Coasted, Toasted, and a Tad Bit Disappointed

At the start of every marathon you have yourself questioning your actions as to why are you doing this to yourself!  Why do hate yourself so much that you are you putting yourself through the wringer ! Why are you torturing yourself! But not this time. This time it’s a bit different. This time you’ve already done three 50ks and one additional marathon, not to forget that you’ve already done around three 40+ kms in your training. All this fills with you a quiet confidence, but as you will learn a few hours later, it all comes with its own set of setback.

So there you find yourself in a sea of runners, a sardine in can of sardines, slowly making your way, make that crawling, to the start line. In fact, you heave this claustrophobic feeling as you slowly and gradually walk with your fellow runners making your way past the BMC headquarters and VT, that’s lit up in all its dazzling glory.

Once you reach the start line, you quickly sign yourself and start all your apps and watch and off you go, zigging and zagging between runners, try to steady your pace and not give into temptation of going out all guns blazing. 

As runners pass you try not to speed up but maintain your pace. They are running their race you are running yours!

You cheer friends and your fellow runners, humming to yourself…

“You can’t hurry love 

You just have to pace 

Marathons ain’t easy

It’s a game of holding your pace…”

Humming this you continue on your way past Flora fountain and the first ASIC water station, past Jazz by the Bay snd the loop near mantralaya and then NCPA.

You spot your friends from SWGB and run give them a big hug and hi fives as you pass them by.

Just when you thought you had everything under control nature calls you, well make that beckons you and you need to heed its call. Thankfully it’s for the short one and not the long one.

You stop at the first site of a restroom, but the person using it seemed to be taking their own sweet time, so you decide to skip it and try at the next stop. You are lucky to get a vacant one. So you quickly do your business trying hard not to gag on the fumes that clog your nostrils, and join the runners who have gone ahead of you.

When you finally hit the better side of Peddar Road you catch sight of the front pack of the half marathoners. As always you envy them as they are almost on the last few kms of their race while yours is still under 10k. And as usual you wish you were in their position. But you’ve signed up for an FM and so here you are. So you just keep running, running, running, what do you do, you running, running!

Slowly and steadily you complete Peddar Road and move past Mahalaxmi Temple and then Haji Ali. In a way you are getting a tour of diversity of the city, though you are not sure if the unity part of the adage holds true.

From here on it’s on to the brand new addition to the race, one that you weren’t too happy about but had to make your peace with. It’s up the helix you go and onto to coastal road. You walk up as there’s no point in consuming energy running it up, so you walk gingerly while others pass you.

And then something happens that sets off the panic bells in your head. You let out a yawn! Though it isn’t the first one, it sure gets the panic bells all jingling! The price you pay when you go out to meet a friend instead of resting at home and taking to bed.

You desperately try to wipe the sleep from your eyes and all the memories from your mind when sleep ran! You stop to pour water on your face at every chance you get, trying to wash and rub the sleep from your eyes and mind. But you just keep yawning and you run. You realise this has slowed you down. 

You hear someone call out your name to realise that it’s your project manager overtaking you.

“Oh no you don’t”, you tell yourself and that’s enough motivation to awaken you and spur you on.

So you continue to run on the coastal road, dodging morons who want to capture themselves, cause when would you get a chance like this again (other than running TMM in 2027, again). They play a game of spot the camera guy and when they do they run right in front hoping to get captured not realising that the only possible thing that’s getting captured is their nostril hair, rather then their face.

You keep to a side, away from these morons, not bothering about the shutterbugs, running steadily and surely.

On the Sea-link you catch up with Manu snd for a couple of kms you have company. 

The journey from the coastal road to the sea-link feels never ending and making your feet feel weary from covering the distance. But yet again you try to calm your mind to take it easy, take it as it comes and let things go by feel.

As you continue on your way you take a moment to admire the rising sun as it tries to break through the smog that’s has dulled out its rays and making it appear blurry in the distance. 

Exiting the sea-link you stop for a while to capture the sunrise as you have customarily done.

