running

When I first conceived this trip to India, my plan was to explore the burgeoning running scene in India. Today's runners are at the crest of a wave. There will be more runners and more races on India. It's coming. These are the pioneers, and I had to meet them.

Let me admit my conceits at the start. I nurtured a notion that maybe--just a tiny, tiny chance--I could sneak into the winner's circle at the first race, the Panchkula Half Marathon. These Indians just learned how to run, right?

Runners learn — the hard way, naturally — that there is an invisible barrier at the 20-mile mark known as The Wall, the point where you’ve burned off the body’s ready-to-use chemical energy.

You remember the feeling. Your thoughts, once as free and fluid as your running, turn to viscous sludge, like wet concrete. Your legs abruptly submit their resignation. All vital signs, as measured by your sodden brain, point toward system collapse.

The Wall. Bonk.

Last year, when I set an arbitrary goal to train run a sub-19 minute 5 km race, I wondered about beating my old personal record of 18:26 that I set on 15 October 2000. That record wasn't a huge weight on my shoulders, but I hate to see past me being more capable than current me.

Once a week I do hill running. This involves running up a hill, then going back down. Then up the hill and down. This week it was seven times. Next week it's eight.

The fourth hill is harder than the seventh hill, which is weird. Physically it's the same hill (Fort Hill) every time.

Mentally it is a completely different hill every time.