MALAYBALAY CITY (MindaNews / 19 April) — Since 2023, the Camiguin 360 Ultra Marathon, a race around the island’s 64-kilometer circumferential road, has always been part of my system. It may not be as grand compared to the Bohol International Marathon (which I have joined twice) in terms of food at aid stations (haha), or to the Cebu City Marathon in terms of the number of participants. But there’s something about it that simply urges me to keep coming back.
Maybe it’s my filial connection to this island born of fire. My maternal grandmother hailed from Barangay Tupsan in Mambajao town, where many relatives (Abuzo clan) are living until now. Or maybe it’s because the place offers a relaxing, laid-back allure that soothes the mind and body after a grueling run.
Imagine drinking beer in bars where you don’t have to worry about personal safety, going to the sandbar called White Island just after dawn to catch a magnificent sunrise (or lovely ladies in head-turning swimsuits!), viewing the volcanoes from afar, and frolicking in the surrounding pristine waters. Yes, no need for a massage after the race, Nature is the best healer.
But before I fall into a reverie, let’s talk about this year’s race – how I trained and prepared, the race plan I set, and other details.
Learning from the previous races
If there’s one element that I overlooked in the three previous Camiguin 360 ultras (2023, 2024, and 2025) that I joined, it’s training. In 2023, it was caused by overconfidence – I thought (wrongly) it would just be a breeze since I have survived a trail ultra on Kalatungan Range, a couple of 60-kilometer ultras, and an unforgiving 102-km hardcore ultra.
It didn’t take long for me to realize my mistake in 2023. Upon reaching Km 32, the midway point, I already felt spent. My lungs still felt fine, but my legs had started to hurt. Massage and cold spray could only give momentary relief. Doubt had formed whether I would last the remaining distance.
Fast forward to the 2024 race. A similar thing happened, although the lack of practice was due to frequent out-of-town schedules, mostly meetings and conferences that made me feel drained afterward. The good thing is I still managed to reach the finish line on both instances.
And, as if the struggles during the first two races weren’t enough, 2025 proved tougher. I squeezed in more time and mileage during the training, making me confident I could finish earlier. But misfortune of misfortunes, I suffered a pulled hamstring upon reaching the 50km mark. That’s where the most grueling ascent of the route – somewhere between Catarman and Mambajao towns – starts. Of all places, I remember scolding myself – and cursing the gods and goddesses watching from the volcanoes above.
For about 10 minutes, I rested on a boulder beside the highway, unsure if I should continue or call the organizers for rescue. I pulled out my phone but put it back in my vest after a few seconds. The pain was real. Yet, I could not imagine coming all the way to this place and going home without that coveted medal. Besides, it’s my third appearance that a DNF (Did Not Finish) status would be personally unacceptable. Call it ego or worse, but I guess the race’s slogans echoed in my mind, replacing doubt with determination – “Deeds Not Words” and “Finish What You Started.”
I attempted to jog but felt a biting pain from the injury. Walking was the only option. (Man, I’d never hire a habal-habal to take me to the finish line haha!) My Garmin suggested I still had enough time to make it to the cutoff time with a pace of 12 minutes per kilometer. Boy, I did make it. The agony caused by the injury, scorching heat, and sheer exhaustion all seemed to vanish as my feet landed below the finish line arc, and fellow runners from Malaybalay City approached to congratulate me after receiving the medal and for a photo op.
Three races. Three medals. Above all, countless, valuable lessons that I remembered well while training for this year’s edition of my favorite road ultramarathon.
Prepping for the fourth
At least three things landed on my must-have list in preparation for the 2026 Camiguin Ultra – discipline, distance, and (a high-protein) diet.
Discipline means sticking to training schedules and getting up no matter what. Temperatures may become unfriendly (read too cold at dawn) or the body may tell you to stay longer in bed, but you mustn’t yield to the temptation. Easier said than done though, especially in a place like Malaybalay where temperatures could drop to 18-190C between 4 and 5 in the morning, depending on the time of year. So glad I was able to resist the urge to stay longer under the sheets even on mornings made chilly by northeasterly winds or Amihan.
For distance, I logged 205 km for January, and 233 km for February, highlighted with a 50-km easy run from Maramag town to Malaybalay at month’s end with four other Camiguin-bound runners. Fatigue set in upon reaching the 40 km mark, in Barangay Aglayan, Malaybalay, and I had to finish the remaining 10 km with a run-walk technique. Aside from distance, I trained along routes with plenty of slopes and did plenty of hill repeats to strengthen my quadriceps, the thigh muscles essential for running and walking.
