The Tata Mumbai Marathon 2018 was my fourth half-marathon in as many years.
Ideally, one should get better at what they are good at.
And last year there was a sizable improvement of over 5 minutes in my finish time at the Hiranandani Thane Half Marathon in Feb (a 02:03, something I'm proud of). Though the coveted sub-2 hour HM dream yet remained elusive.
I knew it wasn't going to be as easy this time.
I should have trained harder.
I know all the mistakes I'm guilty of. And there are a lot of them. All the things I shouldn't have done, I went ahead and did them anyway.
But it hurts. It hurts more than the pain endured during the actual run. It hurts for I know how hard I trained even in the scorching months of March, April and May that followed that fabulous run in Feb, when I was in absolute control. All the hard work just to maintain that solid rhythm, had been lost.
Do I blame it all on the monsoon!
Excuses are so easy.
Why did I let myself gain 3 kilos? Even if I did, I for one surely know how to best get rid of them, after all these years. It's plain math - If you're lighter, you run faster.
More than the weight, this guilt weighed so heavily on my mind that I subjected myself to lighter meals, mostly fruits, even in the last week before the half marathon, so that I don't put on any more. How could I? It's common sense to carb load a week before a race. It's the necessary fuel for your engine, you dufus. What do you expect to run on... Water!
Wait, that's not the end of it. This time I surprised even myself with my cockiness? I skipped dinner the evening before the run.
After all this, here I'm, during the first stretch of the run at Sea Link, overexerting myself to keep ahead of the sub 2 hour bus. And before the half-way mark, I've exhausted all the the fuel in the tank. It's so frustrating to see runners of all age-groups, of all shapes and sizes fly past you. And you're struggling just to stay on two legs with about half the race distance left. It can be soul shattering and spirit dampening. It was to an extent.
Had it not been for the city of Mumbai and its lively crowd that flowed on to the streets on that wintry morning just to cheer the idiots who have nothing better to do on a bloody Sunday morning than to wage a war against their bodies. And the energy they brought along was so infectious. Their faces... lit with enthusiasm. Every time I saw them, something clicked. I knew I had to finish this.
I won't stop. Hell, I won't walk. Yes Mr. Murakami, there's someone on this side of the continent who shares your ideals when it comes to running in a Marathon. No matter, how hard it gets, you keep running. And I aspire to live by this.
Before the race, I had told myself that only experience will help me finish this one with a decent time. Now that I have already messed up my pacing, at 12 km mark, I tell myself, again, only experience will help me complete this one with dignity.
9 more km to go. The imposing Peddar Road up ahead. And the arduous Marine Drive stretch, which feels so amazing on all other days of the year.
At Haji Ali I tell myself that if I conquer Peddar Road, I will go all the way. Somehow, Peddar road doesn't scare me. Not in a half marathon at least. I'm not being boastful. And I hardly train for hills. (My cousin Ritesh Mangla will vouch for that. Who, by the way, motivated me to take on long distance running, and is a regular feature at the Mumbai Marathon some years now. And he bettered his PB by five minutes this time.)
Back to Peddar Road now. I know it is testing. But I love the challenge. Easy for me to say, when competing in a Half. Let me see how I react to it when I encounter it in a full marathon.
I have, by now, run out of fuel, and am moving solely on the bubble of spirit I've wrapped myself into. Which my entire physical being is trying its best to puncture.
It'll burst... Now!
He'll slip... Now!
He'll stop... Now!
Haa... I don't. Take that you bad M***** F*****. I decide not to give up. For me, this annual run is not simply about bettering my previous timings. I have deeper emotional associations with it. No wonder, I'll be over the moon if I record a Personal Best. If not, I'll still be glad to have competed in it and completed it the right way. It is now a synonym for me, not to give up in other pursuits of my life. I know, dude, it's so damn tough... Just hang in there.
Just hang in there.
It will happen.
It has to happen.
There's always a finish line.
Normally, I would cruise on a downward slope. But, today, for the first time, I'm simply unable to. It's like my legs are locked in a set pace. I should be thankful I'm moving at least. Powered by water and electrolytes grabbed from the volunteers and enthusiastic crowd. Giving them my blessings. Obviously I'm going to talk like an oldie, when even senior citizens breeze past me with seeming ease.
I wobble upon Girgaum Chowpatty.
Some water... Please.
ORSL... Thank you.
Cool zone... Hell yeah.
At Marine Drive, I look around. It's such a beautiful morning. Seagulls, thousands of them, flocking by. Live Music. Bhangra tunes ring aloud. I realize most of my run post 10 km mark has been with drooped shoulders, just trying to get over with this. I remind myself, that I'm supposed to be enjoying it, else what's the point! But then, I was simply unable to do anything about it. Maybe the distance to be covered back then, weighed down upon me a bit too much. Now that I was certain I'll do it, I correct my stance. Straighten up. Maintain my rhythm and go about it. I check the time. I can still finish a sub 02:10. At worse 02:15. Still not bad, given all the attempts to spoil the party, all by myself this time.
I had gained confidence. Truck loads of it. My mind was clear. Though I wasn't able to move at a desired pace, I had settled into a beautiful rhythm. All I had to do was maintain it to the very end.
A few hundred yards from the finish line, I saw some runners stopping to take a walk. I felt for them. I instantly yelled out... 'Not now guys... Come on... You can do it.' And just then, a runner with long flowing hair brushes past and declares... 'Run guys run, We are here to run.' I second that with a loud 'Yeah!'
So many turns in the last kilometer. I take the final one, now heading for the majestic CST. Finally, I see the inviting finish line with all its grandeur and the euphoric crowd all around. The shining digital clock atop beckons me and urges me to go for it. From then on, it's a sprint. Everything else is a blur. Like it always is. I attempted to fly to the best of my ability. Aiming for a stylish photograph at the finish, striking my much practiced pose. The serious, in the zone kind.
I did good. I feel great. Endorphins go gangsta on me.
02:09:05
Yaay... A sub 02:10.
Parul Bhabhi greets me at the finish line. What a moment! The joy of seeing family there. Someone was there. That's real happiness.
I think I run because it is my way of re-enforcing the belief that life's challenges can be overcome. It's my way of telling myself - If I can do this, I can do anything. I'm the boy who could hardly run a 100 meters at Kankaria Lake. I'm no longer that boy. I got better at it.
Like they say, ''The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.''
