I ran a 50k.. but I am no Ultra Runner

So I ran a 50k, an Ultra, in running terminology (just in case you were wondering what is this jargon cause the only Ultra you know is your ultra strong beer), but I am no ultra runner. As I mentioned in my Insta post, that’s if you follow me, I.e. rodmandsouza (damn, me and my shameless self-promotion), a single ultra run doesn’t make you an ultra runner. I am neither inclined towards it nor do I have time to train for it , cause it can take the hell out of your daily life, that’s if you even have one thanks to us being slaves to our jobs. It’s never been on my bucket list of things I wanted to do (I did, at one time, toyed with the idea of running the Comrades), but still I found my myself standing at that starting line up waiting for the  click to strike 1:30 (that’s in the am and not the pm, and root cause of my bane).

So here I was at the starting line, waiting for the race start. I had done my stretching, courtesy of Coach, and done all the pre race mingling and socialising, so it was now the time to run. So moment the clock struck 1:30 and the fireworks went off, it was now time to run. So I start off all my apps (well it was three plus my iWatch, damn that’s a lot of tracking devices), make the sign of the cross (though I am not overly religious but these little beliefs I do), and I am off.

I realise I am bringing up the rear, there’s a sea of runners in front of me (surprisingly there are plenty of runners participating in the 50k), but try not to give into the temptation of speeding up. I have this constant voice in my head that sounded like Natty, Maya and my dearest Sangy ma’am , telling me to go slow and start easy and conserve energy, or maybe it’s just my sleep deprived mind playing tricks on me. But whatever it maybe, I am determined to run nice and easy.

So you run pass sleepy villages and sleepy dogs who just ignore you, their sleep way too important than to chase and bark after a group of crazy fools who are pounding the road instead of being tucked up in their beds. You run pass Bushy Dam and reach INS Shivaji, and from there begins your climb.

You decide to walk the slope, paying heed to the advice of Quintin and Ajay, not burning up energy tackling them. And while you run up the slow you take in the moment. The moon’s nowhere to be seen, and stars are out in all their glory. In the distance you have the lights of the town. And if that wasn’t enough, you have the headlamps which you were asked to carry, making it feel like a stream of fire flies slowly making their way up the hill, a kind of homage to the lantern scene from the movie Tangled.

So you slowly make your way up the hill, walking the slopes, slowly jogging where the route flattened. You can heat someone behind you chanting some shlok, which kind of bothers you, but then you are saying your rosary, like you always do (and because you are missing your Sunday mass), you try not to loose focus.

You finally make it to the top, and off you go, trying to run at a steady pace, walking up slopes, but running steadily and constant, not pushing for pace.

It’s a beautiful night, and although the moons is nowhere to be seen, the twinkling stars more than make up for it. There’s a chilly nip in the air that occasionally makes you shiver, making you feel glad you chose to wear a tee and not a vest, like you love to do. There’s silence, except for the feet stomping the road, and the chirping of crickets and the hum of the electricity flowing through the cables above.

You have this constant fear that you may need to crap, since you were not able to do your business in the morning, then you may need to go behind some bush to relieve yourself, like you have done before (shhhhh let this be our little secret). But thankfully that fear doesn’t come to pass.

As you pass by Cloud 9, you miss Srini Sir, with whom you have volunteered so many times in past training runs.

You continue to run up and down inclines and declines, past volunteers who are there in the dark to guide you, past photographers who make you hit your best strides and smiles, running slowly but steadily.

Soon you become kind of restless. You want the the u-then to appear soon, you already past the 35k u-turn, but your u-turn is nowhere in sight. It doesn’t help that you know when the turn will come and your apps doesn’t make it easy by telling you how far you are.

Then you see the first runner go by you, then a second and a third , and so and so forth. You gradually see all those fire flies coming your way, bringing you hope that the much awaited u-turn is coming up soon, but again your apps tell you to be patient .

