Enduro3 - 150km of gruelling experience

It was important for me to look pretty and feminine after the rigours and hardship of the last 2 days! I put on my make-up, wore my heeled shoes, sprayed myself with perfume and there I was at the prize distribution function to collect my certificate. Never had I felt as fulfilled, proud and triumphant as I did that evening as I clutched my certificate in my hand. My god, did it feel good!

Enduro3 started with lots of excitement and hardly any idea of what exactly we were getting into! Umesh, Sunita and I called ourselves “The Tornadoes”. Sunita and I had run the half marathon, we also cycled around Mumbai, we’d done a couple of treks and we thought we were prepared. Umesh, the more experienced of the lot (this was his 3rd yr at Enduro3), was our 3rd teammate.

The week before the event went in preparations, getting our cycles fixed with torches and carriers, getting appropriate clothing, haversacks, making lists of what we’d eat when, putting together a first aid kit etc. It was so thrilling – it seemed like we were off on our own little adventure. D-Day arrived bright and fresh, we reached the starting venue well on time. Nearly 3 hours later, at 9 am, we were ready to take off. We’d just been given our ponchos, ID cards and most importantly the map. The route looked long but we were The Tornadoes after all, super confident and bloody optimistic! The start was very dramatic, we took off on our bikes over the ramp in the midst of beating drums and nagadas. Very very motivating, but the memory of it lasted only for a few minutes.

For some reason, I was under the impression that riding up a gradient was the only difficult part of cycling. 12th February taught me how difficult cycling down a slope was. It is so easy to give in to the temptation of hurrying downwards, one can actually hurtle down dangerously. Sunita had had a bad fall already right in the beginning when another female participant lost control over her bike on the NDA slope. She went flying into Sunita who in turn went flying right in front of my eyes as I shouted an expletive in a thunderous voice. I was afraid my enduro dream was about to be aborted less than 30 minutes of it starting. But Sunita is a tough girl, I soon realized.

Nobody had ever told me that hatred is a great spur. We got ahead by simply cussing at everyone and everything. I always knew enduro would be difficult, I had tried to imagine how my body would feel when pushed to limits unknown till then, but nothing in the world had prepared me for how impossibly difficult it really is. Cycling over 3 ghats with aching muscles, body screaming for rest, eyes longing to shut down, throats parched and the brain completely disoriented, it was cruel! As we climbed up the Sinhagadh gradient at the hottest time of the day, I thought this was the toughest patch. We just plonked ourselves by the side of the road and ate our lunch with trucks and motorbikes spewing their exhaust into our food and faces as they struggled to change gears as they moved uphill.

Once we had crossed Sinhagadh we cycled on for what seemed like ages till we finally bumped into a really cute marshall. “How much further to the end?” our most favourite question of the day. He gave the cutest smile, “15-20 kms!” Wow, that’s it! The end was near. We jumped on our bikes with renewed vigour (cute guys can be very motivating) and began pedalling. Met another marshall very close to what we thought would be the end, “15-20 kms”, he said. Hello, what’s going on? Still another 15-20kms?? Anyway, we had no other option so cycled on, we did. Another ghat! I wanted to throw my bike, kick it and jump on it till there was no trace left of it! My enthusiasm was withering, my energy was dwindling, my temper was rising. “Sunita, remind me why I am doing this to myself?” I asked for the nth time. “Your turn to tell me,” she said wittily.

I love singing when I ride my bike, but there was no song on my lips, no music in my ears, no tune in my heart, just a deep burning desire to rest my tired limbs. Umesh looked at the brighter side, “what goes up, must come down. There’ll be a slope soon and we’ll make up time there.” “Ok, if you say so,” I thought. It really didn’t excite to me. So down we went and then cycled some more and then a lot more. Time Control! “Another 40kms!” they said encouragingly. “Can’t be,” every muscle in my body was shouting. “Try and reach the next TC before dark,” said the cheerful female marshall. “You gotta be kidding me, its already dusk. 40 kms before it gets dark? Did we look like we had superhuman powers!”

