Mumbai to Kasara – bike away!

I was but a school girl when I first had this dream. Little did I know then, that it would be several years before it would be fulfilled. Of course in the interim, I did nothing to make it come true. I did not chase it, in fact for several years I did not even think of it. I got busy with life – getting an education, a job, getting married and having children. But I guess, there it was, lurking somewhere at the back of my head.

Meeting Sunita was one of the best things that happened in my life. We both have a sense of adventure, we both want to move out of our comfort zones and seek out challenges in life. We share dreams, passions and goals. Things which had been pushed away to the recesses of my mind suddenly seemed possible. The moment I told her that I harboured a dream of cycling from one city to another, she jumped at it. I finally had company! For 2-3 years we tried to work on the logistics – it did not seem feasible for just the 2 of us to hop on our bikes and set
off to another city. In the meantime, I had my 2^nd baby which further delayed the likelihood of intercity biking.

But as they say, when things are meant to be, they do happen. Here I was, just having had a baby - I was not at my fittest best, logistics were nightmarish – Neeraj, my husband was travelling a lot, my maid had quit and I had a 1 yr old baby to manage. But a couple of my colleagues shared our enthusiasm and a plan was hatched.

We set off at about 5.30 am from Kalina, one Saturday morning. The week prior had seen a flurry of activity as we serviced our bikes, bought necessary accessories, organized a support tempo, spare bikes, puncture repair kit, bought water, energy bars, Gatorade, dates and raisins, the works. Our plan was to cycle approximately 120 km to Kasara. It was a straight wide flat road. How mistaken we were! Driving a distance in a car is always deceptive, I have now discovered the hard way. The real topography of any land can be correctly established only if you walk, run or cycle up.

It was dark, there was a nip in the air and spirits were high. As our tyres crunched along the roads, we knew that as the day progressed, it would get tougher and tougher. We had to capitalize on the good weather. We made good time in the morning. After a stop over at Sion to load the tempo, we were at Thane at 7 am and Bhiwandi at 8 am. The magnificent sun was playing peek-a-boo through the buildings. I was feeling so cheerful and upbeat that I was even singing along. Having biked long distances earlier, I knew that the buoyant feeling diminishes as the weary hours pass.

At Kalyan we were met by a surprise visitor who welcomed us to Kalyan in the most humorously filmy way - with garlands! This provided us with a good break and we stopped for some chasing and forced garlanding, a hearty laugh, and some stretching. The day was still going good!

We were ravenous. Sunita my foodie friend had begun her grumblings “When are we gonna have breakfast? Where are we gonna have breakfast?” Vikrant the new entrant to the biking gang told us that Shangrila was the place for breakfast, just 3-4 kms away. We biked and biked and biked, for a suspiciously long time with no signs of Shangrila. I could see the tips of Sunita’s ears turning red and knew Vikrant was in danger for bullshitting. 7 kms of biking and Shangrila arrived, and we arrived angry and hungry! Vikrant’s logic was 3-4 kms away meant 3+4 kms away! Yeah dude, we buy that!

Idlis, dosas, juice disappeared in no time. The guys were raring to go. I had just called them “slow motion” for riding slower than the girls! Nothing can provoke a guy more than teasing his fragile male ego. Vikrant jumped on his bike and raced away before I could say “Mississippi” and I did not see him for most part of the day. He was busy proving that he was stronger, faster and better than the girls, you see. Incidentally, that was something I anyway knew but it was rather amusing to see him out to prove his manhood with such earnestness and vengeance.

We crossed Shahapur after noon. The metaphysical Armageddon within me had begun. “Why was I doing this?” This question always plagues me when my physical strength is sapped. We had been cycling for over 6 hours. There was not a tree in sight and therefore no shade. It just looked like a long endless hot road to nowhere. My right knee, ironically my Achilles heel, had begun throbbing. With every pedal rotation, my knee felt like it would give way in severe pain. So my left leg had begun to work harder to ease the pressure on the right knee. I knew before long, my left leg would give up too.

Raja another biker, was struggling. He had developed severe cramps. The thumb rule in such arduous expeditions is – “Drink water before you are thirsty, eat before you are hungry.” He had ignored the water rule. Once cramps attack, you undergo unimaginable pain. We could see that it was sheer will power that was helping him along. But for how long could he suffer this torture?