As you make your way from Reclamation and on to the Causeway you are glad you don’t have to loop on the Reclamation, as you have previously done, but at the same time you are aware that the distance covered is much lesser than what it was in previous editions. So you know there’s going to be a loop or two somewhere down the line.

You try to put this thought at the back your mind, not letting what hasn’t yet come to bother you.

From the Causeway you take a right from St Michael’s church, running onto Cadel and past Mahim Darga and then Shivaji Park and Siddhivinayak Temple, giving you a glimpse of the religious diversity of the city, though it may not always evident amongst its residents.

At Shivaji Park you are greeted by your friends volunteering at the first of the two MRR  water station.

You stop for while, sipping on water and indulging in some selfies with Sudha Ma’am and Raakesh and Anita, before you take off.

You cheer coach, as he returns your cheers with a few motivating words and a smile. You come up to Santa, tapping him on the opposite only to have turn on the side that you are, much to your disappointment. You tell him he’s doing awesome and give him a few colourful words (or did you!)

As you continue a few doubts begin to make their way in your head. You know you are running strongly but you begin to question yourself if you’re going fast enough? 

Though you do know the answer, you try not to panic and focus on building your pace rather than quickening it and then cramping like you did last year.

You try to put these doubts to rest but somewhere they keep nagging you.

You reach the second MRR water station where Charu hands you a bar of Snickers and gives you a small bottle of coke, which you take a sip and hand it back to her much to charging as she had kept the whole bottle for you., but then you had no intention of running with it. 

You take your customary pic with Charu, thanking for always being there for you and all runner, and you are off on your way, trying to catch up to the ones who have overtaken you.

You take a right and you make your way to Worli sea face. You feel this annoyance when you discover that you need to run to Worli Dairy and then take a u-turn running back to almost INS RATA, from where you take a ramp to the coastal road once again.

You put your head down and just keep plodding on knowing that getting annoyed isn’t going to help you. So you just keep running steadily making the most of the challenge as well as the opportunity of running on route where you wouldn’t get a chance to run anytime soon.

You marvel at the changing skyline, how much things have changed over the years, how much seem familiarly unfamiliar.

By this time the sun is up and shinning. There’s no place to hide or take shade so all you do is keep going steadily ensuring you stay hydrated. 

You are joined by a runner from Chennai who cheerfully tries indulge you in a conversation. You try to be polite and give him a few replies and a sweet smile. When he tells you that he’s doing this for his hero, his father, you wonder who are you doing this for? But before you can ponder on this  you  get your answer, “ass you are doing it for yourself”.

You smile at this thought. You tell this runner to go ahead as you’d be walking up the slope. So he goes ahead while you walk steadily.

Once again the coastal road feels endless and your feet feel weary.

When you finally see the exit off the coastal road, you feel this sense of relief. You actually don’t quite mind that you need to go backwards to move forward.

Once again coach has caught up and passed you. Once again, you have these lingering doubts plaguing your mind if you are running slower than you should. However, as you exit the coastal road, you are able to catch up and overtake him, cheering him on.

It’s time to switch things up and take it up a notch. You switch to Taylor Swift’s Opalite (yaya, I may not be a Swiftie, but Taylor is heart) and off you go, making good progress as you pass Haji Ali and Mahalaxmi Mandir (making you wonder if religious monuments can co-exist peacefully next to each other, why can’t we)!

You finally approach Peddar Road, a section that has invariably gotten a bad rap but is in fact the most well supported and fun part of the route.

As planned, you walk up Peddar Road, conserving your energy for the final push. You even tell your fellow BNP mate, Nidhi, to walk up instead of run or jog ( she would later thank you for making her do so).

As you  walk up Peddar Road you see something that makes you believe the sight travels faster than smell.

You see this firang runner in front of you whose pants and legs look like he had a spill or sat down in some mud. But as you approach him and you catch the smell you realise what all the brown thing on his pants and legs, truly is.

You go wider in order to avoid latching onto any smell as you try to continue on your way as if nothing was wrong.

Reaching Babulnath you decided to take your final gel even though you had taken the last one not more than 30 minutes ago, arguing you would need it to push through the last lap of the race.

