Close encounters of the furry kind

Having not been able to complete my run mileage the previous week, I was very determined to get it done by hook or crook. And the events of the week further gave this run a whole different meaning.

So you find yourself in the early morn, quickly doing your warm up while others (with the exception of runners) are fast asleep tucked in their bed, enjoying their Sunday sleep. 

You patiently wait for the gates to open , and when it does you scurry through it and into the dark park.

Darkness immediately engulfs you. Ok, it’s not that dark. There are those few street lamps (can you even call it that, or should it be park lights) that try their best to keep the darkness at bay. Luckily you have your headlamp, which would help you navigate through the darkness till dawn lights up your way.

You start off cautiously not wanting to trip on potholes or speed breakers (cause falling in the park is what your burgers and fires does best, and you don’t want to add to the craters in the park).

Your headlamp does its best to light up your way through the light drizzle and mist. You squint to see what’s ahead of you.

As you slowly make your way through the darkness you note a couple of dots that light up as you look at them, glowing in the dark.

You know what they are and are not perturbed by their presence. Well they too don’t seem perturbed by your presence. They just glance your way wondering what type of strange creature is this who’s running at such an odd hour when they should have in fact be in bed (you could the same thing about them too). But then they are used to seeing such crazy fools in the early hours. So they just glance and return to what they were doing before the light shone on them. There was no way you disturb or distract them from what they were doing in the dark, which was eating grass (what did you think they were doing in the dark!!!).

You continue on your run and come up to Gandhi Tekadi. Wanting to cover it at least once in the morning so you don’t have to slog through it in the heat of day, you take the turn up the Tekadi.

So up you go, running slowly up the slope cause hills and slope have never been kind to you. Somehow you have this feeling that  you struggle with them, but then this is not always true. You try your best to avoid being smacked in the face by the branches of the overgrown shrubbery which have thrived in the rains.

Then suddenly out of nowhere you see another pair of glowing eyes that quickly scurries away across the path ahead and into the shrubbery, making you wonder what exactly was it.

It wasn’t a deer cause it didn’t feel like it or moved like one. It couldn’t be a cat cause it was bit bigger than the usual stray feline that you have notice in the park.

And then it comes to you causing your heart to skip a thousand beats. Could it be the furry one? But you didn’t hear any calls to indicate its presence, and then there were the deer that were grazing at the base of the Tekadi. They wouldn’t be there if they knew it was this close.

So you look in the direction that it went , your head lamp lighting up the area. And then you see a silhouette of it, on top of the ridge. You can make out a shape that’s a little bigger than a common cat, and those glowing eyes staring at you, watching you from high ground, almost as if it was stalking you.

And in the moment you wonder if you should be brave and continue running up that hill, or do the wise thing and slowly turnaround, without showing any signs of fear (which in the moment is the most difficult thing you could do), and go back down to the safety of the road below.

You choose to do the later, slowly trying to make your way down, but  your insides are all terrified of what you’ve seen and what could happen. But then considering the week you had this wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to you.  

As you slowly make your way back (cause your trying hard not to go into full panic mode and burst into a sprint) you see this elderly gentleman on his morning walk without a flashlight with just a stick in hand, unperturbed by the darkness.

You stop and try to warn him about what lies ahead (or you think lies ahead). However, he seems agitated by you and screams at you. Thats when you realise that you’re actually blinding him with your headlamp. You quickly switch off your headlamp but he doesn’t seem to heed your warning and continues with his walk.

You wonder should you continue doing what you were doing which was getting the hell out there as fast as you could, or do the so called gentlemanly thing and follow him to ensure he’s safe.

You being you, you decide to do the later and follow him a little behind as he waddled his way to the top.

As go past the place of your sighting of those glowing eyes stalking you from its perch, you nervously look around and then look ahead for any sign of what lay hiding in the darkness. You are anxious and in full alert mode, trying hard not to panic. Somehow the presence of this elderly gentleman ahead of you gives you reassurance and calms you down to a good extent.