In no time it was dark, pitch dark. Not a soul on the narrow roads, not a light! Just the star-studded sky above our heads. We ploughed on with just our head torch lights for company. It was my turn to fall! On a kachcha rasta, even one stone is enough to topple you from your bike and here we were, manoeuvering in the dark night. I don’t know how it happened, but I suddenly found myself on the road, falling in slow motion! Creating a big racket as I fell. On another day, it would have been hilarious. Poor Umesh and Sunita, they only heard the fall, they couldn’t see a thing. I quickly reassured them that I was not hurt but I couldn’t get up and needed a hand as my bicycle with the haversack and sleeping bag were on top of me and I was flat out! After my fall, we were petrified of continuing, the darkness added to our woes. We were too worried that a serious injury here in the middle of nowhere would be too dangerous. Hence we decided to walk down the slope. So here we were, walking up the gradients and now walking down the slopes too. So much for our cycling trip!! Suddenly we heard a wail far away, a female cry of pain. Somebody had fallen and was hurt! Thank god it wasn’t any of us. We just carried on!

“Aho kuthe jatay, jungle aahe 7-8 km, ithech mukkaam kara ratri,” shouted a villager (Hello, where are you going. There’s a jungle for the next 7-8 kms. Stay here tonight). Suspicious me! Was there really a jungle ahead or was this a conspiracy – get them to stay the night, kill the guy and rape the girls!!! My mind was wandering. We couldn’t see him nor how many of them they were. I was petrified, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Wild animals or rapists, which was better? Umesh just continued cycling, so we just hurried behind him! It was so dark that we couldn’t even see the jungle. Even if a lion had appeared before me, I wouldn’t have seen it unless he shrunk himself to the size of the torch light which fell in a little circle in front of my wheel.

Next TC, we just threw our cycles on the side of the road and lay down right there. Was there a ditch, was there dung, were there thorns, did we care! Even if I had been run over at that time, I don’t think I would have noticed. My back had begun to hurt terribly by now. We lay like that for perhaps half an hour – tired, still and spent. Another group of cyclists was doing the same thing. It was chilly. And the sky looked beautiful. But right now the beauty of the sky evaded us. Eyes were burning, they needed to shut, but I had to deny myself that. It was important to stay awake, we still had another 20-25kms to go. We ate a little, drank some water. All our plans of preparing electral water at regular intervals had gone down the drain. So also the sunscreen and sanitizer! We were not up to anything, we had only one goal - reaching our destination.

“Once we reach Panshet Boating Club, I’m going to sleep. Get up in the morning and go home. I’ve had enough!” mumbled Sunita menacingly. Umesh and I just ignored her. Like hell, I too wanted the same thing. The only thing keeping me going was, “If I’ve been through hell to get here I might as well complete it.” And like all miserable things come to an end, so did our cycling leg. It was 1.40 am and we had been cycling for over 15 hours! We parked our bikes, ate (we were famished), pulled out our sleeping bags, put an alarm for an hour later and surrendered ourselves to the night.

It was 4am. We’d slept for an hour. My left leg felt a little better, so did my back. And Sunita hadn’t mentioned anything about going home. Phew! May be we could make it after all. Now was the trek! We put everything on our backs, including our helmets and set off. 16 kms to the first TC, “2 hours,” we calculated. Not a soul on the way, not a sound! Just our torch lights throwing those familiar circles in front of our feet. And then we saw them, the other team. “Which team?” another question we’d been asking all and sundry. “Corporate,” they sang in perfect unison. They certainly had had practice with the answer. “Amateur,” we too cried out together in no less sync. “Amateur teams have just been flagged off,” they offered helpfully, “you are probably the first to set off!” What???? We and first? Could this really be true? Is it possible that we are so good that we’re really first?? We actually believed it. In retrospect, it seems very funny, were we so fatigued that we couldn’t sift through facts? Come on, by no stretch of imagination were we good enough to be first. But then when the mind is weary, and the brain is tired, strange things are known to happen! At that moment, we actually did believe that we were too good! And that belief gave us some more motivation. The next couple of hours were relatively easier. We were so joyous and proud that we didn’t stop to even think about the ridiculousness and the presumptuousness of the thought.

When we finally reached TC, nearly 4 hours later (16 kms, my foot!), we quickly learnt that we were nowhere near the top in our category, we were 14th! Were we disappointed? Not really! We were just too exhausted. Again, the only real feeling was of extreme tiredness, the same feeling from the night before. It was back and with a loud, booming, deafening, excruciating feeling.

