My Challenge Day

I got off the C Train at the subway station at 96th Street, from Midtown Manhattan where I live, that wet 8 o'clock Saturday morning in June. The overnight rain just stopped. I hurried to cross the street towards Central Park where the event which I was going to volunteer in would be held. I had no clue on what to expect or to learn for that day from that event. All I knew was that what I was going to embark on was for a great cause. I was going to help out to make that fun and meaningful event be successful for the special individuals, their families or whoever would participate in the event. Who knew if the thought that some of the greatest lessons in life just come during the most unexpected situations/events might be true for the day?

As I was taking the narrow pathways of the park, passing through the dripping trees, bushes, and rocks, which could almost touch me, I saw a group of three women walking together towards the same direction as my destination. I walked a little faster to catch up with them. "Are you volunteers for the Central Park Challenge too?" I asked. "Yes we are. We're going to guide the racers if they ever need help. How about you?” the lady beside me answered and then inquired. "I will help out in the registrations and assist in anything that needs assistance," I replied as we went on. As we were approaching the starting area, the spirit lifting music coming from the huge speakers became louder and louder. We continued walking together to the registration area where we split. There, a couple of already present club mates (CKI) of mine gave me the event's volunteer shirt.

I found my place inside the registration area which was covered by four lined tents. In those blue and white striped tents, there were long tables covered with white cloths. There were registration forms, credit/debit card processing machines, and some brochures on top of the tables. There was another line of higher tables just a meter away from the front tables. Boxes of printed shirts, caps, and key chains were placed on those higher tables. After I was oriented on the “what to dos”, I started working with the other volunteers for the event. We registered the participants and gave them their corresponding events souvenirs. I went back and forth into the boxes to get souvenirs. I was moving to a patterned beat reinforced by the cheerleading band performing and entertaining the crowd just about eight meters away. I did the same routine for an hour and a half. It was a bit tiring but the feeling it brought was incomparable.

As I was attending the registration table, I looked at the many people passing, walking or standing by the area. The area was crowded with families with special family members, school teams with their special pupils, couples, both young and old, groups of friends, groups of schoolmates, and groups from companies who all were there to participate in the fun activities prepared for the day. They also came to spend a fun, happy, and meaningful time in the park. They all walked and stood below the trees and on the moist grounds. As the start of the walk/marathon drew nearer, the participants started preparing themselves, munching on the sandwiches, biscuits, and muffins, and drinking the fruit juices and water that they brought for the event.

When the registration time was over and the walk had already started, we were finally done with our first task. We cleaned the area. As we went about cleaning, I found out that I was actually working beside professionals from different fields and levels of prestige who also volunteered for the event. That time, I realized that the event brought different types of people together to do a common and meaningful cause. I was, then, looking forward to more revelations and lessons to learn further that day.

After we were done packing back the boxes, tents, and tables, my club mates and I strolled towards the other part of the event, the fun activities area, where children were enjoying a lot of activities. A huge moonbounce welcomed us in the area. Little children were jumping, running from one corner to the other. On both sides of that moonbounce were lines of booths. There were booths for face paintings, for making balloon characters, making name boards, ceramics paintings, and other activities. The other booths were for more information on how to raise or cope with children with disabilities. Children and their guardians visited a booth after another. Other children just ran around the empty space in front of the stage where a country band was playing. Some adults stood just in front of the stage to listen to the live band. A few couples waltzed in the middle. After enjoying the music, my club mates and I went to the catering area where we took some soft blueberry muffins and fruit juices to nibble and to imbibe for snack.

All stopped what they were doing when the walkers and runners were about to approach the finish line. The cheerleaders and the cheerleading band led the pack towards the line. The New York Cheerleading Squad, who was wearing red and blue suits, lined at the both sides of the fence, holding their pompoms. After a few more seconds of waiting, the walkers and runners finally reached the line. They wore huge smiles and used their light arms to wave at the crowd who welcomed them. There were individuals who were in wheelchairs, accompanied by their families, autistic individuals walking with their parents and/or siblings, and more. The happiness and warmth of the runners and walkers, who reached the finish line, were very much contagious that even I was affected. I had joined other kinds of walks before, walking for breast cancer, premature babies, and heart diseases but somehow, this walk, which I did not actually join, hit my heart the most. My club mates and I made sure to take more insights from the participants so we went around talking to them. They were very accommodating and never let their smiles fade. They were great inspirations.

After a while, the last part of the race was being set up so we went there to extend our help. It was a race by age divisions. When the five meter race track was set up, the children from ages three to twelve went to their designated divisions and waited for their respective races. The first division race was of three year-olds. A banjo player was there before them. When the word “Go!” was relayed, the banjo player started to play and the children started to speed up. They ran fast to beat one another. Some children stumbled but got up, wagged their pants, smiled, and went on to finish their race, while others, who were still of innocence and with very much love for their parents, stopped, smiled, waved at their mothers and said, “Hi Mommy!”. At the end of the race, each was given a medal by the YAI chairperson. As the age divisions got higher, the children got faster.

