The Subic-Masinloc-Subic audax, December 2022: A postmortem

Waiting seven years before my repeat of the Subic-Masinloc-Subic 200 km audax, one could say I spent a large amount of time and money preparing for it. Where my first attempt was frankly quite amazing in that no ride-ending occurrences happened despite myself, this second outing was much more deliberate and intentional. How so? One could just read all my posts in 2022.

So then, after doing all sorts of prep, what exactly worked on the day, and what didn’t?


The biggest issue I had during the audax, by far, was lower back pain.

This was not something I had to contend with in 2015. One could be lazy and simply chalk it up to “hey, you got older,” which is true, but bike fitters would most likely rule it out as the root cause.

Zambales province has your typical provincial highway surface of chip seal and concrete, but on some stretches you do get relief in the form of smooth asphalt. Those are more the exception rather than the norm, however, and most of the route will subject you to the kind of road vibration that will take its toll on you over time. My lower back was especially sensitive to it this year though. I found relief at the checkpoints, where I dismounted from the bike and tried to walk around. The motion generated by walking had helped quite a bit.

Video footage from Manny Illana and a few other friends yielded what the root cause was. They showed me rocking laterally on the saddle while pedaling, which was even worse whenever I rode in the drops. This is a dead giveaway that I had set my saddle height too high. I felt it the night prior, and also during my 100 km solo ride attempt, so I lowered the saddle by 3 mm. Turns out that wasn’t nearly enough.

Riding with the saddle set too high meant that I was introducing – even forcing – extra movement and instability out of my back just so I could push the pedals like I wanted. It’s unwanted play and slop, in engineer terms. Ideally, one’s waist and hips should be a solid platform from which to anchor all pedaling.

Yeah. Riding in the drops, that hip rocking is pretty bad. Right leg’s traveling at quite an angle, too

This fundamental mistake may have stemmed from riding indoors for much of the year. I had gotten used to climbing up to sit on my bike Hyro while he was clamped to the Wahoo KICKR SNAP by the rear dropouts. For some reason, I took this to mean that I should sit progressively higher, which was incorrect. On the contrary, I should really have been sitting at least 13 mm lower, and I didn’t ride outdoors frequently enough to check that my riding position still worked in “real” riding.

Three days and a deep tissue massage after the audax, my back was better, but still pretty sore. It went away after a week, and I’m back riding on the indoor trainer, now with the corrected saddle height, although I still need to verify my position in outdoor riding. Speaking of which…


As I am a recreational non-competitive rider with a day job and a family to go home to, I’ve had to change my riding and training regimen to fit how I live. Bad saddle height tendencies aside, the Wahoo KICKR SNAP has been indispensable in this regard, as I can train much more consistently and within limited time, less subject to externalities such as course features and other road users.

Having the hardware is well and good, but what makes it much more useful is in learning how to use it. Making sense of using power as a training tool can be daunting for newcomers, but once you get around to doing FTP tests every six weeks and setting power zones, you get a very good foundation to make real fitness gains from. Having raised my FTP to 217 W the weekend before the audax, it showed in how much faster I was at all-out climbing, despite having gained weight since 2015.

Software such as Elevate or Golden Cheetah can help you analyze your training over time. This shows the nine months leading up to the audax, showing a distinct lessening of training load from October to just before the ride.

What did my training look like? Believe it or not, I had only one 100 km ride in the months leading to the audax, which immediately got followed by my brush with COVID19. However, I kept riding at least a cumulative 100 km over three times a week for many months, where I concentrated on fitness gains until October. Following coach Dylan Johnson’s advice, I periodized my training so that I could spend the last four weeks mainly within Zone 2 power, as a sort of training “taper” so that I could ride the audax in a relatively rested state and not too fatigued.

