When I was driving to the track, as coincidences would have it, it was raining lightly, a beautiful pitter patter, and November Rain by Guns ‘n’ Roses was playing on the stereo. Everything about this track takes me back to another time, another century.
But soon after, it was time to switch gears from rock to metal and all roads in metal universe lead to Metallica.
As Moth into Flame was finishing, I pulled up to the stadium, growling, head banging and ready for some track.
Still buoyant by riffs and drumming, I began the warm up. It was cool, misty drizzle and wind blew down the home hundred. Eventually Coach Ravi and Monu showed up. Strides, warm up drills and a few exercises later saw Monu and I lining up for the session ahead.
It seemed easier, on paper, than actuality. This rarely happens. Usually the session looks terribly daunting on paper and is crazy enough in person too.
Whether it was the metal frame of mind or a general optimism, I started the varied repetitions with aggressive intent. It paid. I was faster than the prescribed paces. I pushed myself to a red line that suctioned energy, blew up lactic acid and had me panting and grovelling.
Though Monu was faster than me in most repetitions, I could see that because I pushed the pace, he pushed his own and it had us both winded.
Because of the light rain, the track was near empty, save for a few stubborn folks. Only when it finished, I saw the track was quiet, although washed and gleaming, ready for the Diwali weekend.
It was time for some Metallica again. This time One.
Writing about Running 