It’s less than 6 hours to my flight to Washington D.C. and 56 till I begin to run my first marathon! I’m psyched and terrified, euphoric and cripplingly anxious all at once. As the clock ticks away these few precious hours, I have to get my act together, pack, print the boarding passes, finalize and sync my marathon playlist, inventory my running supplies and try and catch some much needed shut-eye.
This past month has been such a whirlwind of activity; I’ve barely registered how days dawned and flew by. Increasing demands at work, workshops, imminent exams, mentoring and computer problems have left me with little time and energy to be creative or to blog. I’m beginning to envy and admire those working moms who manage successful careers and a gamut of hobbies and have well-kept homes, happy families and surprisingly well-balanced children! But I digress.
For now, I must focus and tackle my to-do list with vengeance. And I must run a marathon. I promise to take the time to write and fill you in on everything when I return. Wish me luck folks!
“Tick tock on the clock, but the party don’t stop no
Autumn has advanced on us with startling rapidity, drawing the
summer to an abrupt end. The temperatures are cooler and I find myself seeking
out those warm pools of sunlight that I assiduously avoided a few weeks ago. Cotton
has given way to flannel and fleece and the glossy fashion magazines that
flashed swimsuits and sundresses just yesterday, now advertise leggings and
leather boots. And each verdant leaf that
matures to a vibrant red or orange or gold brings with it the message, that
marathon season is finally here.
We are now at the peak of our training and have consistently
run 16-20 miles the last few weekends. Our legs are weary and the muscles are incessantly
fatigued for lack of sufficient recovery time between consecutive long runs. The
dwindling daylight has made it a challenge to be consistent with the weekday mileage
and it’s taking me an unbelievable amount of self-goading to lace up and head
out to the trails alone at dusk when I’d rather be headed home to hot supper
and the loved one. The team has been riding an emotional rollercoaster of
disappointments and personal triumphs. We’ve seen our best runners drop out or
take a hiatus due to injuries and cheered and rejoiced a strong comeback from
others who had to sit out the previous months.
With five more weeks to the MCM marathon I have now begun my
official countdown. We have two more
long runs to go - a 18 miler and a 21 miler over the next two weekends before we
begin to taper down to smaller distances just before the marathon. I am tempted
to run faster, stronger and longer but I know that at this crucial time, my
focus should be on avoiding injuries and conserving my body and strength. I am
excited that very soon I will be able to reclaim my evenings and weekends and
devote more time to the friends and hobbies that have seen so little of me
these past few months. The nervousness too is slowly beginning to take root and
many a night I lie awake in anxiety and disquietude. Some of you have sent me such wonderfully encouraging
and kind emails or messages; I have them carefully conserved in my ‘Folder of
Inspiration’. I reach out to them often
when I am paralyzed with the fear of failure; and as I read them I hear all your
voices reassuring me that true achievement lies in having had the courage
to try. They calm and steady me and I’m certain that even if I had command over
the world’s best lexicon, I would fail to find words deep enough to express the
gratitude I feel for you.
I am also immensely grateful to all my donors who have
generously contributed towards my fundraising and benevolently supported my
goal. Those of you who are yet to do so, I request you once again to join me in
this venture to help send a disadvantaged child in India to school. It takes so little to make a positive
difference in someone’s life and I ask that you donate just a dollar if you believe
in education, charity, running or have simply enjoyed reading this blog.
Finally, every aspiring marathoner has a story, whether they run to compete or
to complete. If you’ve ever wondered why we do what we do and what really drives
us, I encourage you to watch this beautiful documentary called the ‘Spirit of
the marathon’ I have embedded below. It’s long (about an hour and forty-two minutes), but spare an
evening and I promise you that in the end it will leave you inspired and you
may perhaps even shed a tear.
Apologies
my dear readers, for the unannounced quiescence of the past few weeks.
Some exciting developments at work and the insalubrious consuetude of
viewing Lost, the popular television series, till I am goggle-eyed every
evening have seduced me away from the blogosphere. But I return with
exciting news and stories to share of races run and medals won.
I
refer to the annual Cape Ann 25K run – my first running race ever! Set
in scenic Cape Ann, a rocky peninsula that overlooks the Atlantic, this
race is infamous for a route that comprises 16 crazy hills! Runners make
a 16 mile loop around the entire cape, with spectacular views of the
ocean, the ships, sand beaches and grassy moors along the way. This race
is one of America’s oldest and toughest races and is considered ideal
preparation for runners training for a fall marathon.
