Whenever I came across an advertisement of an upcoming marathon event, I ignored it with all my might. Surely, I didn't need this 'service' to inflict trauma on myself. But finally the day dawned (like it always does) when my thought changed. A hoarding, that caught my eyesight by the sheer number of its sponsors (and left me wondering if it was for a DJ party or a blood donation camp), appealed to my whim on each of the five days before the marathon event was scheduled.
When one is a whimsical being, one isn't really sure up to the last moment if the upcoming decision is one for the taking. Three days before the event, I had my eyes narrowed on the event's poorly made website. Since I run only about 7 (a carefully handpicked number) minutes a day before the workout, I relied on the event website to tell me how much distance I shall be running. To my utter astonishment, the age groups for the 3-km, 6-km, 10.5-km runs were 3, 6 and 10.5 years. May be I exaggerate but that's how I felt after I read about the age groups. There was no prize for a 31-year old for being among the top three in any of these races. Hopes were dashed before the actual dash. I was left with 21.1 km. Yes, my decision was based upon the assumption that I would be among the top three finishers.
Before I clicked on the 'route' for the race, I told myself that this is going to be the landscape of my ambitious journey. My eyes were ready for a map complete with small triangles for mountains, thick flows of rivers, and shaded areas for forests. Alas! It was 'the' click of disappointment that led me to 'Page cannot be displayed' error message. Turns out that the route image was just too big for my feeble internet connection speed. I tried to download it and managed to obtain a half-screen image of straight lines with arrows. Nothing exciting.
A day after the last day of registration and a day before the marathon, still undecided, I thought of paying a friendly visit to the kit-collection centre and check if the marathon is really interested in being run by me. It was. The organizer said that all forms are over but a special allotment was in store for me considering how enthused I looked (I was dressed in formals). I got myself registered and got a t-shirt and a bib in return. I was told that I could forget the t-shirt but not the bib because, "As you'd be knowing, the bib contains *dramatic pause* a chip."
With no trainer or training readily available, I invoked the good old internet gods to know about things to do/eat/drink/think/wear on the day before/of/after the marathon. Smart as they are, the internet gods blessed me with advice for things to be done/eaten/drunk/thought/worn years before a marathon. A very helpful website told me to wear extremely light clothes if the temperature is above 70 deg. Fah. I ventured out to buy some light clothes and was taken lightly by every shopkeeper who informed me that the region is experiencing winter. I also bought a sipper water-bottle so that I could save precious seconds on lifting my chin up to drink water.
The race was to be flagged off at 6 AM. Given that I needed 8 hours of sleep the night before the race, I went to bed at midnight and could manage to sleep 2 AM. From midnight to 1:45 AM, I kept thinking about how am I going to perform - I will run slowly but consistently, I will not wave at the crowd much, I will not look at the cameras while running, there's a slight niggle in the right knee but I'll balance myself in a way to make sure that the left one carries me through, and other such strategic thoughts one usually has before his first marathon. Around 1:45 AM, the only thought clouding my mind was that if I don't sleep now, I will not wake up before 10 AM.
As soon as I woke up, I loaded the phone with the Lord of the Rings audiobook. If there was one inspiration that was going to help me conquer the finishing line, this was it. A quick calculation told me that, even with the slowest version of me, I had overloaded the phone with around 40 hours of audio. Not one to be hassled by a slow phone, I had my energy potion (coffee!) and though the internet had told me to pile up carbohydrates in the body, I had no time to eat anything beyond an apple. My prime motive behind hurrying up was to find a decent parking spot close to the registration spot so that I don't end up tiring my legs reaching the starting line. Unrelated - I had to run about 6 times up and down the home to get everything that I had decided to carry.
