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Again, it was an easy run on the treadmill. I listened to Bach, Beethoven. A short piano piece by Jean Roger-Ducasse made a few minutes go by. Suddenly, the Sunday run loomed up – the big disappointment – the shock that I couldn’t do it, could not find the rhythm. I was plagued with asking myself questions that I could not answer.

Building back this week also means holding back. Letting the body recover from the Sunday run even as it was a failure. Failure, it appears, is a necessity.

I keep thinking though that is this the prose of those of us who can afford to be philosophical? I have no way of knowing.

I know from my friend Aditi, a professional dancer, that she has fallen on stage, and there is nothing to do but to get up and begin as if nothing happened. You have to move on.

An amateur like me understands this and as the past recedes, I can only look forward to another chance ahead.

Yes, on the treadmill. Yes, I woke up feeling wrecked.

But once I found the rhythm on the treadmill, it was a wonderful run. What a run should be.

Nothing to do with pace or speed. If I went by that parameter today, then the run is way below average.

But all about rhythm. What I didn’t have at all from start to drop out in Bombay, I had that today. At least, I hadn’t lost it in the Arabian Sea.

In the midst of disappointment and an all-nighter at work, there is always cake. Too much last night and too much today.

It’s time to get to work and make things harder, better, faster, longer.

Sometimes in life you expect or want everything to come together. To be a utopian time.

At least, these thoughts come to me.

An infant girl comes home and I hope for a period of time that everything is just right.

In that, to be clear, nothing is wrong. And if one has to focus on that oft-used word gratitude, everything is indeed right and where it needs to be.

But when I had to veer off the Bombay marathon course and settle for a Did Not Finish, I did get the following thoughts – it would have been amazing at this moment in time to get to the moonshot goal, it would have been just as amazing to do a PB, and it would have been amazing enough to simply have a run with rhythm even if the time didn’t speak for the training. But it wasn’t to be.

When I was flailing, I tried all the psychological tricks in my trade. I thought of my coach, the young boy and the infant girl. Of friends, family and others. Nothing worked.

Above all, I thought of my training, the kids at the track, and that I could no matter what do this. But I couldn’t.

A marathon is a gruelling distance for any runner – amateur or elite – especially if you are racing it. There are pockets of time that can feel just right, and pockets of time that feel miserable.

But the underlying aspect to any good run regardless of time is rhythm.

Sometimes – as was the case with me last year – the rhythm came after a full fifteen kilometres. And when it came, I was just checking off the kilometres and plucking them off.

Today even as I started on course to do a PB – quite easily – and stayed like that for two hours, I never found that rhythm. Forty five minutes later, I had begun to run-walk. Eventually, I just couldn’t do it. So I dropped out at the thirty four kilometre mark.

I don’t know what caused it. My stomach was cramping tremendously. My left calf cramped for the first time. I’m not too sure I can pin it on this or anything at all than simply accepting that it wasn’t my day, and that I didn’t find that rhythm.

As I write this, I want to shrug it off. I also want to share my disappointment if only with myself.

I want to train harder. Perhaps smarter. I want to lose weight. I want to do some long runs that will make me gain confidence back.

There is enough to be grateful for and especially in that – since this is all about running – that I have the option as an amateur runner to try again.

When I reached Bombay, I expected it to be very warm and humid but instead I found it to be pleasant.

I changed quickly – wanting to get a very short ten-fifteen minutes done just to keep the legs moving before marathon day.

I ran a couple of kilometres on Marine Drive. All systems felt good and I could only hope for the best tomorrow.

Today when the young boy jumped on the treadmill, I tried on my new shoes and jumped around a bit to see how they feel.

When he asked for an iPad, I didn’t hesitate. Not easy, I thought. Run after run on the treadmill because of this weather and pollution. If an iPad show gets you moving, well, why not.

On taper week, it’s on the treadmill again. Just keeping the legs moving.

I played with the toggles a bit but staying careful and running exceptionally easy.

In the evening, box fresh shoes came with a quote from Bill Bowerman that a shoe must be light, comfortable and able to go the distance.

I hope I will.

When I jumped on the treadmill this morning, it felt better than yesterday.

It was dark outside and I could see my reflection in the glass. I ran slowly. In that, I could see my movement carefully, see the way my arms swung lightly and how my shoulders stayed steady.

I consider myself not to have an ounce of the elegance that I see with the track runners. My reflection seemed to suggest that at least I looked comfortable.

In the act of running, I feel a comfort that I find nowhere else. So even with my impatience with this machine and the fact that I didn’t want to risk running outdoors, at least that comfort is mine.

I am sure there are other posts that I have written with the same title. The past few days the air has been imbued with fog and extreme pollution. The temperature is in the low single digits making for cold, dreary mornings.

The young boy protested many times because in these conditions it had to be a treadmill run.

We chatted while he ran – I tried to keep his interest going by making him toggle and play with speed and the incline. It only kind of worked but he did finish his prescribed time on feet.

Then it was my turn. Many times I felt just as impatient watching the clock on the treadmill console. Just let the time tick off and enjoy some very relaxed minutes, Eilish had written in my plan.

That would be the case had it been outdoors. On the treadmill, the empathy gear for the young boy was at full. But the treadmill is a friend and a machine that I am most grateful for. At least this option.