Road warrior

“The sun is coming up!” my father shouts in between breaths. I hear his heavy footsteps against the asphalt as the ground shakes beneath my feet; his panting behind my back reaches my ears as he tries to catch up with me. “Hurry up,” he continues. “Run!”

The sound of his deep, rasping voice fills the nearly empty street; for sure it was loud enough to reach the houses in the vicinity.

As his companion, I was mortified for the noise that he made at the time of the day. The sun was still behind the clouds, there was barely a car on the road, and the traffic lights were still off. It was an early Sunday morning.

It was only 6 a.m. yet my father and I were on our way home after completing an 8-kilometer run. But judging from the tone of his voice, he was still full of energy; to him, the distance meant nothing.

I, on the other hand, could feel my throat drying up, my feet slightly numb, and my head a little dizzy. It was clear that I was a newbie. My father had been running for over a decade then, and somehow, he had convinced me to join him in his weekend adventure. I, as his biggest fan in the world, looked forward to the challenge.

On our way home, my father might have thought that I had given up on my self-imposed competition; I had stopped running. I was there — a few steps ahead of him, standing very still. My shoes seemed to be frozen in place, which prevented me from moving.

I wanted to keep running but for some reason, I found it hard to do so. I was tired and thirsty, but my being so was not the reason for my pausing. Moreover, I was not backing down from one of our petty games.

I was simply in a state of shock. The sight of an old woman who was walking our way from the opposite side of the road took hold of my attention. She was talking to herself, her nearly toothless mouth flapping open as though unhinged.

She had a long wooden stick on one hand that served as her cane, and a piece of cloth, which she waved clumsily, on the other. Her hair was ragged and her lips were parched; her face was gaunt and dirty.

Perhaps what struck me the most was the fact that she had nothing on, was completely naked.

The day I had my first road run did not only teach me the tricks of effective running — the  art of landing on my heels to move with ease, or perhaps my having to lean in a bit forward to maintain proper posture; it also opened my eyes to the reality of life.

It exposed me to what I have never seen up close — the problems of the less fortunate and the lack of help available to them. I saw how flawed the system was and how people, myself included, ignored it.

Later that night, my imagination of how I or anyone else might end up like the old woman kept me awake. I struggled to forget what I witnessed early that morning.

I felt like I had to do something — be a hero perhaps, and eventually save the world.

My first road run, at the end of the line, ended as a rather traumatic and mind-boggling experience. I remember how I stayed awake until midnight and how I vowed never to run again.

Unpredictably, four years later, I still find myself out in the open road, running with my father on weekends.

At the end of the line, running and everything I experienced through it have molded me into a more mature individual. From the different places I have visited and the various people I encountered, I learned deeply of our main obligation in life: realizing our very purpose.

I saw the growth in me when: While my fellow delegates would not interact with the locals in fear of miscommunication in China, I managed to build friendships and learn more from them than I did in our formal classes.

While my classmates attended parties and enjoyed their teenage lives, I helped my family at home, organized meaningful projects, and attended summer schools.

While most would be complacent, I was eager to pursue my dreams and do things that terrify me.

I may have not noticed the impact of my actions then, but I now realize that I have a valuable trait that shaped me into the purpose-driven person I am today.

It made me value my grit. It is because of this grit that I was able to send letters and actually exchange e-mails with an internationally acclaimed author, Tina Seelig.

It is because of my grit that I was able to accomplish my childhood dream of bringing honor to my country through the International Mathematics Open for Young Achievers.

Most of all, what was once just a dream became a reality when, by God’s grace, I landed a spot in Harvard University’s selective Pre-College Program.

Looking back, I remember how my passion for excellence and my drive to propagate change began on a fateful Sunday morning, the day of my first road run. It has been four years now, but I clearly  remember how I woke up very early that day, excited to beat my father in our little challenge.

I remember how it took me half an hour to get dressed and how I fussed about putting sunscreen on my face. I remember how I loved the feel of the peaceful road and how I adored the sight of the rising sun as we ran home.

Most of all, I remember the old woman. The moment I saw her walking on the street without a stitch on, I knew that my perspective in life was forever changed. I was no longer the innocent privileged girl whose problems revolved around school grades, friends, and fashion.

I knew that I would do anything and everything to make sure that nobody would end up like the old woman, and that no one would ever have to see anything like that. It was because of the pity I had for her and my hope that no one would be in her position that, for as long as I can remember, I have chosen to take the road less traveled. Since then, I have always wanted to make a difference.

Though I continue to hear whistles and catcalls whenever I run, or perhaps see garbage scattered on the streets, I am nonetheless grateful for the environment in which I grew up.

Through running on the open roads, I was able to find myself in close affinity with the people around me, my fellow Filipinos.

I have learned to share their dreams, value the Filipino culture, empathize with their struggles, accept their flaws, and value them as a people.

My country and fellow Filipinos may be neither the perfect nor the best in the world, but they, like me, dream of a better life. Like me, they dream of a better future. They are the driving force behind my goals and aspirations in life; they are the very reason I have always aimed for something good, something greater.

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Leah Angela Cioco, 17, is an incoming accounting, business and management senior at St. John’s Institute, Bacolod City.