's feeling a little better. A few hot compresses, painkillers, ointments, and a long night's rest with my left leg raised three pillows high did a lot to relieve the strain. The next 36 hours are what stands between me, the road, and complete healing. But I still ways to go. As I write this I can still fill the muscle twitches that signal the onset of cramping. I am deeply scared and truly concerned. I am resting my leg as much as I can but that's the only thing I can do; apart from praying. And by praying, I mean praying a whole lot.

There's a common trend in the running community that a runner's worst marathon is normally his second, not his first. It is understandable; people have the tendency to prepare well for the first because they do not know what to expect and therefore compensate by trying to be as ready as they can. There's also that expectation of wanting to know what lies at the end of the finish line. Runners describe finishing the marathon as a life-changing experience and wanna-bes will want to figure out why.

Second time marathoners do the opposite. You know what to expect, you know it's going to be painful but you've done it before. Who's to say you cannot do it again. You've been there, you've seen it, you know you can do it. This creates a feeling of complacency.

I decided right at the onset that complacency was not going to be my problem. It indeed, was not. Over-eagerness is. If I only rested, I would have felt great today.

But that's all behind me now. There is nothing but the Sunday 330AM gunstart and the next 42ks that come with it. I'm not sure that I'll be ready. I'm not sure that I'll finish within my time goal. I'm not even sure if I'll finish.

That's what makes this race exciting. Because of this injury, I am reminded to look ahead to this race like I did every other single race, with blind faith and a firm belief that God will not forsake me. If it was all by my strength, I might have coasted and in the process forgot God's everlasting grace. I was so feeling ready; am I reminded that I can never be fully ready. Only faith will pull me through.

And so finally, I find peace in the knowledge that whatever will happen, God will keep me together in one piece. Four months worth of training, thrown out of the window, is not something to laugh at. But it also underscores one amazing thing with faith; total surrender. Now I am sure, more than ever, that I'll finish my second marathon and many more after that. My second might or might not be the one this Sunday. It's all in God's hands. Whatever is ahead, I open my my hands to receive His bounty. I run for His glory. I rest in His arms. I am in peace. Now, more than ever, I am sure to enjoy what dreams may come!

Perhaps the reason why life is so hard is because if it was any easier, everyone would just coast without care. Because life as is currently designed is a little tricky, everyone has to have their heads in the game. A mishap here and there and opportunities pass us by, or worse we get run over by a passing truck. Either way, we lose something - if not everything - and that's not really enticing or pleasant nor does it make our days easier and more liveable.

Conventional wisdom holds that life is a series of challenges we all need to overcome one after another (or as is frequently the case, a torrent of concerns that comes in bunches oftentimes unrelenting and just plain persistent) and when we've conquered the lessons, we hope to become sagelike enough that the concerns of everyday just brush us by without leaving any lasting mark. This is no more evident than in the pursuit of nirvana by monks who choose to leave the lives they lead in favor of the silence, solitude, and the calm of caves and dwellings far removed from civilization they might as well exist in another time.

But I digress. I have nothing against those who believe that life's true meaning can be gained by unceasing meditation. In fact, I'd be lying if I say I can't benefit from a moment of personal silence. But I do not believe either that the best way is to just check out and turn your back from the world. As tempting as it is to just let go and be gone, it just doesn't seem right.

Or consider, if we can only play the game at our own pace.  Imagine we all have a Pause button we can all run to so everything just freezes for a moment and then we have all the time to ourselves. Think of that super hero guy Brad Pitt voiced over in Megamind. He practically pushed Pause, thought about his whole life while everything else was on super-super-slow-mo, and decided to check out because it was no longer making sense for him. If you think about it, why not a pause button? We already have "Stop" (although it doesn't really come with a re-play which makes it a little bit disconcerting); everyday is a Fast Forward especially if it's a weekday; we sometimes get Rewinds in the form of do-overs, although life could have been a little more generous in this department... But we have never been given a Pause. There is almost always no option to just take time to assess everything because life will continue to move forward whether or not you are in for the ride. Life in the fast lane is nothing but a tautology because unless you check out on everything else, there is no such thing as life in the slow lane.