Sunita and Puneet had stopped at a little shack for water replenishments. Puneet’s back had begun troubling him. His back, like my knee, was a chink in his armour.  We drank lots of Gatorade and munched on cashews and dates. Puneet was stretching and resting his back. While stationary, I didn’t seem to have any problems. Sunita and I chirped as though we had met one pleasant evening at the park. There’s no stopping 2 girls from chit chatting, even if they had cycled 100 kms in blistering heat. We both decided to set off, as we were dying to get it over with. Kasara was only about 25 kms away! Phew.

The next milestone showed Kasara only 17 kms away. That’s the weird thing with our milestones, they are completely unreliable. You just never know exactly how far you are from your destination. One of the milestones, right at the beginning of our journey showed Nasik at a mere 43 kms!! Another one showed Shahapur at 20 kms and within a couple of kms, Shahapur seemed to have moved further away and was now strangely 25 kms away. It’s quite bizarre. When you are cycling in the scorching sun, hungry and thirsty, with aching muscles, you just want to kick all the milestones and the apathetic people responsible for maintaining them.

We cycled for some time, and out of the blue, there appeared another milestone which stated that Kasara was only 10 kms away. We had certainly not biked 7 kms. So there you have it – another example of the erroneous milestones on Indian highways. Anyway, this time we were ecstatic with the flawed milestone. “Dilli ab door nahi” we said in chorus! It added a new vigor to our adventure. Sunita went ahead with great gusto and seeing her dash off I knew I would now meet her only at the finish line.

The last 10 kms were gruelling, to say the least. The end was so near and yet so far. I just wanted to get there where I knew Raja’s Audi X5 was waiting for me to get us back to Mumbai. Heavy vehicles were speeding past me. And my progress seemed agonizingly slow. The road snaking ahead was a continuous gradient. In fact, the entire stretch out of Mumbai till Kasara is a gradual ascent. It was very daunting to see the uphill road stretch ahead eternally. My lips were running dry and I was starving. Gautam halted for a sip of water and I joined him. Our water stock was nearly over. We had a couple of sips each, saving a little bit for later. I pulled out my energy bar and we both split it and ate it hungrily, realizing that we were famished. Resources were running low and I was at the end of my tether, the only consolation being that Kasara was just about 7 kms away. I set off on the encouraging words, “C’mon just a little to go. The elephant’s through, only the tail is left”. As he said that, Gautam smiled knowingly at me as only a co-biker who has experienced the same pain and agony, can.

The last km was bittersweet. All along the last few kms, Gautam had been fooling me, “beyond this turn is the end”. Several turns came and went, but no end in sight. I had cursed him enough to last him a life time. And suddenly there it was, the end! I turned a bend and unexpectedly reached where I had been aiming to reach since the last 10 hours. It was 3.30 pm and a 120 kms, as I biked down the slope, punching the air with my fists as everyone, including the tempo driver and his assistant, clapped and cheered for me. As I got off the bike and hugged Sunita, I announced loudly, “The next time I make a stupid plan like this, somebody please slap me hard.” As we all laughed in relief, triumph, pride and joy I knew yet again, why I did this to myself over and over again! And yes, I am ready to be slapped cos the next plan is already half way hatched in my mind. But for now it was time to forget everything and celebrate!

Middle Age and all that Jazz

As my birthday approaches each year, my heart fills with trepidation. Why does it have to appear so quickly every year? Not so long ago, birthdays were the most thrilling part of my life. Birthdays meant exciting stuff like gifts, friends, party, cake, the works. But now? The only thing it means is one more year added to that dreaded thing called age! And being subjected to lots of age-related jokes!

I think to myself - so what, if I’m on the wrong side of 30, I still feel young and alive! Yeah, I have a few silver strands. Yeah, when I smile at myself in the mirror I can see hints of crow’s feet . And yeah, I just can’t lose those stubborn kilos, but I say, BIG DEAL!!!