The race went on to age five and then, six. I held my camera and shot a lot of pictures as they ran towards the end. They came and went fast. I stood on the side and took the best shots I could. My eyes were on the camera’s screen and were waiting for the next running shot of the children as the banjo started to play once again. That time, it was weirdly slower than the usual. I tried to find, through the camera’s screen, the children who were racing. When my camera was finally set on her, I found that there was a sole racer. I was stunned of what I witnessed. I saw a young girl who was probably five or six years old. Her feet had braces and in order for her to race, competing against no one but herself, her mother had to hold her two arms for support. I stopped looking at my camera’s screen and looked at the real scene. I was frozen. I saw this child’s determination on finishing the race, striding hardly but strongly towards the finish line. It was clear to everyone how she tried to work hard. Her feet were unstable. For every step she made, you would never see either of her feet touch the ground straight forward. Each would move left then move down to the right side before each foot would finally touch the ground. Her mother was there, making small, slow steps as hers throughout the race. Together, they took the racing road to the finish line. I was very certain that that was more touching than seeing those happy walkers/runners who finished the 5km/10km walk or run.




I closed my eyes the night before that event with enthusiasm and excitement towards a new experience that would be brought about by another fulfilling volunteering act, not thinking that something more than expected would be laid out before me. That day’s event was more than an experience or a volunteering fulfillment. The event was an eye opener and a life changing experience that I would never ever forget. The event was not just for fun. It was a very meaningful day to create accomplishments and fulfillments not just for the people behind it but especially for the people for whom it was made for in the first place. We were just there to learn from their determination, unconditional and non-materialistic happiness, and life contentment. I must say that it was not a challenge day to benefit them but us. It was my ‘Challenge Day’.

Halfway Around The World

It was still dark and cold when I woke up that dawn, late in the year. I hurried to get ready for a trip that will bring forth the new change in my life. After I prepared myself and had a warm meal, I sat in the living room of the family house [about five hours (including traffic) away from my hometown and home, southward, in a valley, and closer to the international airport] where our family usually spent some summers and holidays in, looking at the two three-feet red/blue luggage, sitting by the doorway. Other than those two things that held my possessions, I had nothing more to bring but myself and the lessons and memories that I had in me.

The night before, I traveled from the valley house to the capital city, particularly the University Belt -a place I barely went to in college since my school was in another but a very close-by Metro Manila city- to meet and have a dinner with a couple of high school classmates and friends, who, because their semesters to that day were still going, were not able to attend the after-the-semester get-together dinner party for my high school friends back home more than a week past.

While wondering by myself, our ride called and told me that he was ready to pick us up. My (older) sister and I then rode the car and zoomed to Ninoy Aquino International Airport (Manila). A couple of hours later, it was time for me to leave the country. After a while, I, had the last glimpse of my sister and moved on to walking, leaving everything and everyone behind me. The fifteen minutes I spent checking in and walking seemed like a day.

As I was checking in, my heart began to beat as fast as a festival parade drum beat that makes people dance. It was not beating that way because of nervousness towards flying. In fact, I consider flying as a great part of my budding life. Flying took me to places where I could unwind with my family, where I would perform family duties and where I would spend time to mingle, to learn and to grow with my other colleagues (schoolmates/then fellow student leaders). What made my heart pump that way was that that flight to another foreign country would not deliver me to a very certain place or to certain (short-term) activities but to a new kind of life which was still somehow hidden/veiled in darkness from and unknown to me and that if in the past, I sat with my parents, siblings, a classmate, or a colleague, that time, I would be sitting beside a total stranger or beside no one at all.

After that part, I walked towards the plane. That walk to the plane could not seem to be any longer. With a backpack and another handcarry, I paced through the tunnel-like passage directing to the plane's entrance. I was alone. Then, the stewardess greeted, "Welcome aboard!", as I approached the plane's door. She, then, checked my passport, ticket, and boarding pass. I was probably the last to board the plane. I walked to my designated seat, passing through some seats. Some were empty and some had persons on them: some were middle-aged, some grey, a couple were new mothers with their fragile and curious babies on their laps but I saw no one who shared my age. When I found my seat, I placed my bags in a cabinet on top of my blue and gray chair. Then, I sat, buckled myself and leaned on my back to relax. I realized that I was sitting beside no one at all.

After some minutes, the plane taxied around the taxiway. After a couple more minutes, the pilot accelerated the plane. The engine got louder once we were in the runway and finally, I felt the airplane's wheels touched off the ground. We took off. I was on my way half way around the world (to NYC).

To be continued...