You try to make out your friends, as they pass you, wondering if you could just turn there and joining them instead of running all those kms. But you continue to soldier on. When you you finally reach the u-turn, it’s like a great relief, you finally reached the halfway mark of you crazy adventure.

And then it’s hits you like a ton of brick. No, no, it’s not the infamous wall, but it was sleep. You begin to doze off, like only you could do, veering treacherously off the road, like a drunken runner who’s had one too many beers before going for a run, or a zombie that’s decided to take up running.

I try hard to wipe the sleep off my eyes, but that doesn’t help. I even put off my music and put my earbuds back. I constantly keep

pouring and splashing water on my face and my eyes, but that doesn’t quiet help either. For a few moment I am wide awake and then I am off in another world, only to find myself in the bushes, like only this sleepy head can do  (just ask Natty and Rups about my capacity to fall asleep). I even approach an ambulance hoping there’s someone who could help me, or even offer me a place to sleep. I even toy with the idea of just going off the road and going to sleep (after all the beautiful cool weather didn’t make it easy in my fight against sleep). I even contemplated about giving up, but then Greens don’t give up, oops I meant D’souzas never give up. So I once again soldier on, constantly battling sleep, constantly veering here and there like a drunken running fool.

A few runners stop by me asking me if I was ok. I sheepishly tell them, well make that sleepishly, tell them that I am ok, just damn sleepy. My head starts to question myself why did I even take up this stupid silly endeavour and at this ungodly hour. But for now there’s nothing I can do but like Dory, but on land, I have to just keep running.

I pass by water stations who by now have run out of water, making you feel the pain of all the slow runners, making you feel worried for the ones behind you. But you can only keep running and hope nothing untoward happens.

By now the suns up but you are grateful that it’s not hot but rather pleasant. The sounds of the birds chirping is like music to the lonely ears.  But every rustling sound in trees makes you attentive least something should leap out and surprise you, and not in a good way. 

By now your sleepiness has gone but there’s still quite a lot of road to cover, and you have miles to go before you sleep (couldn’t resist adding this) and inclines to cover. But now you can proceed steadily.

You finally reach then airforce station, knowing that now it will be just declines and rolling hills, things you can easily cover. So you grab a gloucose water and you are running steadily and strongly, knowing there’s roughly just 10 more kilometres to cover.

By now you are passing your well wishers who had stopped and checked on you when you were sleepy, who marvel on how you were able to make up time. You cheer your fellow runners on, like you love to do, and having conversations too. But once you hit downhill you run steadily and strong and focused knowing there’s just few more kilometres to go. And you got this in the bag.

You marvel at the fact that you haven’t felt s single cramp or muscle pull or soreness. So you definitely did something right. And touchwood, that wouldn’t happen for the last part of the race.

You surprise yourself that you are running at a pace that you started, and though it maybe slow, you don’t feel sore, just you feel a bit tired.

You finally hit the last part and you are even able to speed up and overtake runners, speeding down the ramp and to the finish line, without a single cramp.

You give yourself a cheer and a pat on your back for pushing through sleep and the urge of wanting to giving up, persevering on and getting the run done.

Well no run is complete without gratitude for the people who got you there.

So a big thank you to my dearest coach Jayesh, who has been pushing me and keeping me on my toes, and bearing with all my whining and grumbling (I can be quite the grumpy old man) with regards to my fitness and strength training, which is very important for us runner. 

To coach Girish for your constant motivation and inspiration and your tips and guidance on tackling TUM and not to forget the training runs (although I ran only once and volunteered for the remaining, which is more like me).

To my dearest Sangy ma’am, your advice is my blessing. 

To my support system, my backbone, my constant North Star, Nikhil, Natty, Maya, Rups and Yash, you all gave me so much positivity, and encouragement, even when I doubted myself.  You believed me more than I believed in myself.

To Quintin and Ajay, I learnt soo many things running with you both, so many things I could apply in the race and that worked well. 

To Dyloo l and Panks, I am because I was  able to run with you. 

And to my Stride with GB and MRR family, I am each day grateful that I am part of such wonderful group of runners who have constantly inspired and motivated and cheered me on.

