The Perfect Ride

The kids at Bahay Aruga with their parents during a Christmas celebration led by (from right) Steph Alcantara, Cat Zuniga, Ride for Hope 6 rider C-j Indiongco, and Ara Laingo. Photo by and property of the author.

The children entered the room in disciplined fashion, some with shy, quiet smiles, others with warm, greeting chuckles and grins. Save for the sterile facemasks and thinning hair, one would think this was the perfect home, with jolly yet well-behaved kids and hard-working parents to boot. But there was a lingering presence, an unseen, ominous He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, yet known to each of the residents, that threatened to shatter the perfectness of the atmosphere—and its name was Death.

This is Bahay Aruga (literally "House of Care"), a halfway home along San Marcelino Street in Manila, with a mission of bringing adequate care to kids with cancer—for free. Children from various parts of the country who are fighting the Big C come here for a place to stay during the tortuous treatment regimen they undergo in hospitals around the area. Considering the cost of chemo or radiation therapy, having a home near the hospital is a significant boon; receiving board and lodging plus more, a bonanza akin to winning the lottery, especially in this age where most essentials don’t come for free.

It was during the run-up to Ride for Hope 5 last year that our friend Ara first raised the idea of helping Bahay Aruga, which was near her school. A week after we concluded that Ride she then invited us for a Christmas program for the kids at the halfway home, and on the morning of December 20, 2014, we found ourselves mingling with these kids. Each had a quiet dignity around them that somehow left us reeling in admiration and respect. If anyone among our group felt pity, it was never shown at all.

C-j and I learned in our ensuing conversation with Ms. Mayette, the owner and managing director of Bahay Aruga, that keeping the services free was, obviously, a constant struggle. “I’ve had to delay renovating the place and expanding it because of more pressing needs, like medicine, food, or electricity,” she explained. There was no need for C-j and I to exchange words, as we both agreed on the spot that this was the mission for Ride for Hope 6.

We initially intended to have Ride for Hope 6 on February 4, World Cancer Day, but since this fell on a weekday, we settled for the nearest Saturday, February 7, instead. Incidentally, it was also the date nearest C-j’s 25th birthday. Getting the encouraging news from Aklan that our intended recipients had received the proceeds from Ride for Hope 5—a sewing machine for the livelihood of a women’s group—gave us further confidence to pursue this new course.

Our planned route. Courtesy of ridewithgps.com

It was actually, at least for me, a homecoming of sorts: The first two Rides for Hope, dubbed “Padyak Pag-asa,” were for the benefit of the Cancer Warriors Foundation. The route involved climbing up Tagaytay and sprinting back towards our church in Intramuros as the finish line. When supertyphoon “Haiyan” happened in 2013, Ride for Hope became a mercy mission, first with the goal of raising funds for relief, and eventually for the rehabilitation of the storm-hit areas. It was also during this time when Ride ceased to be a solo endeavor, as C-j and several of our biker friends came aboard. Thus, for Ride 6 to return to its original calling, as well as its home course, evoked certain emotions that I was to discover later on.

***

On the morning of February 7, C-j and I prepared for this sixth edition of Ride for Hope with the usual excitement and pre-ride anxiety. Only the two of us would be available for this trip since most of the team had prior commitments. Nevertheless, we both agreed that we had to push on, since this was a trip for the kids at Bahay Aruga and not for ourselves.

Let's do this! Photo by and property of author.

Setting out after a quick prayer at the Bisikleta Republika shop at around 5:20am, the two of us headed towards BF Homes in Parañaque for the hop towards Daang Hari road, which would then take us to Cavite. There was not much road traffic as we came into Daang Hari, but the road wasn’t completely empty, either. Several weekend riders came upon us, saluting us with their bells or a polite wave. Our pacing was good, and we managed to keep ourselves from sprinting in the early morning light. Soon enough, we reached Paliparan Road, where the sun started to make its appearance.

