The long run …

On a cold winter morning, officially the shortest days of the year, when the alarm rings, it takes a Herculean amount of willpower to get out of the bed, step on the cold floor shuffling to find the slippers.

This is then followed by guzzling down a full liter of water and some other concoctions, ACV and electrolytes included. And groping in the dark to find a fresh pair socks that, alas, I had missed to arrange the night before.

The gang gathers up at the so-called “zero point” of the BNP, and half-heartedly everybody is trying to get some stretches and dynamic movements in, while catching-up with some, loud (at that peaceful dark hour of early morning) banter. And then it starts…

One of us takes the lead, and others follow the que…almost on instinct. The body isn’t yet warmed up and is missing the cozy bed…and is ready to complain…by heavy laboured breathing. This soon settles down, but still not many are keen to speak while running, and most of what you hear is the shuffling of their shoes on the half-tarred road of the national park. Some have a small Camelbak, or a fanny pack, that makes some jiggling noise of the keys or coins inside, while my handheld bottle makes sloshing sound with the water inside.

And, that is how, my dear friend, most mornings start for me, and many like me who are gearing up for the upcoming races in and around Mumbai…