And finally to my family, for being there for me (if my mum was there she would have scolded me for running s 50 and not a 35).

So to answer the question I started with, would running a 50k make me an ultra runner? The answer still is a resounding NO. Cause even though I was able to attempt and complete an ultra, I don’t see myself doing one again (although I am not quite shutting the door on that one), I don’t plan to run another. But then who knows, if some crazy pagal kutta may bite me and I will attempt another. So till then I will savour the fact I ran a 50k and was able to complete it.

Running under the Moonlight, In a Cloud

Running the Tata Ultra Marathon, or TUM as it’s known amongst runners (something that I was actually not aware of), has never been on my bucket list of races to run. After all I am no ultra runner, and I share a love-hate relationship with the hills, they love to kill me with those slopes, and I hate that they love to test me so much. Add to it, post COVID, my pace has dropped drastically where as my weight has inversely increased. Not to forgot the gruelling Mumbai summer, which get hotter and more humid with each passing year ( I blame global warming, who else do you blame).

But still I had the keedas (big ones), to register, not for the Ultra (praise the Lord), but for the 35k challenge. I reasoned that this was an early morning race (which starts at 2:30 am (yes that’s right, we runners refuse to sleep)) I wouldn’t have to face the brunt of the sun, so there was no question on being baked under the sun. Besides the race is in Lonavla,, and not in Mumbai, so you could expect the weather to be a couple of degrees cooler. Lastly, I went with a mindset of completing the race, let pace go out of the window.

So as you begin your run, you constantly remind yourself of these points. You constantly tell yourself that the run is not about pace, it’s about going strong and completing it. But then kya kare, ye do pair mante he nahin. And so you have constantly have to find a way to pull you back, and just trudge on, running under the light of the moon, and the light from your head lamp.

Thanks to Naresh sir and Sachin, you are able to navigate the first climb, and go strongly till the 15th km. 

All through the run the moon seems to play hide and seek with you, hiding behind the clouds, and at times coming out to light your way. And then there’s a beautiful cool breeze that helps you stay cool. And if that wasn’t enough, running through the fog makes you feel like your running in a cloud that laden with mist helping you stay cool, even though the visibility isn’t good.

Bath then there are patches of roads where, if you are not too careful, you could stumble and fall, and yours truly, being the clumsy nut, who’s blind as a bat, and in his own world, managed to do just that (it made me wonder if I too like Christ, would stumble three times).

If you thought inclines were tough, then going down hills could take a toll on your poor knees. To add to it, there’s huge patches of kaccha roads, that make it tough to maintain a pace, forcing you to slow down, even to walk. But volunteers do a great job of helping guide and cheering us on. And you’re got to really appreciative and grateful that they are standing there in the dark right from the start (say 12 am) to the finish (which I guess would be 9:30 am). So a big salute to them. 

The water stations/hydration stations/refuelling stations are adequately stocked, and you greedily grab at the oranges and bananas, and the cups of coke. I personally loved the lychee flavoured glucose drink (had at least 3 of those).

As  you approach the 23rd  your doubts once again begin to make you it’s ugly head as it was the distance you were able to cover in your training run. You ask yourself, kya tumhe pagal kutte ne katta ye sab karne ke liye?  But then you tell yourself, you’ve got this, just keep running, running, running!

All through the run you dread the sunrise, but the when the sun finally does make an appearance, it’s bathes the route in its soft light, gratefully not heating it up, bringing to light that was hidden in the dark of the night.

So you take in the gorgeous sights of the Pawana Lake, the mountains, the little hamlets stirring from their slumber, chicken darting across the route (dang, I should have asked them why did they cross the road, the internal unanswered question).

You feel a pang of guilt, a pang of e envy, especially runners who you could easily out pace, at one time. You hate this feeling, cause you know it’s ain’t right, but can’t help but feel this silly feeling.

Now back to the running, just when you thought you had safely navigated all the inclines, you have to face one last deadly incline. You mutter who the F puts a deadly incline at the 33rd km. If that wasn’t all, you are greeted by Satish sir and Loki, who have done and dusted with their run.