Good morning, world: The sun comes up at Paliparan Road. Photo by and property of the author.

Probably the only issues we had at this point were the bathroom breaks that came every five kilometers or so since it was quite chilly. Skipping our drinks was, of course, out of the question. So when the sun finally pushed through the early morning light by the time we reached Aguinaldo Highway in Dasmariñas, it was a welcome sight, although C-j preferred riding in the cold (he even removed his sleeve warmers at this point).

At the Silang town arch. Photo by and property of the author.

 

When you see the road rising into the distance, keep your head down. Photo by and property of the author.

The road rises significantly at this point, and it’s easy to get discouraged especially for the uninitiated. It was here where C-j’s vastly-improved climbing skills showed, as I struggled to keep pace with him and regularly found myself dropping behind. At times, the gap between us would grow up to 10 minutes, but thankfully, C-j would slow down from time to time to allow me to catch up.

At Kilometer 49, though, I ran out of gas.

I looked up from my pedaling and saw the road rise up into the distance. It’s so long! my mind screamed. My pedaling grew slower and my breathing grew heavier. I felt chilly (the air was quite cool, though) but I was sweating buckets. My legs started to feel like jelly and my head felt light.

I dismounted by the side of the road and tried to take stock of what I was feeling. What is it? What’s wrong with me? my mind wondered. I recalled having the same symptoms when I had heat exhaustion some years back, but it was not that hot at all. What’s happening?

After getting some strength in my legs back, I got off the bike and sat in the shade of a parked truck. I gulped down some Gatorade and took the last energy bar I had, eating slowly and waiting to see if I would throw it up (a sure symptom of heat exhaustion, as the body dumps materials in your digestive tract in order to cool down). Thankfully my food and drink stayed down. I texted C-j telling him I wasn’t feeling well.

A few moments later C-j called me up to see if I needed help. He was already at Km.51. “No, stay there—I think I just need something to eat,” I replied, spying some turon (bananas wrapped in egg white wrapper and deep-fried and coated in caramelized sugar) a few steps from where I sat. After hanging up, I promptly walked over to the stand where a little manang was busy working in her roadside kitchen and bought the last stick on display.

The lone turon left after I gobbled the first. Photo by author.

It was heaven. The freshly-cooked turon did wonders not only for my tummy but also for my spirit. Maybe because it was still warm, or that it was cooked to my taste (not too spongy and having just the right amount of wrapper). It was better than the chocolate bread I had had for breakfast a little over three hours ago.

As I munched down the turon, my mind had a little discussion on its own: Should I still push for the summit? I’m getting too old for this, I thought. Am I strong enough to finish this, let alone reach the top of Tagaytay?

Then I remembered those smiles of the kids at Bahay Aruga and my eyes grew misty. No, I can’t give up yet. But we’ll take this one kilometer at a time. Once we get to the summit, we’ll see if we can still push for the complete course. But at this point, no, we can’t turn back now, not when we’re this close to the top.

***

It was about half an hour later when I finally got on the bike. One kilometer at a time, I reminded myself. Gingerly I resumed pedaling, keeping my head down so that I didn’t see how long the road went, although I did glance up from time to time just so I wouldn’t run into something. I did see the distance marker by the roadside so I knew how far I still had to go. Kilometer 50. Only nine more kilometers to go to the summit.

C-j was relieved when I finally caught up with him at Km.51, as he had been waiting for quite some time. After a short rest, we resumed the climb. Thankfully, I felt better as the turon seemed to have renewed my energy reserves. I could actually smile again.

I looked up to see another long stretch of road rising before me. Meanwhile, on the other side of the road, cyclists who had overtaken us on the ascent were already homeward-bound, waving at us and slightly insulting me in the process. I can’t give up. I gritted my teeth and pedaled some more. This one’s for the kids.

