In a podcast , Alexi Pappas talks about the rule of thirds introduced by her running coach, “When you’re chasing a dream or doing anything hard, you’re meant to feel good a third of the time, okay a third of the time, and crappy a third of the time.”
I woke up that morning not wanting to ride my bike at all. Maybe this was the crappy third but this was the morning I was set to ride a 300 km Audax in Bohol. Audaxes are self-supported long-distance cycling events to be completed within a time limit. Not to be confused as a race, the Audax is a challenge against one’s self, a test of patience.
With roots in France since 1904, the Audax has grown into an international affair for its inclusive appeal to cyclists who want to test themselves outside a competition. Organizing clubs now exist across continents, including Australia, Brazil, India, Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam--all of which answer to the sport’s governing body, Audax Club Parisien (ACP). The ACP's Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) 1,200 km event, held every four years, is considered the ultimate test for long-distance cyclists and has grown to attract participants from over 60 countries.
This was to be my second Audax. It was only last November that I did my first in Siargao with friends, a 200 km brevet meant to be completed within 13 and a half hours. We planned to do this Bohol Audax together as well but when that fell through, my stubborn self decided to do it on my own.
The weekend before I participated in a 160 km gravel race, so maybe the feeling I woke up with was fatigue. The reality of the pain, heat, and mental struggle set in only to overwhelm me. But I didn't have to ride 300 km, I signed up and flew in for this so I had to see it through.
It was my nervous curiosity that led me to do these Audaxes. I didn’t care about my personal best or maintaining a pace, at least not yet. I wanted to know if I was even capable of such distance. I used to fence competitively at the university level and it molded a mindset of fighting until the end, even if it was a fight against yourself wanting to go home.
Starting Line
At sunrise, I arrive at the starting line at Modala Beach Resort, enough time to warm up and shake the dread away. The road was bustling with people, the darkness illuminated by flickering bike lights.
It’s finally time. 3, 2, 1. We’re released at 6 am.
My strategy was to stick to the fast group until the first checkpoint. Afterward, I only wanted to get to each checkpoint without feeling too exhausted. I had reviewed the route a week before with a friend, there were climbs ahead I had to conserve my energy for. I think I see Carmela Pearson, founder and organizer of Audax Philippines , and Jomer Lim, the first Paris-Brest-Paris finisher from Cebu, ahead of the pack. We’re going at 30-35 kph down Dauis-Panglao Road, laughter and chatter fill the morning quiet, my mood (and heart rate) slowly rise.
Carmela was right, we had met the day before and she talked about how Bohol’s were some of the best roads in the country. This was the route she had logged her best time for the Audax 400 at 15 hours and 6 minutes. With its smooth asphalt and without potholes, these roads were such a joy to ride. Hills to our left and coast to our right, even the headwinds were cool.
Once the longer climbs started at KM40, I find myself trailing behind. With my bike weighing above 13 kilograms, I was disadvantaged against the carbon or alloy bikes. But it is what I have and what I’ve grown accustomed to as my main mode of transportation around the city and weekend long rides. Since 2022, it’s been with me on rides up north to Bulacan, a couple of Laguna loops, bikepacking trips, climbs up to Tagaytay and Antipolo, and a handful of gravel races. I knew its weight and build, I could take on the challenge and still maintain good speed.
The Setup
To the geeks out there, for this Audax, I used a Blocks Lofi frameset decked out with a secondhand Tiagra 4600 groupset with the rear derailleur swapped out for a Shimano Altus M310 RD to accommodate a larger 11-36 cassette to make climbs more bearable. I went with my 700c Rollcii wheelset with Hope Pro4 hubs and René Herse 35mm tires.
I reach the first checkpoint (KM49) in an hour and 39 minutes. The group from earlier had broken up, some hurried ahead while others stayed behind. In foreign Audaxes, their checkpoints go unmanned, relying on receipts from establishments along the way as proof of passage, but they also have a reliable emergency response going for them. To make up for this disparity, Carmela makes it a point to have people stationed throughout the course. Brevet card marked with my timestamp and bottles filled, I keep riding.
Without the earlier pack, the headwinds charge at me with full force. Maintaining my previous speed became difficult after my body had cooled when I stopped. The heat was setting in, the rolling hills steeper, the headwind gusts stronger. But I found comfort in the constant sea and catching up to the occasional lone cyclist with whom I would take turns drafting with. Every now and then, a cyclist from the opposite direction would give a nod or wave, as if in solidarity over our crazy mission to complete these insane distances, that we all share the same stretch of seemingly never-ending road.
A trick to getting through the ride alone was being open to getting distracted by, I mean, appreciating what the ride has to offer. At the 80km mark, I ride uphill faster than I should have and my legs cramp up halfway. As I paused to recover, a couple approaches to check on me and offer me water. The pair, Ed and Pu, have retired in Bohol and run the Cliff Haven Resort. Like many of the locals I met in passing, they ask why we’re riding these distances in their province but it’s hard to give an acceptable answer. I had asked Carmela the same question and she answered with how some do the Audax to test themselves, for charity, in celebration of health, or to bond with friends. The audax, Carmela defines, is a “simple cycling event, but when done properly, it can be the most fulfilling experience, an adventure each time.”
After our chat, I continue coasting down the open roads with far fewer cars than in the city. A third of the brevet done, it’s around 10:40 am and the heat starts to take a toll on my mental game. My cyclo-computer indicated more rolling hills but with even more elevation. Great. There was no other strategy but to keep pedaling. Rather than think of the distance as a whole, I broke it down into a series of stretches, ‘Just another dozen kilometers to the next checkpoint.’