By now your legs are as heavy as led, and every time you think of jogging some part of leg decides to pull you back. But no matter what, you are determined to finish, even if you have to crawl over that finish line. But thank God it didn’t come to that.

So after finishing, albeit a bit stronger on tired legs, you make way to collect your medal and towel (what’s with races giving towels!), you go on to meet and greet your friends, but before that you make a beeline to the physio to help loosen up some highly tightened and sore muscles.

Before I end this rather long write up I wanted to take this opportunity to thank the organisers, especially the volunteers, for not just supporting us but also pampering us, even spoiling us all throughout the race. A big shoutout to my StrideWithGB and MRR family who’s support has always been a source of inspiration and motivation, especially Coach Girish. A big thank you to Yash and Rohan for your hospitality and helping with the travels. Thank you Naresh sir and Sachin for helping stay focused on those initial incline.

So finally glad to have another race under my belt. A tough one, but an experience that will stay with me long after the excitement of the run is done, though I am not sure if my body would permit me to put it through the wringer all over again!

.. by the river

I didn’t know I actually needed this run till ran it. Thanks to the pandemic it’s been a long time since I have ran a race (the Stadium  doesn’t count as it’s a team relay, running round in circles).

They said it was River Marathon, but we hardly saw the river during the run. But that said this race well and truly humbled you, showing where you stand on the fitness pyramid, if not your training system.

I never really wanted to run this race cause I knew I was not close to the best shape and though I felt good about my workouts I need to get back to being disciplined and upping my regime and working on getting mentally there. But in the circumstances ans some convincing played it’s part in getting me there.

They say when the route challenges you, you rise to the challenge. I don’t think I quite did that. I admit I didn’t quite rise to the challenge. The route was dynamic and challenging and not quite an easy one. But to do it was an achievement in itself cause it shows that you got the guts to experience the most challenging route cause that what makes them awesome, that what makes you awesome. Add the weather as another element to the challenge. You can prove what you are truly made of.

Since the route was loop, you smiled at every inclined and grimaced at every decline, knowing that this would be reversed on your way back. And there are places where even walking up an incline was tough, so forget about the running.

You doff your invisible hat, or a visible cap, to everyone who’s doing a distance much more than you, cause they are running the route many more times than you. You actually envy those ahead of you and those who pace you cause they are doing a major job at tackling the route than you have. That said there’s going to be a definite bruising of of ego, even though it may not be called for.  You know you are better than that, and even though you make use age as an excuse, you know what you need to do.

So, in the words of Dory (albeit a bit modified), you just keep running, running, pass sleepy villages who are still in their slumber as you pass by, cows and dogs who lift their gaze wondering who are these crazy fools running pass them. You run by fields and endless grassy expanses, and silhouette of trees hidden in the morning fog, and by the highway with speeding truckers. And yes you do catch a glimpse of the river a few times.

As you always, you take this all in , grateful to be running, if not strong, but still you are grateful to be alive after what the world has gone through. So you are thankful for the opportunity, for the experience. And though you may grimace, deep in your heart you are thankful.

In the end what makes a trip great is the company that you keep, and my buddies  at the Stride with GB were crazy, super, fun. From the antics in the bus, the posing for pics, to the super running of the race, to the water sports, and not forgetting to take care of my mum, all made me forget that what was troubling my mind, the cares of the world, and made me smile, and laugh, and have a good time. It was feeling of pride to see many of them succeed and thrive and get the recognition they rightly deserved. I am eternally grateful to Coach, Diva and all my super awesome and crazy buddies for making this trip one for the memory books. I so love each and everyone of you.

As I have always maintained, each run is a learning experience of self and where you stand, and there was a lot to learn from this race. I will admit that I was disappointed and down on myself, I know there’s always scope to grow and improve. But for now I know I am going cherish this memory and learn and move on, like I always have. After all it’s Rodmaness in This Boys Life!