1 hours 20 minutes 16 seconds..
That's how long it took me to cross the final chip timing mat and end up coughing on the ground.
I took my phone out and called her. She couldn't make it to the finish line and was sad. I told her, it's not my first race and not the last. There will be many more finish line, and you'll see me there.
She did make it outside the venue. I went to her and hugged her. Immensely relieved and happy at achieving my Personal Best over a Half Marathon distance, I fell in her arms and then realized that my father was in the backdrop and might see us.
I was sick, suffering from a congested chest and cold. This race was one place I needed to do well, I had done well here the year before and I knew another good performance would just vault me into a new dimension.
The day before the race, she told me : "Accha karna" and held me close to her. The positive energy and the desire to do well, for her, charged me up. All my pre race jitters had gone a toss. She promised me additional bonuses ( positive reinforcement of sorts ) if I landed on the podium.
When I hit the starting line on the morning of Sunday, November the 23rd, I had this positive vibe going through my vains.
0-3 Kilometers : After pushing through the initial rush of people, having read her last message ,I had this wide grin on my face. I was pushing hard, at a pace below 3 minutes 40 seconds as I went from the Start line to the U turn where we met every weekend( near her French classes). "Familiar area", I joked to myself as I ran past. Pushing at the fast pace with my congested chest felt fine. I didn't even seem to notice the kilometers getting gobbled up as I pushed ahead
4-8 Kilometers : The markers kept disappearing, I kept overtaking people, saw the Kenyan bunch fly past me on the opposite side of the road. The chest was holding up and my mind was full of her thoughts. My phone buzzed with her messages and though I didn't stop to check what was in them, I smiled as I thought I was running with her.
A gulp of water at the 6th kilometer stoked my parched throat and my racing heart as I moved ahead.
I saw the India Gate in the distance, and a bunch of photographers. I made my signature S pose, which was not captured. A drying mouth forced me to gulp water at the 7th kilometer mark making me feel a bit slushy.
8-14 Kilometers : The chest heaved and the coughing re-emerged. Coupled with water it felt like liquid would defy gravity and flow right out. I felt a disgusting taste in the back of my mouth.
But, I didn't slow down. My mind remembered the warmth from the day before, my heart willed me on. I was still running fast, with her face vivid in my mind, knowing what awaited me at the finish line.
The U turn at Jantar Mantar was empty this time around. The only noise I heard was her voice in my mind willing me on.
After the turn back, I saw a lot of the public running on the other side, many familiar/unfamiliar faces cheered me. But all I could think of charging down Rajpath was the fact that she was waiting for me at finish line.
14-20 Kilometers : My body was fine, used to the distance abuse. My lungs were breathing easy at the fast pace. My chest, despite the congestion and the vomiting sensation was doing well. All my vitals intact, I saw her on the side of the road ( or did I ?). Every corner I took, I person I saw I hoped to see her.
My glutes were burning from the pace abuse, my chest was heaving, I wanted to finish fast, I wanted to see her.
Instead I saw my coach, 25 odd policemen, a vendor who ran into me, a couple of other runners, hundreds of volunteers but not her.
The 1 kilometer to go sign came on, as I urged myself to run faster and went into wrap speed seeking her smile.
The last 1.097 kilometers : Nothing can describe the smile on my face, the feeling of looking around and seeing her in the crowd. I had planned to blow a kiss to her, make my S and scream "I love you".
Alas, the parking woes slowed her down. She made it to the venue but not the finish line.
I sprinted through the last 200 meters, finishing in 20th place all over the country.
I wore the medal that the volunteer put over me, stopped coughing eventually.
Breathless, I saw her message and called her.
Post the Finish Line :
Outside the venue, I saw her standing waiting for me, looking expectantly. I went to her, took my medal and put it around her neck.
She was the real reason I pushed through, despite the lactic acid, the bacteria in my chest and cold.
Her smile, her hug, her words drove me through.
Collapsing in that warm embrace, I knew that I had made her proud and in doing so won her smile.
