The young boy reached just as I finished the main set of my long run. I was ready to run the last ten kilometres with him.
Within a few minutes, I knew it was possible he was heading for a personal best. And so it came to be.
There was, as often is, spontaneous encouragement from fellow runners and utter strangers, including a delicious shabash cheetah from a runner in the opposite direction.
Sunday long run. The young boy. Nehru Park. The roads of Vinay Marg, Niti Marg, Shanti Path.
The familiar faces of Sunday morning. Shikha. Piyush. The moonwalker.
The sky above this beautiful city on the last day of the year.
Writing about Running 