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Seeing the rugged landscape and the sky change colours gently was how I woke up this morning.

On the treadmill soon after, the window open – cool, crisp air – the run seemed to beckon at me.

The birds flew fast and low in arrow formations. We sped away in the opposite direction. Tall grass and crop waved in the fields.

The sun hung calmly below, just above the horizon, the crescent moon was already sharp in the sky.

And this day, she was ours.

Today, immediately, I felt the rhythm. It was good, pure running. Feeling light on my feet and checking off the kilometres. When it came to the marathon pace block, I shifted gears and that too felt at a good RPE without feeling the strain. Train, don’t strain, as it goes.

When the young boy joined me, we ran another comfortable block – a fast pace for him – before I rounded it up with a couple of kilometres at the end to complete what I would call a good run Sunday morning

There was a lapathon at the young boys school carnival. You had to complete as many laps as you could manage around a track made around the “big field”. It said it was 400m but it couldn’t have been over 300m.

It was a fun thing between the school houses amongst other games, competitions, game stalls and plenty of food.

The competition stuff was meant for the parents so I took part in the lapathon. Flow kicked in after about six or seven laps but with only a few minutes and a few laps to go, it was over quickly.

The light is changing in New Delhi and spring is a few weeks away.

The young boy had a time on feet and so did I – albeit longer. Finally, after months we could run outside together.

Why aren’t you talking, he said on our first round. I hadn’t realised I was quiet. Was I thinking of something?

I asked him about school and for him to rate his subjects. It seemed to come down to the teacher and not as much the subject.

I thought about as I plowed through a tough day, and later saw the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya rehearse and perform. It seems like a gentler world.

Perhaps there is a page to take from that.

Adagio in G minor was playing on the way back home. The sky was turning a soft pink. It filled me with joy to begin to see dawn again even if it was while in the car. The last couple of months had been much too dark.

On the way to the track, my sister Roshini told me that the half marathon race for the weekend had been cancelled. I was all set to do a short time on feet run but this changed things.

She was doing 400s so I followed that lead and did 400s too.

It was a lonely hard run. The track was near empty during the time there. No Ashwini to give company. No Coach Ravi yelling out splits. I endured with much difficulty.

When I finished I hoped my coach Eilish would be proud that I switched to hard intervals. As I write this, I smile thinking that not only would she have expected no less but perhaps expected me to work harder.

The young boy did a strength session. Time ticked along as I called out instructions for squats, lunges, push ups et al.

I could see I was frustrating him. But I was insistent for his form to be perfect.

That push up that looks like a straight plank of wood going up and down, that lunge that has all the ninety degrees down pat.

When he finished he gave me a hug while I was still on the treadmill with a bit of time to go. This feels just right. get the training right, even though sometimes I feel I am too hard and harsh. The end of it nearly always speaks for itself.

Because I woke up late today, I had to make up the run in the latter half of the day.

The sun was still shining when I reached Nehru Park. It was warm enough that it was the first day in months that I was comfortable enough in a long sleeved T-shirt.

Dogs lay about the path in splotches of sunlight. A team of boys wearing Delhi jerseys ran past me. Real runners, I thought to myself.

Earlier in the day, I found out that the young boy won the cross country school run – a distance of just over a kilometre.

Undoubtedly, the running style of youngsters is an entirely different way of running. Not just the seeming effortlessness of it but the style and power that exudes in each stride.

When I finished, I felt just fine. The run was done and spring was not too far away.

Today, Monday after an indulgent night I woke up feeling the familiar twinge of regret.

A part of me wants to say why not. You’re allowed to have fun and enjoy an evening. Another part of me says the work gets tainted.

I could tell that the young boy was tired. But I pushed him to finish his run. Sometimes I feel I shouldn’t push him. But in running as in of course most things, you have to push through. Cliché as it does seem.

I continued on to a long run with a marathon mix pace in parts that felt equally hard and exhilarating.