That's the biggest prize of them all, isn't it?
That's how long it took me to cross the final chip timing mat and end up coughing on the ground.
I took my phone out and called her. She couldn't make it to the finish line and was sad. I told her, it's not my first race and not the last. There will be many more finish line, and you'll see me there.
She did make it outside the venue. I went to her and hugged her. Immensely relieved and happy at achieving my Personal Best over a Half Marathon distance, I fell in her arms and then realized that my father was in the backdrop and might see us.
I was sick, suffering from a congested chest and cold. This race was one place I needed to do well, I had done well here the year before and I knew another good performance would just vault me into a new dimension.
The day before the race, she told me : "Accha karna" and held me close to her. The positive energy and the desire to do well, for her, charged me up. All my pre race jitters had gone a toss. She promised me additional bonuses ( positive reinforcement of sorts ) if I landed on the podium.
When I hit the starting line on the morning of Sunday, November the 23rd, I had this positive vibe going through my vains.
0-3 Kilometers : After pushing through the initial rush of people, having read her last message ,I had this wide grin on my face. I was pushing hard, at a pace below 3 minutes 40 seconds as I went from the Start line to the U turn where we met every weekend( near her French classes). "Familiar area", I joked to myself as I ran past. Pushing at the fast pace with my congested chest felt fine. I didn't even seem to notice the kilometers getting gobbled up as I pushed ahead
4-8 Kilometers : The markers kept disappearing, I kept overtaking people, saw the Kenyan bunch fly past me on the opposite side of the road. The chest was holding up and my mind was full of her thoughts. My phone buzzed with her messages and though I didn't stop to check what was in them, I smiled as I thought I was running with her.
A gulp of water at the 6th kilometer stoked my parched throat and my racing heart as I moved ahead.
I saw the India Gate in the distance, and a bunch of photographers. I made my signature S pose, which was not captured. A drying mouth forced me to gulp water at the 7th kilometer mark making me feel a bit slushy.
8-14 Kilometers : The chest heaved and the coughing re-emerged. Coupled with water it felt like liquid would defy gravity and flow right out. I felt a disgusting taste in the back of my mouth.
But, I didn't slow down. My mind remembered the warmth from the day before, my heart willed me on. I was still running fast, with her face vivid in my mind, knowing what awaited me at the finish line.
The U turn at Jantar Mantar was empty this time around. The only noise I heard was her voice in my mind willing me on.
After the turn back, I saw a lot of the public running on the other side, many familiar/unfamiliar faces cheered me. But all I could think of charging down Rajpath was the fact that she was waiting for me at finish line.
14-20 Kilometers : My body was fine, used to the distance abuse. My lungs were breathing easy at the fast pace. My chest, despite the congestion and the vomiting sensation was doing well. All my vitals intact, I saw her on the side of the road ( or did I ?). Every corner I took, I person I saw I hoped to see her.
My glutes were burning from the pace abuse, my chest was heaving, I wanted to finish fast, I wanted to see her.
Instead I saw my coach, 25 odd policemen, a vendor who ran into me, a couple of other runners, hundreds of volunteers but not her.
The 1 kilometer to go sign came on, as I urged myself to run faster and went into wrap speed seeking her smile.
The last 1.097 kilometers : Nothing can describe the smile on my face, the feeling of looking around and seeing her in the crowd. I had planned to blow a kiss to her, make my S and scream "I love you".
Alas, the parking woes slowed her down. She made it to the venue but not the finish line.
I sprinted through the last 200 meters, finishing in 20th place all over the country.
I wore the medal that the volunteer put over me, stopped coughing eventually.
Breathless, I saw her message and called her.
Post the Finish Line :
Outside the venue, I saw her standing waiting for me, looking expectantly. I went to her, took my medal and put it around her neck.
She was the real reason I pushed through, despite the lactic acid, the bacteria in my chest and cold.
Her smile, her hug, her words drove me through.
Collapsing in that warm embrace, I knew that I had made her proud and in doing so won her smile.
That's the biggest prize of them all, isn't it?
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