And
so most of our team found itself in the tiny northeastern town of
Gloucester that hosts this event, on sunny Labor Day morning. The
pre-run excitement and anticipation was palpable as soon as we arrived
and we were greeted with scores of runners scattered everywhere. Some
were warming up and stretching their muscles while others were
stretching the near endless line for the Porta-Johns even further. Yet
others were securing their race numbers, trying their luck with
registering impromptu, eating bananas, inventorying their ‘Gu’ energy
gel packets or showering their young offspring with affection and
assurances of finishing the race soon. As 9 o’clock approached,
everyone gathered at the starting line and distributed themselves by
their approximate running pace. I found myself somewhere down the middle
– too slow a runner to accompany the well-toned, athletic, seasoned
participants at the front and too swift, as I erroneously assumed, for
the seventy year olds at the rear. A short, sharp blast from the horn
and we were off. We herded down amidst deafening cheers and applause
from the spectators that assembled all along our route.
The first six miles flew by. I challenged the six toughest hills of the
race with ease, fueled by the ardor of those running beside me. Tackling
consecutive uphills in rapid succession was a first for me, so imagine
my surprise when I learnt that I had run them at a pace 1.5 minutes
faster than my normal running pace on flat ground!
The celebrations and merriment of the onlookers filled the air with
exuberance and energy. High school cheerleaders did little jigs and
yelled catchy slogans. A group of musicians delivered enduring beats on
bongos and Djembe drums. Gleeful toddlers strained to free restraining
holds and to run amock in the strangle spectacle unfolding before them.
An old couple offered candy and ice to the runners. Someone played the
stereo. Another set up his hose to shower cooling water on the hot and
sweaty runners as they passed by his front yard. Yet others waved and
hoorayed from their kitchen windows. I was amused and delighted by it
all.
Exhaustion
began to creep in slowly after the seventh mile. I had fallen behind my
young, able-bodied companions and was now running among the suburban
moms. I soon discovered that pushing sleepy baby Jen in a stroller at 7
miles per hour, while scooping up Muttley’s morning edition and calling
the husband to remind him that it is his turn to take junior to the
dentist offers training advantages that are almost impossible to compete
with. In addition, hauling five hungry, reluctant kids to and from
piano or soccer lessons every evening provides significant
cross-training. It is with utmost humility that I inform you, dear
readers, that a couple of miles later the supermoms were little specks
upon the horizon. I now enjoyed the company of the elderly, the same
seventy year olds I had conceitedly placed myself before at the start.
Their placid countenance and cheerful “Come on, you can do it miss” pats
on the back kept me going the next few miles. I had slowed down
considerably due to fatigue augmented by shooting pain in the joints
between the hip and thigh. I still had four miles to go and my
motivation to tackle the remaining hills had near dissolved. Each
succeeding mile seemed to get longer and I took extended walk breaks
between brief spurts of running that required every ounce of motivation
and strength. I was thankful for having caught up with P, my friend and
teammate who had braved this 25K race on a serious ITB injuring she had
been nursing for a week. We kept each other going by lively conversation
and by gazing out at the picturesque grassy moors on either side. It
was indeed beautiful, an emerald expanse interspersed with clear,
aquamarine pools of water, that tumbled into the smooth sand and azure
ocean in the far distance.
Mile
fourteen proved to be the hardest. It awakened the dormant disciple in
me and coaxed me into invoking three hundred different Hindu deities to
bless me with their many arms to get through these last miles. I
negotiated, bribed, prayed and pleaded; I praised their benevolent
nature and I promised to please. My forefathers would have been proud.
When it brought only tears, I turned to other religions least their Gods
be more merciful than my own. I loathed every bit of this mile as we
had left the eye-catching scenery behind and were now back in the grotty
part of town. Since most of the runners had already crossed the finish
line by now, the cheering crowds had retired home. We only had rude
drivers and the town traffic for company and had to stop frequently to
give cars and the commuter train a right of way. P pushed me onward
before I had a chance to act on my desire to stop, catch a ride and go
home.
We
turned a bend at mile fifteen barely able to lift our feet and were
greeted by several of our team mates waiting in anticipation. Seeing us
struggle they quickly surrounded us with encouragement that the end was
very near and advised us to take small steps, lift our feet and our
heads high and to finish strong. We had one last steep hill to go. Our
teammates ran beside us and helped us tackle the famous ‘wicked, crooked
hill’ with renewed vigor. A little beyond, we made our final dash to
the finish line together.
The
Cape Ann run was indeed a very valuable experience. It introduced me to
the characteristic pre-race jitters as well as the energetic race day
atmosphere. It taught me the importance of pacing myself conservatively
so as to not wear out half way into a race. A careful analysis of all my
injuries later revealed how an incorrect running posture had caused
restricted rotation of the spine that impacted my strides and manifested
itself as pain in seemingly unrelated regions. I learnt that I spent
too much time on the ground and it is essential that I raise my calves
higher when I run to reduce the constant impact on the arches and knees.
