Endurance Limits

Team EnduroLimits: Hiccups and Reassurances

2012-04-02T15:30:00.000+05:30

This blog has moved to http://endurolimits.wordpress.com; i am however, pasting it here as well for anyone who logs in here by force of habit.

"Oh, crewing?! I know crewing. When you are running at Brazil-135 or thereafter at Badwater, I run ahead of you and keep teasing you so that you run faster and finish in the least possible time," said the nth person I was speaking to. "Well, not exactly." I interjected. What you are talking about might be included in pacing by expanding the definition of pacing, but this is not crewing. Pacing is a small part of crewing. Crewing is much, much more." "Oh yes! I know," this person went on. Obviously my interrupting him had not been taken too kindly. "Now shut up and listen." That was my mind ordering me. "Oh yes! I know," he repeated "Even when I am not running with you, I will still have to be with you as a part of the race. Only, I will be sitting in the car till my turn to run with you comes again. We'll be in a group, won't we? I'll be a party. How many people in the crew?" "Six" I answered since I was asked, struggling to not say one hundred and ninety so that it would sound like a nice, big party that this guy wanted. "Oh, Great!! This should be fun. You pay for the trip to Brazil and the US, right?" By now, I was desperate to get off the phone. I had answered n-1 calls before this and it took all the patience that I had to politely round off the conversation and end the call. Everything was telling me to hurl the choicest of abuses and hang up.

The passage above is a general description of the calls I got in response to an earlier blog post of mine where I had asked people interested in crewing to contact me. (So disgusted was I by the phone calls that the few emails that came in also did not get answered.) Finally, realization struck that those who might be good crew weren't going to call. a list of 12'ideal teammates' was drawn up and they were contacted. Eight of them accepted, four declined. There hasn't been a need to approach another four in place of those who declined. There are one or two persons on the list; just that I have been too caught up with other things to call them up and get them on board. The crew of eight is, for now, a team of nine. It was decided that the name of my blog was best suited as the name of the team. So Team EnduroLimits it was. The members are:

Kavitha Kanaparthi (Crew Chief)
Brijesh Gajera
Anand Venkatraman
Nikhil Shah
Yogesh Chavan
Sandeep Srivastava
Vivek Prasad
Rajesh Vetcha
Vishwas Bhamburkar

My job is the easiest. I do what I do everyday, which is run long distances, climb stairs and (maybe I should get down to listening to some teammates after all) go to the gym, cycle, and do yoga. During an event, I start running at the start line and do not stop moving till I have crossed the finish line.

Once the tam was in place, began the real challenge. The stages of team development as described by Bruce Tuckman - forming, storming, norming and performing all played out perfectly. That was expected and wasn't the challenge at all. The challenge was to sft through the nervous energy and the emails and to find a method in the madness. As emails flew thick and fast about everything, the website, my blog, the functions of the team, allocation of responsibilities, the IT strategy, setting up group emails, setting up documents et al, we were also learning about crewing - all of us. Expectations were being revised, newer aspects were being introduced and, to use management jargon, the KRAs (Key Result Areas) for Team EnduroLimits were being defined. In the midst of this, the idea of doing a 200k to start off the training sessions came up. Originally scheduled for the 10th of March, we decided to postpone it.

Cut to 20th March, 2012. The run was on, scheduled to start on the midnight of the 23rd and had a time limit of 48 hours. There were going to be only two crew members, Nikhil and Yogesh, as also Kaustubh and Kiran, but since the latter two were not a part of Team EnduroLimits, they were not included in the calculations for the training run and how it would go. After all, the run had to be about the performance of Team EnduroLimits and so, taking Kiran and Kaustubh's contribution would not give us a proper report of the performance of Team EnduroLimits. As I spoke to Kavitha, she told me to enjoy the run. Both of us were of the opinion that a 200k was a near impossibility. Even a 100k was far-fetched. A 50k was more realistic. Again and again I had to keep telling myself that I had to enjoy the run witout looking at the distance.

As the run started, I ran the first 50k, crawled the next 50k and called it quits at 106k. Why? Simply because we made a lot of mistakes, expected, unexpected, forced and unforced. It was a new team. And out of that new team, only Yogesh and nikhil were crewing for me. Neither of them had any prior experience of crewing. I relied on them the way I would rely on an experienced crew, forgetting completely that they were doing this for the first time. Increased salt intake right from the start (so that even if we forgot later, it wouldn't cause me any trouble) saw me battling stomach issues at around the 50k mark. Not having enough rest (the concept of rest in course of a 200k ultra is very different from rest during a marathon) saw me struggling to keep up with even the minimum pace required and not having coolers with us in that heat ensured I had boiling water and energy drinks. I quit at the 106k mark when I realized that I had run the latter 50k on just about 4 liters of total fluid and my continuing like that would only invite a total collapse.

On the other hand, a lot of things worked out fantastically well. There were regular updates on the run. I was being given feedback from team memners who were not running so had the advantage of a detached viewer. There wasn't one dull moment during the entire run. Nikhil christening me 'Running Baba' who wouldn't talk, but would only give my blessings to fellow runners, Yogesh's dirty jokes, Kiran's embarassment when I pointed out things which were blasphemous due to misprints and the general chatter with Kaustubh made the run a great one.

Team EnduroLimits might be new, but we're learning fast. The errors of this run will not be repeated. The run was a test for the crew. Their commitment to the team is very visible. So is the willingness to learn. And the humility to accept that mistakes were made.

The internal discussions of the team will certainly make for a juicy blog post. But that remains an internal discussion and is not open for public debate.

This brings me to the end of this post. The next one will be a report of the 100-miler at Thar which I attempt on Friday, 6th April.

Jai Ranchhod, Maakhanchor!

2012-03-08T18:11:00.000+05:30

Haathi, Ghoda, Palkhi, Jai Kanhaiya Lal Ki!

Radhe Krishna, Gopal Krishna. Gopal Krishna, Radhe Krishna!

Govind Bolo Hari Gopal Bolo.

Jai Ranchhod!

Four chants that were playing in my mind all through Saturday evening right up to Sunday morning.

No, I haven’t turned religious all of a sudden. God hasn’t suddenly found a place in either my heart or my life. I am as much of an agnostic as I used to be. I continue to try and be an unapologetic atheist. But in spite of all this, these chants reverberated through the night and through my mind as Vishwasnathan Jayaraman (Vishy), Piyush Shah and I ran through the night from Ahmedabad to Dakor.

Let me start at the beginning. Around mid-February, Piyush had called and spoken of doing a 100k run. I had at that time refused as both of us belong to different running genres. He believes in running fast. For him, the time in which he completes a marathon is what matters. I am the polar opposite. I run to enjoy my runs. Timing simply does not matter to me. Okay, the only exceptions would be completing racess within their cut-off time. And going by the cut-off times for the various races, especially ultras that I have planned through the year, doing a 100k in about 12-15 hours is quite okay. That is the pace I keep. Piyush, on the other hand, goes for speed. His aim would be to do a 100k in less than 9 hours. And so, I chose to opt out of running the 100k with him. But he told me that he had no issues with running at my pace and that is how the 100k was finalized.

I recalled that people walked upto Dakor and logically extrapolated that since I had not heard/read about theDakor pilgrimage for the past quite a few months, it would be due sometime in the future, sooner rather than later. Asking a few friends, I got to know that the Dakor pilgrimage was undertaken to coincide with Holi. 7^th March, Holi. 3^rd March, just 4 days earlier, Saurday. Seemed perfect. Tents would have been set up by volunteers which would offer water, tea, buttermilk, snacks, full-meals…the works, so the dependence on someone else to provide us support would not be needed. After speaking to Piyush, who, having a religious bent of mind, whole-heartedly supported the idea of running to Dakor from Ahmedabad, the route too was more or less finalized. A quick check on mapmyrun.com confirmed the route and the distance too stood at 104 kilometers. (This distance would go up by another 8kms since we would start from Sabarmati Ashram, run to Vastrapur, the original starting point, and run beyond.)

As both, Piyush and I put it up on Facebook, Vishy called to ask if we were indeed serious about running the route and the distance. Of course we were, and the same was reiterated to him. Vishy asked how much time I expected it to take. 12-14 hours, I told him, which, on hindsight, was my first mistake. I should have said 18-20 hours – that would have seen us running and enjoying the run instead of running against time, which I absolutely abhor. Vishy confirmed and was in Ahmedabad on Saturday morning.

Vishy is a Gandhian and so a visit to Sabarmati Ashram was definitely on the agenda. When he went there, he got to know of the all-religion prayer that was held in the evening till 6:30pm and so he suggested we start the run to Dakor thereafter. So 6:30pm was going to be the start time.

Piyush and I reached Sabarmati Ashram at about 6:20pm. The all-religion prayer was over. Before we started the run, we thought a few photographs at Sabarmati Ashram were called for. As we took pictures and were chatting along, Vishy mentioned the plan to run from Sabarmati Ashram to Dandi, or the other way around, follow the route of the historic Dandi March and reach the destination (either Dandi or Ahmedabad) on 2^nd October to coincide with the Mahatma’s birth anniversary. He said he had been discussing this with Jagdish Damania. I told Vishy that while I was part of the discussions with Jagdish, I had made it clear that I was like a horse with blinders on till July-August, 2013. Till then, my only aim was BR-135 and Badwater and beyond. (The ‘beyond’ is a card I hold very close to my chest; to be revealed later as things fall into place.) And therefore, I told Vishy, if I had to be part of the planned Dandi run, the plan would have to be for 2013. Vishy retorted that even if tough, Badwater was mindless running whereas running in the footsteps of the Mahatma was much more purposeful.

To each his own, I guess. For me, BR-135 and Badwater are and will be dreams that I hold very dear, even if they get dismissed as mindless dreams by the world.

As we started out, Vishy said that I should pace. My idea was to get to Dakor, finish the run with a smile and get back to Ahmedabad in time for Vishy to catch his train to Hubli. Yes, my plan had enough of a buffer to include a visit to the temple. And for Vishy to take a shower before he boarded his train.

About an hour and a half after we started, Piyush’s GPS showed us having done about 13k. Vishy’s calculation concluded that we were too slow and wouldn’t make it in 14 hours. Piyush told Vishy I was capable of running faster. My saying that we were on track did not cut any ice. Nor did my saying that I had a 200k run planned for the next weekend and going too fast during a 100k and burning my muscles wouldn’t be a good idea for me. From Vasna to Vishala to Narol Circle, there was a constant mental tug-of war. Piyush and Vishy were trying to go fast, trying to set the pace for a sub 12:00:00 100k, and I was pulling them back. Vishy was deciding a pacing plan of running 7k and walking 100 meters or so. Even as I doubted its sustainability, I for sure was not going to be a part of such a plan. If I did, I would have to wish my 200k goodbye.

During this time, I was feeling thirsty after every few minutes. This was probably the result of my not having hydrated very well through the days leading up to the 100k. But it wasn’t a problem yet. Hydrating myself (over-hydrating myself, actually) while on the run would do the trick nice and proper. I started to take a sip after every few steps and gulped down water whenever we stopped. A little after Narol Circle, we passed a restaurant which had chances of cold water.

I told Vishy and Piyush that I was stopping for cold water. They chose to run on. Four glasses of chilled water, a loud burp and a broad smile (at everyone in the restaurant) later, I was back on the Ahmedabad-Baroda Highway, running a little faster to catch up with Piyush and Vishy.

As I ran, I saw something just about 15 feet ahead of me, headed directly in my direction. Not having the time to think, analyze and then react, I darted to the left. The thing that was coming towards me seemed to jerk, tilted to my left and continued coming towards me. In the split second before there was contact with my body, I realized it was a bike which had skid and was out of control. I needed to get out of its way. I tried going further to the left but by then the front wheel went between my legs. Then I saw stars. The moon. A million suns. And billions of blistering blue barnacles. When I cam around, I was clutching my stomach and my family jewels had taken a direct hit. The pain cancelled out any plans that might have otherwise formed to teach the rider of the bike a lesson. Then the stench of country liquor hit me. Both the guys on the bike that had dashed against me were dead drunk and probably hadn’t even realized that an accident had taken place and that they were now lying horizontal on the road.

I limped away, doubling over with pain at every step. This was the end of my 100k. No way I could make it to Dakor, some 80 kilometers away. I stopped and slowly straightened up. Felt better, even though the pain was excruciating. A few steps and I threw up. Violently. Feeling weak, but with the pain having reduced substantially, I walked, hoping Piyush and Vishy had stopped for me. I needed to tell them that I was quitting. They were nowhere to be seen. As I walked, I started to feel better. They say, fools rush in where angels fear to tread. As I felt the pain subsiding, I started to run towards S.P. Ring Road, where I was hopeful of Piyush and Vishy waiting for me. My run lasted 100 meters. I tottered off the road, bent over and puked again. Then I walked. All the way to S.P. Ring Road. A couple of hundred meters before it, Piyush’s wife came in the car searching for me and told me that Piyush and Vishy were waiting for me at the circle.

As I met with my fellow runners, I recounted what had happened. Vishy remarked that I had a shocked look on my face. I was told that the car would now onwards tail me. I would be lying if I said I was unaffected but yes, I was hurt that in spite of I having met with an accident, there wasn’t even the cursory offer of abandoning the run, or anything even remotely to that effect. Not then, not later. In fact, even when mentioning about the run, the reference to the accident was fleeting. Be that as it were, the accident happened around the 20-25k mark; it is best to leave it there and move ahead.

I declared that I would complete the run even if it took me another 20 hours. We started running. A little further down on S. P. Ring Road, we came across a tent for the pilgrims walking to Dakor. The volunteers left the tent and came up on the road to welcome us to the camp. As we went in, we had water. Then we were offered ‘laddoos’. My stomach having emptied itself not too long ago, I had one, then another. The volunteers made tea for us. Some tea, goodbyes and off we were to cries of ‘Jai Ranchhod!’

We ran for the next 5k; running interspersed with walking whenever the pain made running unbearable. A right turn at Hathijan and we were on State Highway 3, headed towards Khatraj Chowkdi. At the first camp, we stopped again. Cold water, halwa and tea were served so lovingly by the volunteers. Having had our bit of carbo-loading, we set off again – to the next camp.

As we ran, there were people dancing to music blaring from loudspeakers. As we approached them, I broke into a dance. Suddenly, I was surrounded by the volunteers of that camp and after dancing with them, they took me to their camp and insisted that I could not leave without having some refreshments. Over tea and snacks, the volunteers asked if we planned to run all the way to Dakor. I replied in the affirmative and smiled – a smile to indicate that no more questions were welcome. I was told that it was indeed rare to find such faith in the Lord. Discretion being the better part of valour, I chose to keep quiet. I am sure my real intentions would not have gone down very well with the volunteers. I did not tell them that I was agnostic, that I was trying to be an unapologetic atheist. I did not tell them that my only intent behind running this distance was to prepare for the 135 mile race at Brazil and thereafter, in the USA. I did not clarify that Ranchhodraiji, Dwarkesh, Krishna, Kanhaiya etc. did not mean anything at all to me; that I couldn’t care less if I was running from Jharsuguda to Tikkerpada. I definitely did not want to risk telling the volunteers anything of this.

I asked what the distance to Dakor from that point was. I got six different answers starting from 55kms to 85-90kms. The correct answer was, “I do not know.”

Piyush had gone ahead. Since he did not dance, the volunteers perhaps had not shown an interest in him, allowing him to run on. Vishy and I started running after the customary ‘Jai Ranchhod!’ we passed a group singing ‘Govind Bolo Hari Gopal Bolo’. Since I was walking-running, the group would catch up, I would sing a bit along with them, then run forward, wait for them to catch up and repeat. Somewhere Piyush slowed down and we caught up with him.

A little distance ahead, some volunteers were offering buttermilk. That sounded yummy. Buttermilk with copious amounts of salt (our insurance against cramps further up in the run) was exactly what we wanted. Piyush tried to warn us against having buttermilk after sunset but his explanations fell on deaf ears. By then, Vishy and I had had three glasses each.

All recharged and ready, Vishy got impatient. He wanted to finish the 100k in 12-13 hours, visit the temple and reach back to Amedabad. I for one, wasn’t in a position to run at Vishy’s desired pace. Running a little distance would cause the pain from the accident to flare up, reducing my run to a walk. Two, even if I was able to keep pace wit Vishy, I doubt if I would have since a 200k was being planned for the next weekend and I would not have wanted my legs to be burnt out before that. Vishy couldn’t go ahead since he did not know the route. And the deadlock continued.

Somewhere during this time, Piyush’s wife and brother-in-law, Gopal, were joined by other family friends, paving the way for the 100k run to be converted into a 100k picnic. The two vehicles would go ahead, stop at some well illuminated camp and as we reached there, photographs would get clicked followed by tea, homemade snacks and sweetmeats, biscuits, wafers, etc. before we set off again to cheers of ‘Jai Ranchhod’ and ‘Jai Shri Krishna’.

As we continued ahead, we overtook a group chanting, ‘Radhe Krishna, Gopal Krishna. Gopal Krishna, Radhe Krishna’. Vishy took up the chant, I gave him company. It set the rhythm for the run and even if temporarily, took my mind off the pain. By and by, we reached Khatraj Chowkdi. Dakor was 41kms away, said the signboard. Less than a marathon. The temple, our end-point, was just 38k away. From Khatraj Chowkdi we walked-ran till Mahudha Chowkdi. Dakor was just 26kms away, said the milestone.

We halted for a tea break once again. Tea of course, and snacks too followed. From there on, I walked. Any attempt at running caused the injured part of my body to start hurting. The pain, spreading to the innards of my stomach caused a groundswell of nausea which threatened to envelope me completely. Determined as I was to complete the 100k, the only option before me was to walk. Walk slowly when the pain became overwhelming and increase the pace whenever possible.

With 19k to go, Piyush said he would go ahead and wait at the turn for Dakor. Vishy and I continued walking. Somewhere near the milestone which said Dakor was 16k away, Vishy and I both felt having something to eat, biscuits maybe, would be a good idea; it would give a solid energy boost. The support vehicles were not there; they had gone to Dakor for the morning ‘Darshan’; to have a glimpse the Lord as soon as the temple opened its doors. But our wishes did not go unanswered. Right ahead by the side of the road stood two persons, offering pilgrims tea and biscuits. I took a cup of tea and a packet of biscuits. Vishy took just a packet of biscuits. Out of sheer habit, he then put his hand into his pocket, fished out cash and asked, “How much?” One look from both of them had Vishy profusely apologizing for his blasphemy.

We walked on. I decided to quit as I completed 100k. The pain was increasing and there was no point in being brave and doing an additional 10-12k. As that was decided, Vishy too decide to run the last 8k. A little ahead, the person walking a couple of hundred feet ahead of us limped to the other side of the road and sat down o the wall of a bridge over a culvert. As we passed by, he told us, “As we keep getting closer, it seems to keep going further away.” We smiled at him. This is exactly how the last few kilometers feel at every event.

As we continued ahead, Piyush’s family friends drove up. They were done with their prayers at the temple and were on their way back to Ahmedabad. They offered us some more snacks, then a ‘laddoo’ each and after assuring us that not too much of a distance was now left, they drove off.

Near Alina crossroads, about 10k from Dakor and 2k away from my finish point, we reached a young man struggling to take his foot out of his shoe. As the foot came out, Vishy and I both got severe goosebumps. The poor guy’s foot was completely covered in blisters. Blisters o blisters. Blisters below blisters. Blood blisters. You name it and it was there. We asked him if he needed help. He looked at me, and said in a voice full of determination that only 10k was left and that he’d do it.

We continued ahead. Vishy asked if he could take off and run to the finish. I answered in the affirmative. Vishy said he would ask the car to wait for me at the milestone which said 8k to Dakor and I could finish my run there. After what seemed like a never ending walk, I saw the milestone and the car. I got in, my 100k done and over with.

We drove to Radha Talav where Piyush and Vishy joined us, finishing their run. After washing the salts off our bodies, it was time to head to the Ranchhodraiji Temple. I wasn’t going to go in. I said so, but the look on Piyush’s and his brother-in-law’s face made me change my mind.

The temple was closed when we went in. Some tradition where they keep closing the temple to the public and open it for a little while only to close it again. As we waited there, Vishy was feeling giddy. He stood at the side taking the support of the wall. The door of the temple opened. The crowd surged forward. Vishy and I got pushed in; got pushed out of the other door. That was that. I did not even get to see the idol.

Piyush Schumacher took over thereafter. And since I felt scared to be inside a car that was being driven like it would put F1 out of business, I closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I woke up, we were in Ahmedabad. That was the 100k run from Ahmedabad to Dakor. Jai Ranchhod!

Notes:

I will do this run again next year. I might take 16 hours compared to the 15 this year. But I will stop at every tent, dance with the volunteers, take in the atmosphere and have a much better time.
The run is not about speed. In fact, it is not about running at all. It is about enjoying the atmosphere. Imagine going to the Carnival in Rio and then commenting on the quality of the material that the dresses of the dancers is made of… or going to the La Tomatina in Spain and evaluating the quality of the tomatoes that are used… if you evaluate the run, you’ll be missing the woods for the trees. This run is about enjoying the atmosphere.
Lastly, when I got hit in the nuts, I made a bolt for Dakor. Does it make me an engineer?

