Living at Prabhadevi meant I haven’t used the Bandra Worli Sea Link (BWSL)
all that much. It was when I reached the Worli end of the BWSL that it hit me
that the BWSL a bit of a slope. It sapped my energy as I made my way to the 15
km mark. I was about to lapse into a walk, while peering into the distance for
the next water station. It’s a funny thing but while distance running, if you
are not amongst the fastest you find yourself looking at the back of peoples’
heads. Who’d have thought, right? Well its coming on to 11 years now since we
got done with school but I recognised my classmate Karan when he went past me.
This was the second occasion where I was motivated to keep going. I kept pace
with Karan till the 16-17 km mark and then told him to go on ahead. It was nice
catching up with a school friend out of the blue in that manner.
Off the BWSL and it was coming up to the 21 km mark. Halfway through the 42
kms and I was 2 hours 50 min into my effort. At this stage I was slowing down
and I knew it but I was still hoping to finish within 6 hours. One of the
fantastic features of the Mumbai marathon is how people come out on to the
streets to egg on participants. And one can’t help but feel motivated by their
cheers of encouragement. On numerous occasions I would find my pace picking up
with all the cheers of the people. Numerous urchins were delighted when you
high-fived their outstretched hands as you ran by. As I went past Hinduja
hospital thinking, ‘Its a good thing I don’t need to go here…yet’, I spotted the
architect that had helped do up the interiors of my current home.
My brother, dad, wife and mom were probably finishing their half marathons
by this time. My brother certainly had already done so. He had an amazing rank
of 161 for his category (for which he was actually underage – you need to be 18
or above to register for half and full marathons). Fate can be so whimsical. The
route of the marathon is such that I would literally be going past the apartment
building where I live. From Hinduja to Prabhadevi, I couldn’t help but wonder
should I just duck into the building and go back home content knowing I had done
25ish km. Perish the thought, I hadn’t come this far to give up with only 17 km
to go.
My 50+ years old dad had by now completed his half marathon in a very
credible 3 hours and my wife was not far behind, finishing in under 3.5 hours,
without any practice whatsoever.
Initially I had rationed the amount of fluids that I was drinking to ensure
that I don’t start having stomach cramps and to make sure I don’t need to look
for a porta-potty. However, by now I was grabbing not one but two bottles of
water or electrolyte fluids at every water station, drinking one greedily and
rationing the other till the next water station. This was because my hamstring
and calf muscles had begun cramping by now and it was an effort to move at a
pace more than a walk. I must mention thanks to the medical aid stations and the
Mumbaikars that stood at the ready with reli-spray and its variants to help
cramping runners like me.
Getting on to Worli, you have to get back on to the Worli Sea Face and
cruelly enough the route makes you go from midway to the opposite end (away from
the direction of the finish) and then you have to double back and go all the way
to the Mela end of Worli Sea Face. I hello’ed one of my dad’s doctor friends who
was a km or two ahead of me at this stage of the full marathon. I quickly took a
few seconds to text my wife that I still had a good 10-11 km to go and it was
likely that it could take me upto two hours to make it to the finish line.
By this time my 50+ mum too had finished her half marathon. It was
fantastic that my wife and mum had both completed the half marathon and that too
in really good times. It was their first attempt. My mum thought she was going
to be doing the Dream Run till 2 days before the Mumbai marathon. Even the day
before the marathon my wife and mum were of the opinion that they would just
enjoy the experience of crossing the BWSL and then hail a cab home for the
distance from Worli to Prabhdevi. But their determination on the day put paid to
that thought.
The sun was beating down fiercely ever since I had crossed the 10 km mark
and in hindsight I was glad that I had taken the cap with me after all. More
cramps and thankfully relispray by the time I crossed under the flyover at Love
Grove junction. Haji Ali was a particularly lonely stretch, not a place where
you have too many folks out and about to cheer. Got through it somehow only to
be greeted by the welcoming slope of Peddar Road as you go by the Cadbury
office. Generous residents were still by the road at the ready with sweets,
wedges of lime, relispray, glucose biscuits and what-have-you.