You realise though you were trying to do the noble thing and ensuring that this person was safe, but in reality it was the other way around. It was his presence that reassured you and made you feel safe.

So you quietly walk behind as he continues without showing any sign of anything.

Suddenly you see this other gentleman coming down the slopes, probably doing hill repeats in the dark. 

He gets scolded by our gentleman as he had squeezed through the gates even before time and the security was whistling for him to stop.

After this brief conversation your knight in shinning armour continues on his walks while the other gentleman continues with his runs while you continue to walk silently behind your knight.

When you finally reach the top you go round the monument like you always do while your knight checks if anyone is there.

You realise it’s finally time to part way and continue with your run and complete your mileage.

You thank your knight for his company and to your surprise he thanks you too.

It’s finally time to go on your way, so you cautiously make your back down the hill in a nice  and slow jog, looking all around wondering what’s lurking in the dark. 

You breathe a sigh of relief on reaching the base and you continue on your run.

The rest of your run proved to be quite uneventful , if not boring as you brave the elements of the initial rains followed by the heat and humidity later in the morning.

Though you managed to complete the mileage you set out to do, the events, or if I could call it adventures, of the first hour would stick with you more than your achievement of completing 29k mostly on your own.

Crouching Deer, Hobbling Man

As I hobbled down the road, like we Runners do when the rains play truant and the weather gets hot and humid, and yeah, when you overtrain. So here I tried my best to shake off the pull in my calves, the strain on my hams, I mean hamstrings not the edible one (although knowing where I was I could easily become one). So I hobbled down this road that I don’t often take, a deviation from my normal running route, just to add a few but important kms under my feet, and avoid taking anymore inclines, cause if I did take one then someone would have to carry me down and would definitely not be the case of Jack and Jill.

As I turned a corner there he was, as if frozen in flight, a slow runner left behind, just like me (or my situation then). He looked ahead in the direction that his companions had taken, hoping they would  wait for him to catch up with them (if he could manage that), by the time he would find a way to get out this predicament.

He was startled by the sight of me, as I was of he. Wondering who was this stranger in this part of town, a trespasser, an intruder in place he called home. But then I could claim the same for me though my claim would be way weaker than he. He stared at me with his big brown eyes not batting even a single eyelashes, as I stared back with my small ordinary looking eyes.

And so began a staring competition, with each holding their ground, not willing to give the other even a single inch. We stared and didn’t care, just stood there sizing the other, awaiting the other to make the first the move, with none actually willing to do so.

The sweat beads on my forehead glistened, in the light of the grey morning, wondering if he felt the same way, an anticipation of what was to come, not necessarily a fear. There was a crackle in the air. The tension so sharp like the edge of the knife cutting anything in the thin air.

And finally I gave in, cause let’s face it, he was deer and I was human, not a cheetah, leopard or even a panther, but a dear deer. After all this was total nautanki mind at work. So I hobbled on my way to complete my mileage while he went on his way catch up to his herd that left him behind.

.. Something only gets better in the Rains

Something get better in the Rains... You may argue that this is the monsoon tag line for Essel World and Water Kingdom but hey I have never been to either of these places in the rains, in fact, haven’t been here in almost two decades. So can’t really say if they get better in the rains. Some may say making love gets better with the rains, but then I’ve never tried it, so have never known, but wouldn’t mind finding out (anyone up for an experiment???) What I do know is running in the park gets better in the rain.

Well it’s been pouring the whole night long so the park is all bright and clean, not to forget wet. The trees all bright and clean and green, dusting off the dust and grime accumulated through the extended summer. It finally feels like the Rain Gods took pity on us poor soul and decided give us the showers of blessings we need, respite from the heat and humidity.

Thanks to the continuous downpour, the dried up river beds now have a river flowing through it (and now you’ll have more morons in the parks coming to dirty and pollute it). The little rivulets running besides you, in all their gurgling glory, seem to be calling to you, challenging you to keep pace with them, like little fairies floating over them.