The Thoughts That Run Through My Head When I Run

2012-02-29T20:33:00.001+05:30

It all began with a comment during the Nilgiris Run in December last year. “You know, when you run, your feet fall like this.” Kavitha said this while gesticulating with her palms facing downwards to show how my toes pointed outwards and away from the other foot. “No wonder you pull the ligament in your hips on the long runs.”

I tried to smile and summarily dismissed what I had just heard as something unworthy of even second thoughts. And so rested matters.

But its different with Kavitha. She just says something, points things out and lets it be. She doesn’t nag; she simply expresses her opinion and that’s it. And because she doesn’t irritate me into agreeing with her point of view, it doesn’t give me the opportunity to dig my heels in, let out a howl of protest, take a firm decision to not do what I am being told to do or throw other such tantrums. I don’t know if Kavitha has come across the magic formula to deal with a difficult person like me but on hindsight, she somehow manages to get me to do her bidding without shoving it down my throat. And I guess that’s how things will remain till I find a way out of this situation – of somehow drawing Kavitha into an argument, digging my heels in, letting out a howl of protest, taking a firm decision to not do what Kavitha tells me to do or throwing other such tantrums. Having said that, I must admit it feels nice that I have the freedom to do what I want, even if my Chief of Crew doesn't necessarily agree with me.

Upon joining boot camp, I had a brain overcast with thoughts as I ran. The disaster that the past year was, the runs that weren’t, the DNF at Hyderabad, the personal issues to tackle head-on, the professional problems that needed to be addressed, the running related matters that had to be taken care of, my social activism…the list was endless, the problems to be sorted out all queued up. The first few runs would be on a full mind and I knew I would feel quite light (at least not feel as weighed down as I was feeling) at the end of the first week’s run.

Ten minutes into the run, my mind stopped and the legs continued running. Why was I running? Certainly not to run away from problems. Certainly not to find solutions to the problems I was facing. And as I ran, I realized I was once again running for all the wrong reasons. I realized there was no celebration of running in my runs anymore. And there and then, at that very point, I decided that running would be nothing if it wasn’t a carefree trot. Running would be nothing if it weren’t a source of unbridled joy. Running would be nothing if it weighed me down with the problems that weighed me down when I was not running. And if at the end of each and every run, my mind did not say “YIPEE!!” to me, I was running wrong and needed to check my premises. Finishing strong was something I had heard, finishing with a smile was something I strived for.

As if on cue, the sun threw off its blanket of darkness and emerged on the horizon. Was that a sign? No, not really. The practical me did not believe in such old wives’ tales. Then the sun winked at me and smiled. A smile that turned it all pink which gave way to a hue of orange. Okay, so that was a sign after all.

I had been so busy looking at the sun that I wasn’t looking at the road at all. Not the best of things to do while running on the highway, so I looked at the road. Then I looked down to see the road where my feet were falling and all I could see was my paunch. The road simply wasn’t visible. Maybe, I should invent a contraption like a bar which could be attached to my head. The bar would have a mirror at one end and when I looked into the mirror, I would be able to see my feet exactly where and how they hit the ground. Right then, I stumbled and almost went flying. Thanks to all the gymnastic moves I had seen on TV, the Akshay Kumar and Jackie Chan movies I had seen and memorized, I did a double sommersault, a half twist, a backflip and landed on my feet, saving myself from a fall. After that, all that kept playing in my head was ‘Humpty Dumpty…’

On the second run, the cold brought back memories of the Nilgiris Run. “You know, when you run, your feet fall like this.” Kavitha said this while gesticulating with her palms facing downwards to show how my toes pointed outwards and away from the other foot. “No wonder you pull the ligament in your hips on the long runs.” I bent over my paunch to look at my feet and made an effort to see that fell straight. It felt strange; something new. No, it wasn’t painful at all. Just strange, new and different. So I continued to run that way, watching every step. Then it started to pain. The lower back. But of course it would. What else was to be expected if a person, while he was running, bent over his paunch to look at his feet and ensure that he got them to fall straight? Then I realized I must also have looked extremely stupid running while bending over my paunch to look at my feet… And if that doesn't sound embarrassing enough, I was struck by even higher knowledge. That I did not need to see my feet to get them to fall straight. I just needed to consciously place them straight as they came to touch the ground.

And I continued running, always conscious that my feet landed straight, straight, straight. The next few runs went by in the same way. I was conscious of my feet falling straight. The soreness in the ankles also made me conscious; so long as it did not pain, it was okay but I needed to keep a watch.

This went on for about two weeks after which I only needed to check once in a while that the feet continued to fall straight. Never disappointed, I would now try increasing my pace, I thought.

In between this and in course of the run, some thought was spared for serious issues like where to pee. The importance of this cannot be overstated, especially if the run passes by places like public conveniences that are missing or are closed, a railway overbridge with electricity cables passing under it, the Gujarat High Court, a civil hospital, etc. I have already blogged about it in detail earlier so I will not dwell further on this.

However, after I blogged about it, I couldn’t help wonder how akin I was to dogs who marked their territory and their route and sniffed their way back home. Then I thought about dogs in general, how they lived a dog’s life, really, their mindsets, their outlook, their philosophy, etc. A dog’s philosophy towards life??? Yes, a philosophy which suggested, “If you cannot eat it, if you cannot play with it, pee on it and walk away.” What a wonderfully cool philosophy to have! Damn! If only I could live my life that way some day. He who said, “It’s a dog’s life” probably did not know his ass from his elbow and therefore, did not know what he was talking about.

During all these runs, I have realized that my mind is a superlative DJ. There is a song that is always at hand for any situation. If I trip, "Humpty Dumpty" starts to play on its own. On days when it is chilly in the morning and people are sitting around bonfires, my mind automatically starts to play “We didn’t start the fire”. On days when I cannot think of anything, I think, “Why this Kolaveri Di”. Emerging from yet another man-dog face off, I always find myself singing, “Who Let the Dogs Out”. I could go on and on…

Of late, I have started to not just think, but use logic as well to give my puny brain some exercise. Before reading further, let readers be warned that theoretically, when a person runs, the blood supply is more to the legs than to the brains and so the logic may be quite… well… illogical. (And actually, I now have a logical reason for the way I behave – its all because of the ultraruning I do.) No wait, I’ll leave that for the next post. So that's something to look forward to.

The Quadro12 Project

2012-02-20T16:32:00.002+05:30

I had to do something which would go beyond just my race, my timing, my qualification for this or that, my other this and my other that. Somewhere, running had become something to do because my role model did it. And running had to be fast because the guy who started running with me could now do sub-4:00 marathons while I still struggled to do a sub-5:00.

The fun of running had been lost, and running had become a chore to be done, a job to be completed. Everywhere I saw, everyone who was running was running a comparative run and it all boiled down to my race, my timing, my qualification for this or that, my other this and my other that. The descriptions about enjoying a race were negligible; it was all about competition. Competition with self, competition with others, competition with the virtual running buddy, competition to keep up, competition to not be left out and every other what have you!

Maybe I was the odd man out. Maybe I am the only one who runs because I enjoy running. Maybe I am the only one to who company, conversation, and all those things which are completely unrelated to running matter a lot. But like everyone else, I too would want my breed of runners to increase.

I was very sure I did not want it to be a mentoring program because knowing I am basically a back of the pack runner, it creates unnecessary hassles when the runner one is mentoring starts running at a faster pace and after exactly 5 training sessions, begins to believe that the mentor is good for nothing because she or he is slower. I thus wanted a ‘cross the line and get on with your life as I get on with mine’ kind of a program.

I have already sounded out Brijesh about this and have told him that I wanted to take this forward as something of significance to be achieved in the course of the year, more or less in course of the next 12 months, give or take.

Brijesh, of course, will along with me, be taking this forward, trying to involve and create a core team of 12 people; however, everyone who reads this can take this forward individually as well and let us see how we can build up on this.

The Gist:

12 Core Team Members (Team Quadro12) Cumulatively do 12 Ultras. Each having their own 12 (for want of a better word) mentees. Crossing the Finish Line at 12 Marathons. All runs will be for 12 different causes. Winners all 156 of us. (12 Core Team Members and their 12 mentees each.)

The Plan:

We, the 12 core team members will each help 12 different mentees cross the finish lines cumulatively at 12 different marathons. So we will technically have to look for at least 12 different marathons that each of us 12 core team members will need to run with 12 mentees. And 12 different charities can associate with us for raising funds as we do this.

The Modus Operandi:

The primary focus has to be on persons who are the most unlikely candidates for running marathons. School children, senior citizens, persons with lifestyle diseases for whom, running and completing a marathon will be akin to a lifetime achievement. I have already booked a domain name, www.quadro12.in and as soon as we tie up all the loose ends, the site can be up and running. I feel the website should feature the candidates, their story, their photos (before/during/after), their progress as the training progresses, training tips, various guides, motivation in the form of stories, videos or whatever.

Registration:

The candidates will have to fill up a form which we shall put up on the website once we launch The Quadro12 Project. They will also have a choice of selecting their mentors from Team Quadro12; however, the mentors will have the right of first refusal.

In case you feel you are up to this kind of masochism, either as a mentor or a mentee, do get in touch with Brijesh or yours truly or leave a comment with your contact details; either of us will surely get back to you.

This is just a concept note that has been finalized. I hope this is an organic program which grows with time and takes its own shape as it grows.

Running Woes & Solutions.

2012-02-17T16:54:00.001+05:30

Six days of Boot Camp are over.

My last post was about me coming out of hibernation, starting to run again and my joining Boot Camp. Nature, which seemed to have been at war with me the past couple of months had of late ceased hostilities allowing me to thaw a bit, took my coming out of hibernation as a personal affront and sent back the cold with a vengeance. The mercury plummeted and with minimum temperatures hovering at about 5 degree C, running in the morning was definitely and most certainly out. My spring threatened to last just a day, making way again for winter.

Well, if nature could play tricks, I could be obstinate. Taking full advantage of me being the boss, I decided that afternoon was a good time to run. Starting at 11:30am, I decided to stick to my route of the first day, which would ensure a 30-32k run. This would be my route every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. On Sundays, the same route could be extended to make it a 50k+ run. Monotony would not set in, I believe, because there are quite a few other long runs and events planned throughout the year.

As I started running, the dog attack was instant. Only this time, the dogs on the street were not the problem. It was those in cars, on two wheelers, those driving rickshaws. Tolerating the snide comments peppered liberally with expletives, I ran on. What was the point in reacting anyways? At about the 10k mark, I was flagged to a stop by a girl on a two-wheeler. She asked me what I was running for. "For whom, you mean?" "Yes." "For myself." "No, no! I mean to ask, what is the cause you are running for? AIDS, Communal Harmony, National Integration..." "AIDS I do not suffer from, last month's blood donation confirmed that. I am an unapologetic atheist, so the question of communal harmony doesn't arise. As for national integration, I have run to 3 states in one run, so that would count as regional integration rather than national integration, no?" (Which reminds me, I have to speak to Kavitha about rechristening 'Nilgiris 100' to '3 States Ultra' because Nilgiris 100 sounds quite insipid... but for now, let me get back to the post.) "See Sir... what is your name?" she asked. "Vishwas" "Okay, Sir" I wonder why she asked my name if she wanted to continue addressing me as 'Sir'. "I am an intern with Radio Mirchi." Was that a euphemism or maybe, a warning which actually meant, "Stop your buffoonery and answer my questions seriously" I almost asked her, stopping myself just in time. "Are you training for something?" she asked. "Yes," I said, "The event is a 30/50/100 mile run in the desert in Rajasthan organized by Globeracers. Starting in Pokhran, close to Jodhpur and Jaisalmer, the race will run through salt flats, cenotaphs, sand dunes and rocky terrain. It is a tough race to say the least. And given that the race is being held in April, when the temperatures would be in the 40s, we're looking at a potential suicide mission. I will be doing a 100-miler there. "Umm... Sir, there was a marathon in Ahmedabad recently. That was of 40 kilometers." "42.2k" I interrupted her. Ignoring the correction, she continued, "Here you are talking of running for 100 kilometers." "No," I interrupted her again, "I am talking of running for 100-miles. That is 160 odd kilometers." "That is quite some distance, even to travel in a car. Are you sure it is possible to cover such a long distance on foot?" she asked. "There are just about six 100-mile finishers in India and you are speaking to one of them. She then was curious about the time it would take. "About 7-8 hours?" Obviously she knew zilch about anything even remotely connected with running and she did not mind her ignorance being fully on display. "I would be happy if I am able to do a sub 30:00, which is completing the race in less than 30 hours." "What???!!! You mean you will run for 30 hours at a stretch???" "Yes. That is how the race is. Such races are called single-stage races." At that point she decided that she was talking to a complete nutcase. She asked for my phone number and said that she'll get back to me. With that, she left. Needless to say, she never called back.

The remaining run of 20-22k went by as expected. Snide remarks and jeers, peppered with expletives since i was encroaching on what was essentially their space by running on the road. But that apart, there were two major issues I had to contend with. The first major problem I had to deal with was handling hydration. I wasn't carrying water with me and so had to stop at every about 2k for water. The second problem was that of honking by impatient drivers. The honking gave me a splitting headache. I just smiled to myself - I could say, tongue firmly in cheek, that people in Ahmedabad were quite horny. However, since I couldn't change the situation about the honking, I would just have to either grin and bear it, or I would need to run in the morning.

Realizing that it was much better running in the morning, the cold notwithstanding, the next runs have been early in the day. It is still freezing cold for me but the running manages to thaw me out, making things bearable. So at about 5:00am, while most of the city is still sleeping, I leave home. I do not carry a light though reflective strips on the front and back of my tee-shirt take care of the safety angle. (Talking of the tee shirt, it is a bright canary yellow tee with green sleeves with Shivaji Park Marathon Club emblazoned in red on it on the front and back - it is a very high-visibility tee-shirt. I need to check from Yogesh if they have these tees in stock and if they don't, I might consider flicking a couple of them from Yogesh).

Running into the darkness, getting enveloped by it and not being able to see a thing around me paradoxically leads to clarity of thought. By now, my legs know the entire route and know what to expect and what to be alert for and at what places.

The dogs have quietened down. They realize that this runner is crazy, one who only seeks passage and has no intention of usurping their territory. The dogs realize that even if they do not give me the rights of passage, I shall take it in any case. They realize that honorable compromise is much better than absolute defeat; the dogs get to retain their ego and I get my passage.

My running and my thoughts, both get interrupted at 6 places in course of the run. Since the stops are inevitable, I have designated 6 specific places. Let me explain.

I tend to drink lots of water on waking up. And as I begin to run, the water demands to be unloaded. Some 15-20 minutes after I start running, I come across a wall on the other side of the road which has painted on it "Urinating not allowed here". My take is that defiance early in the day boosts confidence. So I go right ahead and do my thing. From the stink, I can assure you that a lot of people share my sentiment on defiance. Public conveniences are not very easy to come by in Ahmedabad. People probably want to raise a stink about it and they seem to be doing so very effectively. I add my contribution to it.

Having contributed to a social cause, I run ahead where I come to a public convenience. Don't get taken in by the name. It is for the public, definitely, but opens at the convenience of the caretaker. And the caretaker believes that no sane person would want to use the loo before 7:30am, so the loo remains closed when I want to use it. Right next to it is a hoarding exhorting people to strive for a Green Gujarat. There is a small plant close by which I have adopted. I propose to nurture it back to the best of its health with a regular dose of urea, water and other salts.

Then, a little before Sola Overbridge, there is an open field which I make full use of. I have had thoughts of borrowing from what I have seen at the Bandra-Worli Sea Link during SCMM and have given a thought to climbing the overbridge and doing my thing right from top of the bridge onto the railway tracks below. Then, I have also thought about the electricity lines that might be passing from under the bridge. A news item in the next day's newspapers screaming, "Runner Electrocuted While Peeing From Overbridge" with me as the protagonist certainly doesn't appeal to me and so I have refrained from doing that.

Running ahead, I reach the Gujarat High Court where my bladder begins to nudge me again. I do not know whether peeing on the compound wall of the High Court would invite 'pee'nal action or worse, contempt of court, so I hold my bladder till I cross the premises. Immediately next to it is the compound wall of the Sola Civil Hospital. Difficult as it is to hold on, I debate my choices: should it be the wall of the High Court and risk legal action or should it be the Civil Hospital which will put lives of other patients at risk? I decide to somehow hold on and keep moving ahead. Right after the Sola Civil Hospital is the Gujarat Medical College (or some such name). By the time I get here, my brain is, for want of a better term, totally pissed off and I let loose on its compound wall.

I run further and stop for water at the 12k mark. There is a proper facility there and I am back to being a well-mannered gentleman. I am sure everyone will appreciate that the earlier actions are necessitated by lack of facilities. Then, a little past the turnaround point, I go into the bushes. Once done, it is a comfortable run back home.

Maybe the next time I meet an intern from a radio station and she asks me what I am running for, I should reply, "For having public conveniences every one kilometer on the highways. That will perhaps give my running a cause, legitimacy, sincerity and maybe even popularity. Won't it?

Talking of causes, my next post in the coming couple of days should be about The Quadro12 Project.

Back to Boot Camp

2012-02-08T11:50:00.000+05:30

The winter is drawing to a close, its final efforts at getting a grip on the thermometer and squeezing the mercury down coming to naught. The sun’s rays seem stronger now, the days now seem to have started feeling good enough to sustain life again. It is time for me to come out of hibernation.

Sunday went by, lived like an absolute dream of a couch potato. Waking up at 8:00am, I joined my mother at a chai ki kitli just as she was finishing her 8k. (The fact that I was able to venture out at 8:00am and have survived to write about it is indication enough for me to come out of hibernation.) Then we went to have a little something for breakfaswt at the roadside opposite IIM. One more tea, then another. A maska bun. An omlette, no two. Hot Maggi Noodles with egg in it. That seemed like breakfast enough for me.

Came home checked Facebook intermittently and channel surfed till lunch. Channel surfing with potato wafers for company. That done, a sumptuous lunch. Then the Sunday afternoon siesta – what started as a reward for my long run has come to become a matter of right and the only exception to this is when I am running all through the weekend. Evening went off in a jiffy; for dinner keema samosas, fried chicken and lots of ice-cream. You may stop smirking right now; I had decided that I was going to come out of hibernation the next day, start running again and all the fat reserves that I had accumulated around my equator and elsewhere would come in handy.

Come Monday morning and the alarm dutifully went off at 4:00am. After pressing the snooze button twice thereafter, I changed the alarm time to 5:30am and went back to sleep. If you have ever tried to wake up early after a long hiatus, you would appreciate my behavior and understand the importance of that extra sleep.

When the alarm went off again at 5:30am, I was all set to restart my training. To ease into training, I chose to use the Hal Hingdon Marathon Training Schedule for Novices. It was a Monday and I clearly remember the schedule said Mondays were for stretching and strengthening. I stretched long and hard in bed. I also did some strengthening – in this case, my resolve to start training from Tuesday. In about 15 minutes (which included cooling down and relaxing after the training session) I was done. There! Without even realizing it, I had begun my training; I had just got myself admitted into Boot Camp.

Practically almost all of the day went by in planning out things. From afar, running an ultra seems quite easy. It is. One just needs to build on the stamina, start running and not stop till one is done. But this holds true only till the time the runs are limited to a maximum of 100-miles and are part of an event where everything else is taken care of by the organizers and there is no requirement of a crew. Anything beyond this distance and the amount of planning that goes into each run is almost unimaginable.

As the planning that was put into motion a few weeks back has begun to crystallize, there is a need to take a relook and tweak or change whatever components showed signs of degenerating into potential problems. With planning necessarily including BR-135 in 2013 and subsequently, hopefully Badwater 2013 the areas that will need immediate, constant and focused attention are that of crew, long runs, website, sponsorships and products.

(a) Crew: While more or less the entire crew from last year will continue, there will be about an 80% addition to the number. Last year, we had absolutely no margin for error. We knew that one person taking ill or one person for whatever reason, not being able to make it would have put the entire team in jeopardy. To eliminate this, the plan is to have a team of about 10 people. Looking up people’s profiles, gauging whether their mindset will work and whether they will gel as crew, speaking to them to see if I am comfortable with them crewing for me, asking them if they want to crew for me and should they agree, asking Kavitha, my Crew Chief to take over. Having spoken to a few friends in my running circle, we’re looking at others. (In case you feel you want to crew and that we might have missed out on you, this should have you getting in touch with us. Fast.)

(b) Long Runs: When one is preparing for 2 single-stage races of 135-miles (217.3k) each, one of them christened the toughest foot race on earth, the importance of long runs in the entire scheme of things cannot be overemphasized. The plan is to do a total of about 15 runs of a 100 miles and above in the run up to BR-135 in January, 2013. Planning these runs becomes absolutely delicate since there are a number of factors that go into the route being decided. The distance, elevation, descent, weather, availability of resources (which will be needed to be sourced in course of the run) etc. will lead to further planning on the logistics – type of vehicle, supplies to be carried, shoes, change of clothes and a whole gamut of other things. Very fortunately, I have the best Crew Chief I could have hoped for. With her around, with her in command, all I need to do is focus on running. Any problems, if in the unlikely event that they reach me, I am confident will be taken care of by Kavitha.