Nevertheless, here’s the truth - no matter how much I behave like an ostrich and rebel against my age, the fact is that I am advancing in years and quite rapidly so. And the more I look around, the more I see the same “I am so damn young and cool” attitude in all my similar-in-age friends. We are all in denial. Being privy to this “compulsion to be juvenile” phenomenon among my contemporaries, I have compiled “Roopa’s list of tell-tale signs of middle-age.” Here goes…

• You never give a straight answer when you are asked a simple question, “How old are you?” Your smart-alecky answer varies from “I am as young as I look” or “Never ask a man his wage and a woman her age” or “Take a guess” and smile mysteriously. Or sexily, depending on who has asked the question.
• You talk a great deal about sex and one’s sexual appetite, stamina, prowess, pursuits and conquests even if most of it is bullshit. TALKING is the key here!
• You tap your pot belly and say, “Ahhh sign of prosperity!” Well, I say, where’s the money, honey? Is your extended waistline the only sign of your prosperity?
• You have the hots for nubile youngsters and believe that they want mature, experienced lovers such as yourself cos you can teach them a thing or two.
• You make comments like “I must have an affair now!”, “I will sleep with the next hot-bod I see”. (Youngsters often do but don’t feel the need to make announcements)
• You wear outrageously short clingy / cleavage-revealing numbers even when your figure is not exactly to-die-for! And teaming it up with uncomfortable stilettos. And what’s with all that make-up! Girl, simple shorts and chappals would have been just fine.
• You discuss hair transplants, Botox, and tummy tucks.
• You keep checking the mirror to see how many silver strands you have, how much your hairline has receded or how wonderfully flat your stomach looks if you hold your breath.
• You may have developed a weakness / craving for sweets / chocolates / desserts. When invited for dinner, the dessert may interest you more than the main course.
• You look at children and say with surprise, “Oh my god how much she / he’s grown!”
• You use strange language like “yo”, “s’up” and “muaaah” which you may have heard teenagers using.
• You have trouble understanding status updates / comments / text messages of teenagers and need to find out what rofl, lmao, np, OMG, lol etc mean.
• Huge hunks double your size address you as “aunty” or “uncle”.
• You are sensitive to age related jokes, information and articles and therefore have been going through this list and making mental ticks and crosses. Then my dear, you most certainly are middle-aged.

But c’mon there’s no need to fret. Everyone’s gonna get there sooner or later. It’s only that you wish to reach it later rather than sooner. In any case, age is after all just a number. So chin up and be like Sophia Loren who at 75 said, “I am still waiting to grow up!”

The longest run of my life

A tale of passion, perspiration, persistence, perseverance and paagalpan

11 pm, 15th Jan, 2011
I just couldn’t sleep. I had, as scheduled, got into bed at 10.15 pm. I was tossing and turning but sleep evaded me. I tried counting sheep but my thoughts would wander by the count of 5. I was petrified – would I be able to finish it? Would I be able to see it through to its triumphant conclusion? Would my leg hold up? I again went through the route in my mind. It’s a funny thing – when I am sitting leisurely and thinking about a run, the visuals are very different from what they are in reality. In my thoughts, I look glamorous when I run, I don’t run - I sprint, sometimes, I even run in slow motion my loose hair flying around. And above all I never give up, I finish strong! But I also know that reality is far from it. Hence the tension!

4 am, 16th Jan, 2011
When the alarm went off at 4 am I jumped out of bed in fright. I could feel my body taut and tense. I got ready hurriedly, while doing a mental check list. Bib pinned on T shirt – check, timing chip on shoes – check, Gatorade bottle for the last stretch – check, Gatorade sachets – check. At 5 am we were off, Sharat, his brother from Pune, Sunita and I. We reached CST in no time, thanks to the empty roads. We stretched in the holding area and before I knew it, it was 6.15 am. Up until now I had only participated in the dream run (once) and half marathon (4 times) where due to the swarming crowds it takes ages to even reach the starting line. This was unusual for me, I was through the starting line at 6.16, only 1 minute after the gun went off!

