I was asked several times by several people in the lead up to my first marathon, "Isn't the weather going to be a factor?" or "Doesn't it get really hot in Bombay?". At these times, I would do what any pig headed, resolute idiot would have done which is to say that nah the weather matters only so much and that there's lots of water stations along the route so let's just focus on the distances I'm running now shall we? Little did I know...
But let's start from the top. I think I set some traditions in place (2 years counts as tradition doesn't it?) and accordingly, I went to the Marathon Expo on Saturday morning in Cuffe Parade, picked up my running bib (yes that's what it's called), my time chip (a quite cool time chip too this time) and my goody bag full of stuff I didn't need. After this I went to Pizzeria and had myself a good pasta lunch. Further carb loading happened with the Blahs soon after and I was all set.
I couldn't sleep very well and was quite anxious. Not that I didn't expect to be but it was still distantly troubling. However, I woke up without the alarm at 4:15, caught the train to Churchgate at 5:20 AM, had a friendly conversation with Glin, a British national who was attempting his first half marathon on the journey to Churchgate and found myself lining up to enter Azad Maidan for the start.
And that's when that feeling of tingling anxiety and nervousness and adrenaline pumping started...just jostling with the crowd to get in it hit me finally that here it is. 6 months of sweat and focus and pain and frustration and struggle all culminate now...right now. I hadn't felt like that since turning out for Joseph's or the state team in one of those cracker jack games but what I also felt this time around was a degree of calmness...I began to breathe easier.
The gun went off at 06:45 AM exactly and I made it to the start point a couple of minutes later...my timing chip ensuring a loud beep as I crossed the start point. I immediately slipped into my zone...just like that *snap*. The tunes playing loudly in my ears kept away all the noise and random bollywood numbers being played and a few people shouting...I blocked everything away and settled into a nice rythm almost from the start.
By the Oberoi turn (2 km into the race) I was already sweating profusely. To me that was a complete shock. I normally don't start sweating until the 5 K mark but I didn't dwell on that too much...as scary as it was. I didn't want to go down that path just yet and too damn right I didn't! The weather was simply brilliant and I glided along passing the 5 K mark, then 10 K and then the 15 K mark. I enjoyed passing all the familiar landmarks: Haji Ali, the juice centre, Kemp's Corner and Worli seaface. I ensured I kept drinking water regularly and broached my first gulp of Gatorade from the bottle I was carrying around the 12 K mark.
By the 20 K mark, I had clocked 2 hrs 15 mins which was almost bang on target. I felt a surge of confidence that all the training, all the preparation was paying off right here. That feeling of elation is incredible...really. Magical almost.
Then came Bandra Reclamation and with it the heat and hunger. I began to feel that very familiar creeping dread that if I didn't eat and eat very soon, this marathon would be over before I knew it. Almost bang on I found a family distributing lime juice and another family giving out bananas. Big thank yous and I gulped down both. I got to the turn which is also the 23 K mark with a surge of confidence. A lot of people there egging me on helped and my time chip beeped in agreement.
That's when the heat started to kick in.
I kept myself hydrated, ate biscuits again being handed out by a kind lady, kept drinking glucose but the heat just kept getting worse. However, I still felt in very good nick and saw no reason to slow down. Big mistake....huge mistake. I hit the 30 K mark again bang on target at 3 hrs 20 minutes and I really really believed at that moment that "Damn I am going to finish this marathon in under 4 hr 30". How wrong I was. To put it simply I hit the 32 K mark at about 10: 20 AM. The heat suddenly climbed to unbearable limits, my body couldn't absorb anymore sugar or I couldn't feel the difference, my calves more or less gave up and 42 seemed a world away.
Those last 10 kms took me 1 hr and 35 mins or so. It was by some distance, the most gruelling, difficult and doubt ridden 1 hour and 35 minutes of my entire life. This is what makes marathon running unique. It strips you bare. It brings you face to face with yourself, your character and there you are...it is so easy to stop...walk into the aid station, ask for an ice pack and say that I've had enough. Just say the word...the race volunteers are all over looking out for exactly my kind of runner...they don't want me to die and only want to help. I stop at one aid station to ask for anti-inflammatory spray...my left knee is twice the size of my right. I find this strange...in that dazed moment I can't comprehend what's going on so I just babble...spray please and start walking again. I hear the volunteer sharply shout at me to wait, to rest for 2 minutes and then resume. I continue...hoping they don't run after me. Am I in that bad a shape? This is when you are faced with yourself: there is really nothing at stake...no prize to lose, no promotion to let slip by, no good karma to bank away: it's only you looking at who you are and deciding what to do.
I can't be very articulate about this because that moment or that time stretches for ever or seems to anyway but still cannot be fully expressed. It has to be experienced.
Those 10 K split me open, left me bare and I came out...dragged myself on but I never stopped except to stretch my calves. I knew stopping meant death. There were some runners around me whom I kept company for those last 10. Sometimes I would fall way behind and suddenly they would fall behind me. We were all employing the same pace-change strategy ...the only strategy left to runners who've hit the wall hard. This means you jog, you then slow down almost to a walk, slowly pick up again...till you feel the world crashing in, slow down and start the process all over again, while all the time looking for those red KM markers. All kinds of thoughts went through my head then...images of all the people back in Bangalore who had patiently heard my endless babbling about this very run, all the support from those same people, thoughts of how I would face them when I didn't finish...when I saw the 40 K marker in front oh boy oh boy. That was something...not until then, not until THAT POINT did I feel I could finish. Upon seeing the 40 K marker I knew I was home. That sense of inevitability which I had at the start came flooding back and I was smiling as I slowly, painfully jogged down Marine Drive to take the turn towards Fountain. I knew I was home. That's also when I guess those unknown reserves of strength man finds in himself during times of adversity came to the fore too. I knew that a finish over 5 hours would mean a finish for nothing. I couldn't even then bare to think of telling anyone I ran the marathon in over 5 hours. The energy kicked in...I sprinted the last 500 metres ...how I don't know but damn I did.
I clocked 4 hrs 52 mins 52 seconds by the official chip timing.
The aftermath was another story. I stumbled into the medical tent, got hold of an ice pack and kept staring at my left knee which had become like an egg. Suddenly I saw my ankles too were like that but that's when I also realised I was laughing out loud. I couldn't believe it and I still can't. The feeling is unmatched, like nothing I've ever known. I am privileged to have experienced this and I think I will many times over in my life time.
As I read somewhere earlier...what can I say after this experience? Never again...until the next time!