Finally you find yourself back at Girgaum Chowpatty, knowing just a couple of kms more and you’ll be done. You marvel at the fact that you have come this far without any signs of the C word, hoping you haven’t thought about it too fast.

You take a glass from the Red Bull station, and instead of just taking sip, you drink the content of the glass (which is not much).

Just as you begin to cruise down Marine Line, the one that you are constantly worried about makes its presence felt.

You begin to feel cramps on your quads and hamstrings. You try your best to shake it off, walk for a while hoping it will pass. But after you run for a while once again you feel those pesky cramps.

You grit your teeth and try not to panic, but just then the 5 hours pacer passes you, setting all sorts of alarms in your head.

You try to pick the pace and catch up with him, but those pesky cramps don’t let you go  too far before slowing you down. Every step is now a challenge, every steps feels monumental as you try to fight back the pain.

You get this sinking feeling in your guts that you wouldn’t be able to complete within 5 hours, which is really bad for you knowing what you are capable of. You feel this dejection and disappointment and all sorts of negative feelings and thoughts and emotions, wondering where did you go wrong.

Just when you hit your lowest of low, you find that spark of hope you need. You tell yourself it isn’t over till it’s over. It isn’t over till the fat lady sings.

You muster all the strength you’ve got and hobble on, trying to keep a slow and steady pace.

As you take the turn at Ambassador Hotel you spot your friend Suni who enthusiastically cheers you on. Smile and wave at her as you continue past Brabourne stadium and then Churchgate station, and onto the last couple of meters.

You can see the 5 hours pacer who’s slowly walking towards the finish line knowing that he got there before time and now needs to wait before he crosses the line.

You muster every ounce of strength that you can hobble across the finish line with 4 minutes to spare. You raise your hands in elation and breathe a huge sigh of relief. You got it done, no matter what.

You limp to collect your Finishers medal and then your towel. You feel this joy to see your friend Shital and give her a tight hug. She then gives you a tighter hug and gives you one of the best chocolate chip cookie she has made. You hold on to it as continue to limp towards the baggage counter.

You meet the runner from Chennai who met you on route, who congratulates and thanks you and asks you to present him his medal, an honour that you reluctantly accept and awkwardly put it around his neck as he once again dedicates it to his hero, his father. You can’t help but smile and applaud this beautiful gesture.

You once again continue towards the baggage counter, but not before meeting congratulating your friends.

As you patiently wait for your bag you begin to feel this drowsiness, this strange feeling that you would blackout at any moment. You feel this strange sensation in your stomach as if it wanted to empty itself out.

You collect your bag, and walk groggily, afraid you would blackout at any moment. Lucky for you meet your friend Mitali who recognises that your BP has gone low and quickly helps you get down on the ground  and put your leg up to help regulate it. And you slowly begin to feel better.

So after your customary pictures with your medal and your friends you make your way home with Mitali for company, talking to your burgers and fries, telling her you are ok and have completed your race.

With that you close another chapter of your love for all things TMM. Yes you happy that managed to complete it within the time you needed (by the skin of your teeth) but you are also a tad bit disappointed the way the race went for you, knowing it didn’t go well. You feel that sense of dejection but in the end you know you will bounce back and come back more well prepared to tackle it all once again!

What’s going on… your running a 55k

 “So you wake in the morning and step outside 

And you take a deep breath 

And you get real high

And scream on top of your lungs…

What’s going on?”

.. to which you hear yourself saying, “you’re running yet another 55 kms!”

You are no longer questioning your life choices. You are no longer asking your self why. After doing your third 50 (plus) km this year, life has more or less given up on your craziness or asking why, knowing you’ll do it all again.

But there’s still one thing you won’t do. You won’t call or acknowledge yourself an ultra runner, cause no matter how many ultras you may run you’ll never get to that crazy level of mileage as that of an ultra runner. You just love to run, mo matter the distance.

So there you find yourself at yet another start line, all set and raring to go. But before that you need to start all your apps and watch and sign yourself (after all you are catholic boy) as it’s customary for you to do.

You feel rested and ready to face the challenge ahead thanks to fact you are staying at the resort which is also the start line. 