All this apart, I also plan to include in the 15 runs mentioned above, my participation in some 6-7 single stage 100-mile running events which should stand me in good stead when I put up my candidature to be a participant at Badwater 2013.Trying to fit those runs in along with the practice runs, ensuring that the schedule must provide for enough days of rest and recovery can only mean one thing – lots and lots more planning.

(c) Website: The “You must understand, Mr. Bhamburkar, that running is not cricket and you are no Tendulkar” comment still rankles. But it is true; even in Ahmedabad very few would know about me. I certainly am not one who will go to the media asking them to give some coverage to my achievements. Nor am I the type who will network with scribes and ten subtly put something of this sort in. I am of the opinion that if what I am doing is good enough, the media will cover it. If not, so be it. And if the media does not cover despite it being good enough only because they did not know about it, then the journalistic capabilities need to be questioned. And if despite it being good enough to be covered, they don’t cover it only because I did not network with them, then their journalistic ethics need to be questioned. I don’t run for getting written about, so is it my loss if I don’t get written about?

A case in point is the report on the 100-miler at Bhati Lakes. Practically every edition of TOI printed it, except Ahmedabad.. And the person who finished the race second was from Ahmedabad. Isn’t this a reflection on the Times of India?

I have often been asked not to be so reclusive, to liaise extensively with the media, that media coverage comes with its benefits. But my first meeting in this regard with a member of the fourth estate proved to be a colossal disaster. “Sure, Vishwas. I think you’re doing great. Keep in touch regularly and once we develop a close rapport, we will make you.” “What? Make me? You mean you’ll write fictitious articles about me running, running fast and winning and all that blah?” no, no! of course, we cannot write fiction, but we can definitely write about you and the races you have run. The regular coverage can make you.” “Oh great! Okay, I’ll back on this.” My left foot I’ll get back. Thank you very much, but I’m better off alone.

But having said that, I understand that one does need some kind of visibility. If I am one among only six 100-mile finishers in India, I need to let it be known. Else I face the danger of hearing the Tendulkar comment again. But since I choose not to lie prostrate before the media, I need a separate channel. So a website. Yes, it is unconventional. Harnessing the power of the internet can make for great visibility if successfully done. The challenge here would be to find the way to developing a successful model in a dynamic, ever-changing medium. (Running a 100 miles and more is also not conventional. In its own way, a 100-miler is also a dynamic, ever-changing medium. If I could succeed there, I have reasonable chances of success here.) I have already registered the domain name www.endurolimits.com and that was the easiest part. The content and actually building the website is what will take much longer and will have to be done after great deliberations. It is a work in progress. I am hopeful that my friends, especially my online friends will help once the site is up and running.

(d) Sponsorships: Paucity of sponsorship saw my plans for 2012 getting completely derailed. Nothing thereafter has changed, really. However, as I look towards 2013 and the plans that are being put in place for it, I realize that sponsorships are going to be a crucial element which will bring the plans to fruitition. But then, the sponsorship will have to be dealt with a sense of responsibility and moderation. And ethical issues too have to be dealt with. For example, do I approach a telecom company which seems willing to loosen its purse strings quite easily and take more than is needed? Or do I try to get only what I need from sponsors who find a fit with running?

(e) Products: The more I do long runs, the more aware I become about the unique requirements in small things which, if not attended to can bloom into major disasters later. Running ultra distances brings forth requirements which the regular products may not be able to satisfactorily fulfill. One thus needs to design products which are slightly different from the products used by regular runners. An Accelarade + Gatorade mix works wonderfully to take care of mineral requirements of my body on long runs. The desert caps that are available become very claustrophobic with the fabric covering the nape being so close to even your eyes. I am in the process of designing a hat that would effectively take care of this problem. I know the cuts I make to my running shoes, the places from where I get rubber scooped out to make them more comfortable. All of these are cases in point that products designed by actual users would be far more user-friendly than the ones designed by those with theoretical knowledge. I will thus need to have products that gel with me, my style of running and will fulfill the requirements that are important to me as an ultrarunner.

This also presents the opportunity for me to design products, but for that I will need a sports company which believes that their products can be improved upon by less mortals like the actual users. Till now I have not seen anything that will give me much hope. But it does not mean I will stop trying; the search continues.

All of this took up almost the entire day. I remembered the blog one of my online friends had sent a link to, which warned that if one was planning to run Badwater, I would have to apologize to everyone in advnce, kiss my social and family life goodbye and every waking minute would have to contribute in one way or the other towards making BR-135 and Badwater races where I am able to give my best. On day one, it looks as though the article was written very optimistically, or the situation here in

India

is very different. In the evening, I met Vishal, my training buddy cum pace setter. Vishal doesn’t run (though he has been promising to train and do a marathon someday). He said we’d meet at 5:00am the next day at IIM Crossroads, about 3k away and training would begin in right earnest. Vishal is on his cycle and as we chat while I run, he slowly increases the speed of his cycle. Not surprising, since if we slow down, he loses his balance. I know this works for me; after all training in this manner has seen both, my endurance as well as my speed go up phenomenally. There was such a lot to do, I got back to working on plans.

By the time I finished everything, it was past 12:30am and the alarm for 4:00am had been set. I dozed off immediately, only to be rudely woken up at 4:00am by the alarm. As I got out of bed, I jogged my memory and thought over all the marathon training programs that I had gone through on the internet. I couldn’t remember a single one which offered me a Tuesday off. So having jogged my memory, it was going to be running for me. And Vishal would be on his way; I did not want to stand him up on Day 1 of training.

At 4:45am since Vishal, had not texted to say that he was on his way, I picked up my cellphone to realize that he had texted at night to say that he wouldn’t be able to make it. He also said this should not be an excuse for me not to start training and asked me to go and run.

I took a good hard look at all the long runs I had in mind – training runs as well as events – and decided that if I had to do about 15 long runs of 100 miles or more before 2012 was out, I simply could not afford the luxury of easing into training. I had to jump off the deep end and somehow swim till I was able to get my feet to touch the bottom (and hopefully with the head above the water).

Those who go through training theoretically would find this blasphemous; I however had no qualms in doing this as I have always believed that theory is a good tool to explain failure and success only gives rise to new theories. So first day of actual training by running and we decided that we were off for a 30k.

I started running. From home to IIM Crossroads and from there to Keshavbaug, taking a right to Judges’ Bungalows. A little ahead and I turned right again on to Sarkhej-Gandhinagar Highway. As I continued to forge ahead, a dog who had finally found peace a couple of months ago from a runner intruding into his territory every morning saw me invading his fiefdom again. Not taking very kindly to this, he charged at me, fangs bared. (For those who don’t know, dogs live to sink their teeth into my flesh. I have been bitten 6 times by strays and so now a dog bite is something that happens every once in a way and is nothing to worry about. Just meet a doctor, take a few injections, wait for a couple of days for the wound to heal and you’re ready to take on the world again.) As the dog charged fiercely to guard its territory, I chose to take it head-on. Leaving the highway, I charged at the dog. For a split-second, I thought I had made the wrong decision as the dog continued to charge towards me, now with its army materializing out of nowhere. There was no turning back now and I continued to charge, growling too for good measure to tell the dogs in their own language that I too meant business.

The dogs chose to retreat. After making sure that it was not just a tactical retreat to get me to lower my guard, I was back on the highway and running. (Though surely a little rattled at the thought of the results had the dogs decided on an all-out confrontation.)

A couple of ks ahead at the start of the Sola Overbridge, another dog showed his resentment and began barking to drum up support. I stopped and dared the dog in Hindi and Gujarati (since I did not know the medium of communication of the dogs). The dog stopped barking and I continued my run up the overbridge.

Once the flyover was behind me, I decided to see if I could increase my pace a bit and sustain it. I was pleasantly surprised to see that I was able to hold a faster pace. In no time, I had crossed Gota Chowkdi and continuing to run further ahead. About 5k ahead, I was at Vaishnodevi Circle, the turn around point. I had presumed that the run back was going to be a drag. This stretch I knew would be a walk-run; more walk, minimal run. I actually outran my knowledge. Taking a walking a break of about 100-200 meters every 4-odd kilometers, I was back home with more of running and very little walking. About 30-32k done.

The only trouble I face is one of my own making. With a paunch that has taken full advantage of my insistence on ‘no dietary control’ coupled with negligible training in the last couple of months, it is difficult to run. A belly bouncing away to its own beat when I run doesn’t make for very comfortable running. At some points during the run, I almost had to hold onto the gut to stop it from bouncing away. Guess dietary control takes over in a big way and all those crunches too have to be done. But from experience I know this is a discomfort I will have to live with for a maximum of two weeks after that, things will flatten out and the running will be smooth.

This would now be the routine. A 30-32k on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays and a 50k+ on Sundays. I will be doing easy runs for the next two weeks after which the concentration on pace will go up. Of course, climbing those forty stories – first ten floors walking, the next ten running, the ten thereafter sprinting and finally walking up ten floors to cool down, continues. As does doing crunches. And of course, the dietary control – till I lose the flab at least. Am I going overboard, doing too much? Well, the title itself makes it clear that this is a boot camp.

I am reminded of my New Year’s Resolution – to have a thin body and a fat bank balance. With this kind of a schedule, I seem to be on my way to achieving the first part of my resolution; if I stop this and get back to work, I just might be able to achieve the latter part.

Lost & Found: The Joy of Running

2012-01-31T23:22:00.000+05:30

As I sat reminiscing about what had brought me so close to quitting running; what was it that had changed, why did running – something that used to give me such unbridled joy – suddenly become so repulsive that I almost quit?

As I pondered, I looked at every aspect, even reading my own blog posts – past ones till the last one – to try and read between the lines, to try and see if there was some hidden meaning. I peeled away layer after layer to reach the core of the problem, so that the process of rectification and subsequent complete healing could begin from there. Things suddenly started to get clear. And as they got clear, they appeared more and more stark; and as they got starker, they hurt the eye and the soul more and more.

I realized my repulsion to running came from issues not related to running. Back in 2007-8, before I started running, I was your typical ‘young MBA with a career on the fast track’ type of a yuppie. Someone who took great pride in always being busy, not having a social life and generally trying to prove to the world and more importantly, to one’s peers and contemporaries, that I was ‘arriving’. I used to smoke. And it was vulgar smoking. I used to smoke because I enjoyed it. But I used to smoke Marlboro Lights because of the brand. And of course, one did need those pegs in the evening to round off the day.

I was living it up, life was good and I was truly running (pun unintended) the rat race. A not so pleasant side-effect of it was my waistline grew to 42” and the weight reached 97kgs and looked all set to cross a 100kgs. It was during this time that a friend was diagnosed with diabetes, high BP, cholesterol, heart trouble, the works. And I got scared, more by the restrictions it put on him.

The next day saw me at the gym. After the weight and measurements were taken, a workout schedule sent to be prepared, lecture on healthy eating and all that blah was done, the action began. I got close to the machines and was going to do that manly stuff like pumping iron et al. But me trying to do a benchpress (with the lowest weight possible with the svelte, sexy, PYT observing the oodles of fat rolling over and dangling off the edges of the bench did not for a pretty picture make. Sorry, understatement. It was downright obnoxious and nauseating. I saw the look on the PYT’s face so I know. For sure.

Thereafter, going to the gym was out. So what was the next best thing I could do? Swimming was out; I knew I’d look like a beached whale. Cycling was out too, and more out of pity for the poor cycle. After contemplating various other impossibilities like martial arts, gymnastics, etc. running was what it was. Fat people are seen on the road, so that was a comfort factor. No one had seen me walking/running before, so people wouldn’t recognize me. That was a comforting thought. I could run in an area where no one knew me, so that was good too. Actually in more ways than one, I did not start running for the right reasons. I started running because I had no other choice.

But as I ran, I began to slowly accept it. As 200 meters every two days increased to a 2k everyday and more, the compulsion became a choice, a choice I consciously made till it turned to love, till it became a passion.

Running offered me all that I wanted and all that I could want. It became my time alone with myself. Devoid of thoughts when the mind began to go blank around the 8k mark, I learnt to live with myself. I learnt how to, as a friend aptly put it during an email exchange, make partial sense of a nonsensical world. Running would be the answer to all my problems. It gave me all the time I wanted to think, it gave me an opportunity to unclutter my thoughts and more often than not, running would help me arrive at solutions related to non-running issues.

Running encouraged me to be free, to break away from the shackles of the regular, to break away from the bondages of habit. I was not restrained by space. I could run anywhere I wanted, whichever part of the city or out of it. I was not restricted by time. No one stopped me if I ran late in the mornings, early in the afternoons, late in the evenings or even in the dead of the night. I need not have had a fixed route. I could turn anywhere I wanted, run on a different route everyday or I could just pace up and down a particularly small stretch till I was done. Some days I would run slow, some days I would run fast. Some days I would run long and some days I would run far. Some days I would not run at all, I would just walk. And on some days I would run-walk. I could run on a beach, I could run up and down mountains and hills, I could run in the desert and if I ever gathered the guts to overcome the cold, I could run on snow too. I did not need to run only on the days I was working in town, I could run when I was on tour, I could run when I was on a holiday and I could run for all of the above reasons and circumstances as well as none of them.

Running offered me all the freedom that I chose to take. And the most important thing was that I was running for myself; I was not running for anyone or anything else.

So then, what happened that pushed me to the brink of quitting running? Exactly the same issues that had pushed me into running had begun to take root here and that was pushing me out of it. It was… no, it is getting all too technical and no one but no one seems to be running for themselves anymore. Everyone runs for just one inanimate, abstract concept – time. Pick up any account of running from the past year or so and chances are it’ll talk of just two things – distance and time and the various permutations and combinations thereof. One hears of all kinds of suffering that they have endured while running. There’s talk of dehydration, nausea, hitting the wall, ITBS, cramps, etc. etc. etc. or tough route, trails, tarmac, hills, sand, heat, humidity etc. Rarely, if ever, do I hear of anyone recounting what fun they had chasing their own shadows, no one talks of running faster than the plane flying overhead. No one speaks of the scenery that becomes visible as the sun rises. As the sun rises, all one hears are statements like, “Oh! Sun is up already, unless we cross kmX in the next 10 minutes, we’ll have to deal with hydration issues later.”

And no sooner does one cross the finish line than he gets to hear, “Shucks!! Missed a sub 4:30 by just 28 seconds!” “Cramps at the 26k mark screwed my chances of a sub 4:00.” “Man! I cannot believe I just did a sub 5:00.” No one but no one talks of how the run was. No one talks of what they saw. Because no one saw anything. Everyone was simply running for that inanimate, abstract concept called time. I can bet that almost no one who ran SCMM this year looked up at the building on the right (on the left when coming to the finish line) at Flora Fountain to see the heads looking down at us marathoners who were running not for themselves, but for time.

There are some amongst us who run to qualify, Boston or Comrades or what have you. But apart from those few, all of us essentially remain also-ran runners. And for a certain A to feel that G’s timing of 5:53:22 against T’s timing of 5:53:39 makes G a superior runner reminds me of an incident from my hostel days while in college. We would take a bath once a month because that was very convenient to us. A hostelmate used to consider himself more hygienic than us because his body used to get so itchy in 27 days that he had to have a bath.

I have been fortunate to also have done a 100-miler last year. And when I think of it, or when we who ran that run talk about it amongst ourselves, all we can think of is how we lay down bang in the middle of the trail for a nap at night, the sleepwalking, the lakes which looked beautiful with the rising sun, the dense green forests of the Aravalis, etc. Time just doesn’t figure, because we were running for ourselves, not for time.

And thus, it is a conscious decision to not run races anymore in a competitive spirit and try to be one-up among the last of the also-rans. I am not going to race. I am not going to be bothered about my timings. I am not going to keep a count of how many kilometers I ran. I am not going to have a set route to practice everyday, these, hills, those flyovers, those underpasses and that bridge. I am not going to look at training charts and do fartleks, hills, interval training and all that blah which makes running technical and takes the fun of running out of it. I am not going to run to be a part of yet another rat race. I got into running and was able to successfully get out of one rat race; I do not want to find myself trapped and running another.

I am going to run to enjoy myself. I am going to run because I want to run. I am going to run where I want, unshackled by space or locations. Regardless of whether or not I need to, I will not run to prove anything to anybody. As this friend of mine said yesterday during our email exchanges, “I love to run and I know I will not stop till I cannot go on any longer.”

As said earlier, it is a conscious decision to not run races anymore. Yes, I’ll be there for a few marathons – but those will mostly be to meet up with friends from all over that I have made while running. And maybe I’ll take another friend’s advice and start a ‘last minute bus’ at these races. Though I have serious doubts as to whether I will officially be allowed to be a ‘last minute bus’.

SCMM, 2012: The Planned Funeral Of My Running (Part-II)

2012-01-27T16:18:00.000+05:30

(concluding part…continued from the earlier post)

Just another 100 meters or so, a left turn adjoining the Shivaji Park ground and I would be out and away. Running, which gave me so much and yet seemed to have taken away so much more, was now going to be a part of history – a history preferably forgotten. A quick look back and I was relieved that neither Asha nor Gaurav were in sight. It also helped that there was no one else behind me whom I knew. One look ahead and the 5:30 bus lurched on, running, chatting, laughing and partying. They would not miss me.

I realized I was running on the right hand side of the road and needed to cross over and get to the left, then get out. The commotion behind me told that the elite athletes were on their way towards me. Escape is much easier in a commotion. This was going to be perfect. With everyone concentrating on the elite runners, I would go unnoticed. The crowd that had gathered at Shivaji Park had made my task of quitting look very daunting at first. Now with the elite runners approaching, I knew it wasn’t going to be difficult at all.

But then, life has its own ways throwing the unexpected at you.

As I was crossing the road, some words like ‘runner’, ‘marathon, ‘Shivaji Park’, ‘wow’, ‘clap’, ‘photo’, etc. reached my ears. Everyone was preparing for the elite runners. I crossed the road. And ran into a thunderous applause. The elites had reached and while undoubtedly the applause was for them, I couldn’t resist imagining that the applause was for me as I got ready to quit just 20 meters ahead. “Fantastic way to end my last run,” I thought.

The applause continued. The pictures began to get clicked on cameras of all makes, shapes and sizes. As the cameras continued to point at me, I knew the athletes were right behind me. A full minute passed and the cameras continued to point at me. I wondered why the elites had not crossed me till now. I looked back to see an empty road. The commotion of the approaching elite runners was still a little distance away. And then it struck me. The applause was for me. It was my pictures which were being clicked. The crowds were all cheering for me. The tee-shirt!! I was wearing a tee-shirt of the Shivaji Park Marathon Club and here I was at Shivaji Park. I was their hero!

All my meticulous planning came unstuck faster than a cheap imitation. Try as I might, I couldn’t get myself to quit. I had to keep these people’s faith in their heroes intact – however fleeting and momentary that faith might be. “Well, let me quit a little ahead. They’ll not get to know and what they do not know will not hurt them.” Since quitting had been postponed, I decided to pick up pace and rejoin the 5:30 bus. That bus was a party and I wanted to enjoy it till it lasted. Not much was left in any case. I crossed over to the other side of the road. There were spectators on that side of the road too.

Joining the 5:30 bus again, I started to run at their pace. Suddenly I felt my palm being opened and something being pressed into it. There was lady in her 60s, running along with me and she told me in chaste Marathi that she had given me some slices of oranges and some sugar crystals to give me energy right till the finish. And I was going to quit less than a kilometer away!! While that thought hurt, was a frail old lady’s kind gesture going to have any impact on my resolve? Absolutely none. “Too bad, Aunty.Your good deed has been wasted,” I thought, though the thought that she would never get to know did offer me some solace. My thoughts were broken by sudden loud sounds - the roar of the lead vehicle approaching. I saw the first of the elite runners zoom by. First the men, followed closely by the contingent of Indian elite who were followed by the women. All so fast, so graceful and so nimble on their feet yet with such giant strides, it was an absolute pleasure to watch them run. I realized I had stopped running and was rooted to the spot. Then I saw the elite runners had had the same effect on the entire 5:30 bus. All of us, I suppose, were imagining literally being in the elite athletes’ shoes, running their race. Once this cavalcade had passed, we resumed running. “Just a couple of hundred meters more,” I thought.

As I ran and started to get closer to the point where Vishwas the runner would die, my entire running life flashed before my eyes, just the way it happens in the movies. I recalled Kavitha’s emails, our telephone conversations. How she was trying to draw me out of the tragedy of BR-135. I recalled the communication with Brijesh and his quiet, unstinted support. When I said I would try till the last minute, even if it meant reaching the start line of BR-135 just a few seconds before the run began, Brijesh had said he that he would be there with me, crewing for me. I thought of Sabine’s promise that she’d be there to crew for BR-135 or any other race that I wanted to run. I recalled Tanvir’s advice that BR-135 not happening was not the end of the world. Anand’s enthusiasm and his exhorting me to prepare for other races flashed before my eyes. I recalled Natasha, Sunil Chainani, Yogesh, Kiran, Rahul, Gaurav, Amit, Sandeep, Danny and hordes of others who had expressed shock and anguish at my being unable to participate in BR-135 only for the paucity of a sponsor. I remembered Asha’s stark comment when I told her of my having to let go of BR-135. she had said, “Of course you couldn’t have gone; I couldn’t have been there to support you. Go next year and I’ll be there and complete the run good and proper.” I remembered the conversations with Sunil D’Souza, who offered me solace when my world came crashing down and has kept in touch since.