Runners were sprinting as soon as they started. The weather was perfect, enthusiasm was at its peak and the cheering crowds (hot John Abraham and the pretty Deepika Padukone waving at us) were a huge inducement. I could feel the adrenaline rush to my head and the excitement gush through all my veins. I had begun one of the biggest challenges of my life. Whether I could sustain my stamina for nearly 6 hours was a test my body was going to undergo for the very first time. It was difficult to contain myself, I too wanted to rush in my eagerness. But discipline is an important part of the training – I knew I would be out of breath sooner than planned if I ran fast. So as runners sped past me I kept telling myself that it was okay – after all I was here, not to compete with the 2,800 odd runners participating in the amateur marathon. I was here purely to compete with myself. Sunita and I stuck to our usual pace and strangely today, we were unusually quiet. The anxiety had had a curious effect on us – it had shut us up. All through our training we had joked that one of us should have an affair before the final day so that we would have juicy stories to exchange which would distract our minds and make the run easier. However, right here right now, all thoughts of affairs and other jokes were totally out of our minds. Our entire focus was on seeing this race through. Our aim was non-ambitious and unambiguous – we both wanted to finish the race within 6 hours and do it without any injuries. Simple! There was no heroism here, no bravado, no pretences.


The distraction provided by the loud music, the lavani dancer, the bhangra dancers, the cheerleaders sporadically spread over the route was indeed fun. Anything that takes your mind off the run, even for a few minutes, is an immense relief. People sometimes ask me what I think about when I run. Well, my thoughts speed like traffic on an expressway. “Is my leg paining more than yesterday?.... Hope my cook comes on time….Would Mehaa be up now….Wow, I like that girl’s tank top, I’ll get one for myself if I lose some weight…..why is “leisure” spelt “liesure” in all procam banners and hoardings, what’s wrong with them to not spell-proof it….who was Prerna referring to when she said she had a new boyfriend….would she have slept with him….should I straighten my hair again…..the next time a guy asks me whether I can cook, I’ll make raita out of him…..who is this foreigner guy running beside me….” You get the gist! My thoughts are like a feather whipping around in the wind, sometimes caught in a storm, sometimes rushing along hastily, sometimes scurrying around aimlessly and sometimes enjoying the genial breeze. But never predictable, never structured.


My 10 day old leg injury had begun to play up. And now the body not wanting asymmetry of any sort had developed the exact same pain, at the exact same location on my left leg as well. This was wonderful! Even in the most favourable circumstances running 42 kms is a herculean task and here I was, with both legs paining. Now I couldn’t even limp if I wanted. This was at the 12 km mark, I was at Worli Sea face. Sunita suggested that I should have a pain killer, but the pain was not yet unbearable. I wanted to save the medicine for the last 15-20 kms when I knew I would be approaching my pain threshold. So I pushed along thinking about all that had been made out of my leg injury. Many theories were circulating:

a) I had such a fear of developing an injury that I had psychologically made it happen.
b) I was always cheerful. I had kept my chin up even when I lost my dad a few months ago. My body was reacting to a suppressed sub conscious pain.
c) I was growing old and the body could not keep pace.
d) I was a cribber (totally opposite of theory “b”), and I had cribbed and cribbed and my body gave in.
e) The roads we run on are uneven and running constantly on uneven surfaces causes muscle injuries.

Understandably, I only like theory “e” as the others made me out to be a basket case. And despite the last theory being explained by a physiotherapist, my friends didn’t stop playing Freud. Wanting to leave no stone unturned in my efforts to participate in the marathon, I had visited an orthopaedic 3-4 days before the run. He gave me a clean chit saying that there was no permanent damage, taking a load of my chest. He gave me a prescription and I made up my mind to give the run all I had. After all, a long run has more to do with the mind than the body. If my body packed up beyond the control of my mind, then I would stop when I had to. But I would go down fighting.


I was approaching Shivaji Park and we had maintained our speed of 8kms/hr so far. Our aim was to try and maintain it for as long as we could. My heart was beating faster in anticipation. And then, I saw them - there they were! Mehaa - my daughter, Neeraj - my husband, with our friend Rahul. My face broke into a smile as I ran to them to do hi-fives and for a few seconds I forgot all about my pain and fatigue. Neeraj said, “Don’t stop don’t stop, keep going. You’re doing great.” It was music to my ears. I knew I could go another couple of kms on these words. It’s a wonder what a few words of motivation can do while running.

