Danasan Trail Ultra 2025
My 30K trail run story — tough climbs, sleepless start, aching legs, and an ending filled with gratitude. Pain fades, but God’s strength endures.
sir.mikeee
10/5/20252 min read
I was honestly reluctant to sign up for the 30K trail run — I mean, who voluntarily runs up mountains for hours? But I did it anyway. Ignorance truly is bliss. I didn’t realize how hard it would be until we did a trail recon, and wow… it was brutal. We didn’t even finish the recon! Those endless uphills took everything out of us — there were five major climbs, and when we heard the last one was a 4 km uphill, we called it a day.
After that, I told myself, “Nope, not doing the actual race.” But after some rest, I started second-guessing that decision. Part of me wanted to back out, but another part whispered, “You already paid. There’s a shirt. There’s a medal. Go for it.” So I did the adult thing — got my medical certificate, picked up the race kit, and convinced myself that my months of training shouldn’t go to waste. (Also, thanks to my friend Janelle for the final push 😅).
The race day itself was wild. We started at 2 a.m., and I barely slept because I’d been awake since 5 p.m. the previous day. Add a 2–3 hour drive from Minglanilla to Danao, and yeah — I was running on caffeine, adrenaline, and bad decisions.
The course? Absolutely brutal. Constant uphills, steep downhills, mud, rocks — you name it. We kept stopping, running, walking, and questioning our life choices. But somehow, we made it to the 17 km checkpoint an hour before the cutoff. That gave us a bit of hope — until the trail decided to get even harder.
By 1 p.m., with just an hour left and 6 km to go, I was sure we couldn’t make it. My legs were on fire, my feet were cramping, and I was praying out loud for it to end. But when we finally heard the sound of the crowd and the announcer from the finish line, something inside me woke up. We pushed through the pain, ran (or limped) those last meters, and crossed the finish line with 10 minutes to spare.
At that moment, I could’ve cried — from pain, relief, pride, everything all at once. It was hard. It was painful. It was unforgettable.
I don’t know if I’ll ever do it again, but one thing’s for sure: that race changed me. It reminded me that pain is temporary, but finishing something you once thought impossible — that’s the kind of memory that sticks forever.
And through it all, I know it was only possible because of Him. All glory to God. 🙏
DTU 2025