I went further back in time, remembering the list of marathons and ultra marathons that I had prepared with Sabine which we wanted to run. I recalled in vivid detail, the 100 miler at Bhati Lakes. I remember finishing KTM and thereafter, getting into some seedy watering hole at Mysore with Sandeep, drinking more draught beer than we could handle, swaggering out and swaying back to our respective hotel rooms. Beer since then has always been called a recovery drink and the walk back from a bar, the recovery run. I relived each step I had run at the Pedong Run. I remembered every run at Lonavla with Danny, Pradeep, Dilip Patil, Sushant, Satish and occasionally, Amit and Neepa.

Putting a brake on my thoughts, I looked around to see where I was so that I could quit. I realized I was alone. Rahul and the 5:30 bus had gone ahead. Tanvir and his 5:30 bus were just behind me; I slowed down further so that we could run a few steps together. Then he went off at his pace; he had the responsibility of getting his bus past the finish line withing 5:30. The place I was running in seemed familiar, but then, how could I have reached Worli so soon? How could I be headed towards INS Trata and on to Worli Seaface when just a couple of minutes back I was at Shivaji Park? Asha caught up with me here, said she wanted to try and catch Tanvir’s bus and went ahead. I too started running. At Worli Seaface, I was hit by the ‘big-toe-falling-off’ syndrome. I stopped to tape my toe and when I looked up, Gaurav was there, waiting for me to resume.

We started walking-running together. Frankly, I did not want Gaurav with me. It would make quitting tht much more difficult for me. I had planned to quit the moment we touched Dr. Annie Besant Road, not too far away. And I wanted that time alone, my last few moments of running for me to relive my life as a runner, to complete the thoughts that I had been thinking since Shivaji Park. Somehow, Gaurav simply refused to take any hints. I said that at our pace, we would miss the six hour deadline and asked him to go ahead. He only assured me that no such thing would happen. I told him to go ahead, he said he wanted to run with me. At Worli Seaface, I told Gaurav I wanted to take a nap and lay down on the grass on the road divider. At least now he would leave. Nothing of the sort happened. Gaurav was running backwards, stretching, relaxing his muscles and waiting for me to finish my nap. A couple of runners warned Gaurav against running backwards, stretching, etc. and instead concentrate on finishing. They very condescendingly told Gaurav that he still had a chance to finish within six hours. I raised my head and butting into the discussion they were having with Gaurav, told the guys that Gaurav was a 100-mile finisher. I thought this would lead to some sort of adulation, those guys wanting to run with Gaurav and would take Gaurav with them leaving me to think my thoughts and then, quit. But no, that did not happen. Gaurav wasn’t going anywhere, he was staying with me. And if Gaurav was with me, I had to kiss goodbye to all my chances of quitting this one.

Bearing the burden of my unlived thoughts, lifting the weight of not being able to DNF when I wanted to and battling the guilt of enjoying a run that was more of a compulsion, Gaurav and I started the walk-run-chat routine. Within no time, we were at Haji Ali Junction. Peddar Road went off in a jiffy. Just after the Peddar Road Flyover, Sejal Sheth briefly joined us. She asked what time we were targeting and seemed quite disgusted when we said we were looking to finish in less than 6:00 – our time would be between 5:55 and 5:59:59. After some mental maths, she asked if we planned to sprint the last 4-5k. We said no, we planned to walk a lot, chat a lot, run a little and finish just under 6:00. We must have sounded either like complete losers or certified loonies, for Sejal gave us that look before speeding off.

We kept at what we were doing. As we crossed the 40k mark, both Gaurav and I agreed that we would run the distance from 41k to 42.2k non-stop. But the 41k mark never came. Just before Flora Fountain, there was a mark which said 1k to finish. Since this wasn’t the same thing as a 41k marker, we continued walking-chatting-running. With less than 500 meters to the finish line, I started running. Someone shouted out, “You’re looking good!” I stopped, said a loud thank you and had a hearty laugh as the poor soul looked on. This was supposed to be my funeral and my looking good took on quite a different meaning today.

I need not emphasize that I ran the remaining distance to finish in 5:57. Gaurav finished right behind me.

Later that evening, after the jokes about extracting full value for money by staying on the course for the entire duration had been laughed at, after Gaurav left for Delhi, after Yogesh and I finished our recovery drinks, after the glutton in me had been satiated, I decided to write to the Race Director of Brazil-135 and explain the situation as it was to him, ask him if he’d consider my participation for 2013 and leave it at that. When you have lost everything that was there, including hope, there is nothing much to lose anyways, and so drafting such a letter becomes easy. A couple of beers in the gut, a nice buzz in the brain makes it easier. Mail drafted, I wasted no time in sending it out.

I got a reply the very next afternoon. It was practically a one liner inviting me again, saying he would see me during Br-135 in 2013.

So end of it all, my running continues. Vishwas the runner is dead. But he has been reincarnated as Vishwas the ultra runner. (Thank goodness I believed in weird things like reincarnation when Vishwas the runner died.) This one will survive; he will thrive.

As for BR-135, the efforts to rope in sponsors are on and I will not be making the mistakes I made the last time around.

Before I end, I would like to thank all those who have shown concern and made life worth… well… running. Whether or not their name finds mention in this or the previous post does not in any way dim my gratitude towards them. I will not thank them for I know words will never be able to do justice to what I feel. Some things are better left unsaid.

Now coming to the various training runs that have been planned through the year to prepare me for BR-135 and beyond… no, wait. That is for another post.

SCMM, 2012: The Planned Funeral Of My Running (Part-I)

2012-01-27T00:27:00.000+05:30

On 16^th December, 2011, we started our Nilgiris Run. It ended on 18^th December, 2011. The distance, elevations, descents, difficulty, cold, clouds, fog, mist, scenery et al called for a post that would be the mother of all posts. I had planned it all and on the way back to Ahmedabad from Bangalore, had also mentally jotted down all the points that the post would cover. This was going to be significant post; after all, it was my last training long run before Brazil.

Back in Ahmedabad, work took over for the first few days. Then, I got down to working on tying up the loose ends and readying myself for the Brazil trip. BR-135, where I was the only Indian ever to have been invited to run. One meeting after another took place with my sponsor. Everything was falling into place, yet something was not quite right. As the days extended, the feeling of something having gone terribly wrong continued to build up.

The sense of impending doom only strengthened on seeing a funeral procession soon after I left home. My meeting with my sponsor was short and far from sweet. All the niceties were cut out and it was plainspeak at its best. “Mr. Bhamburkar, we had considered your proposal positively but subsequently, we have had a relook at sponsoring you for the race at Brazil. We must understand that in India, running is not cricket. And very frankly, Mr. Bhamburkar, you are no Tendulkar…and the economic situation…blah, blah, blah…” I had heard what mattered. And what I heard was shattering.

That evening, I informed my teammates – Kavitha, Sabine, Anand, Brijesh and Tanvir that the race at Brazil had all but ended for us. That the sole sponsor I had banked upon and who had agreed to sponsor the entire trip had backed out. But I wasn’t ready to go down without putting up a fight, making a last ditch effort; such abject surrender was simply not acceptable to me.

The next few days were a far cry from lofty ideals like putting up a fight, making a last ditch effort, etc. I was reduced to literally going down on my knees, begging before anyone who even remotely seemed like he might be inclined to help.

During this time, I kept receiving emails from the organizers of Brazil–135. my name kept getting mentioned in all the emails sent out everywhere, for the athletes to watch out for. And finally, an email from them about their estimate of the top 10 athletes’ in the race for this year had my name in it too.

All of this did not make me feel I had a better case to approach potential sponsors from a position of strength. On the contrary, it made me bend over backwards, wallow before people I thought would be my sponsors, kneel before them and rub my nose in the dust in front of their shoes in the hope that that would make them agree to sponsoring at least a part of my endeavour at Brazil. Desperation sometimes makes one speaks a very dirty language and this is a case in point.

It cost me my self respect and it caused me to fall in my own eyes. So blinded was I with BR-135 and thereafter the Badwater 2012 dream that I did not stop to think what I was doing to myself. I also seriously thought of sponsoring the whole trip myself, but the firm ‘NO’ from each and every teammate stemmed the scope for any further discussion on this.

Finally on 10^th January, 2012, as decided, I let my team know that the Brazil Dream was truly and completely over. Each one of them replied back almost immediately about how we would train harder for next year, how we would be better prepared, how the team would get a year to bond, how all of it would lead to a much better performance in future, etc. etc. All the replies had the stuff one would see in a letter offering condolences. None of the letters were superfluous, all of them were completely genuine; but I knew they wouldn’t amount to anything in real terms. After all, such chances did not come again and again. For one, this BR-135 is a ‘by invitation only’ event and I had been invited – by dropping off at such short notice, I knew I had blown my chances of getting invited again. Secondly, along with BR-135, my Badwater 2012 dreams also lay shattered. All my running had come to naught. That I was one of only seven 100-mile finishers in India suddenly did not matter anymore. That all of this training had help up my running by quite a few notches also did not matter anymore.

I wasn’t just depressed, I was on the verge of being suicidal. I had decided that this much of running was enough and that it was time to hang up my running shoes. But hanging up my running shoes couldn’t be so immediate. My mother runs 21.1k at SCMM and I would have to accompany her to Mumbai. Telling her that I wasn’t running would upset her. So my plan was to get to the start line, run up to Shivaji Park, quit there and go off home – an inglorious DNF to an inglorious running career – and that would be the last that anyone would hear of me in the context of running. My plan was fixed and nothing, but nothing was going to change it. SCMM 2012 was going to be the funeral of my running.

Then Kavitha sent me an email of the 100 miler at the Thar Desert Run. My mind wavered but I pushed back all thoughts of running. SCMM, 2012, as I had decided, was going to be my funeral. Vishwas, the runner was no more.

Reaching Mumbai on 13^th January, I met up with Yogesh Chavan in the evening. As soon as we met he handed me a packet which had yellow and green fabric in it. “Brazilian colours!” my mind raced. “Your tee-shirt,” Yogesh said. I said, “I’ll wear it on the day after.” BR-135, a Brazilian race I could not go to and because of which I was going to quit running forever. And at SCMM, my absolute last run ever, I was going to be wearing Brazilian colours. I unfolded the tee-shirt to see ‘Shivaji Park Marathon Club’ emblazoned on the back of the tee-shirt as well as on the top left corner in front. This had to be destiny. I would be wearing a tee-shirt which had printed on it, the name of the area where I would be quitting running forever. Perfect.

Yogesh took us, my mother, Brijesh, who was staying the night with us and I for dinner. He told us that Shivaji Park Marathon Club members would meet the next morning and asked if we would join them. Brijesh and I did. A small run, a photosession and plenty of chatting later, we were back home. Brijesh left almost immediately for his appointment with Bruce Hargreaves.

Almost as soon as Brijesh left, Gaurav Madan called up. There had been some goof-up with the arrangements for his stay and he was wondering about the alternatives. My house was there, so there was no question of any alternative. A short while later, the three of us were off to World Trade Center at Cuffe Parade to collect our Running Number Bibs. We met Piyush Shah and Bhupendrasing Rajput at the entrance. As soon as we entered, Sandeep Shrivastava from Delhi was waiting. He had been waiting for quite some time to meet me. Bijay Nair, Sameer Sakpal and Mohammad Rafi Shaik were inside. It is always a pleasure to meet online friends in person. I suddenly remembered I had clean forgotten to order my finisher’s tee-shirt.”Might as well not have it,” I thought. “Tomorrow, in any case, is going to be the last run of my life and I have no intentions of finishing.” A little bit of chatting, a few pictures and we collected our Running Number Bibs and Goodie Bags. Sandeep Shrivastava patiently waited through all of this. Then we met Rajesh Vetcha, Sunil Menon and other Hyderabad Runners. While chatting with Sandeep Shrivastava, I mentioned about my flat, how it would be a fantastic idea to have as many outstation runners as the house can accommodate to be staying together next year and having a ball. I would be lying if I say I was unaffected. All these runners and I would be the only non-runner. Wouldn’t the bond that drew all of us runners close, not be slackened and wouldn’t I be an outsider amongst them? Something was tugging at my heartstrings and that tugging only grew stronger when Sandeep agreed that we all stay together next time.

After that, all of us split. Sandeep went back to his hotel. Gaurav wanted ‘honey’ (I don’t know if that was a pun. As they say, sometimes, ignorance is bliss.) As had been decided, Mom and I again met Yogesh who took us to meet Kiran Solanki and the four of us stuffed ourselves silly. Sorry, Kiran only sat, the three of us stuffed ourselves silly. Back home, an early dinner, good night and an early good morning.

On the way to Matunga Road Railway Station where Yogesh was waiting for Gaurav and I, I checked off the to do list for the day. Go to holding area, meet runners for one last time, start the run, run upto Shivaji Park and quit there. Look at the road one last time before walking away into oblivion.

The usual suspects were there in the holding area. Natasha Ramrathnam said hi, so did Roshni Rai. I met Sunil Chainani who was going to run 5k and then decide whether to run or quit, Rahul Verghese, Asha Arora, Tanvir Kazmi and Suresh Sheshadri. I met a lot of others, but my mind was such a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, everything is a blur.

We started off. Gaurav and I had planned to run together but I lost him somewhere in the holding area itself. Then I caught up with Tanvir. Asha was running with him. As Asha and I began to pick up pace, we left Tanvir’s 5:30 bus behind. We continued to pick up pace and at Marine Drive, caught up with Gaurav. As the three of us continued to run, we caught up with Princy Bhatnagar near Chowpatty. He was going faster than us. I kept up with Princy’s pace while Asha and Gaurav lagged behind and caught up with Sharma Uncle, Mandar and another runner from Shivaji Park Marathon Club. I continued my incessant chatter, something probably not appreciated by these serious runners. At Haji Ali Seaface, I caught up with Vinay and another runner from Hyderabad Runners. The phaltu jokes continued. By the time I reached Worli Seaface, I was alone. As I got on to the Bandra Worli Sea Link, I saw my mother coming in the opposite direction at the fag end of the half marathoners. Stopped, shook her hand and continued. One the Sea Link, I first met Sumedha Mahajan. She obviously wasn’t herself. The way she was running, something was wrong. Plus, she was doing a walk-run, something I had never seen her doing. I asked her and she said she was injured in a fall from the train while getting to the start. She was obviously in massive pain. I told her it would be wise of her to quit and not let ego aggravate her injury; an unsolicited advice I think she took. A little further on the sea link, I met Bhaveen Trivedi, a runner from Ahmedabad. We were walking, chatting and taking photographs. Asha caught up with us at that point. We walked a bit and chatted a bit when out of the blue, Asha said, “Race you till that point” indicating towards something about 200 meters away. I swear our speed would have given Usain Bolt a complex. Then we continued walking and chatting and not running till the end of the Sea Link. There, Rahul Verghese’s 5:30 bus caught up with us. They seemed to be having one big party and so we joined them. Gong at their pace meant upping our speed. A small deviation here. Last year during SCMM 2011, Asha, Rahul and I had finished together. Rahul had, in the course of that run gien me almonds soaked in water. We had discussed that the almonds would be good for my brain and would prevent me from undertaking insanities like running marathons. I graduated to ultramarathons in 2011 and even completed a 100-miler. Coming back to the present run, I kept pulling Rahul’s leg about how the disease (of brain suggesting insane things like distance running) had aggravated after eating the almonds he had given me last year.

I realized I was enjoying the run. Running gave me happiness. It brought positive thoughts to the fore. This was my last run and a run I had been forced into at that. I don’t know why I was happy running when I shouldn’t have been. Maybe stopping running wasn’t such a good idea after all. What am I saying??!! My decision to stop running was non-negotiable. Pushing such questions which might weaken my resolve firmly to te back of my mind, I continued to run.

As the bus kept moving forward, I kept pace. We were slowly approaching Shivaji Park. The end was near. I slowed down, let the bus go ahead so that I would, as planned, quit at Shivaji Park and slink away into oblivion.

(To be Continued…)

What's the Point?

2011-11-22T17:31:00.001+05:30

About a week before the Bangalore Ultra, I called up Kavitha Kanaparthi at Bangalore to tell her that since the 100 miler at Bhati Lakes two weeks prior, I wasn't feeling motivated and did not really feel like doing the Bangalore Ultra. After all, the distance wasn't a challenge. Course wise, Bhati Lakes was much, much tougher, its own animal, so that was dampening my enthusiasm. Undoubtedly, with just 13 hours given to complete the 100k run, it was a tough call, but something in me had changed post the 100 miler. While earlier I used to think of and train towards a sub 4:00:00 finish at a marathon, wanting to qualify for Boston at least once in my life (and knowing it was beyond the realms of my capabilities, getting depressed about it), I am today absolutely comfortable in my own running style, my own pace and I understand that I could easily outrun most, if not all, Boston Marathoners in terms of distance. For me today, those who look for a 3:10 - 3:20 finish at a marathon to even register are just elitist jerks, speed freaks. And I am absolutely alright with the compliment being returned. (I too might be an elitist jerk, a distance freak.) I have my own space as do the faster runners. To each, his own. As I ended my rant, all that Kavitha said was, "Vishwas, if you do not feel like running the Bangalore Ultra, don't bother. If you're not feeling upto it, obviously your body is telling you something and in such a situation, pushing your body could result in the one thing that all of us want to avoid at any cost - an injury. Right now, our only focus has to be Brazil 135 and anything that we do or don't do has to be with Brazil in mind." Perfectly logical. And coming as it did from Kavitha (she's Chief of my crew so I am a little less obstinate with her) also did help to drive the point home.

Kavitha is someone whose name had been recommended to me and I was told that I should ask her to crew for me at Brazil. That she herself was a 100-mile finisher, that she had crewed for Arun Bharadwaj at Badwater, that she had crewing experience, that she would know exactly what to do etc. etc. I spoke to Kavitha, requested her, she agreed to crew for me and before we knew it, Kavitha was Chief of Crew, a friend, philosopher and guide for everything related to running and insofar as running was concerned, my Agony Aunt as well. So when Kavitha told me that it was okay if I did not run at the Bangalore Ultra, I immediately made the cancellations in my head and went to bed. I slept peacefully.

But as I woke up the next morning, I was as illogical as runners are wont to be when it came to running. I decided I was going to Bangalore. Only to collect the t-shirt, I reasoned with myself. Umm, well, maybe after doing that I would take a call about how I felt and then decide the future course of action. Of course, I reached Bangalore. Of course, I got the t-shirt. And then I thought, "Of course, I need to be there at the start line. It wasn't necessary, maybe I shouldn't... but what the heck, I'll be there anyways." And once there, maybe, just maybe, if the temptation to run overcame me, I definitely and most certainly wouldn't run more than one loop which would come to 12.5k. Absolutely firm in my resolve.

Come race day, Tanvir and I woke up, began to get ready. For the first time ever, I wasn't ready at 3:15am, the time to leave for Hasergatta. Maybe I should shave, I thought, as if that was going to matter as I ran. Maybe I should get into my other shorts, the ones with the orange trims instead of the ones I was wearing. Oh! If only I had got my headphones along, I could have downloaded some music along the way to Hasergatta and listened to it on the run. Damn!!! (It is a different story that I have never ever listened to music while running, but on Sunday, 13th November, 2011, it was a "Damn!!!" type of a situation.)

As Tanvir prodded me telling me that we were dangerously close to me missing my start time (he was to start an hour after I did), I urgently needed to use the loo. It did occur to me that I should ask Tanvir to go ahead and I should go back to sleep. What was the point in doing this, after all? The course, as compared to Bhati Lakes, was a cakewalk. The distance did not enthuse, there was no challenge. And to go all the way right across town to run a 12.5k, if at all? What was the point, I really did not understand.

I recalled a conversation with Sabine not too long ago. In the freewheeling chat that we had, I had told her that I would be there to ensure that she crossed the finish line at 50k. I had told her that we'd do a run-walk, that there would be no time targets, that we'd enjoy the scenery, bitch about why we were taking part in the ordeal, chit chat about anything and everything under the sun and generally enjoy ourselves. If we ran out of topics to talk about, or if we stopped enjoying what we were doing, we would stop right there, the DNF notwithstanding. It was imperative that we enjoyed what we were doing. It would also help us address and overcome the issues that were affecting the runs and that were discussed in course of our chat... but wait, why is this finding a mention in this post?

Cutting back to the original topic, because I had promised Sabine, I was there at the start line. Reaching there I did a final check to realize how unprepared I was. The round band-aids were in place, but little else. I had forgotten to apply vaseline at the strategic places. It was dark and my headlamp was in the bag and the bag was checked in at the baggage counter. With less than a minute left for the start, there was no way I could retrieve it before the race began. Why was I running this? What was the point?

As we began running, Aparna and I were together, sharing her torch to cut through the darkness. We ran together for about 4k. Then I took off in the overconfidence that my eyes were accustomed to the darkness and I could see things very clearly without needing a light. At that very moment, the trail offered me an opportunity to be Superman; an opportunity I grabbed with both hands. Tripping over something, I flew through the air both hands stretched out ahead of me, only to, a few seconds later, land and bite the dust, literally. Happens, I thought, as I got up, dusted myself and began running again. Two minutes later as I got the confidence that it was a one-off case, I again tripped over something, flew through the air with both hands outstretched and a few seconds later landed to again bite the dust.