But then again, perhaps that is the genius behind life and living. We don't get to have Pause buttons because the design isn't to make things easier but to weed the gamers from the lackeys. There is no other option but to be responsible. There are no chances for taking a break or checking out. In the game of everyday living, every minute is war. You're either in, or you're out altogether.

Or perhaps, life is there to show us that alone and by ourselves, we are nothing. No matter how prepared or lucky we are, there are bound to be days when the last thing you want to do is crawl out of bed and into the sun. However rosy we think our outlook is, there's always something that throws us the proverbial left hook, knocks us off our socks (and not in a good way), and leaves us biting our lips and licking our wounds in the dust. We get up, struggle and lift ourselves up only to be there right where it all started and everything starts to come down again. With every high comes an impending low. Without the lows, one cannot appreciate the highs.

All of these tell me one thing: that I am nothing. If there is nothing but all these, no purpose, no pathway, then all is lost. If all that I get to do is go through the same cycle over and over again, then what's the point? If my only other option is to turn my back from the world, then why live in the first place?

Thise is why I believe in a Higher Power who sees me all the time, knows what I'm doing and takes care of me. But only if I let Him. His design is such that we are never too far from our free will, and our choices define the consequences and circumstances we face. Only when we truly trust does He truly take over. In the fast lane, He's either the driver, or we are. If we hold on to the wheel, there is simply no room for Him to steer. That's when we find ourselves in all sorts of trouble.

I believe in His gracious promise that He has a plan for us, not to harm us, but to prosper us; to give us hope and a future. I'll take that promise any day over playing hermit in some far-off mountain cave, oblivious to the rest of the world. I take that promise over the desire to play macho but be blind to all that can and will happen. I take that promise over the constant fidgetting that if only we have a Pause, then we could think before making every move. I take that promise over checking out or throwing the towel. I take that promise over giving up.

Instead, I choose give in. I trust. I am keeping my faith.

In faith and because of faith, I am appreciating the best thing that life has to offer. Living!

And through it I can finally put all my "perhaps life" dialogues to rest.

One of the most wonderful and equally sad moments in life is when we decide to move on and pursue new ventures. Face it, nobody wants to be stuck doing the same thing forever and ever; and yet nobody wants to really say goodbye to anyone either. No matter the mix of volatile emotions, we all decide to move on at some point. Old watering holes get abandoned, old friends and acquaintaces, workmates and drinking buddies, get swapped for new friends, acquaintances, new workmates and drinking buddies. However dear we hold on to anything in life, time has a way of deconstructing it all apart leaving us to polish the scraps for what can only amount to as a re-building process, if not just a passive diversion of our time and emotions to other more fulfilling endeavors until something new comes along.

The thing with me is, things like this get a little more complicated than they are in most people.

For the average Joe, there are surefire signs and checkpoints that tell him he has to start moving on. For example, going to college, or graduating from college, finding work in a new place, getting married and relocating to the wifey's place. These stuff are major milestones each requring an altogether new set of arrangements. But in between the lull is peace, quiet, and the promise of a marvelous life-steering routine that puts everything in their places and reduces most things to nothing but just another schedule in the daily planner.

I am anything but average, unfortunately. That is not to say I am better than most, in fact to the contrary. My life seems to be a cacophonic mixture of things here and there, a hodge-podge of stuff, interests and passions that supposedly don't belong together but manage to stick together out of my sheer will for obssessive compulsiveness.

As a kid growing up in the rural fringes of a typical Filipino municipality, I was Junboy "The Kid". In those days, nothing mattered but the pleasure of play and the leisure of youth. There were no responsibilities. It was all about getting out in the sun and running around until your legs give way and everything itches like hell. It was a case of perpetually being bullied and rarely, occassionally, seldomly striking back. It was about impromptu boxing matches under shady mango trees on Saturday afternoons and finding excuses as to how I got that small welt under my right eye. Nothing mattered but the great outdoors. I was a kid, and I lived those times like one.

