I woke up late this Sunday morning. Because of that, the young boy came with me, instead of joining in later.
It had been raining much of the morning. A light misty feeling permeated the Nehru Park area.
When we started, it was nearly 730 in the morning. I couldn’t even find parking and found a spot in one of the side lanes.
Nearly throughout the time that he ran, he made up a story about civilisations and ancient writing, about dragons and 70000 BC, about paranormal events and magical swords. The time and distance ticked by. When we parted, I still had a ways to go and the humid weather clung to my skin.
Half hour later, Ravi, one of the fastest runners at Nehru Park joined me for his cool down. He had a few kilometres but I convinced him to do a couple of rounds instead. He complained about his shitty job and the terrible workplace environment. About his dreams as a runner and an opportunity to become a running coach. But he was an engineer – what was he supposed to do. Follow your dreams, I insisted many times in our run.
When we parted, we both knew each other slightly better. He remarked that the weather was beautiful.
I wasn’t sure about the weather but the way he said it made me feel immediately optimistic about the last leg of today’s long run.
By now, it was so late in the morning, I had the roads to myself that final twenty minutes.
It was a beautiful morning.
Writing about Running 