500s

Amongst the first thoughts I had when I woke was that I had eaten too much at last night’s dinner. 

It will slow down my intervals, I thought. Or would it add energy, I mused. 

From coffee to car, it took me about forty minutes and the strains of Africa came through. Great song. 

It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.

For reasons unknown, I thought about routine, mortality, all the while calculating – estimating really – the target pace and time for each repetition. 

Not so hard. I told myself. But hard is on me. Upto me. 

The track had emerged from the water covered in a sliver of dust and fetid odour. The lines were barely visible, as if faded scars on parchment. 

Suryavanch came bounding towards me with usual enthusiasm. Aaj kya hai bhaiya. 

We started off – four of us – at times five. Dawn had begun to reveal clouds – cumulonimbus clouds – I had to check the name. Columns of angry grey and beautiful charcoal shading. 

Five hundred felt unusual. I was used to (if the words ‘used to’ can be said for intervals) used to 400s, 800s, miles. Drenched in sweat thanks to the intense humidity and though I had carried an extra t shirt, I didn’t bother to change when I sat in the car.

Africa took up again. 

Gonna take some time to do the things we never had.