In highschool, I was Sam "The Achiever". I was, not by chance, the Class Valedictorian, the Choir President, the Student Body President, the Battalion Commander, the Editor-in-Chief, the Rondalla President, among other things. I took on responsibilities left and right, eager to prove and please. I dabbled in the high school marching band until other responsibilities pushed me out into other things. I joined contests left and right from Math to Chemistry, Physics, Nutrition, Statistics, DaMath, Orations, and Journalism. In retrospect, I might have been a little selfish for taking it all in but seeing how everything turned out, I think I'd be hard-pressed to say I regretted anything.

In college, perhaps drunk with all the extracurricular activities from highschool, I chose to focus and specialize. I still had my studies, but debating was my world. From the end of my first year in college up until the very end, I was busy arguing on the podium and off of it. I spent countless nights pouring over internet sources even if the loading speed would envy a turtle's pace. When the net was down, as was often the case in those days, I went to the Library serials section and burned time reading 2-week old three-a-bind newspapers. I was crazy over the UN, Iraq, NATO, the IMF and World Bank, some friggin' war in Somalia and the impending independence of Kosovo, whether Japan was better off re-arming itself, all the chaos that was Enron; name it, I had something to say about it. Any normal college student would have been hard-pressed to deal with their daily lessons. To me, the lessons were the things you study when there's no debate tournament in the horizon. When a Mindandao or a national tournament is in the cards, you can bet I was learning how stem cells work or if US hegemony was the worst thing that happened since 9/11.

After graduation, it was off to work and the smell of financial independence. With it came new modes of diversion. It used to be all about work and my blogs had plenty of vile, they might as well be hate mail. Don't get me wrong, I was enjoying what I was doing. What I was hating was how some people had to make it difficult for everybody. I wrote often, and I wrote fast. Thankfully, not that many people read whatever I spewed. And for those who did, I got either pats on the back and advises to just tough it out, or bolt out of the door never to be seen again. Between all the vile and bitterness, I eventually figured out that my time was better spent doing something else. So I started reading again, and just like writing, read a lot I did. To this day, my books remain to be silent witnesses to the insane number of hours I spent devouring fiction for lack of anything better to do. After that, I graduated to movies thinking two-hour flicks are friendlier than 10-hour reading marathons, even if often the movies turn out to be totally underserving of the 2-hours you just invested. It was either the cinemas, some days I do two-a-nights, or CDs. Eventually, my stack of CDs was starting to grow at an alarming rate that I had to start transporting them back home everytime I had the chance. On some instances, I could be mistaken for a smuggler because half my luggage was chuck-full of CDs. Thank God they were all originals.

From reading to movies, to games. Starcraft, Red Alert, Counterstrike; it'll be too much of a bore and too long of a list to write everything here. I spent nights up until the wee hours of the morning controlling robots and pheasants and warriors and aliens, like a warfreak dictator who's thirst can only be sated by the carcass on the virtual battlefield. Then I eventually moved on to badminton, then basketball, and then a few other things. The sheer number of distractions I devoted my life to doing at some point, however short, I no longer could recall all of them. Only when I find the time to go through the trash monsters under my bed will I ever remember, although to be honest I am not really looking forward to any of that remembering.

I fuzz about all these because today, I have running. Next to studying, something that I never really gave my all to despite the latin honors and the medals during the recognition exercises, I think this is my healthiest obssession yet. I'd be forgiven to constantly enumerate its benefits because for once, I really do think I'm a better person. It's the one thing I give time to that's giving back life, if not years. The good part is that knowing myself, if I didn't have running now, I would have had something else and it wouldn't have been any better. The bad part is in my tendency to throw caution to the wind and devote myself to my current pursuits oftentimes eclipsing the other things in my life.

Life. If it has taught me anything, it is that the life that's best lived is the life that is in balance. Too much of anything is never a good thing; too less of something is equally bad. Mine's a little more compartmentalized. I go through phases; I pour so much of myself into that phase, then just like that move on to do other things. That's who I am, and that's what I do.

