The Meeting of the Spirits

After searching "John MacLaughlin" at youtube.com last week, one of the results yielded a song entitled "The Meeting of the Spirits". It showed a performance of the then Mahavishnu Orchestra with Jean Luc Ponty on the violin.

It made me wonder what a meeting of spirits meant, last Saturday, I began to realize what it meant.

After four weeks of band rehearsals for the upcoming silver Jubilee of Batch '82 of our highschool, I had a chance again to play infront of a big crowd after a long vacation from my musical hobby.

The rehearsals were great, well...most of them, but I forgot the feeling one gets when a big crowd is watching.

Soundcheck was scheduled at 2PM, so I had my wife drop me off at my regular scooter shop to enable me to get my scooter. I then proceeded to the venue to check the equipment and how we sounded as a band.

To my disappointment, 2 band members did not show up on time. But when they did, we proceeded to run through the hardest songs to make sure everything was in place. My band mates told me we sounded great and that I should put in 100% more power to my drum playing, (according to our lead guitarist), a thing that would surely happen when I see a big audience.

And happen it did. We had to get home to freshen up, but due to the terrible traffic caused by the heavy downpour, I was stuck for more than an hour.

On the way driving, I thought heavily about the possibility of my youngest son watching the event. I went on to focus more on getting us there together on time.

I got there a few minutes later than the agreed time but it was OK as everyone was busy registering and greeting long lost friends, classmates, etc.

The rest of the guys showed up and voila, we were ready to set up and we were given the signal that we were on in 15 minutes.

Band leader freaked out, our bassist was missing. I called, and gladly got the good news that he was a few minutes away.

My next worry was my youngest son. Remembering his anxiety to see his pop play on stage for the first time in his life, I sent a text message to my wife that said : were on in 15.

Upstage, I sent a last message to her that said : starting in 5.

Then, my bassist friend, gives me a big smile and lifts a cold can of beer to sort of say..."enjoy the party". That did it all.

I was loaded before the show started ( to say the least), and according to our keyboard player...he was flying. Out in the parking lot, my son was flying too, running as fast as he could to catch our first number.

The rest is history. I can't say that the performance was flawless, but I can definitely say that the energy was superb, and all out.

While we played, I experienced the "Meeting of the Spirits". The smiles on the faces of my band mates after each song we played, the high fives and handshakes from the audience after the performance, and most of all, my sons embrace after I had just gotten off stage.

While I was changing to a fresh shirt from my sweat drenched shirt, he said "Pop, you were good". I guess during the 9 songs we played, his spirit met with ours too.

Testing My Endurance

Last weekend, after a fruitful meeting with a friend, I played sucker to an invitation to join a "24 hour mountainbike race".

Having a finger pointed at my face by someone who does not bike regularly, I gladly gave in to the invitation to a race that was to be held the following morning.

"Its only 15 laps per team member", I heard them say. And..."this is what we train for", we very convincing words from the "more experienced" guys in the group.

I picked up my wife from her brother's house, a stones throw away from our home. I told her about what was in store for me the next morning and she said "do well".

It sounded more like a sarcastic remark rather than words of encouragement. I could not blame her.

I woke up at my own pace. Still tired from 2 work outs at my home gym, a 5 km run, and a 21km bike ride the other day. I loaded on carbs, bananas, pineapples and lots of water.

At around 10:30am, I proceeded to the event site. Instructed by our "manager", I had to drop by their shop in Alabang for some instructions only to find out our "guru" was freaking out again because we were late.

Having no choice, I decided to buy some gatorade and bananas just in case.

When I got there, the place was festive and filled with mountainbikes of all kinds. Parking was limited and there was a city of tents surrounding the area.

Fortunately, I was able to locate my group and I was able to find a good parking space. Then off I went to suite up and get ready for the race.

The occasion was eventful. Just right after the mad dash at the starting gate, a rider bumped me and my friend. We attempted to try to help him up and say sorry, but we ended up eating all the bad words the guy could muster. My friend gladly returned the gesture.

At 1PM, I did my first three laps consecutively. One lap in 20mins, the next one in 23, the 3rd one in close to 30mins.

My computer's temperature gauge read 40, so I guess that was what slowed me down. I was then advised to stop and rest to allow a teammate to do his laps.

To cut a long story short, the scenario was the same for the next 13 hours. Bike...rest...bike...rest

My other teammate quit and went home with his promise that he would return the following day. The other one ( we were a 3 man team) showed up late in the afternoon and did his 4 laps and that was it.

We were all required to do 15 minimum, or our team would be disqualified. Well being the non-quitter that I am, I finished at 4am, my 2 other mates weren't quite lucky. One was a now show and the other one had to quit after doing another 4 laps the next day.

This was a first for me. I have never worked out till 4am the next day. Feeling tired, sleepy and fatigued from the long work week, I was surprised I made it.

I had a sore throat, and a big mouth sore that became even bigger during the race. I was biking in total darkness with only a weak light to guide me through.

What helped me finish was the help of friends. The guy who offered me soup every time I'd stop to rest. The chilled apples, the bananas. The story telling from the guys who did not race but supported us. The classic rock music from the ipods friends lent us to get us by during the night.

The cheers from fellow competitors and most of all, the words of encouragement from fellow rider friends who volunteered to accompany me at night while we all fell in ruts, slipped through muddy single track trails, jumped over ditches, and pushed our bikes up un-ridable hills.

Bottom line is "I get by with a little help from my friends"...and I made it. No trophies, no certificates. Just my dirty number and a picture of my cyclocomputer that reads 87km in 8 hours.

Will I do this again? Why not.

Ambushed by a Jesus Freak and Saying Goodbye to Aja

Not all of my scooter rides are great. In long rides there are breakdowns, at the track there are crashes or all sorts.

On the other hand, I can always say all my mountainbike rides are great whether solo or in a group, at any trail in any weather condition.
The worse ride I can probably remember was when I used my hard tail bike and by rear derailieur got eaten up by my spokes. Had to go home after doing only 3KM but still enjoyed every bit of it.

Last week, I experienced what I call the worse ride of all. The first part was the real ride that I enjoyed immensely. The second part was when we were ambushed by an over zealous, holier than thou preacher who told us that : If we do not have faith, we will go to hell.

The first part of the ride was a great new adventure. We rode fire rodes with long climbs on rocky lose terrain. The rest was all rolling at exciting speeds, with good company.

All of the 27kms. we did was a blast to say the least and was one hell of a workout for me that day. Until.....

We had to go back to the farm for lunch, and a desert that we all would never forget.

To cut a long story short, it was the best example of someone shoving it down your throat. The best hard sell salesman I have ever encountered in my entire life.

To end the story...I did not buy what he was selling. And, if that was his condition of getting to heaven, then his heaven must be a very lonely place.

I asked him a theoretical question where a man who is morally upright who lives in the bundoks, loves his family but does not know Jesus vs. a man who dresses like Elvis, knows the bible by heart but fools around and sells drugs...who will go to heaven ? I said.

His answer folks is Elvis is going to heaven.

I'd like to forget about that ordeal and instead remember a bike that I had to let go for family reasons.

Last night she was picked up from my house by her new and rightful owner.

I dreamed about owning a GB400 years ago. My dream came true when I found Aja at a shop near our place.

Well...that's life, there a certain things that you can't keep forever.

Aja is one of them but I am happy that it was for a good reason and that she is now in good hands and in a new home.