More often than not, whenever I introduce myself as a track and field athlete, people give me puzzled faces as if they’ve heard something foreign. Trying not to embarrass themselves they would remark, “’Di ba ‘yun yung takbuhan?” The reply might appear correct, but to the ears of a passionate track and field athlete, the answer is insufficient. It is true that my sport involves running, but it isn’t entirely about running. This lack of awareness of the sport sometimes makes me think that track and field or athletics is dead in the Philippines.
There’s a reason why there’s “field” in “track and field.” The sport also features the jumps and throws which are labeled as the “field events.” For the jumps, athletes build up speed in a runway to throw themselves horizontally from a take-off board or vertically over a bar. Contrary to what most people would think, jumpers sprint at a speed which they can control in order to transfer the momentum they’ve generated to horizontal or vertical distance. Sprint too fast and one ends up crashing and burning to the sand pit or to the foam.
The throws are similar to the jumps except that instead of throwing themselves, throwers use implements—the shotput (a steel ball), the disc, the javelin, and the hammer (a steel ball attached to a steel string). Most people would think that throws generate power from their arms. Contrary to popular belief, throwers generate power by transferring energy stored in their legs to their arms. For the javelin throw, athletes have a runway to work with. For the shotput, discus throw, and hammer throw, athletes build up speed by creating rotational speed or horizontal displacement in the throwing circle. Brute strength can only get one so far.
Perhaps, their answer is insufficient because people have confused track and field with fun runs. I can’t blame them though. At first glance, they appear to be doing the same thing. However, I find the idea problematic because to say so would be to reduce the highly competitive sport to a recreational or a leisure activity that people do to maintain their fitness. While the sport can be enjoyable at times, the competitiveness involved is what distinguishes it from fun runs. Track and field is a contest to see who the fastest and the strongest is. There’s no consolation prize for finishing the race or participating. An athlete feels devastated when he or she loses and feels elated when he or she triumphs. To the track athlete, the result of the competition isn’t just a measure of his or her physical fitness and prowess but a measure of his or her self-worth. Hence, the medal becomes the motivation to drive the track athlete to train despite the pain and sacrifices involved. While some may argue that recreational runners develop a sense of self-worth through the lower times they achieve in a run, it still doesn’t come close to winning in a highly competitive event.
What’s sad about the whole situation is that there was a time when track and field or athletics used to be part of the “trending topics.” During the 1980s, the Gintong Alay program produced stellar athletes for track and field such as Renato Unso, Lydia de Vega (now Lydia de Vega-Mercado), Elma Muros (now Elma Muros-Posadas), and Isidro del Prado who competed in the Southeast Asian Games (SEA Games) and Asian Games during their time and earned medals that brought pride to Filipinos. Track and field was alive back then.
However, the privatization of sports in the country over the years left some sports without proper support, athletics included. Although there are institutions such as the Philippine Sports Commission (PSC) and Philippine Amateur Track and Field Association (PATAFA) governing athletics, the politics in these organizations has made it difficult to produce a consistent pipeline of international caliber athletes. The sport was left in its dark ages.
While this may be the case, light continued to persist in the track and field athletes from all over the region. These people viewed track and field not only as a sport. To them, it’s a way of life—myself included.
Even though I had been a track athlete since fourth grade, it wasn’t until college that I realized what it meant to be a serious athlete. The sport demanded a lot more from me, especially since the competition was a lot tougher. It required a change of mindset from doing anything I wanted to shifting focus to my key priorities: being a student and an athlete.
In an interview after winning the gold in the 2012 London Olympics for Men’s Decathlon, Ashton Eaton remarked, “There’s [sic] a lot things that a 23-year-old does that I don’t do just because I want to win.” This statement captures my sentiments and the life I’ve chosen to live—the world I’ve built around track and field.
For one, it meant organizing my class schedule to fit my training schedule. It entailed waking up as early as 4:30 a.m. to go to PhilSports Arena (formerly ULTRA) in Pasig and train so I can attend my 8:30 a.m. class and not be late. Since I had a student-athlete’s schedule, I spent most of my breaks eating, studying, and sleeping with teammates rather than blockmates.
The sacrifices didn’t stop there. Training was six days a week so there were times when I had to miss high school reunions, block outings, Friday night parties, vacations during semestral and Christmas breaks, and even family gatherings. Even my eating habits weren’t spared. I had to trim down my intake of rice and start eating vegetables.
But above all, I think that the fighting spirit I developed from the grueling training sessions is what significantly impacted my life. In track and field, the decision to continue the race or not despite pain and pressure is entirely dependent on you. It’s through the workouts and competitions that I learned how to be a fighter, to endure pain, and to will my way through. These lessons didn’t just apply to track and field, though, but to other areas in my life as well. I live and breathe track and field.
I realized that it doesn’t really matter if track and field seems dead to others because I know it isn’t. I believe it continues to exist through me and the other Filipino track and field athletes who hold firmly in the ideals and principles offered by the sport. What matters more is that there are people who keep the sport alive by participating in local competitions, organizing district and regional meets, and even coaching the future generation of track athletes. Our Philippines Athletics Team set the sport on the right path through the medals it hauled in the 2015 SEA Games. It’s my hope that these stories serve as inspiration to young athletes to keep the sport alive and to the governing institutions to make the right decisions for the betterment of the sport. Hopefully, I live to see track and field in its glory days once again.
