Mumbai Marathon 2010 - the run

It was around 6am. Still 45 minutes from the start of race. The holding ground, where we all had to gather before the start of the run, had a relaxed air to it. For not having to accommodate the entire 11,000 half marathoners (they were starting from Bandra, 21km away and finishing here), it looked empty or over capacitated for the small 3500 (official figure, don’t know how many ran, but will tell you how many finished) full marathon participants. Lit at patches with halogen lights, that sparkled the dew drops golden. The ground, that otherwise holds many cricket pitches, was today aiding a not so Indian sport, running.


I walked about a bit after changing into my gear. The calm in the air helped me a bit too. I was more relaxed than in anticipation, just waiting for the start 40 minutes later. I chatted up with another runner I had met long ago at work, who has run many Marathons and Triathlons. We chatted through the rest of the time. I learnt from him about many adventure runs that happen in India.


We finally headed to the start area amidst all the excitement and cheers. Amongst all the runners who were attempting the same feat as me, I did not feel any special, but a sense of mutual admiration. It does take a lot to get you to reach that point, a marathon start line. While I could not help feeling competitive, I had to respect the effort it took.


Going into this run I had changed, or added two new things. It is said you should not experiment with anything new going into the main run. Almost everything you are going in with should ideally have been experimented with before. Water, clothes, Shoes….everything, should be tested a few times, at least. I can vouch for that now. I was wearing an ankle band to aid the injury I caught last week and I had to carry spare glucose powder in a bottle for the extra kilometres I would run. This bottle would now be additional weight on my otherwise light waist-pouch.


And as the clock hit 45th minute of 6AM on 17th January, I was off, with many other, attempting my longest single running distance ever.
Almost two kilometres into the run, I realised the ankle band helped my ankle but blocked the blood flow to the toe. I took a break and removed the band. Much better. No there was not so much ankle paining. It had cured. Initial part of the run was pleasant as expected, except that for the extra humid day that it was, I was sweating a little too much. I heard talks around about how it was a hot day and how timings would be affected by this. First few kilometres are a crowded affair. You see a lot of enthusiastic runners surging ahead, almost all as determined as the other. It was still far away from the breaking point, when the sun comes up, and distance start accumulating on your legs, attempting to bring you down. In fact I was amused to see how some few ran. There were those with shoes that had very little cushioning. I saw a few who wore the fancy Pumas which men are otherwise seen sporting with a pair of Jeans. I wonder how they managed. But the most fancied sight was that of a boy who I passed by. He had his hands in his pockets! And that is how he chose to run, part of strategy I believe, but incredible nonetheless. By the time I touched the 9Km mark I could sense a certain fatigue, not sure why. The bottle of glucose was flapping a bit too hard and bringing the waist pouch down, I had tightened it earlier….and a few Kms later I realised It blocked the blood to my legs. It was time for next improvisation, and I was happy it stuck me. I took the waist belt and wore it across my shoulder and chest, like a cross bag. Legs started feeling better, but a little damage was done. I checked my time, which was conservative (slow) as planned. I would rather wait for my body to pick up flow than to force it. It works better that way.


We reached the loop around Worli sea-phase. It was a rather boring patch, because loops can kill the fun. A run should not have a route that re-occurs. The sun had come up, and I got my cap on. Once done with that patch and we hit the long road from Worli to Dadar to Bandra reclamation. I felt a strong pain on the back of my knee, persistent, and kind of unbearable. I almost thought it will make me stop. At the next first aid station I got them to put some Relispray around that part . And to my relief it worked (I figured later that it could be the lack of cross-training in my training that had caused that pain). The Sun by now was hard enough for people to choose the side of road that was shaded, and stick to it. The crowds and cheers along the road had reduced. It was the first sense of being on your own, and possibly the beginning of the breaking point. I could see more people walking and the line of runners ahead of me was thin. Somewhere in that patch I had also passed the 21Km mark. The thought of double the distance left had not bothered me so much. I was a little comforted because I could feel energy reserves in me. The leg though had slowed a bit. The heat, it seemed, had finally set in at its worst, but I was wrong. The worst was yet to come.


The third phase as I call it was the point where you exit Mahim and head towards reclamation, and the transition point is Mahim Church. This is the point from where you can give up any hope of finding shade. Wide road and a surging creek, sets up for the beginning of the worst patch of the marathon. The heat was more than a normal Mumbai morning as some had deduced earlier, and no one could sense it better than us. I was prepared for it, but it was overwhelming still. My water arrangement (a bottle with lots of glucose water and a dash of electrolytes) had ensured I don’t dehydrate and cramp. That lack-of-cross-training-pain is what I had to handle. For which I had resolved to spray those pain relievers at every first-aid station. It was also the point from where I began including walks into my runs. I did not like the thought of it, so I decided to walk brisk , which seemed better.