All the folks who tell you to ride an audax to Zone 2 heart rate are correct, but in the real world, heart rate is subject to so many external factors that it just isn’t very reliable as a pacing tool and it’s easier said than done. Nothing wrong with not being able to afford a power meter, but once you get one and learn how to use it, heart rate is useful less as a pacing tool and more as a real-time indicator of your physical condition – subject to some delays and interference. Riding the audax to your Zone 2 power is much more useful, in my opinion.


For 2022, I continued with granola bars as my primary energy source, which rode within my Revelate Designs Mag-Tank top tube bag – perfect for quick access to my food. In addition to the old reliable Growers NutriBar, I had two other kinds of bars on board – Sante Crunchy and Carman’s, a fancy Australian brand. The latter…was not a good fit for me and the state I was in during the third leg of the audax. As good as Carman’s is, its fatal flaw as a mid-ride food is just how dry it feels to eat. Chowing it down pulled more water and saliva out of my mouth simply to chew on and swallow it. That extra water drain is not something you want when riding on a hot, humid day.

Any future attempts at an audax will be best served by granola bars that are much cheaper than Carman’s, but also moister. Carman’s is probably a good checkpoint or after-ride treat, but that’s it.

Next to the Bivo Trio, every other bidon is obsolete IMHO.

The other major change I did to my fueling was bringing a lot of Pocari Sweat. I’ve known for a long time that this mild-tasting Japanese “ion supply drink” has the peculiar effect of making me feel full when I guzzle it – something other sports drinks just don’t do. I had set regular 45-minute alerts on my ELEMNT BOLT for water and food, but I found Pocari Sweat could do the job of both for most of the ride. A side effect of this fueling strategy was that I never felt like I had to take a dump, since I think I may have eaten just four granola bars in total.

One notable downside to Pocari Sweat though is that if you’re already dehydrated, it doesn’t help much. If anything, the mild sweetness of the drink can make you feel even more dehydrated, as I felt when I rode to the third checkpoint in the punishing heat with one bottle half-filled with Pocari Sweat, and the other empty of its water.

Our SAG wagon was a Mercedes-Benz GLK.

The SAG (“supplies and gear”) wagon we had, courtesy of Manny and driven by our new friend Zaldy Ferrer, was a huge help. Essentially, this was the same minimalist amount of “assistance” the Audax Randonneurs Philippines vans provided back in 2015: in addition to the drinks and ice they carted around, you could give them a small bag of spares or extra food, which you could then only access at the checkpoints. With Zaldy driving the SAG wagon (and picking out very good spots to park within 500 m of the checkpoints), we effectively just increased the size of our bags. Manny dedicated one cooler for carrying ice alone, with nothing else inside – meaning it could hold more ice and keep it cooler at the same time, since nothing else drew out the cold. Each of us then brought our own drinks aboard the SAG wagon, in separate containers within, to refill our bidons with. Many of us also brought a change of kit, to account for the changing conditions as the day progressed. Manny also had a vacuum flask on board filled with very warm Campbell’s tomato soup, which was a welcome belly-filling treat at the Masinloc checkpoint.

Lastly, speaking of ice and bottles…the Bivo Trio insulated bidons were excellent at keeping their liquid contents cold for the entire ride, as long as you loaded them up about 1/3 full of ice. When I ran out of water, I misjudged the balance between ice and actual water (I didn’t have enough of the latter), and the black silicone coating had chipped off one bidon from sliding in and out of my bottle cages, but otherwise they were champs. Highly recommended, and well worth the expense.


Not too long ago I double-wrapped a portion of my handlebars with bar tape – this length being the curved shoulder from the center stem clamp section up to the hoods. I hoped the additional cushioning would help without being too bulky otherwise. It did, but not by much. Even when wearing my most comfortable pair of mitts, and softening the elastomer setup on my Redshift Sports ShockStop stem, there was just no way around hand numbness brought on by all the road vibration that had accumulated over 100 or more kilometers.