In March, I sort of relaxed, covering an average of 12-15 km each outing. Fortunately, Malaybalay hosted an all-terrain full marathon (42 km) on March 15 as part of the city’s 28th Charter Day celebration. There was also a 21-km option but I decided to join the 42-km category to test my level of readiness for the Camiguin challenge. It was my first time on that hell of a route toward a mountain village, and didn’t know it has a 5-km continuous uphill segment. Never mind that around two-thirds of that dirt road has no shades on either side, and that the race started at 4 a.m., a bane for slow runners.
It was tough, all right. Nonetheless, I finished without cramps or muscle pains or having to gasp for oxygen at the finish line. Upon seeing me, the race director, Yoyong, exclaimed, “What a tune-up for Camiguin!” Indeed, it was. I started tapering after that, the longest run at 15 km on March 22, and rested starting March 25, three days before Camiguin.
And, what did I eat? I observed a high-protein diet, without rice on many days – three eggs and fruits for breakfast, meat and/or fish for lunch and dinner. On many occasions, beer followed dinner. Ssshhh. It was only a week before the race that I increased my carbohydrate intake for fast-burning fuel, a tip I learned from a swimming champion whose story was published in Reader’s Digest sometime in the 70s.
Arriving early
Unlike in the past three races, I decided to travel to Camiguin a day earlier, on Friday (March 27) instead of Saturday, the race day. It proved to be a wise decision. I didn’t have to queue for long for the race kit and was able to rest well. I slept from 8 p.m. on Friday until 5 a.m. on Saturday, feeling energized upon waking up.
After breakfast, I went back to bed and got up around 12 p.m. for lunch and slept again until around 3 p.m. Together with Ted, another runner from Malaybalay, I went to the venue to see if we’d win one of the raffle prizes from the race sponsors. No luck haha. We headed back to our room to rest some more before having a light dinner and preparing our race gear.
Moment of truth
The race was set to start at 9 p.m. on March 28. But many of the almost 1,500 runners were already at the venue (Mambajao Municipal Hall) as early as 7 p.m. What an increase. In 2023, there were only 200 plus runners. The number doubled in 2024 and rose to almost 1,000 in 2025. I guess at least 2,000 runners will join next year, granting the organizers won’t impose a cap.
The festive atmosphere alone – spiced up with dances from local performers – would hype you up. In a race with many participants, there’s always that urge to show one’s relative prowess. I’m an exception though. My mantra has always been to beat myself, to overcome doubt to conquer the distance, not compete with the rest. Landing on the podium remains a dream but is not a desire writ in stone.
Stick to the plan, I kept reminding myself as the countdown to zero hour began. Ten, nine, eight…three, two, one! Most runners jogged at the start; others sprinted. Me? My plan, which I followed most of the way, was to walk 100 meters and run 900 meters of each kilometer. Around 50 meters from the starting line, a fellow runner sidled up to me and whispered, “Chill ra gyud ning taga-Malaybalay ba, lakaw-lakawan ras sugod unya sutoy sa unahan.” I replied, “Gituyo man na kay gusto nako ihapon pilay akong matuhog.” We both laughed as we negotiated for a space in the crowd.
I finished the first 10 km in 1:18:10, 12 minutes faster than my practice time despite using the run-walk method. My lungs and legs felt good. That’s reassuring because the first 10 km always serves as the barometer of how I would perform in long-distance races. Perhaps I got carried away that, from km 10 until km 32, the midway point of the race, I sometimes abandoned the run-walk technique.
The Mambajao-Mahinog segment (13.12 km) is relatively easy except for a 630-meter ascent in Barangay Magting (Mambajao) that can slow you down. So is the stretch from Sagay to Catarman proper. Another hurdle is the 2-km Maac ascent in Guinsiliban, which also means a 2-km descent, bad for those with knees not strong enough for downhill runs. This portion took me 20:50, 35 seconds slower than the 20:15 I recorded in 2023. But if it’s any consolation, I covered the 7.29-km Walkway, the most daunting uphill part located in Catarman, in 1:10:30, a personal record, according to Strava. (The actual Walkway is the trail toward the side of Mount Vulcan, also called Old Volcano, which has become a pilgrimage site.)
I was surprised that I still felt strong upon reaching Walkway, and was able to “tuhog” (overtake) at least 20 younger runners who, as I observed, could only run a few meters at intervals. Once more I looked at my watch and I estimated I could make it to the finish line in nine hours give or take a couple of minutes.
