Down the Old Familiar Road

As you run down the road there’s something familiar about it! Maybe it’s because you’ve run this route two years ago and you’re adding this line for dramatic effect! Bada nautanki sala!

So warm up done, off you run, as the rain pours down on you, keeping you and your fellow runners cool. Your run at a steady comfortable pace, passing runners, being passed by runners, doing your best to enjoy every single moment of your run.

So you continue with you four companions, Maya, running cautiously trying to avoid spraining her ankle on a pothole, Rohan dodging every pothole like it was a dodgeball coming his way, and you like the child that has been let loose, on a sugar rush, splashing away to glory, in every puddle you found yourself, after all that’s what they are meant for, and cause you’ll never grow up. And the fourth companion was the rain that just refused to let us be but grateful were we by its very cooling presence.

So we chatted from start to end, chitting and chatting about every topic you could think of, about race and recovery, the ones we have done, the ones we will do, the ones on our bucket list, the things we do to recover. Even the mundane details seemed interesting and turned miles to smiles. No inclines felt troublesome, in fact felt more fun. We even chatted about platelets donation, a thing that both Maya and I are passionate about, and how we came about learning about it. So we chatted up inclines and down declines, passing runners, running by the sea, running by people in their Sunday best, heading to church, looking at us in bewilderment and amazement, probably wondering who were these strangely dressed people running in the pouring rains.

So we trudged up inclines, walking where we needed to, passing paddy fields and salt pans, and on roads that ran through quaint villages, at all times admiring what nature laid in front of us to admire, leaving us in awe and admiration at the sprawling sea, dotted with it fishing boats. We did what every runner do, posed and pouted, ok we didn’t pout, but sure did click pics. 

The volunteers, all cheery and encouraging stood there for us in the pouring rain, directing us, offering hydration, water, fast and up, bananas and dates with rock salt, and this candy that proved to be the biggest saviour of them all. They were smiling, they were helpful, indeed an angel of this tough terrain. It actually felt good to be on the other side, for a change not worrying about coordinating amongst the volunteers.

So finally we made our to the beach, with a bit of David Hasselhoff taking over me. Since I was already soaking to the bone, took off my tee and ran bare chested. Call it the bay watch effect, but when you’re near the sea isn’t that what you normally did. Well I don’t have a physique to write home about, nor am I exhibitionist (somewhere I can imagine my friend rolling his eye on his statement) but just felt like doing it.

So the beach was the culmination of the run, time to cool down (as if the rain wasn’t already doing that) enjoy some lovely hot breakfast of poha and Upma (that got soggy in the rain) and some lovely garma garam chai (the best thing you could have on a rainy day), and you didn’t even mind that the rain was pouring into your chai.

So after you thanked the organisers, the awesome MBR team for being a gracious host and organising a near flawless run on an awesome route, thanking the volunteers for their support, without whom the run would not be possible. So you posed for pictures (thanks to your iPhone being water resistant and all the wonderful photographers around) and then it was off to complete your journey back home, which felt long and arduous even though the route was relatively flat and the rain continued to pour, never leaving your side. But the lack of company made the run rough.

So in the end it was a Sunday morning  well spent, running down a tough but scenic route, ably supported and coordinated.