The Selle SMP Hell saddle refurbished by RGSkills was excellent, though. Somehow it had become even better suited for the task of a 210 km audax, despite foolish old me setting it too high. It worked especially well with the Pearl Izumi Expedition Pro cargo bib shorts, which were freakishly expensive, but well worth their cost in long-ride comfort and carrying capacity. I could feel the beginnings of a couple of saddle sores each time I remounted Hyro past Masinloc, but once pedaling, the bib shorts kept any chafing at bay and I finished the ride without being bothered by them. In hindsight, perhaps I should have taken the (risque?) opportunity to apply a fresh smear of Chamois Butt’r at the checkpoints, since our SAG wagon was carrying my tube of the stuff.

Expensive, but was it worth it!

Finally we come to my feet, which were shoehorned into my aging Specialized S-Works 6 XCs and further bolstered by Ergon x Solestar’s IP3 insoles. Considering I was sidelined by sesamoiditis of my left foot yet again in 2022, any pain on the balls of my feet was a definite non-issue during the nine hours of riding. The only issue I had was on the lateral forefoot, but it was more of a dull ache and nowhere near as painful as with my old Shimano XC5s, since the entire width of my feet was supported properly. There was none of the “foot contorting around cleat” feeling from seven years ago, either. My Look X-Track pedals were a little sticky to clip out from at times, but chugged along like champs.


The route loaded into my Wahoo ELEMNT BOLT as it synced with RideWithGPS. However, at some point along Govic Highway on the northbound jaunt, it just stopped giving turn-by-turn directions, which was strange. It seems like it was waiting for me to ride through a certain point that was stored in its route data, but no longer existed in real life. Given that my ELEMNT BOLT is of the first-generation variety, and doesn’t have onboard route recalculation like its successor does, I guess this is just one of its limitations.

While route navigation was a letdown, all the sensors the ELEMNT BOLT was connected to were firing on all cylinders. I had zero problems with the Magene heart rate monitor, the Wahoo wheel speed sensor, and the 4iiii Precision gen2 power meter, which meant I had zero problems being frustrated with the blustery headwinds as they dragged us backward and capped our speed to 18 km/h even when pedaling a sustained Zone 2 power of 135 W.

The Cygolite Hotrod 90 (R) next to Redshift Sports’ Arclight LED module

To cut through the night, my bike Hyro has a Cat Eye Volt 800 up front, mounted directly under the ELEMNT BOLT, and a Cygolite Hotrod 90 at the back. Given the number of other riders with their own LED lights, I didn’t need the Volt 800’s full power and ran it mainly at half its output, which was sufficient. The Hotrod 90 out back is quite bright, even when used in the daytime.

I wore the AfterShokz OpenMove bone-conduction headphones primarily as a hands-free headset for my phone in case someone called me mid-ride (either my wife, my riding buddies, or Zaldy in the SAG wagon). After the second checkpoint, though, I used it to play some choice high-BPM Super Eurobeat music on loop, which was a good way of keeping my spirits high in the grueling return to Cabangan. At the same time, these things allowed me to keep my all-important situational awareness, and they easily lasted the whole length of the ride. I was firmly in the “no music while riding” camp before, but things have progressed greatly since, and these are currently the best way of listening to music or spoken-word content while riding.

To date, this is the sternest test of the American Classic Timekeeper tubeless tires, and they held up very well to the demands of the day. I ran them at 60 psi rear and 55 psi front, about as low a pressure as I dared, and added 40 mL of fresh Orange Seal Endurance sealant. The tires kept good grip, even through the sandy, dusty areas of Zambales national highway, yet were still comfortable enough. While I fortunately never had to test the effectiveness of the sealant, the “endurance” moniker is pure truth in advertising – after breaking the bead on the front tire to reinstall it, there was still quite a bit of the old stuff sloshing about after at least four months of use.