Thanks to the rains, the park is cool, not the sweltering pot of humidity that it becomes during the summer. The humidity is very much there (after all, there needs to be moisture in the air for it to rain, as explained to this dufus by Dylooo). Thankfully the heat is gone, in its place is that wet wet wet feeling. They say green relaxes the eyes, and here everywhere you look it’s pristine and green. So your eyes are totally, they are so relaxed that they are tired of relaxing. But the greenery is the sight for sore eyes (literally), as is the flowing stream.

You don’t need no music. Nature has its very own orchestra to make you run (and if you care to, dance) to its tune. The patter of the raindrops that keep falling everywhere, the gurgling of the rivulets, roar of the stream (thankfully not of the beast), the swishing of the breeze through the trees, the chirping of the birds, the croaking of the frog, the howling of the monkeys, the barking of the deer, and you splashing away through all the puddles (not wanting to run in the muck but risking getting your shoes and socks wet, as if they wouldn’t) all coming together to form their own tune, and nature conducting a multi-piece orchestra. And you can hear this orchestra in full flow if you listen carefully, over the din and chatter of your running buddies.

It may be raining but training still needs to be done, the slopes still have to be conquered, albeit the weather is much more pleasant from the last time you’ve run here. So you huff and you puff and you make your way through all the hill repeats at Kanheri, and the last time up Gandhi Tekadi, where you chance to meet a Neelghai, or two (for a moment I thought this was the official mascot of the Blueman Group, turned out to be not). And when you reach the top the sight of the misty hills, of course they aren’t mountain, take your breath away.

So you finally end your run, and try and cool down, as if the pouring rains heated things up so now you’ve got to cool it down. But as a runner (and a gymmer) you are pretty much aware that any activity heats things up (now don’t go getting ideas I say). So you leave the park hoping it continues to rain like this for the next couple of months, cause running only get better in the rain.

Oh Humidity!!! How Cruel Art Thou!!!

They say that the weather in the park is always a few degrees lower from its surrounding area. Well when it comes to humidity, you just inverse that assumption and multiple by, hmmm, say 10 (give and take). That’s how high the humidity can be (and in another inverse, the josh is poosh, please don’t try to ask that too).

So you’re one mass of sweat. You’re sweating, or should I say dripping, or even leaking, from all possible parts of your body. Your tee, your vest, have become a part of your skin. You have no clue where your skin ends and your tee begins. Your shorts look like as if you peed in them, and you’re still peeing cause they are still dripping, and for no good reason you’ve begun to froth (that’s if you were me)! So now you know how poor Mandakini felt under that damn waterfall with all your inside on display out.

You curse the weather, you beat your chest and cry out, “Rain, Rain, what have I done to you, how have I offended you, where are you”. And if that that wasn’t enough, you let out a shrill wail, “Rain Gods, Rain Gods, why have you foresaken me?” Well not this dramatically, or blasphemously, but you do utter silent curses under your breath, in your head. 

You huff and you puff and you try to get that bloody run done. But then the weather seemed to be smiling and telling you, “You can’t hurry love, you just have to wait, Running in this weather don’t come easy, it’s a game maintain your pace” making you wonder if the weather is ever going to let up, and no matter how fast you try to run you can’t get away from it. Even the deer seem to be stumbling, rushing trying to get away from the brutal humidity. Somewhere, in the back of your head, a voice is singing “Showers of blessings, showers of blessings we need, sweating we have done aplenty but for the showers we plead.”

But even in this humidity why do we continue to run. Firstly you get the opportunity to meet and run with some awesome runner, Comrades finishers, taking in the experience and advice they have to share. You are running in pristine greenery, and your nose filled with the sweet feel of the forest and flowers in bloom, intoxicating your senses. You get to meet friends, who you would have not met if you ran your usual days. Some flaunting their sexy legs, others giving you a tight and warm hug (the only warmness that’s welcome), since it’s been a long while since you met. Not to forget your sweet friend with the cutest and brightest and sunniest of smiles, which can effectively brighten any boring run. And yes most importantly you have you mr buddy, with whom you continue to yap with the whole way through, and up the slopes, a chit-chat Run.