We were directed into a narrow footpath to get to the hill. The real trek had begun. By now, my left leg, my right knee and my back were all rebelling. I had popped yet another pain killer. No relief yet. We started our climb upward. The sun was out and it was burning us with a vengeance. We reached the 2 marshalls under the lone tree right on top of the hill after a very difficult climb. We had nearly lost our way, I had had to stop to stretch my legs (they were slowly giving way and I was seriously worried that I would not be able to continue). Every step had been agonizing. Another pain killer! Sunita had helped me stretch in a little clearing we found. “8 kms more,” they said happily. By now I was convinced that they were sadists! And they certainly didn’t seem cute any longer. They got joy in torturing us! They were mean and cruel! They were uncaring and malicious people! This spurred me on. I cursed everyone under my breath. Sunita caught on and together we cursed the world and its despicable people.

“Mere panje dukh rahe hain,” Sunita said seriously. “What’s panje?”, my slow brain hadn’t a clue which part of the body that was. “feet ki ungliyan,” she said condescendingly. “Toes, you mean?” I asked helpfully. “May be,” she said. Were we really intelligent people? Pause. Silence. Then she said, “My fingers are paining.” Oh god. Even her hands were hurting. The pain killers I had taken had given me some relief. So I could focus on others. “Why are your fingers paining?” I asked clenching and unclenching my fingers towards her. She clucked, “Not hands ke fingers, legs ke.” She had lost it! “Sunita, ussi ko toes kehte hain!” I said exasperatedly. “Achcha? Ok then mere toes dukh rahe hain.” I know, you told me, my brain said furiously. I didn’t say it aloud, else we would probably have been at each others’ throats like MTV Roadies or Big Boss participants.

We had run out of water. Umesh the solid one had begun to get cramps in his stomach, he needed water. I had less than half a bottle and we hadn’t even reached our final PC. If the marshalls had told us 8 kms, it actually probably meant 12-15kms. Anyway, we needed water, we had a long way to the finish line. We were on top of a barren brown desolate hill. We were trudging. I could feel each blink becoming a wee bit longer than the earlier one. I needed sleep. Sunita was limping. I had finally figured out that she had blisters on her toes. We were walking on the edge of hills, no shade, not a tree, no human beings in sight, just the 3 of us and the hot sun. One wrong step and we would plunge down the hill. I didn’t want to die doing something I wasn’t enjoying. I wanted to die doing something I loved, while I was laughing. By now we were delirious and hallucinating. Our conversations were more unintelligent than 3 yr olds. In the midst of it all I realized that I didn’t want the vacation in Machu Picchu, I didn’t want the new car, I didn’t want John Abraham. I wanted to be home on my own bed! That’s all, nothing more.

And there he was, the last PC. I yelled, “I’ve never been so happy seeing another man. I could kiss you, you know.” I assure you he blushed! The only reason why I didn’t run into his arms was that I was too tired to walk, leave alone run. Sunita and Umesh sank down to rest. “I’m carrying on,” I continued. I had only one wish right now – for the torture to end! They too got up. We were on the last lap of enduro. We wanted water. My tired brain could think no more – my waist pouch was full of toffees, for precisely this purpose, to keep the mouth from drying up in case we ran out of water. I totally forgot about them. Ironically I came back to Mumbai with all of them intact! We walked on and on – was this nightmare ever going to end? A house – WATER! The kind woman gave us water and we drank and drank and drank! Never has anything tasted better. Damn to vodka! “1 km away,” she said. I nearly kissed her too. Never has a km seemed like a lifetime! We asked a passer-by, “how much further?” “Round the bend,” he said. “Thank you so much,” I sang out brightly. “Hehe,” giggled Sunita, “you’re thanking him as though he’s moved it closer for you!” One bend, 2 bends, 3 bends, end nowhere in sight.

And suddenly, there it was – Panshet Boating Club! We trudged into the club with heavy feet. But with smiles on our faces. As they marked us in and congratulated us on completing enduro, I put tired arms around Sunita. And we hugged tight. We did it! We had completed it! We came through 2 of the most difficult days of my life jubilant and triumphant. The body was weary, but the soul was rejoicing. There were tears in our eyes, our hearts were singing. If I could I would have jumped high with joy. My heart was doing somersaults but my body couldn’t join in, it was just a passive spectator. Every pore of my being was screaming. I needed rest. I needed to put my feet up, pat myself on my back, shut my weary eyes and simply relax. That’s what I was going to do. Just rest. Just vegetate and allow myself to be pampered and praised. I had worked for it. I deserved it!

And hell no, I’m not going to do this again, ever again! Promise!

And did I mention, I’m very bad at keeping promises!