Wiser counsel prevailed thereafter and I was back to running with Aparna with her torch again illuminating the way. Friends with a philosophical bent of mind have told me that often one needs more than just a torch to illuminate the way that is dark (and I have laughed in their faces). I was going to see that for myself shortly.

As we turned the 6.25k mark, and began the lap back to the start/finish line, Aparna suddenly screamed, "Ouch!!! Awww!!!! Shucks!!!! *&^%&^%!!!! ^%^%$%$%$#@!!!!! &*^%#$#%!!!!! (and another 8-10 pages of similar unprintable words). She was limping. "Did you fall?" I asked. "F&^%#!!!" was the answer. "Did you hurt yourself?" "F@#&!!!" "Did you twist your ankle?" "F@#$!!!" Aparna took another step forward, let out another string of explecitives, then sat down, took her shoe off, put her hand in the shoe and said that there was a thorn that had gone in from the top of her shoe, through the uppers and pricked her toe. After a fair amoutn of wrestling to get it out, the humble safety pin from the Running Bib came in handy and the ummm, well, the little prick (pun unintended) was out. Shoe back on, Aparna and I embarked upon the journey once again.

At the 12.5k mark, the start/finish line, I forgot I had to stop, so I continued running with Aparna. We ran most of the way till the 18.75k mark, the turn-arund point and walked back in parts till a little before the 25k mark, where Aparna continued with her running. I met Aparna right there at the baggage counter as she was starting her third lap. She asked me to join her, saying she was walking and would continue walking till I joined her. I decided to walk the third round; what was the point in waiting at the start/finish line? Of course, Aparna did not wait for me to join her. The third round was a walk in a park. So slow, it would give the pace of 'a walk in the park' a serious complex and establish new standards for the phrase. This was the absolute last round. I was bored to death and I did not know why I was doing this round. What was the point?

Somewhere near the 4k mark, there was a tar road. Putting the experience gained at Bhati Lakes to good use, I lay down bang on the road itself and pulled my cap over my eyes. A couple of minutes later, I heard voices, muffled and sounding like they were discussing a medical emergency. I pulled the cap off to see a group gathered around me asking me if i was okay. Damn!! I don't even get to sleep on the road while running an ultra!! What's the point in doing this? Not wanting these onlookers and fellow participants to go into a panic, I got up and began shuffling along, trying to set newer standards for the 'walk in the park' pace.

Reaching the turn-around point, I began walking back. Sabine met me shortly thereafter, asking me to wait for her till she returned. Some thirty meters away was a shaded patch. I walked there with great effort and plonked right there on the trail itself. Everyone passing by looked at me, tempted to join me, but continuing nevertheless. They had targets to meet; I did not see the point. Then one person thought aloud if he too had the guts to be as shameless. The answer must have been a yes because he promptly turned around, and parked himself next to me.

Sabine joined, and we continued walking. The marathon had turned into a walkathon and our ilk was growing by the minute. We walked on, chatting away as we had decided. Talking about cycling, talking about swimming, scuba diving, fish curry, chutneys, pickles, psychological problems, translations, mentoring newer runners, methods of garbage collection, the German obsession with perfection and whatever else. The only topic we probably did not discuss was neuclear physics and that too because I did not know how much Sabine knew about the topic and I did not want to make a complete fool of myself in case she knew anything at all. Having completed 37.5k, Sabine turned back for her last lap which would complete her 50k. I turned back too; we had not yet run out of topics to discuss, we were still enjoying what we were doing, and with the agreement that we had, it said we had to go on. Reaching the turn-around point, Sabine suddenly felt a new energy coursing through her veins, and the chance of a podium finish in her category. She asked me if we could run. I tried, but it did not make any sense to me. What was the point in running the last 6.25k? I asked Sabine to go ahead as I dropped my pace to 'a walk in the park'.

I met Arvind of RFL, whose answer to a 'How are you?' was, 'Screwed!'. Chatting along, we walked on. We met Aparna on her fifth loop. Again sitting down on the trail, the three of us chatted for a while. Arvind told me that I would be eligible for a finisher's medal and a certificate on completing the 50k, even if I had registered for a 100k.

I walked on, crossed the finish line, got the medal around my neck. A DNF which wasn't, after all. I was also told that everyone who did a 12.5k got the medal. Then, all the more, what was the point, after all?

Joining the 100-Mile Club

2011-10-30T20:21:00.000+05:30

No sooner had I reached home on Monday than I rechecked the certificate, admired the medal once again, saw the pictures posted by Kavitha and had a chat with Gaurav... Now I know for sure it wasn't hallucinations and I officially am a Finisher ay GR Bhati Lakes and a member of the 100 mile club.

Before I embark on the narrative that led to this, I shall quote two separate incidents which would add a different dimension to the story.

I had read my friend, Amit Sheth's account of how, when leaving for what would be their first successful run at Comrades in 2010, his wife Neepa encountered the sole of her shoe falling off. 'Oh yeah!!' the cynic in me had smirked, 'Spice it up. Romanticize it. It'll add up to the magic of the ending. And if the ending is on an unpleasant note, this'll be the reason.'

The second incident took place a little after I got invited for Brazil 135 in June, 2011. I told a few of my ultramarathoner friends whose advice I had been taking to graduate from Marathons to Ultras, that I planned to do a couple of 100 milers before BR-135. "Be careful," one and all advised. "You'll need to prepare." 'Oh really?! I had thought I would step out do do a short and easy 5k but impulsively decide that the weather looked perfect for a 100-miler so I would end up runing 100 miles instead of a short and easy 5k.' "But you misunderstand," they had all said, "Preparing to run is the easy part. Being prepared to deal with other people is what is really, really difficult." And no doubt, this did not make any sense whatsoever, so I went about preparing to run. Other preparations, I did not understand, so I did not deem them necessary.

As I began packing to leave for Delhi on Thursday, 20th October, I packed my shoes, the pair I used regularly. But then, one would find it difficult to run 100 miles in just one pair of shoes, so the other, semi-retired pair of shoes needed to be packed as well. As I got that pair out, the sole looked a little different than what I remembered it to be. I seemed to be definitely crooked. Holding and twisting it a little would get it straight, I thought. As I grabbed the sole and applied a little pressure to it, the sole came off. (Neepa, now I am wiser.) As my jaw dropped to the floor, the sole too slipped from my hand and joined my jaw. I now had just one pair of shoes for a 100 mile run. Not acceptable. The second pair was unusable by any yardstick.

A few franctic calls to my runner friends resulted in their laughing their heads off. The situation might have been humourous, but at that time I did not see anything even remotely funny about it.

Finally Kavitha came to my rescue and suggested that I buy the same brand, same model and same size of shoes that I was currently using so as to make the breaking in easier. That the same model, same size shoes of Nike fit me differently speaks volumes of their quality as they claim it to be. (But that is another matter - let me not digress.)

Shoes bought, I wore them almost continuously for two days so as to break them in for whatever it was worth. And there I was, ready for the run, by Friday evening. Friday in Delhi was spent in doing nothing in particular and in the evening, after collecting the runner's kit, Piyush and I were in the room when it was suggested that a beer to soothe our nerves might be a good idea. I'd like you all to know that for me, beer is never the answer to anything. Beer is the question and yes is the answer!

A beer and huge helpings of butter chicken later, Piyush and I were in bed at about 8:15pm. It remained unsaid but only Piyush crewing me for the entire time was making me jittery. Pushing all negative thoughts away, I drifted off to sleep. I was woken up at 12:30am. Piyush tends to get very nervous before a race and since he couldn't sleep, he woke me up as well. I protested and tried going back to sleep but it was an exercise in futility. Finally at 1:00am, I started to get ready. That done, we left for Surajkund at 3:00am, picking up Bhupendrasing Rajput along the way.

As I reached the start line at Kant Enclave, I was pleasantly surprised to see a proper paved road. I instantly knew that Gaurav had taken all of us for a ride by posting pictures of a dusty, rocky, muddy trail that seemed, for want of a better word, horrendous. Running 100 miles on a paved road was going to be a smooth (pun intended) affair.

For the next hour and a half or so, the seven of us 100 miler participants, Aparna, Raj, Milind, Aditya, Gaurav, Bhupendrasing and I cracked jokes which were devoid of both, intelligence and humor. Nervousness manifests itself in many forms and this was one of them.

Sometime during this, Tanvir, my teammate who was going to be crewing for a very short while since he had prior plans to go out of town, told me that he wanted to pace me right at the start.

As we started, Aparna, Aditya, Bhupendrasing and Gaurav took off. I followed, with Tanvir pacing me and Milind and Raj just behind us. Tanvir and I were doing an easy pace, chatting as we went along. Tanvir was telling me how it might be a good strategy to walk the ups and run the downs when we suddenly heard Milind scream, 'Kya hai yeh?' ('What the F$@# is this?') The paved road had ended. Loose metal was lying on what was supposed to be a road. Forget running, even walking on it was fraught with dangers. Fortunately this patch was for just about a hundred meters or so. Unfortunately, it got worse thereafter. The trail began. The rocky, muddy, trail snaked up and snaked down upto about 6k.It was somewhere here that we saw a fabulous sunrise. Tanvir, Milind, Raj and I got ourselves photographed against this. The photograph, 'captured in Tanvir's and Raj's mobile phone, remains captive. Once it is released, maybe I would post it. Then it got worse. Did it say "Then it got worse" earlier? That was not the place for it. Then it got worse, here onwards. The thorny bushes had benefitted from the abundant rainfall and had overgrown the trail. We delicately moved the bushes aside and moved forward taking care to ensure that the thorns did not hurt us. Only to face another thorny bush, only to repeat the same action. After doing this a third time, we decided it would be better to run through the thorns and take whatever happens in our stride. And that is what we did for the next about a kilometer and a half. Then it got worse. No, really. This is the point where the "Then it got worse." belongs. The trail from here on turned in to a sand track with rocks, a few shallow gorges and even denser thorny bushes. This trail continued till the 10k mark, albeit with lesser sand. As the thorns cut through our skin, we continued running. Finally crossing a shallow gorge and passing between two boulders, we reached the 10k mark. Water, some energy drink and a lemonade later, off we were again. And then it got worse. No, really. I really, really mean it. The statement belongs here. It really got worse from here onwards. 10k was the turnaround point and we needed to traverse all that terrain back to the start line. About 2 - 2.5k from the turnaround point, some 7-8 of us including 30 milers and 50 milers, briefly got lost. Every trail looked the same and every path seemed like we had come from there. Fortunately the correct way was found and we were off again. For the record, the mistake was on our part, we had not seen the sign properly.

At this point, I told Tanvir that I wanted to go faster than what he was pacing me me for. Amit, my friend from Ahmedabad who was running his first ultra, had joined us by then. His pace was more in line with what I was looking for. Both of us, keeping a steady pace, ran from there till the start line.

At the start line, a quick change of shoes (since I had a new pair, the breaking them in was happening over smaller distances), something to munch and off we were towards the 10k mark. Amit was doing a much higher pace than what I had planned. Even though this was not in the original scheme of things, I decided to keep pace with Amit as it would help me cover more miles while still fresh.

Reaching the 10k mark and turning around, we continued running. A couple of kilometers later, I felt a burning sensation under my t-shirt. I lifted my tee to check and sure enough, the tape which worked as a nipple guard had fallen off. The one on the right was intact. Even though it looked quite vulgar, I tried running with my tee pinched away from my chest, but the thorny bushes, sand track, rocks, etc. would have none of it. Amit and I shifted over to walking/running. We had a hearty laugh about how kinky it would sound to a non-runner if he was told that I covered my nipples with medicated tape without having an injury, that the tape had to specifically be round, made of cloth and had to fit to size.

As we were taking this conversation further - on the repurcussions that such a conversation with a non-runner would have on our social lives, we heard some runner running quite heavily behind us. I looked back and to my horror, it was a bull who seemed to have taken umbrage at our dirty little conversation and was charging for us. The way Amit and I took off at this point, I can assure you we could have taught Usain Bolt a thing or two about sprinting, we could have taught Patrick Makau a thing or two about running a sub-2:00:00 marathon. And I swear I'm being modest. Fortunately for us, the bull decided he'd had enough of scaring us and took a turn while we continued going straight. Amit did mention that till now it was dogs who did not like the competition posed by me and maybe it now time to expand the list and include bulls in it. Something gives me the feeling that this is not the last I have heard of this.

returning back to the Aid Station at the Start/Finish line, I ate some more in line with what Kavitha had recommended and set off again towards the 10k Aid Station. At the 4k mark, Amit turned around and headed back to the Finish line to complete his 30 miler. I continued ahead. As I picked up pace to complete as many miles as I could before it got dark, I suddenly felt queasy and there was this urge to throw up. Eating and running do not go together for me. (I had run 150k a couple of weeks ago on all of 3 bananas and litle else.) My body was now protesting being fed. The third loop was completed with a lot of walking, some attempts at running and hope that the nausea would subside. Thankfully, it did. At the end of the third loop, I was placed exactly in the middle. Bhupendrasing, Aparna and Raj, in that order were ahead of me. Gaurav, Milind and Aditya were trailing.

At this point, Piyush began pacing me. The loop was also shortened to 10k owing to safety concerns. Fresh legs and a fresh pacer helped immensely. At the end of the first loop, I was in second place and gaining on the lead with every loop. After a comfortable 10k lead had been established between the second and third places, I wanted to slow down a bit; let my body relax and rejuvenate.

It was here that the clash between the interests of the runner and the pacer's ambitions took place. And led to the repurcussions that something like this would have. And something that I, as the runner and the participant in the race would have to bear.

I was not paying attention to my intake since i was confident that my team was looking after that. When I began cramping massively between the 110 and 120k marks, I realized that I had not consumed ANY salt during the last 60k. Also, being pushed to move ahead at a much higher pace than what my body could take had led to a ligament pull in my right hip.

I still had 40k to go and the pain from the ligament pull was at best allowing me to drag my leg after me. Arun stepped in to pace me here. A new person, a different brain, a different mindset and different topics of discussion all led to lifting my spirits. What helped even more was Arun being ready to move at my pace without putting any pressure on me. During the earlier loops, knowing how close i had come to quitting on more than one occassion, not because I couldn't do it but because I couldn't take the pressure from my pacer, I cannot describe how liberating it was to not be on a tight leash. I cannot thank Arun enough for letting me be myself for a little while.

The remaining 30k went by with huge dollops of massage at the Aid Station, dragging my leg for 10k and another huge dollop of massage. The credit for my finish goes to Mr. Shukla of Artemis Hospital, who patiently massaged the pain away from the pulled ligament after every 10k. The 30k took about 9 hours, but at the end of it, 100 miles had been done. My target of 28-29 hours had gone for a toss; the reasons for this will be debated amongst the team and hopefully the next such run will see quantum changes in terms of strategy. I am sure a lot of improvements too will be in place.

For now, I am happy at being a finisher at GR Bhati Lakes 100. And having come in second does make things sweeter.

The only jarring noise comes from people who either haven't attempted running ultras at all or if they have, not any really long ultras for sure. But they are the ones who will give various logics to undermine what I have done. And these attacks are not direct. Usually, these attacks do not even refer to running, but would be directed more at a personal level.

Maybe, as my other ultra-runner friends had said, one needs to prepare when one runs a 100 miler or more. Prepare to deal with people thereafter.

A Few Facts Unknown, Letting Go Of Some Things And An Account Squared.

2011-10-14T17:40:00.000+05:30

Thankfully, this post did not get uploaded to the blog on time. If it did, a lot of the essence of this post would have been lost. One of those rare instances where the delay was advantageous.

Sunday before last, I missed meeting Piyush and and went on to do a 35k solo, taking a different route, but covering the points he visits on his runs. I later spoke to him and fixed a time for last Tuesday telling him that he should not begin running till I reached, even if I got late. As decided, I reached the designated spot at the designated time. Piyush was already there and we began our 25k run on a route which was different from the usual course.

I had read that running through the city acquaints one very closely with its various facets. The city, opens itself up to the runner and reveals unknown or lesser known facts that an ordinary resident or a tourist would never know. My early steps into the world of Marathon running were also my first steps into the world of road running. In earlier days, I used to run all over the city discovering things about my own city that I never knew. The more I ran, the more I discovered. I discovered a temple whose deity was called 'Highway Hanuman' because the highway at that time passed right in front of the temple. I discovered this daily wager who manned a crossroad in the morning and evening hours because the traffic got unruly and resulted in
frequent traffic jams. And he did this without getting paid for it. I discovered (and made friends) with this person who went to the Sabarmati Ashram every morning, spun the 'charkha' and cycled all over the city playing Gandhiji's bhajans. The city opened itself up to me and told me things about itself that I never knew and had I lived the life I did before I got into the world of marathoning. I would have known the layout of the city but for sure, I would not have known my city.

Also, running through the city gave me its share of laughter. Suppressed understanding, caused by lack of blood supply to the brain gave a completely different meaning to various things I read. Two that are unforgettable: The McDonalds advertisement hoarding which read 'Food, Finger, Fun' sounded quite different when I read it towards the end of a long run. The food part was fine, but 'finger' and 'fun' didn't quite go with the image that I had about McDonalds!!

The other incident happened when I was passing by a theatre screening a Gujarati film. The poster and the timing of the show were put very close together making it seem like one sentence. I read it and had to stop my run and sit on the footpath and laugh my guts out. The sentence translated into, "The daughter-in-law of the reputed family is quite a flirt - shows 3 times daily - 3:00pm, 6:00pm, 9:00pm" (Bade Ghar ki Bahu - Chaalu Hai - Roz ke 3 khel, 3:00pm, 6:00pm, 9:00pm)

As time went by, I also discovered that the city was full of dogs and not all dogs liked road runners. It probably seemed to them that I was running after cars - something they treated as their monopoly - and were in turn hostile towards me for attempting to step into what was till then their fiefdom.

Slowly, other mundane and more worldly important things took over: the pace, the timing, hill training, speed training, reverse splits, fartlek etc. etc. etc. Convenience and compromise took me back into the grind (albeit a different one) something I had gained freedom from when I started running. I was back to running for a better time, back to running to gain strength, so the hill training, back to running to be able to do this, to be able to do that. That I had begun and continued to run because I enjoyed it had been lost somewhere. That when I ran I discovered more about my surroundings no longer held true. That my run led to pure, unadulterated joy was no longer the case. All my runs were stripped down to the basics and analyzed shred by finer shred. The stride mattered more now, the cadence had its importance, the gait analysis showed I leaned to the left and put more weight in front than was necessary, pronation, suppination, shin splints.... %$#@*&!!!!!!!

Okay, I have digressed. Coming back, as I began to run with Piyush last Tuesday, we ran on a different route. I have said umpteen number of times that Ahmedabad is flat as a pan, but this course had mildly undulating contours which made the course tough. On the way back, I was surprised to see a handcart with an idol on it, bang in the middle of the road. Music was blaring from a loudspeaker on it, an 'arti' being performed in a makeshift temple. Finally I had discovered something new about my city. A makeshift temple where an arti is performed in the middle of the road and then the temple disappears, probably till the next session. This one was going onto my blog for sure.

It was during the run the next day that I actually paid a little more attention to the songs blaring from the loudspeaker and the things written on the handcart. What caught my attention first was the tricolour - the national flag. A temple and thereby its Hindu connotations should have ensured saffron and the tricolour seemed out of place. Then I read what was written below the idol. It said, "Bharat Mata ki Jai." It suddenly dawned on me that the bhajans were making sense even to me, an atheist. Because they were not bhajans. They were patriotic songs and this was a prayer to Mother India. A ritual performed every morning!! Which city in which country in the world could boast of something which would even come close? A prayer to the country every single morning. No tourist book would mention this, and I doubt how many residents of Ahmedabad would be able to tell you this, simply because, how many would know? This Definitely, DEFINITELY was coming onto my blog as soon as I returned from the Hyderabad Heritage Marathon.

Thankfully, I came back and the pending work prevented me from posting my blog and my two runs thereafter got me more information on this. Apparently, the idol of Mother India on the cart leaves 'home' at 5:30 every morning and goes around the locality through every lane and bylane; all the time with patriotic songs being played. At about 6:30, the handcart is brought to the main road and this arti is performed as it has been performed all these years in the presence of a small group of 15-20 people.

Which brings me to the Hyderabad Heritage Marathon. Nothing much to write about the run, but so much to talk about the event. For me, the fun began a little before Piyush and I reached the place for collecting my running number bib and goodies. Yogesh and Kiran were there from the Shivaji Park Marathon Club along with another 5-6 members. Bhupendrasing was going to be reaching in about an hour. We went, collected our running numbers, the goodie bags, asked a few questions about the busses to the start line and all of that. Thereafter time was spent catching up with others I had met at various events, the Hyderabad Marathon in August, KTM etc... and it was time for lunch and I left.

Piyush and I couldn't sleep that night. Piyush had been tense. He was attempting his 100 consecutive Half Marathons and was worried sick that if he tanked for any reason, he would have to hang his head in shame for the rest of his life and there would be no redemption. No amount of my telling him made any sense and ultimately both of us stayed up the whole night dying a death that had not yet come. And a death we were unsure of to begin with. At midnight, we decided there was no point in trying to sleep. We got up, got ready, left our room and reached Chowmahalla Palace at 2:00 am, some 3 hours before the scheduled start of the race.