I reached the registration spot at around 5:30 AM, parked as close to the gate as possible only to find out that the starting line was around a km away. I took my bike key, sipper water-bottle, napkin, phone and earphones. After about half a kilometre, I realized that nobody carried a water-bottle. My pockets were heavy in an awkward sort of a way and energy conservation told me that there was no going back to dump all the precious belongings. The 21.1-km runners were grouped right ahead of all the other runners. I couldn't decide whether this arrangement was to provide the rest of the runners with a feeling of inspiration or that of humour. While I was on the way to reach the group of 21.1-km runners, I asked people how the bib was to be stuck to the t-shirt. My query was answered in the form of plentiful congratulatory wishes. This reminded me of ill-wishers who congratulate you before an exam result knowing fully well that you are not going to pass. Anyway, the bib was to be pinned.
Once I reached my co-runners, I immediately found a place to sit and closed my eyes for I was advised not to indulge in freebies like chocolates, juices or energy bars. I realized a few moments later that the only freebies were the safety pins to attach the bibs. Inedible and, hence, harmless. As the sun rose, I could see people warming up. They were wearing very short shorts. They were hi-five-ing each other for some reason (couldn't possibly for celebrating shorts!).
The moment of 6 AM arrived. Sunlight was taking over darkness. The chirping of birds had the usual irritation that animal sounds carry when humans are around. People were still warming up and hi-five-ing. Around 6:30 AM, everybody suddenly started to run. I had chosen to be among the last ones to start. Why should one get in way of the faster ones when my strategy was to start slow and beat them in the last lap. I found myself walking after the initial few hops. My best estimate puts my first dash distance at around 10 metres. While I adopted my strategy to walk, I saw that the people who were standing among the first ones were running away in the distance. Little did I know that I was not to see them again. I started listening to the LOTR audiobook. I also had Stephen King's The Long Walk at the back of my mind when I began the race. Pretty dire but encouragement finds its way to sneak in.
Even before the 1-km mark was breached, I realized that my right knee was fine but the left one was acting up. Great day to throw up a surprise, left knee!
Around 3-km mark, I realized that I was walking with an 80-something person who walked a bit and then ran a bit and then walked again while I kept walking. He had a certain aura about him. I noticed that his firm resolve was making his bald head shine more than the usual. "And if that was not enough for fame, there was also his prolonged vigour to marvel at," the audiobook narrator said.
Meanwhile, my left ankle had joined my left knee in the conspiracy against my victory. My right leg was up to the task while my left knee was dragged like a leg of a pair of shallow torn trousers. "(the Gaffer) was growing old and stiff in the joints...," the audiobook narrator said.
While I ran in 10-second blasts followed by half an hour long walks, the deeper meaning of the race started to permeate within me. I found myself appreciating bigger comforts like motorbikes, engines, chairs, beds, and everything else that doesn't make one use his legs. I also realized that one is not supposed to take things like this marathon for granted. I realized that the city is extremely dirty where people don't mind piling garbage every few metres. My concentration was taken off the course in deserted areas when some movement in the shrubs caught my eyesight. I wondered if it was due to a wild animal but was relieved to see that it was due to my competitors relieving themselves in the shrubs. I also remember a couple of places where a group of dogs were eagerly flirting with members of the opposite gender. The dogs made me wander from one side of the road to another even as the organizers kept assuring that they won't bite. When I ran through a slum area, I came across people who were brushing their teeth standing along the road and spitting on the road while reading important things on their mobile phones. "The road goes ever on and on...," the audiobook narrator sang.
I could see a popular samosa stall just a few steps away from the route. A few competitors were gorging themselves on samosas. It was not a happy sight. They were not running but were eating a samosa. "Must be the 3-km runners," I mused. Justice? I looked at them but my attempt to get noticed went futile. "Frodo did not offer her tea," the audiobook narrator said.
There were helpful direction boards at junctions. I passed through the busiest part of the city where the organizers stopped the traffic for me to pass. I raised my eyes off the ground to acknowledge the cheers, only to realize that the people at the cross were not really cheering but were cross at being stopped for a lone runner. Somewhere along the road, a couple of policemen on an early morning patrol egged me on to run instead of walking. I acknowledged their encouragement with a couple of hops. "...and Pippin began to lag behind," the audiobook narrator said.