Just as you think you have gotten through the torture of Peddar Road, there
is the Kemps Corner flyover to navigate. Carrying some momentum from the
downward slope of Peddar Road helped, Past Hughes Road and Babulnath, you make
your way on to the famed Queen’s Necklace. At this stage you are well over 34-35
kms into your full marathon and strange things seem to be happening. The
distance markers seem to be further and further apart. The fatigue of your body
makes you look for every possible assistance like making sure you take the
curves at the shortest point ie at the inner side, even if it means it is the
sun-bathed section of the road. The brief interlude of shade under a bridge
seems wonderful.
At the Chowpatty section just after Bachelor’s, I was pleased to be sprayed
some cooling water on my face by a kindred soul. Others offered up glucose and
relispray under the flyover leading from Princess street to Marine Drive.
Reaching the 40 km mark was a feeling of achievement and gave an adrenaline
rush, knowing you’ve made it 95% of the way through a full marathon and only
2195m to go.
The traffic which had been blocked along the marathon route was let open 6
hours after the 540 flag off of the amateur full marathoners. It was heartening
to see I wasn’t the only one doggedly trying to make it to the finish line.
Another quick text to my wife that I was a km away from the finish line. The
cramps and pain had now become a dull throb and had been pished to the back of
my mind. Last 500 m to go and there was some new found energy, last 200 m to go
and there was some energy from somewhere to actually break into as much of a run
as I could after covering 42 kms in the last 6+ hours.
The feeling of finish line coming in to view, seeing my wife and brother
beyond the finishing line cheering me on, getting to within metres of the
finishing line, with one last burst of energy raising my hands like the
outstretched wings of a bird, as I crossed the finish line. 42.195 kms were done
at last in 6 hrs 23 min and 8 seconds. Hugging my wife and brother as we made
our way firstly and most importantly to collect my full marathon finisher’s
medal. I did not stop the person at the counter from putting the medal over my
head. Finishing euphoria notwithstanding, I may not have had the strength to put
the medal on myself. Jokes apart,
I was not even cribbing that they did not have any more finisher’s bags for
the full marathon. But seriously jokes apart, medal proudly on, made our way to
the Standard Chartered marquee and beaming smile in place joined my parents.
Some might say the ordeal was over, but for me the journey had just begun.
A journey to participate in more marathons after attempting and completing my
first full marathon and a journey literally to get to the airport and back to
Dubai for my project the same day.
As I was saying in my earlier post, people (family, friends and colleagues
included) thought I was crazy to be flying down to Mumbai for the weekend with
the sole purpose of participating in a full marathon and then flying back to
Dubai barely hours after the marathon.
Got home, completed packing my bag, the aches in my legs which had been
fended off thus far by the euphoria of completion fought their way in to
consciousness, tried to take a brief nap, took a cab to the airport (did not
have the heart to have my dad drive me to the airport after a half marathon),
checked-in and all that jazz and asked for an ice-pack as soon as the flight was
at cruising altitude. After landing in Dubai, waddled my way through immigration
and customs (this was the first time it was difficult to walk), took a cab and
politely asked the cabbie whether he minded if I would stretch my legs out on
the backseat. Some other colleagues on the project were checking in at the hotel
when I got there and I managed to kid around with them as I checked-in and made
my way to the room. Then gave in to a feverish shivering and took some
painkillers (read combiflam) and beckoned sweet sleep.
The rest as they (don’t ask me who they refers to, but I would presume it
to be the afore-mentioned ‘people who thought I was crazy’, the readers of this
blog post, and those that come up with these phrases) is history. After all, the
Dubai marathon was only 10 days later, that was something to consider…
Determination does ‘crazy’ things to people…or rather for
people…
