“To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.” — Viktor Frankl
I didn’t know how to start this story—maybe because this race started at a time in my life when everything felt uncertain.
I haven’t hiked in a while. 2026 Chill Adventures hadn’t officially begun. My boyfriend signed me up for a trail run—something completely outside my comfort zone. He was supposed to run it with me. But life had other plans. He was hospitalized, underwent surgery, and was advised to avoid any strenuous activity.
So this adventure?
I had to face it alone.
Running on Empty
For two weeks straight, I was working 13-hour shifts. No structured training plan. No proper taper. Just inconsistent gym sessions squeezed between exhaustion and responsibility.
Not exactly the ideal preparation for a 25KM trail race.
Physically, I still see myself as overweight. I struggle with discipline, even though I mostly eat vegetables and avoid processed food. Mentally, I was drained. Emotionally, I was carrying worry.
Yet on February 1, 2026, after another 13-hour shift, I went straight to our usual pickup spot at Greenfield Mayflower Parking in Mandaluyong. Alone. For the first time in most of my one-year adventures, I didn’t have my partner beside me.
That silence hit differently.
Three hours later, we arrived at Barangay Masalukot 3, Candelaria, Quezon Province. The atmosphere was festive and electric. Headlamps glowing. Runners stretching. The 50KM category was preparing for its 1AM gun start.
Hundreds of runners shouting in excitement.
And there I was—quietly asking myself:
Is this really for me?
Can I finish 25KM within the 9-hour cut-off?
Gun Start: Doubt at the Backline
Four hours later, it was our turn.
I positioned myself at the back. Not because I had to—but because I felt small. Everyone seemed confident, fast, experienced. I joked that I’d probably just walk the entire race.
Gun start.
The first kilometer was road. I jogged lightly. Then walked. I told myself I needed to conserve energy. The trail narrowed, and we moved in single file. Some runners rushed, afraid of missing cut-off times.
The terrain? Manageable at first—coconut trees, banana plantations, wide green landscapes. I didn’t run much in the first 3KM. Then came the rolling road assault—less than a kilometer, but brutal on my knees.
Two hours in, we reached the first aid station: boiled eggs, lugaw, soft drinks. I wasn’t even at 7KM yet.
Reality check.
Heat, Hills, and Humility
By 8AM, the sun was unforgiving. I hadn’t reached 10KM.
I pushed forward through communities and long stretches of open road. Then the trail turned scenic again—lush greenery and towering coconut trees. In the distance stood the majestic Mount Banahaw crowned with white clouds.
It was breathtaking.
But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t afford to.
Aid stations became survival checkpoints: the sweetest cold buko juice of my life, ice-cold Coke, watermelon slices, water refills. Quick stops. No lingering.
Then came the real challenge.
Vertical Assault: Almost Kissing the Soil
The climbs became steeper. My knees screamed. My ankles felt unstable.
Then the vertical assault appeared.
We were almost crawling, holding onto ropes, faces inches from the soil. It was short—but brutally humbling.
And then the descent.
Slippery. Ravaged by earlier runners. One wrong step and it could’ve been over. Had it rained, it would’ve been worse.
I felt pain settling into my joints. I questioned myself again:
Will I finish this?
The trail opened into fields with ocean views—beautiful, almost cinematic. But just when I thought the worst was over, we had to climb again and re-enter the forest.
On my final assault before the next aid station, the world started spinning. I stopped for five minutes. Breathed. Reset.
Tinola never tasted that meaningful.
I had three hours left before cut-off.
The Last 5 Kilometers That Felt Like 50
The noon heat was ruthless. Rolling roads. No shade. No mercy.
My survival strategy became simple:
- Walk 10 minutes
- Pause 1 minute
- Repeat
It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t fast. But it was forward.
At what I thought was the final 2KM, race staff told me I had to turn right—another 3KM.
I laughed internally.
“I only have 2% left,” I told myself.
“But 2% is still something.”
So I used it.
Step by step. Under the scorching sun. Through the same rolling slopes where we started.
And then— The finish line.
I crossed just before the 9-hour cut-off.
Not fast.
Not podium-worthy.
But finished.
What This 25KM Trail Run Taught Me
This wasn’t just a race. It was a mirror.
1. Preparation is Respect
Your body is not invincible. Even machines have limits. If you want big adventures, you must train for them. Discipline is self-love in action.
2. The Mind Leads, But the Body Follows Wisely
If your mind says you can, your body will try. But growth also means understanding your limits—and expanding them safely.
3. Enjoy the Process
Life is not just about suffering. But in suffering, you discover meaning. You discover grit. You discover who you are when things get uncomfortable.
This race exposed my lack of discipline. It forced me out of my comfort zone. It reminded me that Chill Adventures is not about being chill because it’s easy—it’s about staying grounded even when life feels steep and scorching.
Maybe this season of my life isn’t about summits.
Maybe it’s about rebuilding strength.
Recovering.
Refocusing.
And one day, I’ll find myself standing at another starting line of something I once believed I couldn’t do.
That’s the beauty of a chill adventure.
You don’t have to be the fastest.
You just have to keep moving.
FAQs – Banahaw Trail Fest 2026 (25KM Category)
1. How difficult is the 25KM race at Banahaw Trail Fest?
The 25KM category at Banahaw Trail Fest is moderately to highly challenging, especially for beginners. The course includes rolling road sections, steep vertical assaults with rope support, technical descents, open field exposure, and intense heat. While the terrain is manageable in parts, the combination of elevation gain and sun exposure makes it physically demanding.
2. Is Banahaw Trail Fest 25KM beginner-friendly?
Yes, beginners can complete the 25KM race—but proper preparation is essential. Even though many first-timers join, the race has a 9-hour cut-off time, steep climbs, and long road stretches under the sun. Consistent training, endurance conditioning, and mental preparation are highly recommended.
3. Where is Banahaw Trail Fest held?
Banahaw Trail Fest is held in Barangay Masalukot 3, Candelaria, Quezon Province, Philippines organized by RF Sports Promotions and affiliates. The trail offers scenic views of Mount Banahaw, coconut plantations, forested paths, and rolling countryside terrain.
4. What should I prepare for a 25KM trail run in Quezon Province?
To prepare for a 25KM trail race like Banahaw Trail Fest, focus on:
- Long slow distance runs
- Hill training and stair workouts
- Strength training for knees and ankles
- Hydration strategy for tropical heat
- Nutrition discipline weeks before race day
Mental endurance is just as important as physical training. You can find the race details here and race results here.
5. What lessons can runners learn from Banahaw Trail Fest?
Banahaw Trail Fest teaches resilience, discipline, and pacing. It reminds runners that preparation matters, mindset is powerful, and finishing strong isn’t about speed—it’s about consistency. For many, it becomes more than a race; it becomes a personal breakthrough.
I hope this adventure inspires and prepares you for your own #ChillAdventures. Remember—every summit conquered is just one more step closer to your next great chill adventure.
For more hiking stories, travel tips, and hidden gems in the Philippines, follow Chill Adventures with Joms across all social media platforms.
Till the next blog, mga ka-Ahon—see you on the trails. ❤️🌄🥾
Chill Adventures with Joms 