So no matter how humid the weather maybe, you’ll continue to run but never missing a beat and complaining, “Oh Humidity! How cruel art thou!!!”

P.S. if the humidity doesn’t kill you then the civic sense, or the lack of it, will surely do the trick. The number of empty plastic bottles that we found strewn at the top of the Kanheri slope was surprising, cause these weren’t small 500 ml bottles but the 1 litre ones and most of them not Bisleri. The surprising thing was that the dustbin was visible and nearby. How lazy and irresponsible can we get?

And who gets their four wheelers and two wheelers to the park and then effectively cause a jam, in the park! Thrill seeking youngster speeding with their vehicles, effectively putting life in danger, not to forget to poor runners, cyclists and walker. And is that wasn’t enough they park at the side, keep the doors open and keep chatting, moving the incoming vehicles on to the runners who are cooling down and stretching. When you tell them l they have the audacity of saying that if you asked them politely they would have moved, makes you wonder if they thought you were their paid employee (damn I didn’t even utter a single colourful word).

All this makes you want to exclaim “Oh God, where art thou, when they were teaching civic sense!!!”

.. and sometimes the Road wins

.. there are days when the road wins. Will this is the case most of the time rather than sometimes. But then that’s the way of a runner, conquer or be conquered, but keep that Josh high (so how’s the josh???) take each run as they come, trying to constantly remind yourself, baba this is off-season Training, so stop fucking grumbling about your pace, stop fretting about your sppppppeeeeeeeddddd!!!

So you drag your carcass out of bed, gulp down your coffee (black, no sugar), and pray to the weather gods, to the old gods and the new, the gods with many faces, the drowned gods, to show mercy, not make you bend your knee. But then they seem to be having none of it, and are hell bent to make your run tough. Any moment  you feel like you’re going to hear a loud cry “Dacarays”, and all the would be left of you would be a pile of ashes from dragon fire, aka poor Lord Varis (RIP). But then the sun and summer are doing such a banged up job, so there’s no need for Dragons and Dragon Queens. Damn looks like I have a bad case of GoT hangover and I still haven’t seen the last episode.

So you run in the heat, grumbling, grudgingly, trying your best to keep up with your buddy who seems to have awesome stamina (damn don’t tell her I said that, but shit she’ll read this). You two busy chatter away of runs and races, as the third stooge isn’t there to shush us, and grumble how much you two jabber.

So you run, and you run, and you continue to run, chattering away but then there’s a different story going on inside your head, inside you, where every part of body grumbles and complains, threatening to revolt, threatening mutiny, after all what did they do to deserve being tortured in the heat of summer. But still you continue to run, not wanting to bruise your ego (not just your toxic masculinity), not that it is bloated, just that you don’t want to be the one to give up. So you trudge on, till you finally have no other option but to walk. Till then you are drenched in your own sweat, looking like you’ve just stepped out of the shower with your runnings clothes on, or as if you just peed in your pants. But you are grateful you can walk even if you have to limp.

Now since our socially unfriendly Dyloooo started his run early, we make the most of his absence and just lighten up and be the social butterfly that we are. So in the end you have a good 18 under your belt, which you mar mar ke did. Today the road May have but not today, oops I mean not again, cause the Rodman remembers.

Summer’s in the Park... Runner’s Diaries

When most of the city has retreated to cooler climates, exotic locales, beaches,  we fools take to the park to continue with our off-season training. And it seems like the park is happy to see us, tired from all the  cannodling couples, lukka kids with their cameras and selfies, and many morons who get their vehicles and come to the park (talk about the irony). Nature has laid down a carpet of yellow to welcome you.