I am not scared because I know I might give up running at some point. If it was entirely up to me, I know I would. Life will find a way to back me into a corner and force me to choose. If the right choices with the heaviest stakes present themselves, I can very well walk away from running without as much as shrug. The caveat is that if and when I give up running, all that good personality might also walk out of the window with it. I don't want to go back to the life with the mini mood swings, the headaches and the migraines, the weight, the blood pressure worries, the negative outlook in life, the risk of diabetes and heart diseases and whatever else that I use to be back then. I would like to think running has subdued them all and it's absence can bring them all back.

What scares me is that when I will be forced into a corner, that nobody will talk some sense into me to continue running and fighting. It scares me to not have a support structure that'll make the decision-making process a little bit more challenging. It scares me to not have anybody to cheer me to just push forward. Not having second thoughts scare me. Regretting whatever my decision will be doesn't.

This is one phase I want to become a mainstay, only because I know this is that phase that's making me a better person for myself and for the others around me. But I cannot count on myself to make that happen.

Which is why, I need you.

Because if it was just me, this'll just be another phase. And with each phase comes that time to move on.

Before you read any further, please know that this is written from the perspective of someone who has been on both sides of the fence. I know how it feels to be heavy, and how it feels to be light. I know the joys of food binging without regard for one's weight, and I know how torturous but weirdly fulfilling it is to eat responsibly (euphemistically speaking). I know how it feels to run 21 kilometers in under two hours and reach the finish line grinning from ear-to-ear, and I also know how it feels to run less than 200-meters and just stop in the middle of the road because everything just hurts like hell. This is not from someone who had it all easy.

That being said, I think it shouldn't come as no surprise that I am now a proponent of healthy living. Those who know me personally know my story. In a nutshell, it's geek and couch-potato turned athlete and health-buff, or at least that's how I want to look at myself right now. Not too long ago, I weighed around 160lbs, felt so unhealthy and had the medical results to go with it, and worse didn't understand why people need to starve themselves through diets or kill themselves in the gym. Deep inside, I longed to be slimmer, thinner, healthier; but doing something major about it didn't really cross my mind. I couldn't be bothered by such a physically taxing demand. I wanted the results but I never really wanted to put in all the work. That was my thing, until I transitioned to an altogether different mindset.

Love.

When I thought of losing weight and being healthy as the only goal that really mattered, everything felt like hell. I focused so much on how much effort I need to put in to lose all that weight. I kinda starved yourself to death, for short periods of time, then recovered to eat all of the calories back because I was hungry. It wasn't fun. The restraint that is required to turn your back from oreos, M&Ms, two cups of rice and the delicious chicken from KFC, I most certainly didn't have that. I went through bouts of fits-and-tantrums to summon every single ounce of discipline, patience, and even honesty to get to a tenth of where I wanted to go, and yet my best almost always wasn't good enough 

Put it bluntly, I probably spent a good 5 to 6 years of my life living in the most unhealthy of ways and the honest truth was that there's no way I can reverse 6-years worth of bad living overnight. I thought about all the times that I ate and didn't care. All the cakes, ice cream, meat, whatever tickled my fancy. Six years of that is what I had on me, and to lose all of that "baggage" in a month or two, or even a year, is just next to impossible. "And yet we wonder why it requires so much effort."

My trick to making life a little easier is finding something that I love and investing my time in it. For me, that's running. I rekindled romance with a first love and the rest is history. In most other people's case, it doesn't even have to be running. It can be swimming, biking, badminton, dancing, yoga, tennis, soccer, basketball, volleyball; a thousand options are available for the picking. Think of that one thing that you have always felt you wanted to learn or do. For some others, it doesn't even have to be anything sporty. People who love spending time with friends can channel that time doing something productive together like a trek through some park or throwing frisbees on the beach instead of chugging down bucket-loads of sugar-marinated coffee and smoking the afternoon away in some hot Starbucks spot.