Suddenly, about a hundred meters from where I was, C-j stopped by the roadside and got off his bike. He was pointing at something beside the road, and grinning. My eyes followed where he was pointing and immediately felt a flood of relief in my heart.

It was the Tagaytay City boundary marker.

At the Tagaytay City limits. Photo by and property of the author.

***

Some 20 minutes later we were at the summit, the Tagaytay City Rotunda. I chose to forego my traditional victory lap after C-j reminded me of it. “No, not this time,” I grinned wearily. After resting a bit and hydrating at the 7-11 store, we pushed on towards Mahogany to look for a place to crash in for lunch. We found a roadside sizzling steak house near the junction leading to Mahogany and Sky Ranch and opted to pit in.

The Tagaytay Rotunda gets a makeover. Photo by and property of the author.

Lunch was a blessing, as I opted for burger steak and lots of rice. The store owners were quite accommodating, even though C-j and I took our time there, staying for almost two hours just to get our strength back. C-j even had the chance to take a quick nap. We chatted about life, love, and other mysteries, and when our roll-out time neared, we discussed our route. Could we still push for the long route towards Trece Martires or head back towards Carmona? We decided to play it by ear and make the choice as soon as we got down from Tagaytay.

At 12noon we got up from our table and back on our bikes. A quick check of Maia and C-j’s bike Kalloy showed no problems so far. We decided to head for Sky Ranch for a quick photo op, after which was the long road down Tagaytay via Amadeo.

At Sky Ranch, because we're in Tagaytay. Photo by and property of the author.

We turned into Crisanto delos Reyes Avenue and let loose. A warm sun coupled with a cool breeze greeted us. Traffic was very light. I recounted to C-j those first two Rides for Hope where I soloed to Tagaytay via this road, and soon enough, the memories flooded in.

Going down Tagaytay via Crisanto delos Reyes Road. Photo by and property of the author.

It was five years ago when I first climbed this road, and I remembered those times I had been so close to giving up. I remembered the aching legs, the hot sun, the labored breathing. I remembered the frustration and drawing inspiration from my beloved Nanay Eunice, a cancer survivor who had taken me in as an extra son when I was a teenager. Coasting down Amadeo, with tears in my eyes, I sighed a prayer—for the kids at Bahay Aruga, for Nanay (who actually turned 60 last January), for my own dreams and desires. Thankfully, C-j had again put some distance between us so he didn’t have to see me tearing up.

***

At the Amadeo town marker. Photo by author.

It was about 1:30pm when we reached the end of Crisanto delos Reyes Avenue, at General Trias in Cavite. I had reckoned it would take us only 30 minutes to descend from Tagaytay, but for some reason it had taken longer. “I don’t remember that road to be that long!” I explained sheepishly to C-j. As we took stock of our situation, we weighed our options: Turn left towards Trece Martires and Naic and face the prospect of reaching home by 8:00pm at the earliest, or turn right towards Carmona and shorten our course by several kilometers and getting home before sunset.

“Let’s just go the long route,” C-j declared, and I agreed. We were already here, after all. I checked the map and verified it would be 15 kilometers to our next waypoint in Naic, where we would be turning right towards the town of Tanza and back home. “Let’s do this!” we said to each other, and resumed our trek towards Trece Martires.

Three kilometers later, we spied the monument to the 13 martyrs of Cavite. We both got excited, as we knew the turn going to Tanza was quite near. Sure enough, five minutes away from the monument, we turned right. Was the map wrong? C-j and I wondered. Surely it should have been 12 kilometers more to our next waypoint?

The monument to the 13 martyrs in Trece Martires. Photo by and property of the author.

The answer would come later, as I checked our actual route against the planned one: We had turned right earlier than expected, shortening our route by 10 kilometers. We had failed to reach Naic, but that discovery would come after this Ride. At the moment, we were both relieved we were making good progress, reaching Tanza at 2:00pm.

