The Great UP Run, A Newbie’s Perspective

I arrived on campus anxious, still new to running. I had only finished one 10K race earlier this year, and 16 kilometers felt like uncharted ground. At 3:30 a.m., the AS parking lot was already buzzing with runners warming up. Surrounded by them, my anxiety began to dissipate. I stood at the starting line with hundreds of others, ready for the challenge I had chosen: 16 kilometers, the newest and longest distance in this year’s Great UP Run.

(The 16-km runners in front of the Palma Hall (“AS”) steps at 3:30 a.m.)

I had often asked myself: why 16 kilometers? It was farther than anything I had tried before, but I wanted to go beyond, to test the limits of body and mind. It was the same instinct that pushed me through my years in UP—the drive to take the harder course.

The Early Strides

When the gun fired, adrenaline took over. The first stretch down Quirino Avenue felt exhilarating. The sea of runners around me moved like one body, each chasing a reason but bound together by the same asphalt path. We passed the Sunken Garden, bathed in first light, and all around, the lampposts were still lit, standing watch as always.

By the first loop around the Oblation, the rhythm of my breathing steadied. My shoes hit the pavement in time with my thoughts. The chatter quieted, replaced by the soft chorus of labored breaths. Commonwealth Avenue stretched before us like a test we had signed up to take.

(The 16-km route along Commonwealth Avenue coming from University Avenue in UP Diliman.)

The Middle Miles

At kilometer seven, the road began to tilt. The turn to Tandang Sora, subtle when strolling, became unforgiving in succession. My knees burned. My mind whispered: Stop. Walk. Slow down. But giving in felt like betrayal, not to anyone else, but to myself.

(The right turn to Tandang Sora Avenue from Commonwealth Avenue.)

Two words kept me afloat: Don’t quit. These were the same words I held onto while joining the Upsilon, the same words that carried me through my bachelor’s degree, and now, the same words I rely on in law school.

At kilometer ten, my legs threatened mutiny. My stride shortened. Then a group of volunteers along the path cheered: “Let’s go, runners!” The cups of water they handed us might as well have been courage. I drank two and felt resolved to return. In UP, I thought, we never fight alone.

The Final Stretch

By kilometer twelve, fatigue had set in, every step heavier, every breath louder, but I knew the finish was near and told myself to hold on.

The final kilometer opened behind Quezon Hall, the sun already higher and the crowd thicker, with spectators clapping and strangers calling out encouragement as the finish line arch came into view. My legs screamed to stop, but the noise from the sidelines and the sight of the line ahead gave me strength to keep going.

(The last 200 meters of the race along the Academic Oval.)

I sprinted the last 200 meters, not because I had strength left, but because I wanted to arrive with nothing left in me. My running app beeped: 16 kilometers complete. But I had carried more than a distance. I carried the memories of this campus, the spirit of this community, and the pride of finishing something difficult and worthy.

What It Means

For some, the Great UP Run is about fitness or fun. For me, the 16 kilometers was proof—proof that we can choose the long road and endure, that every hill can be climbed with persistence, and that even when doubt creeps in, cheers from the sidelines, or the memory of those who once cheered us on, can push us forward.

Looking back, the Great UP Run was more than a race. It belonged to something enduring: the pulse of a university that inspires long after the diplomas are handed out. In every stride, I found that the journey itself is the reward.

I look forward to filling in more unforgiving minutes.