A couple of times, the organizers came up to me in their cars and on their scooters and asked if I needed a lift till the ending point. "We are asking only because you are limping," they said. "I always walk like this," I lied. I likened them to the Ringwraiths. The third time I spotted an organizer, the desire to slip on the ring was extremely strong. "The advice of Gandalf seemed absurd. Bilbo had used the Ring," said the audiobook narrator.
After about 18-km, I realized that I was the only one walking. None of the competitors were to be seen either in front or even behind me. The last few kilometres were uneventful except the junction where there were no directions for the 21.1-km runners. Confused, I stopped and asked the people smoking at the paan shop for directions. The bib made me anxious. Will the chip know if I stop at a paan shop? Those helpful people directed me to the finishing line. "Warning! Warning 2158!", I heard the imaginary soldier from The Long Walk call out and scampered off.
I took a turn and could see the finishing line to be about 500-m from my position. There was hardly anybody there. Had everybody left? Was Frodo about to reach Mordor only to find that Mount Doom itself has vanished? Thankfully, there was a person with a laptop to whom I had to announce my arrival. She unconvincingly scrabbled down my timing with a pencil. That certainly didn't feel like winning (though if there had been a category for runners carrying the most useless things...). There were none of the legendary fireworks of Gandalf. I asked for my finishing medal and was told to walk back a kilometre on the route where I had come from and reach the bib-collection-centre. "Where are those people who offered to bring me to the finishing line while I was runni...walki... limping?" I asked. Presumably, they had left. Just when I was about to resume my journey back, I heard a couple of people who finished the 10-km race after me. Irrespective of their timing, they didn't seem like they'd have journeyed while crawling. "Ask them to go to hell, I am not walking back to the bib-collection-centre," I heard one of them say. They hailed an auto and pulled me in.
At the bib-collection-centre, I reached the 21.1-km, medal collection stall, where I got the medal, a scribble of a signature on my bib and was told that the certificate will be in my inbox. An organizer apologized me for running out of refreshments. "But then you were very late. As there are no refreshments left, I can instead use your phone to click a few complimentary pictures of you with the medal." He clicked three photos and I said that it was enough as I was full.
By evening, my ankle was in tremendous pain. Internet told me that this was to be expected and an ice bath was to be had. Unable to find a vessel large enough to hold me, I took a cold water shower and was blessed with a runny nose, sneezes, and fever to accompany the sore legs by the end of the day. As I collapsed to sleep, I could hear my body begging me to train before the next marathon while the audiobook narrator said, "...and he threw himself upon a bed and fell at once into a dreamless slumber."
When one is a whimsical being, one isn't really sure up to the last moment if the upcoming decision is one for the taking. Three days before the event, I had my eyes narrowed on the event's poorly made website. Since I run only about 7 (a carefully handpicked number) minutes a day before the workout, I relied on the event website to tell me how much distance I shall be running. To my utter astonishment, the age groups for the 3-km, 6-km, 10.5-km runs were 3, 6 and 10.5 years. May be I exaggerate but that's how I felt after I read about the age groups. There was no prize for a 31-year old for being among the top three in any of these races. Hopes were dashed before the actual dash. I was left with 21.1 km. Yes, my decision was based upon the assumption that I would be among the top three finishers.
Before I clicked on the 'route' for the race, I told myself that this is going to be the landscape of my ambitious journey. My eyes were ready for a map complete with small triangles for mountains, thick flows of rivers, and shaded areas for forests. Alas! It was 'the' click of disappointment that led me to 'Page cannot be displayed' error message. Turns out that the route image was just too big for my feeble internet connection speed. I tried to download it and managed to obtain a half-screen image of straight lines with arrows. Nothing exciting.
A day after the last day of registration and a day before the marathon, still undecided, I thought of paying a friendly visit to the kit-collection centre and check if the marathon is really interested in being run by me. It was. The organizer said that all forms are over but a special allotment was in store for me considering how enthused I looked (I was dressed in formals). I got myself registered and got a t-shirt and a bib in return. I was told that I could forget the t-shirt but not the bib because, "As you'd be knowing, the bib contains *dramatic pause* a chip."