The secret is to be honest to yourself about that which you would love doing, and to be patient with yourself for not being really good at it outright. Do not be suckered into something because others are doing it, although that can likewise be an option. Deep inside, you know what you really want. The hard part is convincing yourself that, just like any other desire or want, you have to do something about it. For you to develop a relationship with that passion, you have to start somewhere. Being honest to yourself about really wanting to do that which you love is a pretty good "somewhere". For me, I just loved running ever since I can remember, even if it has never really loved me back all these years. And so I just tried, and tried again; until I eventually got the hang of it.

My next challenge was to take time to savor my rediscovery of a long-lost craft without going for too lofty goals too early (although it has to be said that I kinda did). I realize now that the longer one finds himself doing whatever it is that appeals to him, the deeper his love grows for that craft. Attention breeds desire. Desire is the Pandora's Box to all things good, at least in this case. The more time we spend doing it, the better we become at it. The better we are, the more fulfillment we gain out of it; and the more fulfilled we are, the more we try to be better today than we were yesterday.

After reaching that that stage when you know you're deeply in-love with your craft and you start to see incremental and positive results, everything else becomes easy. Without as much as a shoulder shrug, I started going out of my way to be better and gain an edge. I voluntarily changed my diet, toiled in the gym to get stronger and work on my deficiencies. In hindsight, I think I did not even require external motivation. Of course, the company of a few competitive folks who pushed me beyond my limits is a plus, but trust me, love can make us do stupid things all on your own.

And without you even realizing where time went or how long I have been occupied by that which I love doing, I was becoming healthier, fitter, stronger you. Losing weight was now easy because I wasn't thinking about it all the time. My cardiovascular fitness improved by leaps and bounds. Where before I start breathing heavily after a short brisk walk, I can now run for hours and enjoy every second of it. With all the endorphic rewards that I was enjoying by living a physically active lifestyle, everything else was a blur.

My biggest gripe is not realizing all of these sooner. Of course I never really was that big to begin with so perhaps the motivation was not as strong. But then again, even those who are genetically wired to not gain weight have to worry about other complications that are not tied to weight, i.e. blood pressure, sugar levels and the like, as I was there. On the other end, I was also thinking that I was born to not do anything remotely resembling sports to which I now say, look at me now. I was there before. Back then, I was pretty sure I was born to read books and debate and solve math problems. Who says you can't do all that while "on the run?"

The biggest mental shift that I had to take was understanding that health is wealth. In this day and age of 3-minute meals, ubiquitous fast-food stores, and greasy-fatty-oily treats, dying young has almost become a fad. If it runs in your family, all the more reason to be scared. It can strike anytime and you never even knew what hit you. The prospect of long lives are no longer givens but goals we need to work hard for in order to attain. Raising a family even ups the ante; I planned on a long married life and raising kids and that made me realize how much stronger and how long I have to be healthy to provide for them. And it goes without saying that I would want to see them grow and have families of their own.

My decision to live healthier is a product of many a night's worth of musings over tosses-and-turns in my comfy bed. It wasn't an epiphany that I took to in just a flash. It was a long tedious process. And after the umpteenth toss-and-turn, I came to my decision.

I choose wellness.

And this is how I did it!

I found myself in a bookstore yesterday while waiting for a client (ehem) and as I was browsing through a stack of "books for less" I stumbled upon the most promising of titles: "The End of Overeating" authored by no less than David Kessler, M.D., the US Food and Drug Administration chief who served in both the George H.W. Bush and Bill Clinton administrations. Even as I was pressed for time, I managed to browse through the book enough to understand most of the finer points of eating psychology that he was making (and they are indeed very good that at some point I might probably do a short summary). Weirdly enough, it was at that moment that I realized the point that I am about to make...

..That of a collective memory bank, and the value of relationships and sticking together...

Allow me to explain. In a nutshell, the collective memory bank is the aggregate sum of us, our friends, family, acquaintances, the people that we have talked to and interacted with to some decent extent, and how this sum serves as one giant dormant but easily retrievable repository of experiences, opinions, thoughts, ideas, psychology, what-ifs and what-nots. It's our very own internet, the real social network, without us needing to go online.