But most of all it brought home the true value of being part of a
strong, close knit team as I am certain that I would have failed this
race miserably without my teammates’ company, motivation and precious
support.
True
to its reputation, it was a tough race. But at the end of the day, we
were thrilled to have conquered those heart-breaking hills with a
hill-breaking heart! Below are some captures from the day.
Our long distance run this past Saturday comprised running on the Minuteman Bikeway for the most part. While this kept us under the cooling shade of the trees and protected us from being out in the scorching sun, it meant miles and miles of monotony with little to entertain us but other runners, bikers and trees. In order to keep myself amused through the 19 mile run, I decided to think of reasons why training for this marathon is a good idea and why running is fun! I precluded the obvious health and charity benefits and only included the ones I personally believe to be true. I’m certain there are several more that I haven’t thought of so I would love for you, my readers, to contribute!
1)You
can give in to gluttony without guilt. My current Sunday diet consists of French toast
with extra maple syrup for breakfast, tandoori chicken for lunch, buttered parathas
for dinner and two helpings of tiramisu for desert. Oh, and I did I mention the
pizza I snack on in between?
2)On
the same note, you can use “So I burnt 3157 calories this morning…..” as a
conversation starter and you would not
be lying.
3)You
can justify wearing sneakers everywhere for you never know when you will find
time to get in a run. Goodbye horrid heels!
4)You
get to make a day trip to the doctor’s office. I would have never guessed that I
would visit internal medicine, pathology, dermatology and physiotherapy all in
one day!
5)It
boosts your self-image. I love how I imagine that my clothes fit a little
better even though the weighing balance stubbornly refuses to concede.
6)It’s
romantic. Ever tried running hand in hand with your significant other on a
rainy summer evening? You’ll feel like a couple of teenagers in love.
7)You
discover the friendlier side of town. In a city where drivers would rather run
you over and bikers are quick to curse, I have seldom passed a fellow runner
who didn’t smile or nod to me.
8)You
learn to put things in perspective. Each time I am whining to myself about the
pain or soreness I feel during a run, I see a wrinkled old grandma or grandpa
slowly making their way around the same loop with a huge grin on their face.
9)You
can reminisce the good ol’ times. Occasionally during the long runs, my iPod
will run out of its contemporary playlists and reach out to an Eagles or Shan
number resting in some forgotten corner. And soon I’m traveling down memory
lane recollecting days spent singing and strumming guitars by the college
canteen or the road trip I took with my parents in high school where I made dad
replay the same love song on the car stereo over and over again!
10)It
teaches you to pause and celebrate yourself in a world where we are constantly
pushing ourselves to achieve better. Sometimes when I drive past one of the
routes for our long distance training runs, I am engulfed in awe - “I ran all
that?”
11)Don’t
we all look for that one cool thing to do before we turn thirty? Well if I push
myself just a little harder, I’ll have run my age in miles.
12)It
helps you truly appreciate the luxury of a warm shower and a soft bed!
13)You
don’t need to spend dollars at a tanning salon or hours on the beach to get a
summer tan. You’ll be naturally well roasted from
the ankles up!
14)The
local Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks will recognize you as their most frequent
customer. For their restroom, that is.
15)It
will make you as efficient as google maps. At least for a radius of 6 miles in
any direction from your door.
16)It’s
the best way to explore your city. Some of the most breathtaking houses,
gardens, stores and city views I’ve seen are located in cul-de-sacs or along
roads I hadn’t noticed while driving by.
17)You
begin to enjoy going uphill. There comes
a moment in every runner’s career when you 'd rather run uphill than run on a flat
surface or go downhill. It’s gentler on the knees and helps develop immense fatigue
tolerance and muscle strength. I’d like to believe that running has taught me
to also appreciate the necessity and value of the metaphorical uphills of life.
18)You
realize that your mind is the strongest instrument you own and that usually it
is the very first to give up. But if you
can will it from doing so, it will astound you with how much it can achieve.
19)It
reminds you to be kind to others. As I struggled
to run up a particularly grueling hill in the rain during one hill training
session, a stranger driving past stopped, stuck out her thumbs and yelled “You’re
awesome!” to me. Her simple gesture gave me all the strength I needed to tackle
that same hill six more times. Next time I see someone who could do with a
little encouragement, I’ll be sure to take a moment to applaud their effort.
My friend Ranjan gave this excellent talk on corporate social responsibility at the AEPP conference in Montreal last year. The purpose of the presentation, as its title suggests, is to encourage industries and corporate organizations to adopt a more socially responsible approach towards policy making and distribution of wealth.
