A cold, white fog enveloped the track today. Steam was rising from the ochre surface. Dark, quiet, there were two people on the sidelines. From where I saw them, it seemed like they were contemplating the track too. Nearly foreboding.
I began to run, a progressive run for today. It was just me for a few loops. Then I saw the headlights of a scooter. It growled to a stop. The one solitary stadium light was switched on. Must be the guard or the maintenance person, I thought. The lights grew brighter till they reached their capacity.
The grassy infield seemed to acquire an even more ghostly appearance – what could be described as a white shadow across the green grass.
A huddled figure called out my name. It was Ashwini. Bas abhi aaya, he said.
Thank goodness, I thought, peeling off a layer while running, feeling better with the company.
After a few rounds it was Suryansh too and then others who weaved in and out.
I had been upping the pace but with the boys, I pushed it just that much more through the progressions.
Towards the last ten minutes, I pushed hard, harder than I thought I would. I stopped at exactly an hour. I
It was yet dark but the track was dotted with familiar faces, familiar routines.
Writing about Running 