Meeting the grupetto the day prior.
(L-R) Carlo Malantic, Manny Illana, yours truly, Zaldy Ferrer, Brendell Fortunato, Girard Banaga

I had met most of these guys the day prior or on the day of the audax, and I didn’t really have any expectations since they rode together on more occasions than I did. I was simply a straggler along for the ride. Even then, though, we worked pretty well. It was inevitable for our little group to fracture in places, given our differing abilities and specialties, especially on the return trip south where fatigue, heat, and blustery headwinds all conspired against our progress, but we ended up finishing within six minutes of each other.

Since I was the lone repeat randonneur, I mostly deferred to the group’s decisions about pacing and rest periods at the checkpoints. In hindsight, we perhaps took the first half a little conservatively, and we could have taken advantage of our freshness and the cool midnight temperatures to raise our pace. What’s important is that we finished as strongly as we could.


(L-R) DJ Cantor, Manny Illana, Brendell Fortunato, Girard Banaga, yours truly, Carlo Malantic, and Gio Aguila
  • Manny Illana, Carlo Malantic, Girard Banaga, Brendell Fortunato, Gio Aguila, and DJ Cantor for inviting me into the group.
  • Our SAG wagon driver, Zaldy Ferrer, for taking the opportunity at short notice, yet doing an excellent job.
  • The team behind Audax Randonneurs Philippines for hosting the event. Many areas for improvement still, but overall a great weekend.
  • The many friends who rode this event, even though we missed each other along the way: Chester Yap, KR Malonzo, John-John Torres, EJ Uyboco, my new acquaintance Chaz Garcia-Angan of Ciclo, and long-distance riding legend Julito “Popong” Anchores, who did the 300 km AND the 200 km the very next day. Congratulations to all of you!
  • Mango Valley Hotel 5 for the accommodations.
  • My wife Mav for the love and support.

Emerging from a pandemic snafu, part 2

Previously I documented how I evaluated my physical condition after my first (and, I hope, only) dance with COVID19, using my indoor training gear, power data, and heart rate data. After those first couple of indoor trainer rides, I was pleased that at least outwardly, my heart and lungs recovered from the illness relatively unscathed and without any alarming vices. This augured well for my December audax aspirations.

Week two post-COVID19, then, was a good opportunity to push harder with less restraint. The first thing I did on the trainer was a 20-minute FTP test, set on RGT’s Borrego Springs flat time trial route. Unfortunately, WiFi hiccups forced me to stop for a few minutes halfway through the test inverval, which in my opinion ultimately rendered the test invalid, strictly speaking.

It wasn’t a total waste, though. Since an FTP test requires one to hold maximum sustained power for 20 minutes, coincidentally it’s a good cardiovascular and pulmonary stress test. I had no concerns or complaints in either area, which is about as good as I could hope for. Also, flawed and invalid as the test may have been, the 190 W FTP figure it yielded seemed like a believable estimate. I’ll have to redo this some time, but I intend not to do so immediately as I don’t want another onset of sesamoiditis so close to the audax.

My next session on the trainer that week brought a surprise. The RGT team had rolled out a brand-new course called Dunoon, set in Scotland. A single 14-kilometer lap is 70% gravel, and hosts three climb segments all cresting at 9-11%, eventually culminating at about 500 m elevation gain.

Yet another physical stress test, then.

I’ve ridden up enough hills, virtually or otherwise, to know how my body operates as it goes through the business of scaling them. Usually I aim to click through an easier gear with each 1% greater incline, although pre-COVID19 I was able to slog through 10% and 11% grades with the two largest cogs left still. I’m glad to report that’s still the case.

Similar to FTP test intervals, sustained climbs raise one’s heart rate and keep it pegged for the entire duration. It’s not unusual to have heart rate stay at 95% of maximum even while seated if the climb is steep enough, which was what happened to me. As before, the important thing is for heart rate to slowly back off once the road becomes horizontal or downhill and less exertion is needed, and after repeated climb efforts of at least three minutes apiece, my ticker still responds correctly.