As C-j once again took the lead, I turned my attention to some concerns. My right wrist was now aching badly, like the joint was inflamed or something. Every two minutes I was shaking my hands to loosen them up. It was also a good thing the road was slightly downhill, as I felt the onset of cramps. I rested my legs whenever I could, letting gravity drive me forward.

Puregold supermarket in Tanza. Photo by and property of the author.

 At Tanza proper, we turned right towards the Diversion Road that would take us through the Cavite Economic Zone in General Trias. This time around, the wind was not on our faces but behind our backs, aiding our homeward journey greatly. I noted to myself that the first time C-j and I had traversed this route, he was behind me, slogging through a stiff breeze. This time, though, I was behind him, and I was still slogging.

Welcome to Bacoor! Photo by and property of the author.

By 4:04pm, we reached Bacoor and pitted at a bakery to refill and rest. We stayed for about 10 minutes and got back on our bikes again, our spirits starting to soar. Traffic was starting to build up as we reentered Aguinaldo Highway, but it was not much of an issue. We just pedaled on, taking care to avoid pedestrians and vehicles. My legs and my wrist still ached, though, and I did try my best to keep my attention focused on the road. There was more traffic to deal with when we reached Quirino Road, but even so, as C-j and I weaved through the cars and jeeps stuck in the rush-hour buildup, we only had our sights set on the finish line.

At SM Bacoor, with our final waypoint not long off. Photo by and property of the author.

And come it did, sooner than we had expected: At 4:43pm, we reached our final waypoint together at C-5 Extension in Las Piñas. From here on, it was going to be a solo ride to our respective finish lines, C-j heading back towards Tondo and me going back to Sucat. The moment deserved a high-five and a selfie, along with a prayer of thanks. There was no denying the feeling of accomplishment, but more than that, deep in our hearts, both C-j and I knew this meant more to the kids at Bahay Aruga that we were riding for. This was their Ride.

***

The official distance for Ride for Hope 6 is 134.2kms, owing to the unplanned shortcut through Tanza that should have brought the Ride to close to 150kms. This ride lasted for 11 hours, 38 minutes, including rest stops (with about nine hours spent on the bike), and can be considered one of the fastest the Team has done (although I would only reach home three hours later). With virtually no equipment glitches or physical injuries, this is considered a perfect Ride.

The actual route taken by the Ride for Hope 6 Team missed Naic by 12 kilometers, dramatically shortening the Ride but still challenging, at the least. Courtesy of ridewithgps.com

I guess that’s one way to view this life, after everything’s been said and done, after you’ve overcome the long climb up Tagaytay or slogged through Cavite with a stiff wind in front of you, and you realize God has been taking care of you all along and you’ve managed to reach your destination in better shape. For the kids in Bahay Aruga, their journey holds much uncertainty, as most of the time they have no idea whether their own bodies will get them to the next significant waypoint in their lives.

Nevertheless, I am encouraged, by the smiles on their faces and the sincerity of their hearts, that theirs is not a worthless journey. Their Ride through this life may be long or short, but it will surely be an epic one, with mountains to climb and obstacles to conquer. We at Team Ride for Hope are privileged to be part of their ride, and it is our hope that you can help us help them too, that no matter the duration of their life’s journey, they can have the hope that it will be a very worthwhile one.

In other words, the perfect ride.

C-j and me celebrating at the final waypoint at C5 Extension in Las Pinas. Thank you Lord for a perfect ride. Photo by and property of the author.

 ***

For pledges and donations to Ride for Hope 6, contact Team Ride for Hope or team principal Marvin Kenneth M. Santos via Facebook. You can also visit Bahay Aruga along San Marcelino street in Manila, near Emilio Aguinaldo College.

The Ride for Hope 6 Team wishes to thank Bisikleta Republika, our official kit sponsor and parts supplier; Jomel and Leony Medina; Cat Zuñiga; our home church Joy Christian Fellowship; and of course, our Lord who has made such a perfect Ride possible.