With no trainer or training readily available, I invoked the good old internet gods to know about things to do/eat/drink/think/wear on the day before/of/after the marathon. Smart as they are, the internet gods blessed me with advice for things to be done/eaten/drunk/thought/worn years before a marathon. A very helpful website told me to wear extremely light clothes if the temperature is above 70 deg. Fah. I ventured out to buy some light clothes and was taken lightly by every shopkeeper who informed me that the region is experiencing winter. I also bought a sipper water-bottle so that I could save precious seconds on lifting my chin up to drink water.
The race was to be flagged off at 6 AM. Given that I needed 8 hours of sleep the night before the race, I went to bed at midnight and could manage to sleep 2 AM. From midnight to 1:45 AM, I kept thinking about how am I going to perform - I will run slowly but consistently, I will not wave at the crowd much, I will not look at the cameras while running, there's a slight niggle in the right knee but I'll balance myself in a way to make sure that the left one carries me through, and other such strategic thoughts one usually has before his first marathon. Around 1:45 AM, the only thought clouding my mind was that if I don't sleep now, I will not wake up before 10 AM.
As soon as I woke up, I loaded the phone with the Lord of the Rings audiobook. If there was one inspiration that was going to help me conquer the finishing line, this was it. A quick calculation told me that, even with the slowest version of me, I had overloaded the phone with around 40 hours of audio. Not one to be hassled by a slow phone, I had my energy potion (coffee!) and though the internet had told me to pile up carbohydrates in the body, I had no time to eat anything beyond an apple. My prime motive behind hurrying up was to find a decent parking spot close to the registration spot so that I don't end up tiring my legs reaching the starting line. Unrelated - I had to run about 6 times up and down the home to get everything that I had decided to carry.
I reached the registration spot at around 5:30 AM, parked as close to the gate as possible only to find out that the starting line was around a km away. I took my bike key, sipper water-bottle, napkin, phone and earphones. After about half a kilometre, I realized that nobody carried a water-bottle. My pockets were heavy in an awkward sort of a way and energy conservation told me that there was no going back to dump all the precious belongings. The 21.1-km runners were grouped right ahead of all the other runners. I couldn't decide whether this arrangement was to provide the rest of the runners with a feeling of inspiration or that of humour. While I was on the way to reach the group of 21.1-km runners, I asked people how the bib was to be stuck to the t-shirt. My query was answered in the form of plentiful congratulatory wishes. This reminded me of ill-wishers who congratulate you before an exam result knowing fully well that you are not going to pass. Anyway, the bib was to be pinned.
Once I reached my co-runners, I immediately found a place to sit and closed my eyes for I was advised not to indulge in freebies like chocolates, juices or energy bars. I realized a few moments later that the only freebies were the safety pins to attach the bibs. Inedible and, hence, harmless. As the sun rose, I could see people warming up. They were wearing very short shorts. They were hi-five-ing each other for some reason (couldn't possibly for celebrating shorts!).
The moment of 6 AM arrived. Sunlight was taking over darkness. The chirping of birds had the usual irritation that animal sounds carry when humans are around. People were still warming up and hi-five-ing. Around 6:30 AM, everybody suddenly started to run. I had chosen to be among the last ones to start. Why should one get in way of the faster ones when my strategy was to start slow and beat them in the last lap. I found myself walking after the initial few hops. My best estimate puts my first dash distance at around 10 metres. While I adopted my strategy to walk, I saw that the people who were standing among the first ones were running away in the distance. Little did I know that I was not to see them again. I started listening to the LOTR audiobook. I also had Stephen King's The Long Walk at the back of my mind when I began the race. Pretty dire but encouragement finds its way to sneak in.
Even before the 1-km mark was breached, I realized that my right knee was fine but the left one was acting up. Great day to throw up a surprise, left knee!
