The Boy in the Pink Shade: TMM 2024

There are only so few things that are sure in life. Birth, death, change, taxes, and in my case, running the Mumbai Marathon, which I have been doing every year, without fail, ever since my first official Half Marathon in 2011. The only years where I missed it was during the pandemic. But then you can’t miss something that didn’t happen.

So once again, in just over two weeks, you find yourself amongst a sea of runners, and this time it’s really a sea of runners. There are so many runners that if you tried to do a leg swing you would have surely kicked someone up their golgappas. You would certainly have found an easy way to help control the population. You could take someone’s eye by simply swinging your hand.

So there you are, desperately trying to find a way to warm up. You are no longer just another face in the crowd, a stranger in the night, ok in the early morn. You are in place where everyone knows your name. Well not quite everyone, but a large chunk of people really know you (and even, for the love of god, you can’t remember theirs). So you are all smiling and wishing everyone luck, squeezing in for selfies with friends, which actually helps as it takes away the nerves that you are feeling (even if you keep telling yourself that this is only a 21km).

As the clock slowly winds down to the start time, you spot Sangy ma’am and Sunil sir. You make your way to them to take your tight hug from Sangy ma’am, as it’s customary before every TMM. It’s your good luck charm and their blessings. Along the way you also steal some hugs meant for for your burgers and fries, Natty.

Once you got your hugs you make your to your holding area for your line up. Though you try to be calm, you are bit worried that you would be clubbed with runners who would be more interested in clicking selfies on the Sealink and the effort you would have to zig-zag your way through them.

To your delight your area is open and most of the runners have made their way to the start line. So all you have to do is  slowly jog to the start line as you know there’s no need to hurry.

Slowly the clock winds down signalling the start, and the race is officially flagged off. You gulp down your gel and sip water, and then once again starting all your apps as you pass the start line. This time you have your music to keep you company.

You start slowly and cautiously but steadily because it’s dark and you can’t really afford to have another fall and get anymore stitches, and most importantly, you need to let the ones in a hurry to go ahead. You just have to run to the plan that coach Dan set for you.

You slowly pick up your pace a bit as you hit the Reclamation and from there the Sea-link, where you have to dodge runners who have spotted the photographer and are running right towards them with arms wide ope, not to hug the poor chap (I think the poor chappy could do without those hugs), it’s just something that runners do on the Sealink. 

By now you are running at good steady pace, happy to have your music on as it drowns out the din that’s somehow makes you uneasy. 

You know you are running strongly and smartly, controlling the urges to speed up, conserving your energy for the last part. Even then you know your pace is quick and going from strength to strength, and at this rate you would easily cross the finish line within two hours, which was the target you set for yourself.

For most part, the route feels familiar. But then there are parts which make you go “hmm, well this is new!”maybe because it’s been a while since you ran a Half at the Mumbai Marathon. In fact, the last time you ran a half its was SCMM and not TMM.

By the time you reach the half way mark you are pretty content by the way things are going. You feel no discomfort, apart from the bit of uneasiness you feel in your stomach, thanks to the ice cream indulgence. But apart from that there’s nothing to complain about. Well there’s one thing, you wished the streets were more lit up and less dark, especially considering all the construction work and all the possible trip hazard.

You are happy that the weather is holding up well. In fact, it felt cooler from when you started, possibly because of all the people in the holding area who could easily spike the temperature, and not necessarily because of their hotness. But then the weather wasn’t going to be a factor for you. You are targeting a sub two so you would be done and dusted even before the sun came up. The only thing you would need to be careful would be of the dark and the construction work from the Coastal Road and the Metro.

You finally make your way to the dreaded Peddar Road, which actually is not scary. Yeah it does slows your pace, but it also has the best crowd support. Where else would you have the hoitty toitty of Mumbai come on the road to serve you water and oranges. Also, because you have been running a t a steady pace, conserving your energy, you know you make it over this speed breaker and you’ll be off to the last few kms to the finish line.

As you steadily make your way up you are on the lookout for your friends at the MRR water station, which you miss because of all the FM runners, and then you have your music blaring in your ears that it even drowns out Shweta who’s cheering you on.

Once you reached the top of Peddar Road, it is time to shift into high gear, as you had planned.

So swiftly and surely you make your way past Babulnath and onto Chowpatty thanking your friend and fellow RB Tomcy, who’s cheering for you.

You finally get this sense that a sub 2 is within your grasp. Well it’s not your first sub 2, it’s not even your PB. But it’s the first sub 2 you’ve achieved post pandemic, after getting control of your weight issues, and first one you’ve done under a structured training of Dan Sir. So there’s a lot you’ve gotk o be proud of yourself .

So you continue to run confidently by the water stations manned by your friends at SWGB and MRR giving high fives and thanking them. You spot Charu and Rahul at the MRR water station and seeing them powers you up.

By now you are confident that you’ve got this, you just have to keep going and find that last gear to give it your all.

You take that last turn and you have the finish line in sight. You see the arch with the clock counting down the time. You see the coloured flags and the red carpet. You know you finally made it to the end. 

So you give yourself one last burst as you race to the finish line, punching the air as you make it across, elated and happy and proud that you achieved what you set out to do. You ran to a plan, you ran smartly, and not really swiftly, conserving your energy for when it really mattered. 

There were so many things you could be proud of. You finally got that sub 2 that you were struggling to achieve post the pandemic. And though this was not really your best time, but then this was the just the tip of the iceberg and your best is yet to come. You could now put the memories of your FM in Dubai to rest, though you are not going to let yourself forget it cause you will be using it as the fuel for your training and future runs. And what more you did it in style, in your blue Athlos gear and your pink Craycol glares (and no, this not me trying to be an influencer or a collaborator).

Somehow these two runs have lit a fire in your belly. They built this quite confidence that you could actually hit your best.

So with this indulge in some post  run shenanigans of clicking pics and selfies.

You collect your towel and your medals and your goody bag hoping there’s no thepla in it. 

You wished they cut down on the amount of walking you had to do to collect that much deserving medal. You wished there was much more order to collect your bags as it was chaotic and confusing and runners who have done with their run really don’t have patience. So much they could be done better.

So once you collected your bags and excitedly jumped and hugged your friends and indulged in all the selfies, you make your to the water station where you spend the next 4 hour handing water to runners and cheering them, things that are so you, things you like to do. 

You literally scream yourself hoarse cheering the full marathoner as they pass by, some running strongly and steadily , few hobbling a bit with cramps but refusing to give up, people who need all the support and motivation. 

By now the weather is warmer than it was when you started. And then you have the infamous humidity, making you grateful that you chose to do the half and not the full.

So you stand there, in the company of your friends, offering them ice and water and oranges, cheering them, telling them that they have a few kms left  (oscillating between 3 to 2 to kms), egging them on to give that one final push.

You are excited cheering your RB , SWGB and MRR friends on, but you are the most happy and relieved when you finally see that damn Manoos, that Santa, Herzel reach the station. You scream and hug and hand him the water and warn him never to do this again without proper training (a sentiment I am sure is echoed by others at the station, I know Srini sir does).

So once Herzel is off to the finish line, you continue to volunteer till the last runner passes by (or you assume is the last runner) and the roads are open. You know it’s time to return home. You’ve been awake and on your feet for well over 12 hours and though you spirit is still high, inside your body feels like a zombie craving for rest and not flesh. 

So you leave with a heart full of sweet and sweaty  memories of another run in the bag (yes oblivious of the fiasco going on elsewhere) knowing that this run has somewhere, somehow ignited the belief that your best it yet to come. So here’s to many more TMMs to come!