Somewhere after Shivaji Park we crossed our half mark. I was getting tired but I could not allow my mind to think that. The mind is a peculiar creature. It is always making excuses. A little voice inside me was telling me to stop, to give up, to walk just a few steps, reminding me of my leg injury. And the voice was incessant, applying pressure on my raw nerves, playing up on my weaknesses, it was growing louder and louder and I had to shut it off. Immediately! I changed gears and shifted my thoughts to Bandra Reclamation where my friend Kumar was going to be waiting with fruits, water and definitely, some motivating words. I was not disappointed. Sunita and I reached him, grabbed some bananas, prepared some Gatorade water and we were off while he was still telling us how great we were doing. I so needed that! Eating a banana while running was a new experience for me, and I accomplished it with élan. Sunita decided she wanted to eat peacefully, so she walked while she ate. I had begun to lose her. I knew we were on our own now onwards. Sunita gets recharged and rejuvenated after a walk and so prefers short walks between the run. On the other hand, one of my biggest flaws is that if I give in to that diabolic voice telling me to stop, then resuming running is a formidable proposition.



I was approaching the Bandra-Worli Sea Link when I saw someone jumping and waving in excitement. This could be no one but Swati, my friend. Her husband, Debu, held out an orange and I took it. What was wrong with me, I had just stuffed my face with a banana! But when I see food, I need to eat! Along with them were Mihika, their daughter and Triaaksh, Sunita and Sharat’s son. All had woken up early on a Sunday morning to come and cheer us. What would life be without friends! Swati, the photo freak saw a photo op here and actually dragged me into a picture with her. Her enthusiasm rubbed off on me and before long I was on my way with renewed energy! Little did I know what lay ahead.


Bandra-Worli Sea link! All it takes is 3 minutes to cover it when you zip past it in a car! But while running it showed a different side to me - it was horrific. There was no shade, the shadows were getting shorter and shorter as the sun was rising higher into the sky. And the sea link seemed never ending. The heat was getting to me! It was sweltering and oppressive. I wanted to stop. I wanted to give up. I wanted to be under a cold shower. I wanted a foot massage. I wanted the blisters on my feet to disappear. Right here is when I realized that I had overdone the eating along the way. It made me feel like I was running after a 7 course meal. At that instance, a guy running beside me made the huge mistake of calling me “didi”. Didi? And me? Had he not looked in a mirror for the last 25 yrs? Did he not notice that he was a grown man now? He made me spitting mad and I decided to outrun him – I would show him who the younger person was! I did a good job. I guess I’m good when I’m angry!! In some time he was nowhere to be seen.

After the 35km mark, I had reached breaking point. I had to stop for breath. I knew I could run no longer. I seized the wet sponge being held out by a volunteer and as I squeezed the cold water on my face, head and hot weary back I experienced paradise. I began running again and all of a sudden, up ahead was the intimidating Jaslok gradient. For runners who are familiar with this route, Jaslok incline can be snapping point. I knew walking up would help me conserve some energy. And then I saw him again – the cute foreigner, who I had been seeing every now and then! In Sunita’s absence, I decided to make do with the company closest at hand. Thankfully he spoke English, albeit with a delightful accent. French guy, that’s what he was! Exciting, in different circumstances. But trust my luck, I meet a handsome young French man and what am I doing? Running in the scorching heat on the streets of Mumbai, exhausted and worn-out. ‘Make do with what you have, don’t complain’ is what my mother always said, so obedient that I am, I did just that. We ran some and walked some, chatting all the way but then he fell back too. I was again on my own on Marine Drive, the last lap and probably the most challenging. I was stretched by now. The leg injury was lost in a host of other pains, as Sharat had joked before setting off. Every part of my leg pained. My toe nail throbbed, I think it was coming off. My arms and shoulders were sore but much as I tried I couldn’t run without moving them. God! When would this end?