After generally roaming around the area like vagabonds (though I am sure we looked more like ragpickers) we entered Chowmahalla Palace. The place was all lit up and given the dress I and other runners were in, it did seem like home. After all, no one wears shorts and a tee if one were to go to a formal place like a palace. As we were lounging around, I suddenly heard my name being called. As I looked in the direction of the voice, I heard, "F#@&!!! You here?? I hadn't expected you to be here." It was Anand,a runner, a friend and more importantly, my crew member for BR-135. He was running the Marathon. We chatted while Bhupendrasing joined us as did the group from Shivaji Park Marathon Club. Then Milind Soman walked past and Anand called out to him. One topic after another in quick successing and soon we were discussing the 100 miler coming up at Bhati Lakes. Bhupendrasing, Milind and I - 3 of the (till then) 6 participants were there at Hyderabad. There was some confusion about the start and we started late. As we started to run, I realized Milind was next to me and we were going at the same pace. We began chatting once again. I mentioned Brazil 135 to him and out of the blue, he asked me if he could crew for me at the race. Glamour apart, Milind is a fantabulous runner, a sub 3:50 marathoner, ultra-runner and he would definitely be an asset to have. As luck would have it, I was still one person short in my crew. I agreed. He's asked me to email him the dates which I have; lets see what ultimately happens.

We continued running, and chatting along the way. Bala from Chennai joined us. He was looking to achieve his first sub-5:00 marathon and thought our bus would take him through. The three of us continued running, chatting as we ran. At Hussain Sagar Lake, there were idols of Durga waiting in line to be immersed and the three of us danced to the beats of the drums and dhakis as we ran. The run otherwise was quite uneventful. We ran through traffic, fighting a mental game (and sometimes, almost a physical battle) with the Hyderabadis on vehicles who wanted to reclaim their road, usurped by this uncouth breed called runners who did not know that roads belonged to vehicles.

From about the 27k mark, the three of us adopted a walk run strategy, which basically meant that Milind and I ran leaving Bala far, far behind. Then the two of us used to walk till Bala caught up with us, usually out of breath. We let Bala catch his breath and then Milind and I used to run off again till Bala was out of sight and then, begin to walk. This went on till about the 34k mark. Then Milind and I decided to walk. Timing be damned; we would finish. Period. Here in a true hare and the tortiose race, Bala caught up, overtook us and continued ahead, and finished the race. Milind and I were still walking, far, far behind. We admired the Golconda Fort then Taramati Biradari, then Golconda Fort again, laughed at the absolutely loony jokes that we were cracking, cursed the course, cursed the elevation, cursed the twists and turns, cursed the volunteers who kept saying 600 meters to the finish regardless of where we asked them. Finally as we walked to the gate of the park housing the Qutb Shahi Tombs, Kiran of the Shivaji Park Marathon Club was limping. Blisters on his feet caused him to change his gait while walking and that let to cramps. But no way was he giving up! Another 600 meters (as we were told), and we walked past the finish line. No, sorry, we jogged the last 25 meters!!

Back in Ahmedabad, I tried getting back with Piyush's running 100 Half Marathons on consecutive days. My evolution as a runner, an ongoing process with all of us, seemed to have accelerated in the past year or so. I had begun to understand, and more importantly, accept that I am a back of the pack runner, someone who runs slow, but can run far. Ultras was what really clicked with me. And more importantly, what I was beginning to get back was the joy of running, the freedom that running afforded me and the realization that the important part of the run was the pleasure that it gave me. Piyush on the other hand, back in Ahmedabad with a second rank in the veteran's category, wanted to run faster. And to do that, he was willing to start running earlier, at 4:00am if not 3:30am, so that there would be no people on the roads, the cool air would facilitate running and would help him return a better timing. So while both of us were running in the same direction, our goals were different. As we were running down the Shreyas overbridge last morning, I slowed down to enjoy the rays of the rising sun reflecting off the scattered clouds. Piyush asked me to speed up. I told him to enjoy the beauty of the sunrise. He said we were running as a part of a workout, not to enjoy ourselves. And it suddenly dawned on me. That is what I have been doing these past few years and that is what has been my undoing. I have been running to achieve targets and have been enjoying those targets. When I should have been running to enjoy myself and if I achieved something along the way, that would be a bonus.

And I told Piyush that it would be better if we, keeping our separate goals in mind, ran separately. He agreed, and has assured me that he'll be back to running with me the day after his goal of 100 Half Marathons in 100 consecutive days is over. I've heard it being said that it takes a lot to persevere but no, it takes a lot more to let go, to be yourself. And that is what I am going to be. Medals? Awards? Events? The at least one sub-4:00 marathon that I know I have in me? Que sera sera.

First post-150k run

2011-10-02T14:09:00.000+05:30

After a hiatus of a week taken to rejuvenate and recover, I decided to restart running this morning. I had a nice, long, 25k+ run planned. As I began to run, the ground did not shake. There was no flash of lightning. No thunder. No nothing. At the other end of the spectrum, my legs did not feel heavy. Nor was there any pain from the blisters. The ankle too wasn't sore; it too seemed to have healed.

I was expecting something, anything, whatever, to happen on this run. I had, after all, done a 150k just last Sunday and I am sure that expecting some effect(s) of that endeavor to show on the first run was not expecting too much. Nothing, but nothing had changed. It was the 11th day Piyush's self imposed challenge of a 100 half marathons in as many days. I had to meet Piyush, but I got delayed by a few minutes and by the time I reached the designated spot, Piyush had left. I noticed the roads were the same, the weather was exactly how the Ahmedabad weather is at this time of the year and I was running the way I would run a 20-25k training run. Since I was running after one full week and enjoying it so very much I decided to prolong my joy and I increased the distance a little more. I ended having completed some 34-35k. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.

If there has been any change in perception, this post should take care of that as well.

That would bring me to the end of this post.

But it is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. I shall leave you with a few pictures I have downloaded about Brazil-135. The challenge, apart from the ascents, the descents, the mud, the rains, the temperature variations and every other what-have-you, is to overcome the temptation to stop and admire the beauty of the place and continue moving.

But before you get to see the beauty of the place, some technical details:

This is the elevation profile of the route. If it scares you, you must be really, really brave, because frankly, I'm terrified.

Bliss and Blisters.

2011-09-29T18:48:00.000+05:30

KTM came, KTM went, blog posted. Come Wednesday, the BlackBerry buzzed early in the morning. There it was - the email confirming my participation at Brazil 135. There was no turning back now. Training, and real, proper, hardcore training for BR-135 had to be kick-started; those meticulously planned runs (which incidentally were never run) had to be actually run. There was no scope anymore to postpone runs on frivolous excuses like 'there are no horses for me to pace with' or 'only 55 crew as against the planned 56' or 'no ambulance in case of an emergency' or '27 cars are too little to carry all the supplies needed for the run' or whatever else I could think of to put the run off to another day. What was left was a practical, doable, training run of 150k which had to be done. The route was unplanned. Unknown. I broached the topic with Aparna Choudhari post KTM and she readily agreed. The run was on. For the next weekend. The only thing known was that the run would be in/around Pune. And we left. Aparna for Pune; I for Ahmedabad.

A couple of emails exchanged and one phone call on Wednesday to check on the whole plan - route, water, car, nutrition, food, medication, and other knickknacks like weighing scale, sterilized safety pins for puncturing the blisters, etc. etc.- and we were ready to go. I planned to reach Pune on Friday evening / Saturday morning. The run was planned from Saturday evening onwards.

But in between KTM and the Pune run, a few developments took place which call for a little digression.

After a few people told me that they found my blog 'inspirational', I started to hallucinate that they probably found me to be inspirational as well and so decided to live a life that would be becoming of a person who was an inspiration to others. In about ten minutes, I realized that there had been a massive error of judgment; before twelve minutes were up, I recalled what I had heard in college, at that time as a joke. "I prayed to God and asked for a bike. But I realized that God doesn't work that way, so I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness." And I was back to living life the way I do. Make my mistakes, confess, ask for forgiveness and get on to the 150k run.

1. Kavitha Kanaparthi: When I asked her if she would crew for me at BR-135, she readily agreed. And in course of our discussions, gave me a lot of tips on the do's and don'ts of running an ultra. Anyone who knows me well enough, knows me to be a cynical *&%@#$&. Kavitha did not know me at all, so she kept telling me to cross-train, to meditate, to do yoga etc. which was logical, but which I wasn't doing simply because I did not want to. She also gave me some outlandish suggestions like 'practice getting bored'. What??!! Practice getting bored??!! Thankfully, the communication was over email and phone so Kavitha did not see my smirk. Nor could she read my mind which was screaming, "Oh yeah, yeah, yeah!!! I'm new here and you're a veteran, so go on, take my case!" The only reason I followed whatever she told me was because she had prior experience of crewing and was probably speaking from experience. I had no doubt that she was taking my case, but she had experience and...

2. Piyush Shah: He kept telling me how I should incorporate walking into my runs. How running and walking were two different ball games and how I needed to be proficient in both if I was looking to complete BR-135 within my time targets. Piyush kept insisting that running 35-40-50-60k was one thing; any distance beyond that would necessarily need a walk-run strategy. Okay, Piyush had successfully done 100k at Sundown Singapore and he probably knew what he was talking about. I might have agreed with what he was saying but fact is, he did not give me a choice. Since he is my running buddy everyday except when I/we are running at events, walking was automatically incorporated into the runs.

3. My Lies: A few of my friends read a lot about running and are thus extremely sound in terms of theoretical knowledge about the sport. (I too read a lot but my mindset is to read and question. Friends of mine read and imbibe, so their theoretical knowledge is far greater than mine.) They were asking me quite a few pertinent questions with regard to my preparations for the 150k. Two questions were being repeatedly asked of me. "What was the last long distance that you ran (in order to prepare for the 150k)? And when (how many weeks back) was this?" The truthful answer to this - that I had not gone upwards of a 45k in the last three and odd months and that my longest run had been a 65k - would not have cut any ice. It would have, on the contrary, invited comments which would have demotivated me. So I chose to lie my way through the questions. To the question of the longest distance I had done, the answer varied from person to person and rose with each passing day, starting at 85k and peaking at 125k. I have a feeling that had I answered these questions with something like, "Craziness and a little determination carries one along way and I have an abundance of both so..." it wouldn't have gone down too well.

That I covered the distance, and did it in pretty good time is an appropriate answer to all those excuses of 'I haven't done this kind of a distance before' or 'my marathon timing really sucks right now and...' or 'I'm planning to increase my running in small increments' or whatever else one can think up. For all of this, I would ideally like to write what is on my mind, but that would make this unprintable.

One just needs to remember that a little bit of craziness and a little bit of determination will always help one cover great distances.

Sermonizing over, now let's cut to the 150k run.

When Aparna and I met on Saturday Morning in Pune, we knew that support in terms of non-running crew who would accompany us was not working out. We tried to get others, but to no avail. Fortunately, Bhupendrasing Rajput was going to be joining us somewhere soon after we started and the three of us instead of two was a relief. It was weighing on Aparna's mind that the details of the run had been put up on the internet, making it more difficult for us to abort and quietly slink away if things did not work out. This was precisely the idea behind publicizing the run, but it also did build up the pressure to perform. Both, Aparna and I were so full of nervous energy and nervous tension that we wanted to start the run right there and then.

After discussing the strategy for the run over a cup of coffee, we did some shopping that was left and proceeded home for rest. Meeting at 6:30 p.m., we picked up bananas, oranges and water and off we were to Balewadi Stadium, the start point.

After weighing ourselves, and deciding that a weight loss of over 3 kgs every 8 hours would be a cause of concern as would be weight gain, we set off. As we started, Aparna really had to reign me in tight to stop me from going too fast. The 15 minutes of running at a pace of 7:30 per km and walking for 5 minutes was what we were doing. However, we were regularly going above the stipulated pace as it seemed too slow. at about the 21k mark, Bhupendrasing joined us as we were descending down to Pirangut after Chandni Chowk.

With fresh legs, Bhupendrasing was surging forward and Aparna was keeping the pace as close to 7:30 per km as possible. At the 42k mark, we had exceeded the set pace and had reached with more than thirty minutes to spare. We continued ahead and at about the 48k mark, we were at the base of Temghar Dam. From there on it was a relentless climb of 8k. A climb so steep, if we stopped, we risked falling backwards.

Cursing ourselves for not having chartered out an easier route, cursing the hill for being so steep, so high and so long, cursing the night for not showing us everything but one hairpin bend at a time, cursing everything we could think of, we continued to plod upwards. The only thing that had any semblance to speed or pace were the swear words exiting our mouths. our run wasn't a run anymore. It wasn't a walk. A slow crawl would describe it best. As we reached Lavasa and saw the lights below, we did not see anything.

All we could feel was a massively cold wind blowing which threatened to chill us down to our bones. We ran to the car, rolled up the windows and decided that a 15 minute power nap would do us a lot of good. It did. As we started going down from Lavasa to Temghar Dam at 2:30 am, the chill seemed to have intensified. We decided to run down. By now, we were lagging behind our planned time of 90k in 12 hours, which would have meant that 60% of the route had been covered in the first 12 hours. Running down would give us two advantages; (i) we would start to feel less cold as our bodies heated up and (ii) we would make up for lost time, however little that contribution might add up to in the final analysis. In 45 minutes, we were down at Temghar Dam, having covered the entire 8k. There we checked our weight. All normal, we could continue without the slightest problem.

from there on till the start of Mutha Ghat, was a walk-run with the 15 minute run getting more and more difficult for me. There is a twist here; a discovery about myself which I am not putting down here. The technical details would make this boring; instead those details are best left for my team to discuss and build a strategy around.

My shoes were giving me blisters; I changed them and the new pair posed newer problems. However, I continued to push ahead till the start of Mutha Ghat from where we walked uphill. We ran downhill again and walked up all the way to Chandni Chowk. About two kilometers before Chandni Chowk, Aparna declared that she was stopping at Chandni Chowk, the 92k mark. She was too bored to continue, she said. Also, we were more than two hours and thirty minutes behind schedule.

As Bhupendrasing and I bid adieu to Aparna at Chandni Chowk, we tried to run. The sensation was very funny. As the foot hit the ground, it caused the top layer of the skin to vibrate sending a burning sensation throughout the body. I stopped running. So did Bhupendrasing. Unknown to each other, we were both trying to come to terms with the loss of a team mate, trying to reason out Aparna's quitting at Chandni Chowk.

Our walk was really slow. A crawl would be faster. A motorman, who probably did not like the idea of us walking along the highway, his personal fiefdom, chose to cut me off. Taken by surprise, I darted to the left, twisting my ankle on the shoulder of the road. As I got into the car to apply some spray, I noticed two blisters had burst and there was blood in the shoe. I did what I thought was the best thing to do in the given situation. I forgot I had even noticed anything that I mentioned, wore the shoe again and got out of the car, to begin walking. the slow pace continued, till both Bupendrasing and I, totally bored started to pick up pace. Both of us were very bored, there was nothing to converse about but I was at peace with myself. Kavitha's advice of 'learning to get bored' was paying off handsomely here. We continued the brisk walk after Warje onto Malvadi and Khadakvasla and from there on till the base of Sinhgad. In that fuzzy, muddled and confused state of mind, I assumed that was the last leg of the run. As I thought I finished, the distance said 134k. That was another 16k to go!!

There was no sense of disappointment, there was no anger, there was no fear there was absolutely nothing. All that was there was the mind saying that the 16k had to be completed. And the brisk walk turned into a slow jog, moving ahead into a slightly fast jog and onto a slow run. I have no idea where the energy for it came from. But this continued, run some, walk a little, run again. at about 6:45 pm, about 23:30 hours from the start, there I was, 150k under my belt.

But there was still some left. Bhupendrasing asked the driver to drive another 1km, and marked out the spot where I had finished. He continued to run, going up to the car, coming back to the spot that he had marked. He did another 6km. At 135k, he was satisfied and we decided to call it a day.

My Details:
Distance covered: 150k
Time taken: 23:30 hours (approximate)
Weight lost: 5.5kgs

Ultimately, 150k is just a number. With a little bit of craziness and a little bit of determination, it can be conquered. Let it not appear daunting. And dare it does, remember this blog.

Conquering a devil called 32.2k

2011-09-19T09:04:00.002+05:30

At the Kaveri Trail Marathon on 18.09.2011, all I wanted to do was finish. The timing was inconsequential. Regardless of the time it took, I was determined to finish. With a sub-5:00:00 finish, all the ghosts have been laid to rest. But more on this later; first a quick run up to KTM.
I have come to realize that tapering/not running interferes with my general disposition and messes things up. To avoid that, I ran on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. My usual quota. I would have to miss the run on Saturday morning since I would be at Bangalore headed for Mysore. Reaching Bangalore at 3:30am, I got to know I would be able to travel by Mysore Express at 6:00am. Two and a half hours and nothing to do got me thinking. How about a run? At that hour, the cloak room was closed. So was the waiting room. I found a general waiting room open. I could leave my bag unattended there and go. There were three possibilities. One, the bag would remain untouched. Solution: Do nothing. Two, the bag would get stolen. Solution: No valuables (running gear, mobile and wallet) to be kept in the bag. Carry wallet and mobile on the run. Three, the unattended bag would attract the attention of the police. Solution: Tell the police, hindi film style, that I was born under an astrological sign which turns me into a werewolf if I don't run everyday. Or give logical reasons (which I had none) for leaving my bag behind. In any case, there were more than 24 hours to go for KTM; and if things went horribly wrong, I would have an excuse very few runners, if any, would have - I couldn't participate in KTM because I was in police custody. "Worth the risk," I said to myself, "Let's go." An hour and a half later, I was back at Banglore Railway Station everything in place including my Saturday morning run. A quick shower in the waiting room and I was off to Mysore. The only thing left was hydrating myself. I was all set.
At the start line of KTM, the temperature was in the low 20s, humidity was low, the trail didn't seem difficult and everything seemed ideal for running - for everyone else except I. I was bearing the huge load of a DNF three weeks ago at Hyderabad. And while I insisted that the DNF was behind me, it didn't matter, that I had moved on et al, it all came back to haunt me at the start line, making me realize that my earlier statements were mere bravado.
As the run started, I overheard conversations among runners and each one of them began with, "You know, I was struck with massive cramps at 32.2k at the Hyderabad Marathon..." I don't know if this was actually being said or if I was imagining things, but my mind played it over and over again a million times till about the 10k mark. At 10k, I realized the course was not as easy as I had first thought. As I concentrated on running, the voices began to ebb. At about the 28k mark, I checked the time that had elapsed and a quick calculation told me I was set for a 4:30-ish finish. Quite happy, I continued ahead till another mile marker came into full view and slapped me hard across the face. The marker said 32.2k.
All those memories of Hyderabad Marathon came flooding back and the devil was back on my shoulders, the monkey back on my back and the demons back in my head. Even though I am not the least bit superstitious, I was convinced this was a clear sign that a DNF at KTM as well was inevitable. I was sure the next step I took would give me excruciating cramps and I would fall. It felt like I had no energy left at all and I struggled to walk, knowing the next step was going to be my last one at KTM this year. From 32.2k till 38.2k, I walked. As I kept getting further and further away from 32.2, I began to feel more and more confident about finishing.
At about 39k, I checked the time. I had 17 minutes for a sub 5:00 finish. Maybe, just maybe, if I made a dash for it...? And I did!
With a sub 5:00:00 finish, the devil called 32.2k has been conquered. The monkey is off my back. And the demons in my head have fallen off somewhere along the trail.
Now, I shall get back to biting my nails in anticipation. Tomorrow is a big day. But that in the next post.

The Body won't Mind

2011-09-11T20:54:00.001+05:30

'Oh yeah?! So? Ok, you tanked at Hyderabad and couldn't finish and therefore you've decided you are going to listen to your body and not behave like an overgrown baby or an absolute nutcase like you used to when it comes to running? C'mon Vishwas, don't be such a sissy. Get your butt out there on the roads and don't return till you've done your usual 30-35k. Don't let your body dictate terms to your mind and screw it up any more than it already is.'

This was a conversation on Saturday evening when I announced that I wasn't going to run on Sunday as well. It's like this. Whenever it rains, I have to get wet. And there are other temptations I cannot resist. Paani-puris, ragda, tava non-veg, keema samosas, bhel, you name it. Everywhere I go, temptations line the streets. And once in a while, I do the best I can - give in to temptation. Having done that last Monday and on Tuesday, I lost my digestion in such a way that I thought I would never find it again. And the getting wet gave me the chills. So the run on Wednesday was marked by runs to the public loo and then a run home before disaster struck. But this time, I listened to my body. On Thursday, body said, 'Don't run.' So I didn't. Ditto for Friday. Ditto for Saturday. Saturday evening itself, my body again said, 'Don't run tomorrow.'And I agreed. And the long monologue above followed my announcement.