When I arrive at the KM150 checkpoint at Ubay, the turnaround point for the 300km brevet, the racks are already full of bikes with cyclists cooling off at the adjacent sari-sari store. There I meet Jes, Jehanne, Gen, and Mon who have blocks of ice and bags of Jollibee their SAG (Support and Gear) vehicle readied for them. Later on, I would learn that Jes, Jehanne, and I were the only women among the 23 randonneurs who registered for the 300km Audax that day.
I regretted not stopping for a meal before the halfway point, there wasn’t a single karinderya nearby and another energy gel would not cut it. When I asked the sari-sari store where I could eat, the shopkeeper asked if I was alone. Their family had just celebrated a birthday the night before and had plenty of food left. Their generosity and warmth were difficult to turn down and I was too hungry to ride another kilometer.
The audax is a “simple cycling event, but when done properly, it can be the most fulfilling experience, an adventure each time.” Ate Yvonne welcomed me inside with trays of rice, adobong manok, and kinamatisang isda. Again, she and her family were curious as to why I was doing such a crazy distance, if I was tired, if the heat fazed me, why I was doing this alone, if I had a boyfriend. To all their questions I would answer in between bites of the delicious food.
I thanked Ate Yvonne and her family for the meal and headed back to the checkpoint. The girls from earlier were still there and invited me to ride with them, but my adrenaline had worn off and I did not want to bring down the mood. I said I’d go on my own, maybe I’d feel better after a few kilometers. It was nearly 3 pm and the heat had hardly let up. Now it was time to climb up all those descents I had earlier. But with a good playlist, I was eager to finish.
The Way Back
During rides, my mind would wander in search of reasons to keep going. At a race, I had almost been brought to tears thinking of my friends waiting for me at the finish line. But I had no one here, my friends and family were back in Manila. I could only update my group chats: “1st checkpoint done,“ “Checkpoint 2,” “Halfway point na,” “Last 50 to go,” “IT’S SO HOT.” The only consolation I had was the thought of a cold, sweet mango shake after all this was over.
When I got to the 200 km checkpoint, Jes, Jehanne, and Mon were already there resting. Again, they ask if I want to ride with them. My mood had settled in the last 50km so I cave in. The last 100 km is crucial when the mind and body are already exhausted, their company would be a much needed for morale.
We rode out and were going at a good 30-35 kph. I was even impressed with myself, keeping up with these roadies after riding through hundreds of kilometers alone. That was the best I felt that whole day. Maybe this was the feel-good part of Pappas’ rule of thirds.
The sun was setting and the sky engulfed us in an orange-purple gradient. It was glorious, and even more so to share it with new friends. Somehow, we had the energy to chat, take photos of each other, and laugh through it all. This was where I had my terrible cramps earlier but it was a different experience going through the same climbs, the sunset greeting us at every ascent.
Night falls as we navigate through the busier towns and eventually reach KM250 past 7 pm. We have our brevet cards stamped and scarfed down Cliff bars. Another cyclist arrived but he was doing the 400 km distance, his elapsed time so far was around 11 and a half hours with the last 50 km to go. The four of us ride out again at the same splintering pace. The roads, illuminated by cat's eye, punctuated a snaking path through the darkness ahead.
In solidarity over our crazy mission to complete these insane distances, that we all share the same stretch of seemingly never-ending road. Carmela described how “in an Audax, because you’re so tired, yung inhibitions mo nawawala. Your pretentious self, your facade, goes down. So diyan mong makikita yung totoong kulay ng mga tao.” I would learn this for myself too.
In that last 25km, the distance between me and the group grew no matter how hard I tried. I broke into cold sweat and my breathing grew erratic. I felt close to bonking, when your body runs out of so much energy that your blood sugar drops drastically. Not only do you feel weak but even your mood shifts to be more irritable and even anxious.
Soon, I was alone again and my instinct told me to stop. I refueled with whatever I could, took my last two Snickers, an energy chew, then tried to calm myself down. I had already come this far and I had no idea how to get back to Panglao if I stopped now. I would have to save my tears for the finish line. Once my blood sugar rose, I rode again at a slower but steady pace.
But another thing goes wrong. My cyclocomputer’s map disappears. I’m left with an arrow on my screen without the usual line to follow but I knew the way back wasn’t a straight backtrack of the way here. I load the map on my phone, turn on navigation through to my earphones, and set out again with my patience thinning.
At the last five kilometers, the last aberya, my light dies. I was closer to my hotel than to the finish line. I joked to myself that I could head back and go straight to bed, still, I pushed through. I found my way back to the arch. And behind the checkpoint booth were Jess, Jehanne, and Mon–they waited for me!
I had my brevet card signed for the last time. My official finish time is 9:47PM—15 hours and 47 minutes. Not bad, I thought, considering everything. I got my medal, finisher’s pin, and had my photo taken. The tears I saved during the last stretch didn’t come but turned into a deep sigh. I was done!
After claiming my meal at Giligan’s, I go on a video call with my closest cycling friends to process all that happened. Between bites of chicken inasal, I recounted the ride, how tired I was, still in disbelief that it was all over.
I went through what I could’ve done better: Definitely, a better mindset, my energy could have jeopardized my ride and even those who I encountered. My nutrition needed improvement to avoid cramps and bonking. I had to rethink doing these long distances alone, what if I had a flat tire or a mechanical problem? All pointers for my next Audax. Surprisingly, the thought of ending my stint had not set in.
These rides have become meditative where I’ve faced my truest and unfiltered self. I’ve lost count of how many times I felt so lucky to do all of this: to ride through rolling hills, to watch the sun rise from behind a mountain ridge while zooming through the morning fog, to ride with friends I never would have met if it wasn’t for this sport—I could go on and on. Not every ride is easy, I still wake up some days not wanting to ride at, all but that curiosity inside me still wanted to know: What else is out there?
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