Around 3-km mark, I realized that I was walking with an 80-something person who walked a bit and then ran a bit and then walked again while I kept walking. He had a certain aura about him. I noticed that his firm resolve was making his bald head shine more than the usual. "And if that was not enough for fame, there was also his prolonged vigour to marvel at," the audiobook narrator said.
Meanwhile, my left ankle had joined my left knee in the conspiracy against my victory. My right leg was up to the task while my left knee was dragged like a leg of a pair of shallow torn trousers. "(the Gaffer) was growing old and stiff in the joints...," the audiobook narrator said.
While I ran in 10-second blasts followed by half an hour long walks, the deeper meaning of the race started to permeate within me. I found myself appreciating bigger comforts like motorbikes, engines, chairs, beds, and everything else that doesn't make one use his legs. I also realized that one is not supposed to take things like this marathon for granted. I realized that the city is extremely dirty where people don't mind piling garbage every few metres. My concentration was taken off the course in deserted areas when some movement in the shrubs caught my eyesight. I wondered if it was due to a wild animal but was relieved to see that it was due to my competitors relieving themselves in the shrubs. I also remember a couple of places where a group of dogs were eagerly flirting with members of the opposite gender. The dogs made me wander from one side of the road to another even as the organizers kept assuring that they won't bite. When I ran through a slum area, I came across people who were brushing their teeth standing along the road and spitting on the road while reading important things on their mobile phones. "The road goes ever on and on...," the audiobook narrator sang.
A couple of times, the organizers came up to me in their cars and on their scooters and asked if I needed a lift till the ending point. "We are asking only because you are limping," they said. "I always walk like this," I lied. I likened them to the Ringwraiths. The third time I spotted an organizer, the desire to slip on the ring was extremely strong. "The advice of Gandalf seemed absurd. Bilbo had used the Ring," said the audiobook narrator.
After about 18-km, I realized that I was the only one walking. None of the competitors were to be seen either in front or even behind me. The last few kilometres were uneventful except the junction where there were no directions for the 21.1-km runners. Confused, I stopped and asked the people smoking at the paan shop for directions. The bib made me anxious. Will the chip know if I stop at a paan shop? Those helpful people directed me to the finishing line. "Warning! Warning 2158!", I heard the imaginary soldier from The Long Walk call out and scampered off.
I took a turn and could see the finishing line to be about 500-m from my position. There was hardly anybody there. Had everybody left? Was Frodo about to reach Mordor only to find that Mount Doom itself has vanished? Thankfully, there was a person with a laptop to whom I had to announce my arrival. She unconvincingly scrabbled down my timing with a pencil. That certainly didn't feel like winning (though if there had been a category for runners carrying the most useless things...). There were none of the legendary fireworks of Gandalf. I asked for my finishing medal and was told to walk back a kilometre on the route where I had come from and reach the bib-collection-centre. "Where are those people who offered to bring me to the finishing line while I was runni...walki... limping?" I asked. Presumably, they had left. Just when I was about to resume my journey back, I heard a couple of people who finished the 10-km race after me. Irrespective of their timing, they didn't seem like they'd have journeyed while crawling. "Ask them to go to hell, I am not walking back to the bib-collection-centre," I heard one of them say. They hailed an auto and pulled me in.
At the bib-collection-centre, I reached the 21.1-km, medal collection stall, where I got the medal, a scribble of a signature on my bib and was told that the certificate will be in my inbox. An organizer apologized me for running out of refreshments. "But then you were very late. As there are no refreshments left, I can instead use your phone to click a few complimentary pictures of you with the medal." He clicked three photos and I said that it was enough as I was full.
By evening, my ankle was in tremendous pain. Internet told me that this was to be expected and an ice bath was to be had. Unable to find a vessel large enough to hold me, I took a cold water shower and was blessed with a runny nose, sneezes, and fever to accompany the sore legs by the end of the day. As I collapsed to sleep, I could hear my body begging me to train before the next marathon while the audiobook narrator said, "...and he threw himself upon a bed and fell at once into a dreamless slumber."