So you wake up and dress up at ease and step down from your hotel and onto the start line, greeting your friends and fellow runners who are busy warming up while you are being your usual social butterfly.

As the clock strikes 4, it’s off you go, but not before starting all your apps and watch, and of course signing yourself.

You try not to think about the “S” word as you hadn’t had either hot water or black coffee.

You steadily run, keeping a slow and steady pace, cheering your fellow runners as you join them.

The air feels nice crisp against your skin. You do feel a chill but not a biting cold. At the  back of your mind you feel you are under dressed. Where others are in tees and shorts on top of compression shorts, not to forget the compression sleeves, you are in your shortest of shorts and a running singlet with just your hydration bag to keep your warm. But then you are not quite bothered by this thought cause you know you can pull it off with style and not just the justification that if you got it you flaunt it.

You steadily run past darkened houses with their occupants fast asleep, with none stirring, not even a mouse!  The only sound you hear is the bark of a few agitated canines who seem to be complaining about the sound of the patter of feet that seem to have disturbed their sleep.

You are  not worried about them, after all, as the saying goes, barking dogs seldom bite!

So you continue down the road, following the ones ahead, switching your head lamp on and off as pass through dark patches, shielding your eyes from the glare of the headlights of the on coming vehicles.

You make your past Pune’s version of Chowpatty (or so you’ve been told) admiring the waters that’s glistening in the reflection of the night sky (actually not the night sky but an early morning one). 

You run past the NDA and the remnant of a battle tank that may or may not have seen battle but now just a showpiece for the academy.

Just when you give thanks for the race being uneventful so far, you hear a crack of glass and with it comes a fellow runner, tumbling next to you.

You stop to give him a helping hand and check if he’s doing fine and not cut (after all you did hear crack of glass).

Once he tells you (and the other runners who stopped to check on him) that he’s ok, you are once again off on your way trying to stay focused on the road so that you don’t trip and fall knowing what a distracted soul that you are.

Although you keep your eyes on the road trying not to be the next one falling over (knowing how distracted you are, it wouldn’t be a great surprise) but there’s something about the night (or early morn, in this case) that fascinates you. The night is indeed dark, but it isn’t filled with terror.

You are enveloped in this inky darkness, but there’s nothing fearful about it (maybe all those early morning runs have gotten you over the fear of the dark). There’s this hum in the air, the sound of pumps slowly coming to life, machinery being switched on, cattle stirring from their slumbers. You take it all in , a core memory that’s going to live with you forever.

And just when you think that’s all’s good in the world, ok make that the run, you hear a thud, and you have a runner come tumbling down. He’s the one who tumbled earlier. As you check on him, with other runners, and help him to his feet. You figure out why he had a fall, he’s not wearing a head lamp and his shoes have almost lived their running life and somehow his running gait is such that any pothole and speed bump easily become a trip hazard.

Once you ensure he’s alright, you are once again off on your run, running steadily but cautiously, hoping that like Jesus he doesn’t fall the third time! You wonder if this thought would be constituted as blasphemous!

You’re running steadily, constantly checking if all parts are functioning properly. 

For most part it’s just us runners and no one else, after all who would want to be out and about on the road at this ungodly hour and that to when its cold and the bed seems like a nice and warm place to be snuggled in. But you do have a few uncles who have come out for their morning walk, all wrapped in their warm clothing. Next to them you feel quite underdressed, considering your short-shorts and your vest. They give you look as if to say who’s this prick in his chaddi-banyan running on our roads. 

You don’t mind them, in fact you welcome their presence, after all it’s good to see someone else other than runners on roads.

So you carry on with your run. As it’s dark and the only light is that of your lamp, you run by feel, and in the moment you begin to feel the route take an upward trajectory, which means it’s time for some brisk walk.

As you steadily walk up you stare at the city and the dam below. You notice two glistening diamond like orbs staring at you. You wonder, is it possible that the furry one from the park decided to keep an eye on you? But then you realise it’s not the furry one but just a miniature version of it, something that you know that your burgers and fries would be fascinated by. You smile at this thought and continue on your way.