His talk provides a realistic view of the lives of the underprivileged in India as it continues to be one of the fastest growing economies in the world. It highlights the rich-poor divide that plagues the overall development and progress of the nation and underscores the urgent need for quality infrastructure, education and health services to improve the standard of life. Until the time more companies assume this approach and the government initiates schemes that genuinely help the underdog, the lives of these people continue to depend on and benefit from the projects initiated by NGOs like AID and Asha and the sustenance provided by them.
Do check it out! The two parts together are about 15 mins long.
Thank you for taking the time to read my blog and for donating to my cause! The ASHA volunteers who designed the team web page are still in the process of setting up email alerts for the runners to know when they have received a donation. It should be up soon, but in the meantime please drop me a line to let me know when you have made a donation so I can watch out for your gift. Also, don't forget to look for your name on my donor wall of fame located at the tabs on the top!
I hope you will keep coming back to my blog to read about my progress...your wishes and encouragement mean SO much to me! I also encourage you to check out my friend and teammate's blog here. She has admirable grit when it comes to running!
If you asked me to pick one of the hardest days of my life,
yesterday would be it.
It began a Saturday
like any other – our entire AID ASHA team had gathered together at 6:45 am for
our long distance training run. It was to be 17 miles this weekend and we had
an exciting and scenic route - the entire Charles river basin to run. The
weather was perfect and a generous, well-planned water support system had been
ensured to keep us adequately hydrated every three miles of our way. In addition, the previous week had been a
cut-back week where we accrued fewer than usual weekly training miles to give
our legs the much needed time to rest and recuperate from our previous runs. It
seemed perfect and when 7 o’clock rolled around I began with an enthusiasm dampened
only by the drowsiness of being up so early on a weekend morning.
I sensed that something was wrong from the very start. My
legs seemed tired and weary, too fatigued to remember the strength and memory
they had developed over the previous months. My breathing was ragged and the
air I managed to gulp in did little to oxygenate my lungs. I kept going,
knowing that the first mile was always the most trying and if I pushed through
this one, my body would soon relax into its smooth running rhythm and my
breathing and heart rate would slowly stabilize.
Three miles in, I was still gasping for air. I had tried
alternating between sprinting and almost jogging to stimulate my legs into finding
that perfect pace to settle into, one that would decouple the mechanical action
of running from the mental control I was still exerting over my strides. I
yearned for that moment when my body would be on autopilot and my mind would be
free to peregrinate, to explore and to look around.
It did not happen.
By mile 7 I lost sight of all my fellow runners. I was now alone,
running out in the open having left the cooling canopy of trees far behind. I was aching to quit, to leave the 17 miles
for another day, another run. I willed myself to not think about the time, the
pace or the distance and to break it down into simpler goals that I could
achieve. I made rules – the decision to quit or continue could only be made at
one of the water stops, and whatever I chose at that point would overrule any thoughts
I had en route to the next one. If I committed to run, I had to keep going for
the next three miles; if I opted to quit I could not guilt myself into getting
back into the run. I had to choose judiciously at each break and I soon found
myself deferring the decision to surrender until the next water stop.
On the 12th mile, my ITB gave in. A common syndrome amongst runners, the ITB
causes pain and inflammation on the outside of the knee, where the iliotibial
band (a muscle on the outside of the thigh) becomes tendinous and creates friction
by rubbing against the thigh bone as it runs alongside the knee joint. My left knee screamed in resistance but I continued
to run, walk and limp the rest of the way. My team mates who had made an
unscheduled stop had caught up by now and it was their camaraderie that kept my
spirits up.
With 3 more miles to go, I was in for a pleasant surprise.
S, my moral support on all the long runs had developed severe shin splints at
mile 4 and had been forced to abandon the run. He had made his way back to
the start line, rented a kayak and rowed his way down the river till he located
us running along its banks! I felt so
touched and fortunate to have someone, who despite being in excruciating pain himself,
had found a way to support and accompany me across the finish line.
By noon it was over. I had run 17.5 miles.
It was 6:30 pm when the tears finally came. They crept up unannounced
and flowed unabashedly in warm, salty streams. They cried in exhaustion and trepidation,
for how far I had come and how much more I still had to achieve. They wept for
not having the tenacity to go on and for knowing that for the first time, I was
truly ready to give up. I had done my best and given it my all. “Please”, they
pleaded,” no more”. I cried in memory of
Saturdays that were simple, when I could sleep in and read a book or go for a
walk. I wept for the knees that now buckled under me each time I stood up and for
the stiffness that only permitted me to descend a stairway sideways. I let them
flow.
It was only in the quiet sniffles that followed that I saw
the conviction, standing silently but surely behind the defeat. And I knew that
no matter how much I cried then, when the first rays of the sun came up the
next morning, I would grab my keys, put on my sneakers and go through the agony
once again.