Sharmila, my friend, was waiting for me at finish line and how I wanted to be with her. I had reached the 40km mark when Vincent, my French friend caught up with me. We decided to run to the finish line all the way, without stopping. As I approached the finish line, it seemed to be moving further and further away from me. As I gave the end all I could, I heard cheering, clapping and Sharmila’s voice shouting excitedly, “Yeah Roopa, way to go. You’ve done it!” I looked around, I was in. I WAS IN! I HAD CROSSED THE FINISH LINE! I looked at the time – 5hrs 40min! Much better than expected. Sharmila reached me and pumped my hand in congratulations and patted me. She was saying something excitedly but I couldn’t make out what. Everything around me was swirling in slow motion. This was surreal. I felt nothing, absolutely nothing. Just relief! Relief that I did not have to run another step, relief that it was over! As she went back to the finish line to wait for Sunita, I walked vacantly to the pavement on the side. I needed to sit, I needed to rest my tired legs. I couldn’t understand the tumult of emotions inside me. As I sat down, it dawned on me that I had achieved what I had set out do. I had accomplished something I had never before thought possible. I had pulled it off. As the tears began to flow, I realized that my emotions were creating mayhem inside me. My tears of joy, pride and relief mixed with sweat and fatigue and in this surge of emotions, it finally sank in that my father was gone forever. The third day after he passed away I was on the roads training, and today the tears flowed relentlessly, and I mourned his loss at last.

This run is dedicated to you, Baba.

Training for the Marathon - the ten-headed Hydra

I was under pressure to name this write up “marathon – the taming of the ten headed hydra”, to make it sound like it was easy, and we were heroes who had conquered all our fears and had emerged triumphant. But hell no, this hydra hasn’t been tamed at all. I am just as nervous about the marathon as I was 5 months ago when the bright idea to register in the 42 km full marathon entered my pretty head (you may have a point of view on the adjective used, but that can be discussed separately!). My good friends Sharat and Sunita conspired to try the full marathon this year and for some reason they were not satisfied with only each others’ company (they are married for god’s sake and they should have been content simply by being together in this hellish plan). But I guess they needed the entertaining company of yours truly. All persuasive skills were put to dramatic use and I, the fool, fell for it hook, line and sinker! Fresh under the influence of their flattering comments (I was relatively fit, exercised regularly, had already participated in the half marathon 4 times, had completed enduro3 with Sunita successfully, it was time for a new challenge in life, I could do it if no one else could etc) I really thought that with training, it would be doable and registered with uncharacteristic haste hitherto unknown to my lazy leonine self.

Once the die was cast it was imperative to start training. The rains nearly behind us, we started training in September. Yes, for an event in January, we started training in September. If I had put in so much time, planning and hard work when I was studying, I’d probably be a rocket scientist now! Sharat took on the role of trainer and we were the guinea pigs. Let me clarify that he’s a doctor and a good one at that, so he could assume the authoritative role without impertinent students (like Sunita and me) challenging his every instruction. He worked out an impressive looking schedule and drew out a diet plan for us which really comprised running crazy distances at odd hours and eating protein, carbohydrates, and similar healthy food which I actively avoid in day to day life. I was not liking this one bit!


stretching before setting out - happy and upbeat






stretching after the run - smiles have gone!





As it turned out, the initial running schedule was moderate and gentle, wherein we ran distances between 4.5 km to 10 km, 4 days a week. We started with enthusiasm and gusto. But within 2-3 weeks, the exhaustion had begun to show. After all, we were working people with kids. This meant we had to complete our run in time to get kids ready for school and then get ready ourselves to go out to eke a living for ourselves. The early mornings (often as early as 4.30 am) were making us irritable and tired. Moreover, running 4 days a week gave us the impression that we were doing little else. As the weeks turned to months, Sharat took the decision to reduce 4 days of running to 3 days, which provided us some respite. And we upped the cross training from 1 day to 2 days to focus on core strengthening (weights, abs, lower back, power yoga, suryanamaskar etc). By now the distances were also increasing, and we realized that the focus of our existence had become “the marathon”. It was so all-consuming that no conversation was complete without a detailed discussion on my training with whoever came my way. Slowly people began avoiding me, or hurriedly excused themselves if I had managed to block their path. I was a woman possessed!