You marvel at the glistening lake below, all inky blue, reflecting the colour of the sky above. The houses dotted like fireflies around the lake.

You take it all in, the part of the experience of running on routes less taken. So you go where the road takes you, or in this case the route designed by organisers.

As you continue on your way, nature begins to lighten up as dawn slowly breaks, banishing away the darkness that enveloped you. And although the sun is slowly rising in the sky, its light still doesn’t cut through the mist that still hangs in the air, which mean the the glare that you had put on  goes back cause your breath been fogging up the glass making the road ahead less visible.

You don’t mind the light fog, as long it doesn’t feel like the Mumba smog.

You finally catch a glimpse your burgers and fries running ahead of you. You slowly make your way to her and as always you check on her. You know what this run means to her and to her alone and no one else. You know struggles she’s been through and you are proud to see her pushing through despite the conditions being tough on her. You are proud of her.

After checking on her and knowing that she has company, you continue on your way.

So you go where the road leads, where the set course takes you. Through the twists and turns and rise and falls and the climbs and descend. You run on kaccha roads, with fields on either sides, on bridges that’s on stream that have been dried up.

Over time the sunlight has managed to cut through the fog lifting the curtain on that which was hidden, making visible that was hidden behind the fog. A sight that takes your breath away.

For most of the time you have the company of few runners, some of who have over taken you, a few who you have overtaken. But then there comes a point where there’s no one for company, and for most part you are running by yourself, with just the sun, in all its glory, for company, which has now found its light and has begun to shine bright.

There are points where you do cross a few runners  but most time it’s just you and the road and Taylor Swift crooning Opalite, and Chappell Rowan singing Good luck babe, and Adele, and so on, to keep you company.

You make it a point to stop at each water station and thank the volunteers manning them, after all they have been on duty from the earliest of morning for the runners running greater mileage. And they have been taking good care of every runner. This is one thing that makes races organised by runners standout from big time marquee races.

After what felt for the longest time, you being your own company, you begin to see a few runners who have been running the 35 and 25k. 

From being mostly unfamiliar, the route now seems to be more familiar after having done a 25k the previous year. 

You are no longer all by yourself, you begin passing villagers who begun going about their day. You have buses and tempos zipping by, people hanging around ready to start their day.

You breathe a bit easy knowing you are close to the finish line, just a few more kms to go. But then those few more kms include an uphill. And even though you walk up it feels like it’s just going on and on with the descent not coming anytime soon.

This is your very own Everest that you need to surmount. And if that wasn’t all you begin to feel your muscles tighten making the progress even more slow. 

You pass by variety of shops that are now full swing catering to those who have come to buy what they have to offer. You pass by street vendors and cattle and dogs who are all set to greet you. You even pass a group of bathing the mortal remains preparing it for its final journey. You sign yourself and mutter a pray as you continue on.

When you finally begin to descend you try to run cautiously as you begin to feel the onsets of cramps, so you progress is slow and steady.

You finally reach a point where you see the volunteers ask you to take the lane on the right, after water station.

So you make your way up a kaccha road while a few kids begin to cheer you on and ask for hi fives.

Once again you try to run cautiously as you don’t want to trip and fall or twist your ankle.

By this point you feel the weariness and the fatigue that has already set in. Your body, especially your feet seem to be yelling, wanting to just give up, but you tell yourself that you didn’t come this far to give. So you just keep running.

You take one final turn and you know you are close to the finish line. You dig deep and give it your all, that one final push. You can see the resort, your finish line. You break into quick stride, and make it over that finish line.

And just like that you’ve run your longest distance. You punch the air and let out a squeal of delight. 

From being a reluctant full marathoner to running your third 50km of the year, you’ve come a long way, but you still don’t think of yourself an ultra runner.

You hobble over to the medal counter to collect your personalised medal from the youngest volunteer.

And with that you have an another race under your belt, a feather in your cap. Though this was a really tough one, a challenging one, you know you’ll be back once again, to accept this challenge and run this route once again.

You smile at this thought and head down the route to help bring your burgers and fries across the finish line.