I was transported to a day in January, 2009. My mother probably did not believe I really ran marathons. As she claimed, driving over 42.2kms is different from running. Running that distance makes it longer. She came to the start line of SCMM to see me running off with the others and waited some 4 hours and 45 minutes till I returned. As I returned, among the first things she said to me were, 'How I would love to do this next year!' And I wholeheartedly agreed. As an added incentive, I told her that next year she would be in the Super Veteran category so the volunteers would pay a lot more attention to her (making it sound as if that would make it easier for her to run the Marathon, or it would be a shorter distance for her or whatever), I would train her and all that blah. Then she said that given her age, she should listen to her body and probably attempt the Dream Run. And my reaction was, 'Oh yeah?! So? Ok, you'll be 60 next year and so you've decided you are going to listen to your body and behave like an overgrown baby or an absolute nutcase like other old people and not run? C'mon Mom, don't be such a sissy. Get your butt out there on the roads and make up your mind not to return till you've done your run. Don't let your body dictate terms to your mind and screw it up any more than it already is.' I arrogantly told her to not even ask me for tips if she wanted to do the Dream Run because I was not going to train anyone whose target was a measly Dream Run. I believed I was entitled to my arrogance; after all, I had run a Full Marathon. You, know, a FULL MARATHON! All 42.2kms of it. It was below my dignity to train someone to start running. And she agreed to attempt a Half Marathon at SCMM, 2010.

I agreed; a Half Marathon was respectable. And given that she had never ever run, even while in school, prefering books to anything remotely physical, a Half Marathon was actually quite a challenge to undertake. When she started in February, 2009, she was, quite frankly, an embarassment. I, in my arrogance, did not see the respect that a 60 year old lady attempting her first Half Marathon should have commanded. I just looked at her slow pace, I heard people telling me how her 'run' was an 'exagerrated walk', I saw her getting tired after even a 8k run and thought she was incapable, I saw her refusal to wear shorts and a tee for a run and instead stick to the more traditional 'salwar-kurta' as just another tantrum. I didn't see the efforts she took to overcome the challenge she had taken up. Yes, I am ashamed of it now and... but that is another story, best left for another post. I guess it would suffice to say that today when I say, 'Buddhi daud rahi hai' (The old woman runs), I say it with a lot of pride.

January, 2010, Mom finished the Half Marathon. She took more than the time allowed, but that would be tackled next year at SCMM 2011. March, 2010, while she asked me to set the pace for her, her knee gave way. So badly, she almost needed to be carried home. One visit to the doctor and the verdict was out. 'No more running. You wanted to do one Half Marathon, you've done it. Now enough is enough.' 2 months she was in crippling pain. Then she went to my sister's place in Pune and made a few trips here and there. The knee continued to pain and running was out of question. Come July-August, she chose to register yet again for the Half Marathon at SCMM, 2011. Come October, she still wasn't running. She again asked the doctor to get her up and running (literally) so that she could resume practice for the Half Marathon. It was a firm 'NO' from the doctor again. So she stopped visiting the doctor. She started taking painkillers. And she started running. She said her mind told her to run and so she was, even though the body did not agree with her mind. She ran with kneecaps, painkillers, rubbing in iodex in the morning, volini in the afternoon and relaxyl in the evening. But run she did. Even as late as at the Expo, I told her she shouldn't run if her body was not up to it. There was no shame in pulling out of a race due to injury and all of that. She very politely asked me to shut the **** up, do my thing and not interfere with her business. And on a heavy dose of painkillers she completed SCMM, 2011. With the same timing as last year, but complete she did.

He mind continued to tell her to run. She did, weaning herself off painkillers. She runs today, does not need painkillers, does not wear kneecaps and is now looking at having about a 2:40 finish at SCMM 2012. She's discovered that in a worst case scenario, one could take a local anesthesia and run - the results can be handled later. (At her age, she says the 'handling the consequences later' is a safe bet.) All because her mind tells her and she tells her body to shut up when it protests. And she's proved her point. I have no further arguments.

One house, two runners with two different mindsets. Two different perspectives. One has age on her side. I have running experience on mine. And the twain doesn't seem like it'll meet anytime soon.

Why am I writing this? Because after the stinging monologue on Saturday evening, I got out of bed at 4:00am and hit the road in about an hour. My mind was raring to get me running. My body was indifferent. With about 75% relative humidity, I broke a sweat at about 3.5k and was completely soaked by the time I hit the 8k mark. Maybe, just maybe, I would not only be able to make it but enjoy it as well. 3 and a half hours later, I had done about 37k. Maybe, after all, Mom does know best. But I am very happy, and all set for Kaveri Trail Marathon next Sunday with the long run done. Of course, I am going to listen to by body and run on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday before I leave for Mysore. I am also writing because I am now confused as to what I should do when my mind and body are locked in a battle with each other - should I listen to my body, which tells me to do something or should I listen to my mind which protests wildly, or vice-versa?

Till yesterday, I was sure, I would listen only to my body bcause it knew best. Today, I know that my mind knows its mind too - and I have discovered that it is not wrong. Maybe for the future, I will do something very logical and scientific. I will toss a coin.

Running :Ego issues, a stick to beat me with and a pushover for a running buddy.

2011-09-05T17:31:00.001+05:30

Two points before I begin. One, I had promised to write about my long runs. Long runs are relative; when I started, I used to do 2 rounds of the 400mtr race track on usual days; for a long run, it was 3 rounds - all of 1200mtrs. Slowly, a 5k was a long run, then a 10k, that increased to 15k, then 21k. Now, a 32k is less than 2/3 of my usual weekly long run, so why am I blogging about it? Primarily because there has been some significant realization but also because (even though I have always maintained that distance running is a mental sport and all of us are insane) 32k is a long run for most of us nuts whose nuttiness is within the normal parameters of insanity.

Two, a small backdrop so that this post can be read in perspective. Distance running for me has been a lonely sport. When I began running, I had a lot of runner friends who did the usual distance of 800mts with me. The number dwindled drastically and exponentially when I increased the distance to 5k, then a 10k and so on till I met someone who was more interested in the glamour that marathoning brought with it, rather than the running part of the marathons. Here, the focus was on PBs, and PBs were no good unless you knew of four others whose PBs were less than yours, thus establishing your superiority in the pecking order of marathoners. As I graduated to ultras, this 'friendship' too fizzled out, and I was back to running alone. Then I met Piyush. Coincidentally. While running. Piyush is someone who runs because he loves running. For him, a 42.2 has no great significance except that that is the distance of all marathons. Every few weeks, Piyush is given to calling me up and fixing up a 70-80k overnight run. His targets are clear. He completes a marathon in sub-5:00. He's happy at the pace; PBs don't matter to him and he keeps insisting that one should run to enjoy themselves, not for scoring PBs, unless one is aiming for a sub-2:00 marathon. After a few weeks of running with Piyush, I asked him if he would push me to go faster; then I asked him if he would push me to do greater distances, keeping in mind BR-135. After a few weeks of running, when I felt confident enough, I asked him if he would crew for me at BR-135. Piyush agreed, and therein began the saga of him pushing me to go further, faster, longer. Piyush knew of my DNF status much before I blogged about it. He also knows when I want to give up during a long run and he manages to ensure that I complete, whether running, walking or crawling.

Now for the post.

After Hyderabad, I was back in Ahmedabad and the 'take 2 days off to recoup, recover and rejuvenate' extended to 3 days and just as I was planning to extend it to a week, Piyush called on Wednesday. I tried telling him that we would restart next week. His response was, "We need to train for BR-135 and a week's vacation will be a bit too much." I managed to successfully negotiate for a Thursday and Friday off and we decided to start off on Saturday. On Friday evening, I received an email from Piyush which gave me an option of easing into training by only walking on Saturday.

What??? Me, and walk?? On what is supposed to be training run? I mean, I who had done so many marathons, I, who run so regularly, I, who is planning to participate in BR-135 in January, I, who hope to finish BR-135 in less than 48:00 and qualify for Badwater, I who...

Just one DNF and a reluctance to train and Piyush tells me to ease into training by walking? What nonsense!! Since it was late and I knew Piyush would not check his email, I did not reply to the email. However, my ego had not been dented, it had been punctured. And I was determined to teach Piyush a lesson. And what better way to do it than to show him my mettle on the road and while we trained?

As we met on Saturday morning, I signaled him to begin running. He did. A few kilometers later, I decided to pick up pace - it had to be made clear that I could run, run better than what I normally did, and run to show Piyush that the DNF was behind me. As I increased my pace, Piyush kept up. Sorry, I was the one whose ego had been deflated, I was not going to give in so easily; so I increased my pace a little more, to ensure that Piyush was unable to catch up with me. That would teach him a lesson to not underestimate me. Ever. But Piyush kept up. I increased my pace some more just a little below my terminal velocity. I could afford to do this at a pinch, the training run was after all only a 16k on Saturday.

But no matter what I did, Piyush kept up. And as we finished the run huffing, puffing and exhaling our lungs out with each breath, all that Piyush said was, "With this kind of training, I am sure we will be able to achieve your target of a sub-48:00:00 finish at BR-135."

Which is when I realized, I had handed over a stick for Piyush to beat me with and he was making full use of it. Piyush knows how much BR-135 means to me. He knows I will do anything, repeat, anything to have a successful run there. Cut to the 32k run on Sunday. After warming up over an easy 3k, Piyush suddenly suggested that we start running, continuously increasing the pace and do not stop till we hit the 12k mark, about 9k away from where we were. At the 12k mark, we stopped for water. And immediately started running and stopped at the 16k mark where we were to turn back.

On the way back, Piyush kept pushing me. He realizes how much he can blackmail me by just mentioning BR-135. Everytime I slowed down, he would mention something about BR-135. No direct blackmail; just something subtle like, 'At BR-135, we need to average a pace of just about 3.5k/hour, and we're doing about 11k/hour, so I guess we're okay.' and my speed automatically increased. The final push came when we were at about the 28k mark. There were two runners, some 500mts ahead and right after them, a railway overbridge. Piyush asked me to make a dash for it; to overtake the runners before they reached the top. And both of us scrambled off and sure enough, we overtook the runners before they reached the top of the overbridge. Pumped up by our 'achievement', we continued the pace right till the end.

As I reached home, I checked the time taken. We had done a 32k in sub-3:00:00.

Am I complaining? Absolutely not. Even a couple of days back, I would have sworn on oath that ego issues, a pushover for a buddy and a stick to get beaten with was a surefire recipe for disaster. I don't know how in this case the same set of undesirables have created a virtuous cycle. And given that everything else is the same, the only thing that might have made a difference is running.

Completing A Marathon Achieves Closure – A DNF, In Contrast, Opens Up The Mind

2011-09-02T22:30:00.000+05:30

At the inaugural Hyderabad Marathon on Sunday, 28th August, 2011, at about 9:30am, roughly 3 hours 10 minutes into the race, I tanked at 32.1k. Out of the blue, like a bolt of lightning, my right calf was caught in such a severe cramp that it made me lose my balance and I started to fall forwards on my face. As I stepped back on my left leg to control myself from not falling, my left hamstring cramped so suddenly and ever so severely that I fell backwards, flat on the road. Writhing in pain, I somehow managed to find a position which did not cause more cramps and I was just lying there helpless. After what seemed like ages, one runner came by and tried to help me up. More cramps. And now different parts of my body were cramping. I had not experienced anything like this before in any of the marathons that I have run, and I’ve run quite a few of them, even if I say so myself. I was in such pain that I do not remember even the face of the person who helped me. Seeing that nothing was happening that would improve the situation, I asked the runner to go along and just ask the aid station to arrange an ambulance for me. The ambulance came; a spray of volini and I tried to be off again. 25mts later, I was back in the ambulance, calves, hamstrings, lower back and shoulders being massaged to ease the cramps. I vaguely remember writhing in pain, sound of the siren of the ambulance, my calves, soles of my feet, shoulders, back cramping, being massaged, me shivering; all of this happening maybe many times over, or maybe it was just one unending sequence of events. Then I remember being helped out of the ambulance (or maybe it was a different vehicle for all I know) and led up some stairs into what seemed to be a makeshift hospital. I was shivering and after two blankets were put on me, it started to take effect. The warmth I think stopped the cramps from coming and after about 45 minutes, I decided to be brave and attempt walking out of the room and into the stadium. It was when I saw everyone in the stadium with a medal around their necks that realization struck me.

I had not completed the race. This was my first DNF.

Friday afternoon onwards, I had pestered Rajesh Vetcha into arranging for me to travel along the entire length of the course so that I could have in place, my pacing plans. Early Saturday morning saw me doing that. After checking out the course I had my strategy planned. I had to do a fast first half and a little more so that the hills could be tackled and then let the flow and inertia somehow let me roll slowly to the finish line. The course visit had shown me what it was going to be like. Definitely tough, but nothing that would have caused what happened. Fact remains, I did not finish.

I was doing about 3 to 4 half marathons a week, I was doing a marathon at the minimum every Sunday. Against this backdrop, this was bad. What was worse, I pacing the 4:30 bus; my first attempt at pacing and I not only failed to make it to the finish line on time, I simply failed to reach the finish line!! If this was not humiliating enough, my regular running buddy, Piyush trotted to the finish in 4:30, in the process claiming the Second Prize in the Veterans Category. And I DID NOT EVEN FINISH!!!

I spent Sunday in pain, and a lot of Monday as well. I was in pain when I boarded the train from Hyderabad to come back to Ahmedabad. I have always made it a point to travel back by train after a long run. For one, I tend to suffer from post-event trauma and sitting (or lying down) on the train with my legs stretched and nothing else to do helps me deal with that. Secondly, the forced confinement during the course of the journey provides rest which, knowing myself, I would not do in the normal course of things. Thirdly, this time helps clear my brain helps me analyze what went wrong, where and what needs to be done so as to ensure that the problems faced do not reappear and more importantly, other problems do not take their place. All of this leads to dealing effectively with post-event trauma.

Given all of the above, I should have had a lot of baggage with me when I boarded the train at Secunderabad Railway Station.

(i) The weight of a DNF.

(ii) The heaviness of having a DNF as a pacer of the 4:30 bus.

(iii) The sadness of having had to drop off just 10k away from the finish line, when more than ¾ of the run was over and done with.

(iv) The heaviness in my heart.

(v) The dullness in the brain.

(vi) Last but not the least the actual pain in my legs, and other parts of my body.

Somehow, except for the last point, the other points were surprisingly missing. Lying on the road, I vaguely remember telling a runner that my 4:30 bus was now an impossibility. And that was about it. The weight of a DNF did not weigh on me at all. The heaviness of having a DNF as a pacer of the 4:30 bus was not there on my shoulders. The sadness of having had to drop off just 10k away from the finish line, when more than ¾ of the run was over and done with was also not there; it did not matter. The heaviness in my heart, if it was there, weighed lightly. The dullness in the brain that is there after every marathon, and which I expected to be exponentially magnified, was missing.

What I was looking for as I boarded the train was to settle down, look out of the window for some time and then contemplate. Knowing the miles I have been putting in as part of my regular practice, I knew there had to be a series of factors which would have had to come together for something like this to play out; it was not possible for one single factor to cause a DNF. I was thus curious to get to all the reasons that contributed to the DNF.

As I sat down to ferret out the happenings over the past few days a few things emerged.

Ever since I decided to accept the invitation to participate in Brazil 135, I have been studiously avoiding everything I reveled in during my pre-running days. So there have been no parties, no drinking binges, no late nights, no nothing. I have become used to living a hermit’s life. But when I came to Hyderabad, I stayed with friends who have known me since birth. I was meeting them after more than a decade. In that excitement, I kind of let go, and my schedule went for a toss. Chatting away late into the night, then dinner at 10:30-11:00, (the usual schedule is dinner at 7:30pm, and lights go out at 9:30pm) then some more catching up before finally going to bed at midnight, messed up my cycle.

At the Expo on Saturday, as I continued to meet up with other running buddies, and also getting introduced to and making new friends, the event which was scheduled for the next day took a back seat. I had originally planed to enter the expo, collect my running number bib and goodie bag and leave. That did not happen. Instead, as I kept meeting one friend after another, I spent about 6-7 hours in totality at the expo and with friends. And all of those 6-7 hours was without any hydration. I have seen another friend of mine, Roshni Rai, who refuses to let go of the water bottle on the day prior to the event and who is also very particular about eating – call it carbo-loading if you may – as per the time table that she has fixed for herself. And this is non negotiable. Regardless of how much she gets teased about it. I really admire this trait in her and have sworn to myself to follow this regimen; yet on Saturday, I goofed up on this big time.

Ditto for food. I went without food/nutrition/carbo-loading for 6-7 hours on Saturday for the reasons explained in the earlier point.

Piyush sought me out at the Expo and told me that he had run about 12-15k on Friday and Saturday. He also said that his reading of the course was ‘Tough. Needs getting used to.’ I ignored all three of these warnings. One, that Piyush had run, and I hadn’t. Two, that he had run 12-15k. Three, that he felt the course needed getting used to. And I paid the price for it. And how!!

For quite some time now friends have been giving me grief about how I overtrain. How I never taper. How running 12-15k at the bare minimum even during the week of the event ensures all my efforts get wasted. How every running great has talked of getting into an event on fresh legs, how theoretically it is this, how from experience, it is that and so on and so forth. In all of this, two things were specifically drummed into me. One, that I overtrain and I need to loosen up quite a bit. Second, that I need to taper, maybe even do something as drastic as not running at least 3 days prior to the event.

As an example, I was always reminded of my running history for last year. For those who don’t know, last year was a major screw-up year. Every event was a showcase of how things should not be. I was constantly doing a 5:15+ for every marathon I did – practice and at events, when my average time was a sub-4:45. Most long runs above 45k were disasters, to say the least. Even a 65k that I did at Pedong (on the Siliguri-Darjeeling route) took me about 9 hours. I was also subtly reminded of how I wasn’t able to go for Comrades and Sundown. And even though this was in no way related to anything to do with running, it was definitely insinuated that had I not overtrained, had I tapered and basically, had I listened to every theory in existence, I might have been able to make the trips and returned successful.

At the Hyderabad Marathon, I decided to do what was recommended – not run for a week prior to the event. (I couldn’t do that and managed to sneak out for a 21k run on Tuesday, but nothing beyond that.) In the weeks prior to that, I had reduced my running a wee bit, so that I could also claim to not have overtrained. I also hoped this could be passed off as having tapered. Well, my run at Hyderabad shows what all of it amounted to.

As I sat in the train stretching my legs and analyzing, I realized I was doing exactly what I should not have done. I did not listen to my body; I listened to what others might want to do with their bodies. In the process, I was playing with my mind as well.

My body is mine. It knows what to do and when it needs to slow down, or stop altogether, it lets me know in no uncertain terms. I like to run. And run all the time, say about 5 days a week. Any change in that and my body doesn’t really approve. My body doesn’t understand taper, nor does it feel the need for it. If I don’t run, I am irritable, grumpy and kind of depressed and this reflects on race day. Yes, I need to cross-train, I need to meditate, but those are different from running. We’re talking just running here.

If we were to look at the theories concerning distance running, we’re again talking of someone else deciding for us, what is right for us. And this is without that person having even an idea of our existence, forget knowing, understanding and then designing a program for us! From the bouquets of programs that are available, we try different ones, and choose a program which is closest to what agrees with us. And then we try and mould our bodies to get as much in line with the program as possible. And we will continue to go out and at the first given opportunity, lecture whoever cares to listen about how we must always listen to our bodies. And that is what we have not done.

At this point, I’ll request everyone to recall your first marathon or the first ultra that you attempted at an event. In the practice sessions leading to the event, all of us have chosen some program or the other. And we’ve never been able to follow it right through. On some days, possibly due to health issues, we’ve missed the program by a small margin, on other days, maybe because of the effects on the brain caused by phases of the moon or whatever else, we’ve deviated from the program by a wide margin. Ask my friend, Amit Sheth of whether he adhered, or was able to adhere, to the training program he had chosen for his first marathon. Then ask another friend of mine (and my crew member for Brazil 135), of how woefully short he was on distance, practice and every other parameter before he went for Comrades in 2010. Yet he completed. Now think of all the training programs that have been religiously followed by you and/or your buddies and check the results. In most cases, listening to your body (as it happens more often than not with novices) gets you much better results than a training program does.

All of us, inspite of not having been ideal students, want to inflict our views on others and we’re quick to dismiss anyone who does not conform to our ideas of a ideal training program as someone who is most unlikely to succeed. Even as we continue to wax eloquent on the benefits of listening to our bodies, we do exactly what we have been told might be theoretically good for our bodies. And we propagate these views as well. And therein, I believe, our performances begin to suffer.

My funda, now onwards is going to be to follow myself. Take advice from friends only if I need it and only if I ask for it. Unsolicited advice is not needed and not welcome as well.

As I train for Brazil-135 and beyond, I am going to follow one simple rule. ‘If it hurts, stop doing it. If it doesn’t inspire you, forget about it and do something else. And if it itches, scratch. Wherever it itches, and wherever you are.’

I think Asha Arora got it absolutely right when she asked me, “Vishwas, how many of these friends have run ultra marathons of the distance that you are contemplating? How many of them are themselves aiming for participating in BR-135 or Badwater, for that matter? Why then are you listening to them instead of yourself? Don’t you think if at all, the flow of information should be the other way around? That you should be advising them on how to run, how to prepare, et al?” Yes, what was missing, was the confidence in myself. That I could understand my body’s needs, that I know best.

And ironically, it was a DNF at the Hyderabad Marathon that taught me this.

Abu Road to Mount Abu Run.

2010-08-11T16:28:00.003+05:30

The blog comes alive again. Having revived it post the Abu Road to Mount Abu run, this blog is now going to be run as the team blog of Ahmedabad Runners.

The first one comes from Abhilash and is appended below, without any editing.

Completing Mt. Abu

Why did I say yes for Mt. Abu?