However, upon reaching Barangay Yumbing in Mambajao, I caught up with five fellow runners from Malaybalay, one of whom had felt cramps. He told us he would just walk the remainder of the route, around 9 km. But Amir, who was leading their group, didn’t want to leave him behind. It was his first time to join an ultra and he might feel abandoned if we went ahead of him. For that guy’s benefit, we decided to alternate a 50-meter walk and a 200-meter run to enable him to keep pace. Fortunately, he survived the cramps. We even let him and two other neophytes with us cross the finish line first.
My performance? Strava says: moving time 9:21:04, elapsed time 9:49:12, average pace 8:42/km, fastest split 7:19/km. My average heart rate was only 130 bpm. The highest was 172 bpm, obviously recorded whenever I had a pace of 6/km or faster. I’m sure my time would have been much shorter if I chose to leave my townmates behind. No regrets though. Two of them were my frequent companions during the training period. It felt good to stick to that “walang iwanan” maxim. And, at least, it’s better than my previous three Camiguin 360 ultras where I recorded an average time of 10:20:00 or 10:30:00. Not bad for a 63-year-old as I said in a Facebook post after knowing that I ranked 864th out of over 1,400 runners.
Another “bonus”: I finally got to outrun our editor-in-chief, Bobby! He always finished ahead of me in 2024 and 2025. His frequent travels and out-of-town meetings, and consequently the lack of training, are to blame though. The bigger surprise however came from another friend, Arturo Antonio a.k.a. Jojo, who at 67 finished ahead of us both. Part of it must be the muscle memory, having trekked to Mindanao’s forbidding peaks in pursuit of his subjects as a photojournalist and filmmaker. Train harder, Bay, I promise to give you a good contest next year haha.
The greater joy
While receiving that medal at the finish line may be the penultimate reward for every runner, joining Camiguin 360 ultra does give more than the satisfaction of staring at the metal hanging from your neck and exclaiming “I did it!” It’s not just the race being a well-organized event, either.
In addition to the runners’ enthusiasm and post-race thrill, one can feel the island-wide anticipation, pride, and gratitude of hosting a sports event that has drawn more and more participants each year from various regions in Mindanao and even from as far as Metro Manila. Upon my arrival on March 27, a woman who was with me in a motorela on the way to a snack bar asked, “Moapil ka sa 360, Sir?” She nodded and smiled when I said “Yes”. She knew I was a stranger because I asked the driver where to find the best halo-halo, my comfort food, in town.
Last year, a runner who was beside me answered “Quezon City” when asked by spectators by the roadside where he came from. “From Quezon City! Welcome to Camiguin, Sir!” the locals yelled, their phones recording the short exchange. In this year’s race, many children lined up on the roadside to touch palm or fist-bump with the runners. You could feel their genuine elation each time a runner responded to them. And, don’t forget the hundreds of locals who filled both sides of the starting line to video and broadcast live on Facebook the adrenaline rush at the sound of “Go!”.
Apart from those designated by the organizers, a number of barangays put up their own aid stations, offering not just water and food but also free massage for weary legs. There were private citizens, too, who prepared water and ice for the runners. That’s why it’s a good decision that I dumped my vest and just used a hip bag instead to carry my hydration, energy gels, phone, and cash. Wearing a vest makes my back sweat a lot more and prevents heat from escaping quickly.
Moreover, there were no safety concerns, not even in areas that are completely dark and uninhabited. It was upon arriving in a dark area in Catarman where I heard some runners joke that their only “fear” is being attacked by a “wakwak” (Philippine version of vampire). As if on cue, a nocturnal bird squawked from the trees nearby, giving us all a good laugh. Seriously, your only worry would be collapsing or getting injured unnoticed. But as I observed, rescue and police vehicles were monitoring the entire route for the duration of the race. Some barangay police personnel were also watching from their outposts.
Kudos also goes to the drivers of Camiguin who never charge more than the legal rates even if they know you’re not from the place, a trait that can hardly be found in other popular tourist destinations.
Yes, it’s not just the race that has kept me coming back to Camiguin but also the simple charm of the place and the kindness of its people, things that always make me nostalgic as the ferry leaves the port in Benoni for the trip back home. (I have gone a total of nine times to the island.) Oh, I almost forgot, I love the halo-halo at Viola’s Snack Bar.
By the way, I’ll turn 64 in March next year. That would be a perfect time to again join the race. Running 64 km at 64. I’d ask the organizers to play the Beatles’ “When I’m 64” upon hitting the finish line.
Come sing and run with me. (H. Marcos C. Mordeno/MindaNews)
(The author started his running era in 2017, and has joined a number of full marathons and ultramarathons on the road and on trails, including a 102-km hardcore ultra at the age of 59 where he finished 22nd out of 33 runners. He played basketball, soccer, and occasionally chess in his younger years.)