I realized this while reading Dr. Kessler's book. True enough, the man is one brilliant mind and one of the most distinguished experts in his field. But somehow, regardless of how strong his arguments were and how well-reasoned they were, I never got the idea that I was reading something new nor learning something that I haven't known before. To me, it all seemed like I was remembering things that I have already known for a really long time but either chose to forget or disregard.

The same can be said for friends who ask for advise. Oftentimes, I don't end up with world-flipping, mind-bending, Noble-prize worthy advises and ideas. On the contrary, what I say to friends who have problems are the same things over and over again, and in most cases, they seem to be just logical, simple, and pedestrian responses to the issues of life. Because these aren't mind-bending ideas in the first place, you never see their eyes open wide in wonder and mouths hanging open as in receiving a revelation from above. What you'll always see is the most basic sign of surrender, as in shoulders slumped and a sigh of relief, and an acceptance of something that they've already know for a long time but either chose to forget, neglect or disregard. In a sense, it's their ideas themselves that cure their ills. They just had to be reminded.

In this golden age of connectivity and technology, one thing remains ever clear: you almost always can't get personal advise - whether pertaining to relationships or any other social behavior - from the internet (not if you don't count chatting with friends). We have developed to such an amazing extent our understanding of the hard sciences, but the social sciences and in deeper essence, human psychology, has remained to be a largely interactive, personal, subjective, and conditional affair. Therapy is still, for the most part, a talk-and-listen thing. It still involves sitting, or lying down, in a comfy chair and talking about things while somebody listens and ferrets out the details.

This is why I chose to write about this thought. A person's collective memory bank, one that we develop by talking to people and sharing yur experiences, ideas, opinions, what-ifs and what-nots, is easily the most accessible, and reliable, help that we can get whenever we're down. Think of how many times a friend, a family member, or an acquaintance, helped us get through a problem just by pitching-in their two cents about where we are in life and how we are feeling, and how oftentimes we realize that we've known those things all along and we only needed reminding.

What's more profound about this is the fact that we have the ingrained tendency to only accept ideas that we have already cultured and processed for a while. Throw someone a random, weird, and unique idea and they don't normally accept it. Just the opposite, you'll get a debate out of the whole thing. The most powerful advices are those that we have known and accepted all along but just needed to be brought back to the surface after a bunch of the other things that happen in life have buried them down.

Because of the information overload that we go through everyday, nobody in this modern age has the time or bandwidth to do a little instrospection at the end of the day. Gone are the days of peace and quiet when all that matters is you feeling peaceful. Everything is such a rush that when we get up in the morning, it's a constant battle against being late and when we get home in the afternoon, we're already too tired to care. And don't even ask what happens between the waking up and the lying down because that part is just pure, unadulterated war with the world. Instrospection and meditation are lost arts, practiced only by the few that we might as well consider endangeared.

It is now, more than ever, that we need good friends in our lives; a healthy savings account that we can withdraw from when down and we need a bailout.

I guess the take-away is to talk more, make friends, spend the time building our bank accounts. Does talking on the internet count? I think it does, but nothing beats the real thing when we can see the person and we can gleam the sincerity from their eyes and the sympathy from the way the move their hands, shoulders, whatever-else.

Not long ago, I read from a survey published in Discovery magazine that people who have more friends tend to be happier people. When you stack up all the statistics and comb through the data, the one overriding factor that makes people happy is having deep lasting relationships with friends and family. Sure money matters, and so does a lot of other things, but friendships matter more than all of these other things in life.

The other bigger, more important thing, is that God works in our lives almost always through the people that surround us. He uses the people dearest to us to effect the change that we'd so desperately craved for. His work through us happens when He moves us through others. The deeper our connections with the people around us, the more that God can use them to help us up.

One running adage that always keeps me going reflects this. "If you want to finish fast, run alone. If you want to finish strong, run together."

We all will run the race that is set before us. The trick to finishing stronger is in running it together.