Our diets too had to be adjusted to make them healthier. I increased my fruit and vegetable intake, rice and other carbs as well as began taking a whey protein supplement. Besides (though not being a part of the diet), I coolly tucked into sweets and other calories while justifying to myself that I needed them to ensure that I didn’t collapse while running. And so well had I convinced myself that I was utterly shocked when the weighing machine showed a gain of 2.5 kgs!! Weight gain for a woman is often worse than divorce. And weight gain while training for a marathon was shameful – it was amply clear that I was binging. Immediate damage control was required!


RUN!


RUN!

PHEW!



The one thing I learnt during the training was that it required commitment above everything else. We had to run, run and run despite illnesses, late nights, stress at work, bad weather, anything. By the 15th week the schedule demanded that we cover 32 kms, the highest distance expected before D Day. Sunita and I had figured out a comfortable pace. Once the rhythm is set, one can go on for about 15-20 kms without too much trouble. But what happens after that is deadly. The legs ache, every step is a punishment and everybody makes you angry. Music on the i-pod grates in the ears, traffic and passersby are infuriating, and if someone comes in your way accidently he deserves to go to hell. To amuse ourselves Sunita and I gossiped for most part of our runs. Now I know more about her life than even Sharat! Besides, we also rated male runners who crossed us, on a scale of 10 to entertain ourselves further. But the entertainment worked only for some distance, after that, all one was left with was tired legs pounding on the roads, intolerable fatigue, excruciating pain in the lower limbs and an impatience to finish the agonising run. But what you feel when you have achieved your target is indescribable – the joy and pride of accomplishment is unparalleled.

There were several memorable experiences during our training. High up on the unpleasantness quotient were the episodes with the dogs! Dodging and avoiding routes where we had encountered them earlier was topmost on my agenda. They often jumped at us suddenly their teeth bared, snarling and growling viciously. I have learnt from running and biking on roads that the best way to get rid of the aggressive dogs is to stop dead in your tracks, even if their teeth are but an inch away from your calf. That has the immediate effect of pacifying the aggressive ferals. But it always breaks the running rhythm and wastes time. And of course, it always frightens me. In fact, once an overly friendly dog jumped on Sharat with front paws on his chest and tail wagging as though the dog had found his long-lost love. Thank god it didn’t do that to me, I might have had a cardiac arrest!

What’s more, the awe that we inspired in people when we mentioned that we were aiming for the full marathon was at the same time motivating and funny. Motivating, because showing-off comes easily to me and if people get genuinely impressed, it’s an easy stimulant. I’ll do anything for praise! And it was funny because people thought we were almost demi-gods, and I knew the fallacy of that thought. Moreover, crossing other runners all of who always encouraged us with a thumbs-up gesture and clapping was indeed motivating. We too learnt quickly to do the same thing, and I think Sunita and I clapped loudest when we crossed a well-built bare-bodied male runner near Kemp’s corner who got an immediate undisputed 10 out of 10 on our scale. If we got to see such ice-candy more often, running would be ever-so-easy! Time and again, we would set out really early in the morning when it was dark and the air was cold, fresh and crisp. Busy, noisy Mumbai would be still and quiet, the silence broken only by our shoes crunching the gravel below our feet. Slowly the sun would rise filling the sky with a glorious orange-pink hue and illuminating the city, bringing brightness and cheer into the lives of the millions who reside here – was a sight worth every difficult run.

Setting out before sunrise


Sunrise saw the sky turn to an orange-pink hue









Hydra will rear all her heads high up dangerously in less than 4 days! 16th Jan, a day on the calendar which has etched itself into even my unconscious mind. I’m so obsessed with completing the marathon now that my husband jokes that even in the dead of night he’s ready with a towel and a bottle of Gatorade for me! After every run, my 7 yr old daughter asks me how much distance I have covered and if I say anything lower than 20 kms, the little imp screws up her nose and says, “That’s it?” Even she is catching on to the marathon fever and frenzy. As we draw to a close of our training, it does seem like it’s a step closer to the fulfillment of a goal. However, even as I write, I have a strained muscle on my thigh and there’s a big worry doing the rounds that I may not be able to run at all. I finally understand what sports injuries are! But whoever said running a distance of 42 kms was easy, aches and pains are an integral part of the training as the body gets subjected to severe trauma. Nonetheless, I’m raring to go, with or without the muscle strain. I’ll be back with more!

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!