As of this writing I have still to have myself tested properly by a doctor. However, these latest rides have been very promising. Sure, I’ve lost quite a few watts’ worth of FTP, but more importantly much of my base fitness is still intact – and I’m feeling very confident about December. The doctor visit might just be a formality at this point, but I’ll wait and see.

Emerging from a pandemic snafu, part 1

The latest drama in what has been a roller-coaster year for my riding was catching that nasty little bug that just so happened to cause a global pandemic.

SARS-CoV2, and its accompanying disease COVID19, have been studied enough as of this writing to have vaccines developed against it, and mitigate its symptoms such that it’s no longer a death sentence. It’s also still so new that a complete picture of its long-term effects is still blurry at best. Documented cases of so-called “long COVID” paint a picture of the disease’s symptoms – elevated heart rate, shallow breathing, brain fog, and general fatigue – lasting months or even years after the initial infection.

What’s a cyclist aspiring to join an audax in less than two months supposed to do?

Outside of actually getting checked by a doctor and getting diagnostic tests done (blood and 2D echo are the most common ones I hear talked about by cyclist friends who’ve had COVID earlier than me), the one thing I can do is to swing a leg over my bike and test my fitness for myself.

Restraint is key here. I’m an impatient son of a gun, naturally gravitating toward putting on the power, but these first few rides are meant to feel out my physical condition and see what kind of baseline fitness and condition I have after recovering from COVID19. This is not the time to do an FTP test, hill repeats, or HIIT sessions. Fortunately, prior to the sickness, my audax preparation consisted of riding lots of hours at a very maintainable Zone 2.

My first ride back happened about a week after testing negative. Immediately my power numbers were quite a bit lower. At the same cadence and rate of perceived exertion, I was doing anywhere from 15-25 W less. Power numbers are a secondary concern compared to my physical condition though.

John-John Torres of the YouTube channel John-John Bikes, after having had COVID19 twice, suggested monitoring real-time heart rate, especially after harder efforts like pedaling 30-60 seconds out of the saddle. One thing to watch out for, he said, was how heart rate may stay elevated and not gradually decrease after backing off on the power, which is a big indication that something’s off. Fortunately for me, my heart rate reacted correctly, gradually reducing as I sat back down and let off the power after a short out-of-the-saddle stint.

Breathing difficulty or obstruction was never an issue for me, but the first few days after recovering from COVID19, it felt like every breath filled up only 75% of my lung capacity. On my usual brisk walks with a mask on during this time, I actually felt a bit light-headed.

On that first ride, that feeling still lingered a bit, but it wasn’t so bad that it felt threatening – especially at the low intensities I was working with. With no lightheadedness or brain fog to report, I was able to complete an hour at RGT’s flat Borrego Springs course on the trainer, albeit spending a lot more time at Zone 1 than I would like. This was a good baseline.

Two days later I got back on and did another Borrego Springs ride. This time I felt more like myself. Deep breaths no longer required more conscious effort, which meant I could dig deeper. Having a good baseline from the previous session meant that I could test my physical condition under more duress. I did that by spending more time out of the saddle and at higher wattages – a minute or more at around 300 W at a time. Recovering from each of these was as expected, my heart rate gradually dialing itself back along with the reduced effort.

These harder intervals aside, I spent most of this second ride at a higher average power output overall. This was reflected in a better average speed, and it didn’t felt like I was straining myself to hold 130 W average over 31.5 km, and 149 W over 20 minutes. This was encouraging progress.

These diagnostic rides are well and good, but the fact remains that COVID19 definitely took the scissors to the fitness I had built up in anticipation of December’s 200 km ride. Right now, I just don’t know how much it snipped off, and I’m operating on an ongoing educated guess. The plan is to get checked by the doctor while listening to my body and gradually adding training stress in a sustainable manner. Having had my training rides, though, I feel pretty optimistic as I head towards December.