The Bandra Worli Sea Link, part of the same third phase, deserves a separate mention. For it created a lot excitement amongst all the runners. The thought of running through the monumental bridge in the middle of the sea seemed “oh too marvellous”. In all this I forgot the biggest lesson I have learnt while running, which is – when you run, you only run, you don’t notice much, or at all. And it was the same for Sea Link too. In fact it was beyond marvellous, it was torturous, yes! Imagine the heat in the middle of the sea, at around 9.30AM in the morning. We were at the sea link, at that point. It also began a series of few co-runners who would most probably be around you till you finish the race, over taking you when you walk, and going behind you when you run (while they walk). It almost became a way to kill time for me, to mark a runner, catch up with him and try overtaking. And eventually see them running past you. This cycle went on through the entire 4Km “hot” sealink. Two measures of some relief were: one when I noticed a runner wearing his cap sideways to the direction of sun and I immediately did the same, and two when I discovered that the band of shadow that fell on the road from the railings on side were a smart way to keep your feet cool, which I stuck to and suggested a few other runners too, who were probably too tired to think.


And after all of this patch I realised I had still not neared the dreadful 32Km mark. It was still around 27Km. We again hit the Worli Sea-Phase loop, this time made a little shorter, but boring yet. Here I happen to see a familiar face, a guy who had run the Delhi Half marathon too, and had finished around 2 minutes ahead of me. He was ahead here too, by maybe 7-8 minutes. Although in Delhi I had hoped that by the time we are ready for the full marathon I should manage a better time than him. It helps to have some competition, keeps you going. The combination of running and walking was getting to me. Seeing the same people go past and the being left behind seemed awkward too. I knew I had to conserve energy for the last 10km, but I took a slight chance, I ran a bit hard, just to get over that zone of familiar. And I managed to leave behind that group of people. I had hit the Haji Ali road, which seemed as hot as Worli. I realised this is how it will be now. It is not going to change, as hot as hard, till the end. To worsen that, it also introduced the steepest part of the run, the Peddar Road climb. I decided it was best to walk that patch, fast walk, and I did that. And the end of this road I realised I would hit the last stretch of the run, the last 10.


I am not really sure when I crossed 32Kms. I did not realise. Maybe I was too zoned out in effort, fatigue and determination to think. All I know was a group of people were offering Bananas and Oranges. I grabbed them. They were just what I needed, the last dash of energy. It had become difficult to drink water, and wiser to splash it all over you that to drink it. I kept doing that from then on. I looked at the watch once, and figured it was not possible to finish in 4hr 30min range. I wanted to not finish beyond 5hrs though. There was nothing I could do to go faster. At best I could increase the run and reduce the walk. Probably the rest of the distance, I must have walked 35% and ran 65%. The Sun at Marine Drive is known to be so hard that many run their slowest their. I was confused, on whether to run and get over this Sun as soon as I can or just walk because the Sun won’t let me run. Any patch of shade I would walk, and run under the Sun, just to get to the next patch of shade quicker.


I heard, “Almost there, come on”. The last 3Kms were a sense of relief and drag. I knew I was there, but it just did not seem to come. There was nothing I could do other than run. Mind seemed to have left me, or just turned into air, hot air. I don’t remember looking at the watch, or water or wondering how I felt. Eventually I could see the finish line and the end of my sight, though I was not sure if it would end with me crossing it. Or had it already ended? I could not think. The last few meters seemed meaningless. The marathon was not what I was left to run anymore, those few meters. It was what I had left behind. And there it was, at the last 100 meters, right there. What did I feel? I felt nothing. The most beautiful nothing I have ever felt. Of nothing left to do, of nothing more desirable, of nothing that bothered me, of nothing that I cared for. It was just me and my Nothing.

760 runners finished. In 4hrs and 47mins I was the 173rd to cross the line (or 243, little confused with that). I Limped my way back, collected a medal they gave. And I sat with an ice-pack on my legs for the next half hour or so. I guess I had my share of being alone by then. A friend came by, who was waiting eagerly for me to finish, giving me company for the rest of the time. I finally headed home, answering inane questions of the old cabbie, about marathon. He instantly recognised the locality where I stayed. It seems there was a lot of knife point theft that happed around my neighbourhood then, when he came last. I asked him when the last time was. 1985, he promptly replied. Guess he has had his own marathon in this City …..guess we all do.