During one of the Sunday long runs, I had managed to do the 16 km stretch to RTO and back. It was in reality, a combination of run, walk and crawl. J

I thought that for Mt. Abu, I needed to do an extra 5 km. And on a good day, with everyone together, I will somehow manage it.

But I was really anxious, especially on Saturday evening. I felt as if I was to appear for a final examination in school. You would all remember that feeling. J

Dinner was like….. Should I have this or that? Would another Roti help or I should leave it. I hardly slept.

My only strategy for the day was to stay with Hiren. I like running with him. He keeps on motivating you and shares some brilliant insights.

Within the first two km, the running groups had evolved. Lihas, Vishwas, Jagat and Amber were together. Followed by Amit and Sushila, Satish and Pankaj, Hiren and I, Kuldeep, Girish and Uma Mam. As soon as the climb started, I realized that this was different from the usual Sunday long run. The road kept on climbing up and at every curve, I would pray for the next stretch to be a flat one. But no, as soon as you took the turn, another climb waited for you. By the way, Hiren had told me that at least 5 out of the 21 km will be flat. That was a lie.

I would run a bit and then start walking. It was difficult to keep up with Hiren, and I felt guilty about holding him back. He kept on saying “Abhilash I see you finishing today” and I would utter a meek yes. He would shout “Come on Abhilash”. I would say yes but my legs wouldn’t move. It would take ages from one milestone to the next. I think that the distance between two milestones increases during an uphill.

The 1^st time, we saw Pankaj and Satish was when the milestone said Mt. Abu 12 km. And to me that was the 1^st time, when I actually thought I could finish it. Because 12 km is Akbar Nagar and back and we do it regularly. From then on, all distance were like 10 km is Shastri Nagar and back, 8 km is Jai Mangal and back. Guess the practice sessions helped.

Satish and Hiren moved ahead and I didn’t see them again till they were coming down. I played catch up with Pankaj for the rest of it. Somewhere along the way, Girish stopped to give us some water. His knees were bothering him and he had decided to take the car. But Pankaj convinced him to start again. The 3 of us did some distance together and it was fun.

While we were running up, we thought that it will be difficult for Lihas and Vishwas to do the return trip. Imagine what we felt when we saw them coming down the slopes. A little ahead we saw Hiren and Satish coming down. We asked them “how much left”. Satish said 50 meters and Hiren said 300 meters. We wanted to finish in style, so Pankaj and I hit the stride. We kept looking for a green board on our left, which never came. I cursed Hiren and Satish. The 300 meter was in reality at least 2.5 km. J

Pankaj continued running and I went back to walking. He would have finished earlier but he waited for me at 500 meter mark and we finished together.

The last 500 were a blur; you see a group of people at the end point who vaguely resemble those who were with you at the start. With only 100 meters left, the shouts get louder and you can hear the clapping too. The photographer wants you to raise your hand when you are finishing. You try but your hands refuse to come up.

The images become clearer. You recognize the faces. Hand Shakes, hugs and smiles follow. You realize that you have done it. Someone hands you a drink and Parle G. They taste like heaven. You sit down some where…..you are stoned. You come to life later when you see Girish and later Kuldeep finishing. You cheer for them with your life. You hug them.

While we were coming up, Pankaj said that on a run like this all your masks come off. You become what you are. I think he is right. I made friends during this trip and the bond got strengthened when we celebrated each others success.

Thanks to Hiren for seeing what I couldn’t see, motivating me and helping me to finish the 1^st half. Girish and Pankaj, the 2^nd half was only because of you.

Lihas and Vishwas, you guys are crazy and are hell bent on increasing the number of crazies.

The biggest thanks go to the kids, Shruti and Akshat. They were the ones who kept coming back for you. Even when you didn’t take water, you wanted to finish and make it worthwhile for them too.

Cheers!

NA GUDGUDA, ANNA GUDGUDA, DHICHKYAUN!!! DHICHKYAUN!!! DHICHKYAUN!!!

Abhilash

Sunday Long Run

2010-06-14T12:55:00.006+05:30

(This is Sunday's blog, written on Sunday but it gets posted on Mondays - so today as refereed to here means Sunday)

Lihas took a time-out today. He had gone out and was going to be staying the night, so he let me know that he would not join for the long run today.

I would have to handle all the runners that came today. I shouldn't have worried, though. We still need to break the mindset of 'Sunday Holiday, therefore, nothing to be done on a Sunday' and replace it with 'Sunday Holiday, therefore a long run can be undertaken on a Sunday'.

Sundays, or the day of the regular weekly offs are great for long runs. One can run long distances without worrying about the time it will take. There is no pressure to reach the office. There is no 'strenuous' work that needs to be done. Once the mind is made, one can do long runs on Sundays, have a heavy breakfast, a heavy lunch and sleep through the afternoon. The evening is fresh and free. No running the next day gives enough time for the muscles to recuperate.

Coming back to the Sunday run, as I approached Keshavbaug at about 5:40am, I saw Hiren's car turn in, park and Hiren get out of it. I had company. On reaching Keshavbaug, only Hiren was there. Hardik came immediately after. By 5:46am, there were still just three of us. We decided to proceed.

It was Sunday, the day of the long run. Hardik decided to do 12kms - run upto the Akhbaarnagar Circle and return. I asked Hiren to accompany me to the Motera Stadium turn and return up to RTO on the way back. From there he could take the BRTS back to Keshavbaug. Hiren agreed on the condition that I run at his pace.

We set off. All three of us chatting away, doing a pace of about 00:06:15/km. The feeling was that energy needed to be conserved for later. Energy efficiency, conservation and optimum utilization is a topic best left for later in the training. I thus went along with the 00:06:15/km pace. at Akhbaarnagar Circle, Hardik turned to head back to Keshavbaug. Hiren and I continued ahead. Shortly after, we stopped for a water break. We had already done 6kms and the weather was quite hot, so the risk of dehydration quite existent and real.

Hydrated, we continued running up to RTO Circle. There, Hiren asked for a two minute breather. The Chimanbhai Patel Overbridge does look daunting. Before those two minutes were up, we were ascending the overbridge. Halfway through the ascent, Hiren commented on how it seemed unending. Fortunately he did not stop, nor did his pace go down. We descended and continued past the Sabarmati Power Station. A little later, we stopped for water when Hiren decided that this was enough and that he wanted to turn back. We must have been about 700-800mts from the target. Coaxing Hiren to just walk a little before turning back, we went up to about 250mts away from our scheduled turn and began our return journey. A few steps and we were running again. This time, the stop was RTO Circle from where Hiren took the BRTS Service back to Keshavbaug.

I continued running. One pan shop at Nava Vadaj served really chilled water. Having had that, I was all rejuvenated and ran right till Valinath Chowk doing a pace of about 00:05:15/km. This usually happens. Being within kissing distance of your target when you don't touch it and turn back is hugely disappointing. The disappointment must have translated into me running fast to kind of make up.

A water stop at Valinath Chowk BRTS Bus Stop and I knew my legs were screaming to me that they were about to die. The had been subjected to abuse in the latter part of the run.

I took it slow from there onwards to Keshavbaug. Something in me snapped there. Instead of finishing the run, I continued towards Mansi, then took a right to RJ Tibrewal College, got out on the main road, took a right again, went up to Andhjan mandal 4 Rasta, right to Keshavbaug, right towards Mansi. I continued running till Nalanda and ended my run there. Exhausted but very, very happy.

Saturday - Focus, Concentration, Energy and Results

2010-06-12T23:18:00.002+05:30

At 5:45am today, the number of regular runners at Keshavbaug was quite low. While at the back of my mind, I wonder if it is the result of the media coverage not having appeared in Ahmedabad Mirror yet, I understand that it is probably just one of those days. Some had reported sick, some had other engagements and some gave the ditch.

The new faces were Raneesh and Pankaj, Jagat's friends and regular joggers at Rajpath Club. Another new face was Satish, a young man in his mid-fifties, who does about 7kms everyday. He had come all the way from Gandhinagar to run with us.

The target today was Akhbaarnagar Circle and back. Rohan, still needing to break the mental barriers of distance, said he would turn back after the Naranpura flyover. Not allowed, request rejected. He would need to run up to Naranpura 4 Rasta and return. We set off. All of us were doing about 00:06:00/km.

I was the driver of the bus. And surprisingly, keeping pace with me was Satish. At the Helmet 4 Rasta flyover, we did a quick stop. A suggestion to Satish to change his gait a bit, I thought, would help him go faster as also make his running more energy efficient. A little ahead, I noticed him getting a little out of breath. A conscious effort to change his breathing pattern while running would take care of that.

As we continued to run, doing doing a pace of about 00:06:00/km, we were close to Naranpura 4 Rasta. The place where Rohan and Abhilash would turn back had come. Arjav too had to turn back here. So would Satish. Even Hiren turned back. This is a quirk with Hiren. He can run 10kms one way but he cannot run 5kms to and 5kms back. We told him it was all in his mind. He agreed. This is something that will need to be worked on since Delhi is essentially and out and back route.

As the others turned back at Naranpura 4 Rasta, Jagat, Pankaj, Lihas and I continued forward. Pankaj stopped at the Akhbaarnagar underpass. Jagat, Lihas and I decided to do an additional 1km and ran up to the Akhbaarnagar Circle beyond the underpass.

A break for water there and we started to run back. Jagat suddenly rose to the ocassion and became the driver of the bus. Setting a blazing pace which would have been in the vicinity of 00:05:45/km, we ran up to Valinath Chowk where another water break was scheduled. After this, Jagat continued with his pace, with Lihas keeping him company. Pankaj and I did a more comfortable about 00:06:00/km pace. As we finished at Keshavbaug, we met Abhilash, Hiren and Satish who were waiting there. They had timed their 10kms. About 01:05:00. Our timing for the 12kms that we did was about 01:10:00. Commendable.

As we dispersed, we look forward to a long run (in the real sense) tomorrow.

And next Saturday, we look forward to running with Satish again.

The Thursday Thrill

2010-06-12T23:18:00.001+05:30

This blog entry begins with an admission. I am photographically challenged. This does not mean I look exceptionally ugly in all my photographs (which might be the case, but that would make me not photogenic - this is another topic), but that I do not know a thing about photography.

For me, taking a photograph means, in a nutshell, that you aim your camera at the object you want to photograph and press a button to capture the picture. If it is dark, you use a flash. That is my knowledge of photography. And that is all that there is to photography as far as I know. So, when on Wednesday, Ahmedabad Mirror told us that they wanted to do a follow-up story on us and the Ahmedabad Runners, I did not actually understand what difference 5:45am, 6:am and 6:45am made. They said they anted to take photographs of us running, so the light conditions would need to be conducive. To me, it still did not make sense.

Lihas took over the job of co-ordinating this part, so I had to focus only on the running part of things.

As I planned the run, there was a one line directive from Lihas. To ensure that the entire group is present at Jai mangal BRTS Bus Stop at 6:45am.

We met at 5:45am and after exchanging pleasantaries, we began to run. Everyone was charged up. This time, it was one big, long bus instead of many separate busses. Runners kept joining us - at the Helmet 4 Rasta flyover, at Valinath Chowk BRTS Bus Stand, at the Naranpura flyover. We were doing a pace of about 00:06:10-00:06:15/km and so it was decided to run up to Akhbaarnagar Circle and return to Jai Mangal BRTS Bus Stop by 6:45am. There would be some time to spare if we kept this pace. However, I knew from experience that this probably wouldn't happen. Some of us ran the full distance at the same pace. Some slowed down. Some did the walk-run cycle to get to there.

As we reached Jai mangal BRTS Bus Stand at 6:45am, Jignesh Vora, the photographer of Ahmedabad Mirror was waiting for us. We regrouped, began to run and Jignesh got down to clicking us. His job done, he left. Our run was not yet complete. Traversing both flyovers, we all ran back to Keshavbaug.

I guess the photographs being cliked, the prospects of media coverage, al,l of us running as a group had its impact and that, I guess, pumped quite a bit of adrenalin into the system.

Reaching Keshavbaug, we all finished our run. Had we recorded the time, I am sure most if not all of us would have recorded our personal bests.

There were 18 of us. And all 18 did at least 9kms, the base that we had targetted for Thursday. This was not the end of happiness. There was more to come. As we reached Keshavbaug,Prasanth Menon of Ahmedaba dMirror was waiting to speak to the various runners.

Everyone gave their opinion.

When Lihas and I were asked, we very proudly said that these runners were exceeding our expectations and our focus was now changing. From 'every runner completing the Marathon' we were now talking of 'completing the Marathon with every member of the team recording decent timings'. As we waited for the report to appear in Ahmedabad Mirror, we all were also looking forward to another 'road-pounding' run on Saturday.

Wednesday Snafu

2010-06-12T23:17:00.000+05:30

Wednesdays are days off. Training is only on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Sundays are days of the long run. Each one is left to his own to decide their distance and do their long runs. No training.

On Wednesday, the phone rang at 5:45am. It was Hiren. Hardik and he were waiting for us at Keshavbaug. Some miscommunication somewhere. They did not know Wednesday was off.

Anyways, they ran. Hiren did Keshavbaug to RTO Circle in 54 minutes. Way to go, Hiren!

Nothing else to report for Wednesday. A lot of co-ordination needed to be done for Thursday. Thursday was going to be a big day.

Tuesday's Run

2010-06-12T23:15:00.000+05:30

We, Lihas and I reached Keshavbaug at 5:40am to be greeted by Hardik. No one else was in sight. Hiren had said he wouldn't be there, but what about all the others? We waited for the clock to strike 5:45. In the meanwhile, Rohan turned up. No one else. We extended the waiting time to 5:50am. Still no one.

We thought, this was it. The enthisiasm of a Marathon was going to be as anticipated - fizzling out before it really picked up. Marathons are good to discuss. It's generally trendier to be a couchsurfing runner - get all the details about how to run a marathon - pepper conversations liberally with words like pronation (over-pronation and under-pronation), suppination, cadence, gait analysis and a few medical terms thrown in too for good measure - after all, a ligament tear does sound more technical and therefore, more intelligent than a simple muscle pull.

This run was going to be one with with a small group. So what? Usually, there are only two runners - Lihas and I. Here, we were four - double the number. We decided to press ahead anyways.

Lihas led, with Hardik. Rohan and I followed. It seemed to be going well with Rohan. His second day and the difference in the pace was phenomenal. We went till the flyover on Drive-in Road. Rohan chose not to climb the flyover. Given the pace we were doing, I guess the concession was called for. And in any case, there was another run for Thursday. And that would not allow any concessions.

At the end of the flyover, Rohan decided to turn back to Keshavbaug. It would be a distance of about 5kms. A good enough distance for Day 2. Hardik, for whom it was Day 1, turned back too.

After reminding both of them to not forget to cool down, to not forget to stretch. Lihas and I continued our run. We ran till Valinath Chowk BRTS Stop where we were going to be joined by Atharva and Dhruv - two boys who come all the way from Sardarnagar to join us and run.

We did not see either of them. We needed to stop running, which, frankly, was quite irritating. After a ten minute wait, Lihas (who carries his phone on the run) called them. They were at RTO Circle, waiting for BRTS to start its services for the day. We asked them to join us at Jai Mangal BRTS Bust Stop and we continued to run in that direction.

We reached the Jai Mangal BRTS Bus Stop. No sign of Atharva and Dhruv. We ran upto Naranpura 4 Rasta and came back. Still no sign. Very obviously, they were not coming. We had been stood up.

As anticipated, Lihas and I would be the only ones practicing seriously for the Marathons - Athens, Delhi and Mumbai. Most of the others were probably turning out to be temporary runners. We guessed in a few days, the others too would drop out - not that there were too many left now. This would explain why out of the 80 FIRM CONFIRMATIONS that we had, just about 25 had come for practice at least once. There were others who continue to be 'runners on email and sms'.

Lihas decided to give 'just one more try' before we concluded that we had been stood up.

I know. It takes a lot to do a Marathon. The capability to dream. The ability to believe in yourself. The commitment to achieve this. And the sheer guts to surpass what has been written in the three sentences before this and emerge out of your own shadows as a new person.

As he called, I turned to look back at the overbridge. And I turned back again. What I saw couldn't have been. I couldn't be hallucinating. But there they were - four figures running at almost breakneck speed towards us. I nudged lihas. He too saw. As they came closer, we saw Jagat accompanied by three others and Richa, doing a pace I believe even she did not know she was capable of.

Lihas had by now finished call to Atharva. They were on the bus, on their way to Jai Mangal. They would nopt disembark at Shastrinagar BRTS Bus Stop as we joined them there.

Yes. True and reinforced. It takes a lot to do a Marathon. The capability to dream. The ability to believe in yourself. The commitment to achieve this. And the sheer guts to surpass what has been written in the three sentences before this and emerge out of your own shadows as a new person.

As we began to run again, this time with the group, the introductions happened. Shailesh was a regular runner. So was Bhatia sa'ab (JS) a man older to us in age, but still very young who would give teenagers of the city a run for their money (pun unintended). They were Jagat's friends who were regular runners at Rajpath Club.

It was Day 1 for Ashim. He had run till Naranpura and was still going strong.

We continued to run. Atharva and Dhruv joined us at Shastrinagar. And the run continued uninterrupted.

At Akhbaarnagar Circle (after the underpass) Richa and Ashim were asked to turn back and head towards Keshavbaug. Seven of us continued ahead. Jagat, JS and Shailesh decided to take the BRTS back from Bhavsar Hostel BRTS Stop. Four of us continued ahead. At the first break in the BRTS corridor, Lihas and I turned back and did a fast paced run back towards Keshavbaug. We must have been doing ~0:05:00/km pace. Atharva and Dhruv continued ahead upto RTO Circle definitely. Hopefully beyond to

Catching up with Richa and Ashim just after the flyover at Naranpura, we nudged them into a higher pace. The run ended with a superb sprint - the way all good runs should end.

Sunday Long Run - Sunday Satisfaction

2010-06-06T11:50:00.010+05:30

This post was supposed to be for Sunday 6th June. Since Sundays means long runs, long, leisurely baths, lots of food and thereafter lots more sleep, I guess no real excuse needs to be cooked up to explain why this blog did not appear on Sunday. This time, the laziness continued through Monday. That explains why this blog did not appear on Monday. Then on Tuesday, the description of the run needed to be put down in such a manner that... but hey, why am I writing about that here?

This is about Sunday's run; the blog about Tuesday's run comes up next. And the blog about Thursday's run, thereafter.

We continued to be inundated by calls through Saturday too. Going by the number of calls received, we should have had about 80 persons at Keshavbaug on Sunday. Going by experience of the 'commitment' that is given to be there, we thought probably 15-17 persons would turn up. When we reached Keshavbaug, there were Richa, Hiren and Dhruv waiting for us. Thursday's runners were missing; either doing their own running or the enthusiasm had waned a bit or then, maybe Saturday's run had brought with it the aches and pains on Sunday morning.

We made 2 busses and began running. Lihas was the 'driver' of the first bus - going at a speed of about 2:30 for a half marathon. A 'bus' would be a group of people who run together at the same speed. The 'driver' is the pace-setter. He has the challenge of setting and continuously changing the pace in such a manner that it does not become too tough for the others who have 'boarded' this bus, nor be so lax that the 'passengers' have a leisurely walk in the park.

Lihas began with Hiren, Rohan followed and Richa and I brought up the rear. At Helmet 4 Rasta, we were joined by Atharva and Dhruv. They hopped on to Lihas' bus. A little ahead beyond the Valinath Chowk BRTS Bus Stand, another runner joined us. And another two at Naranpura. Rohit turned back here and headed to Keshavbaug to end his run.

We continued to run beyond Naranpura 4 Rasta. Richa began to get tired near the Pragatinagar BRTS Bus Stand and decided to turn back. I joined Hiren, Atharva, Dhruv and Lihas. We continued ahead. Running down the Akhbaarnagar underpass was a breeze; running up it was a breeze. The run continued. After Bhavsar Hostel we stopped for a breather. (Usually Lihas and i do not take breathers; we do not need them after so many years of distance running. But the others are new to distance running and once they get used to this, the concept of breathers can be eliminated.)

As we continued, we ran till RTO Circle and turned back. Hiren decided to check out here. He said he would prefer taking the BRTS back to Keshavbaug. Atharva and Dhruv decided to call it quits too. They headed back to Sardarnagar frm the RTO Circle. Three runners left. He decided he would walk-run to get to his house directly at Naranpura. That left just Lihas and I. From Day 1, we have been insisting that distance running should not be made into an ego issue. That the moment one feels he is not up to it, aborting the run is the best thing that can be done. That way, all of us will live to run another day. It is very satisfying that this piece of advice is being followed by everyone.

Both, Lihas and I were left alone at RTO Circle and having to run back all the way to Keshavbaug did sound boring to begin with. But then, it was also an opportunity. Neither of us had had a good hard run in the last week. This was our chance. Setting a pace of 00:05:30/km, we up to our 'water point' at Valinath Chowk 4 Rasta. Properly rehydrated, we ran past Keshavbaug, climbed the Shivranjani 4 Rasta flyover and ran down it up to Shyamal 4 Rasta. Turning back at Shyamal 4 Rasta, we sprinted back to Keshavbaug. From there we walked to our homes, exhausted yet very satisfied. The bingeing and the sleeping would be justified today...