Shopwise Bikefest

I arrived first. That was already unusual.

I texted the group and waited at a sari-sari store near the venue while everyone else made their way in. Then someone in the chat said they were already at the finish line area. Not the meeting point — the finish line. On the other side of the venue. I grabbed my bike and covered nearly a kilometer just to get to them, already threading through the crowd, heart rate climbing.

I hadn’t even crossed the start line yet and I was already at 180bpm.

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I found the event in December 2025, about a month after I started cycling. The timing felt right. My training that month was strong — a 70km Naic loop with 300m of elevation, a Tagaytay ride that stretched to 90km and 700m of climbing. At 60km and similar elevation, the Shopwise Bikefest looked manageable. I also had a sub-2 16km run behind me. Eight hours of training per week, two strength sessions, consistent sleep. I felt ready.

Boy I had no idea.

The plan was to train January through April and arrive at the race in shape. January had other ideas.

The last two weeks of January and all of February filled up: unplanned running events, overnight stays, family outings, long nights out with friends. My weekly mileage dropped from a target of 100km down to a floor of 60km. Strength training disappeared. Sleep slipped.

Writing this now, I know I wouldn’t trade those months. The social events were part of what that period meant. What I learned is something different — to be more deliberate about protecting recovery windows before an event. Not avoiding the nights out, just keeping them away from the weeks that matter most. I needed to be a little more selfish with my time.

March and April brought a different problem: the heat. The Philippines in summer means training on sodium and patience. I was learning nutrition in real time — carb gels, electrolytes, how much to take and when. Sleepless nights from earlier months were still catching up with me at work. Three cardio sessions a week, just enough to keep the base without running myself into the ground.

Race week arrived. The pre-event was held at Ayala Circuit Mall — sponsor booths, merchandise, and race kit claiming. When I got to my kit, the jersey sizes were off. The Rudy Project jersey I had been looking forward to wearing was too small. I ended up digging through the bikefest social media from previous years to check whether personal cycling kit was allowed. It was. I took the risk and lined up on race day in my black Van Rysel cycling jersey instead. Plenty of other riders showed up in their own kits. Non-issue in the end.

Back to the start line.

Once I finally got there — still breathing harder than I would have liked before a 60km race — the format became clear: four loops of 15km each around the Vermosa circuit. Every loop opens with 5km of uphill, then a descent, then flat road. Repeat four times.

The first uphill I had to sprint because my friends were waiting after I spent my warm-up kilometer just getting to them. Heart rate hit 180 immediately. That set the tone for the day.

The first two loops were manageable. By the third I was working harder than the effort should have required. By 50km I was struggling — legs starting to negotiate, lungs already done negotiating. I pushed the heart rate back to 180 and decided I was going to finish this in under three hours whether my body agreed or not. I didn’t know if I had enough left. I found out I did.

Finish time: 2:57:36. Full race data on Strava.

I crossed the line relieved in a way I hadn’t expected. Not just that it was over — relieved that I made it, that the reduced training and disrupted sleep hadn’t taken more than I could afford.

The after-event was a genuine surprise. Most events I’ve done hand you a medal and send you off. This one had full booths: Gatorade, Spam, ice cream, Chobani, more. I ate more than was probably smart for someone who’d just spent an hour at 180bpm. The loot bags were substantial too — shampoo, deodorant, snacks, more of what was already at the booths. For a 3,000-peso entry fee you were essentially taking home a full grocery haul on top of the race. Worth every peso.

This wouldn’t have happened without the people who showed up. More of this — more training blocks, more events, more finish lines with these people. I might be back for the 60km again in November. A 21km run before the year ends too.

We’ll see.