The trees are In full bloom with their , yellow, orange, pinks, purples and white, the colours of summer, making the park bursting with a riot of colours. Not to forget the runners and walkers have their own colourful attire.

As you run, there’s a cool breeze in the air that lightly caresses your face, keeping you cool from the harshness of the weather outside, from the highway that passes outside the park. And further you get from the concrete jungle, and into nature, the cooler the weather, the fresher the air, except when you come to Kanheri when you once again feel the heat, not just of the weather but of the climb also. So you have some hot patches (not because of a hot runner Running there), and the challenge of the slope.

The trees in all their colourful glory, though some stripped off and standing there bare, naked and brown, lining up the road, often overarching it, promising to protect you from the harshness of the sun, keeping it nice cool, for summer. 

The cloudy skies too seem to be doing their bit, trying it’s best to dilute the harshness of the season trying its best not to heat the weather. But the great and mighty sun would have none of it, peeping through the clouds, bursting through the trees. But the Sun’s intention is not to make you cower before it, or bring you to your knees, but to show you what stuff you are made off, to make you stronger and fitter, more resilient, as you face more adverse conditions like the hot and humid condition of mumbai weather. 

So as you go, you listen to the sounds of nature, the music that it has prepared for you, the gentle rhythm, the blended harmonies, of the breeze, rustling through the leaves, the chirping of the birds and the crickets, nature’s very own music, the soundtrack for your run, so often drowning out your chatter.

So you try to keep up with the chatter and the pace, trying to weather the heat of summer, the rolling terrain, while navigating the slopes, as primates blankly stare your way, wondering what these humans are upto, torturing themselves in the summer heat. You’re glad for the light breeze on your face, as much as you are for the company, for the colours that burst through the foliage, hiding away the concrete you left behind. The only concrete you see is the one beneath your feet.

So no matter how the weather maybe outside, the weather inside will be pleasant, albeit a bit challenging as the morning wears on. But no matter the weather, the park will always the place to be, to hideaway from the summer’s heat, to escape the air that’s been polluted, from the concrete jungle, into the arms of nature and all the challenges it has to offer. So come the weekend, come summer (or any weather, or climate), you’ll find this boy, and his friends, running, chirping and chattering away, in the park.

Running in the park... after the Rains

Stepping into the park, after it rained the previous night, is like stepping on a path that has been set aflame. The rain has unburdened the Gulmohar of their red and yellow flowers, which lay strewn all along the path, like a carpet in your honour, that has been set on fire cause you would be burning it up with your pace, no matter it may be.

Everywhere you look, everything you see, looks so fresh, shiny and new. The rains has washed off summer’s grime, leaving everything looking fresh and clean. Everything seems to appear gleaming and shining till dust once again sets on them. 

The smell of wet mud fills your nostrils, intoxicating your senses, fueling your runner’s high. And though it may stick to your shoes, cakes of mud clinging to it, refusing to let go no matter how much you may drag your feet, the only time you’re allowed to do so and not be a bad thing, leaving behind a trail of muddy footprints, your footprint on the damp mud.

You see tiny streamlets, not yet a gushing stream, but far from a roaring rapid, sufficient to have a flow, to make it through the fallen twigs and leaves, downwards flowing, to a watering hole, or meeting up with a fellow streamlet to become a bigger stream, washing away anything that may come in its way.

You see droplets of water on the leaves, glistening in the light of the morning sun, refracting the light, bursting into a prismic rainbow, a remembrance, a memory, of the rain that bathed the world previous night. Adding to the allure of nature, the beauty of nature, adorning her like no accessories can.

You feel light headed and giddy, cause you’ve got that runner’s high. The freshness of nature freshening up your senses, making you feel all shiny and new like the nature around you. You can’t help but go hopping and bounding, hippity-hop, sprinting and leaping, splashing and sploshing down the carpeted path, with a joy-filled, gleeful heart, hoping that it will rain while you have fun on the run.