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I missed the run today. The pain is evidently worse.

It seems after consulting with the physiotherapist that I would need to rest this till it gets better.

What to do.

The pain was worse today. I woke up several times wincing because I turned positions.

I would try to fix this at the track, I thought. Maybe the running motion would loosen up the muscle. It didn’t but it also did not make it worse.

I winced my way through an hour long run at the track – a group ten strong or more at some point. Between enjoying the amazing weather, the act of running but also feeling sharp pain, the morning was a mixed bag.

But the job was done. I worked out later in the hope that it would somehow, perhaps magically, snap into place.

Workout done, run done, now to get this fixed.

When I woke up this morning, I felt a certain twinge and pain in my left lateral muscle. As the day progressed – my day off – it got worse till I eventually put an ice pack on it which neither alleviated the pain nor made it worse.

I would have to wait until tomorrow to see how this would affect the running tomorrow.

This evening, at an event at Sunder Nursery, the morning run with the young boy crossed my mind many times.

Something about the way we started, his mood alternating between an effortless, easy mindset and feeling tired. Something about the way he wanted to push on – without me cajoling or convincing him. We talked about aircraft and airlines. About football and about running.

Later a friend, Kapil, sent a photo, unbeknownst to us. A pink sky, our silhouettes running down Shanti Path.

A sweet morning of Spring.

I had yet another easy run but the young boy had intervals. After a quick warm up, he began in lane one and I continued my excursion in lane nine.

I could tell that he either wasn’t giving his best today or was simply tired. So I decided to join him for a 400m repeat to race him. Perhaps a jump start of sorts. He smashed it although it took the wind out of him – and me.

With that highlight, I stood around near the kids doing hurdle practise, admiringly watching their soft landing and flawless jumping. It seemed effortless and so rhythmic. I should try at the lowest height, I thought. One day.

For today, it was time to lazily stretch and see the sky change colours to a bright morning.

When I reached the track today, I felt celebratory. It had been so long. It was dark but already quite full. Everyone was layered but wearing a layer less. It was cold but not quite the cold of the past winter.

I had a steady, easy run and resorted to lane nine. Some of the usual runners – Ashwini, Suryansh – joined me for a bit – some new faces kept me company too.

I felt light and increased my pace through the run, slowly but determined to finish feeling strong.

A razor sharp crescent moon made its way from the horizon line towards the sky just as shades of pink and blue began to feel the eastern direction.

As. Coach Ravi stretched and pounded my legs, I looked around at the usual runners, some training, some stretching, others talking. The scene simply perfect.

There is something called the Jaxler run. The Jaxler is a progressive run that isn’t as boring as a progressive in that it’s not a precise increase of pace.

Rather it’s a challenge mixed with a bit of salt. You run a Jaxler with a bit of mood. Want to go faster. Go for it. Want to go interval pace. Do it. Want to hit a stride. For sure. What you don’t do is retract back on pace per mile or kilometre. And you don’t start a Jaxler with caution. You just get on with it.

I love Jaxlers. The young boy invented it during Covid and it’s our thing. It had been ages since we did one and this was his idea.

That’s the way the five kilometre was done this morning. With conversation, and questions, answers and comments, and an ever increasing pace.

I rounded the morning off with a light workout, and even lighter stretching.

Well worth it after The Jaxler.

When I saw that my coach had input in comfortable intervals, I cautiously asked the young boy if he would join me for most of them.

He happily agreed which surprised me. This was not his usual distance and in a sense it was out of his usual routine for the Wednesday.

Great to have his company, I thought as we made our way up and down for the repetitions, consistently clocking them within a couple of seconds difference between each, high-fiving and panting during the rests.

When he finished, I still had a few more to go, the morning was cool, the sky overhead a shimmering blue, and the run ended with an easy, earned cool down.

When the young boy and I stepped out, he immediately came back in to wear gloves. So the last dregs of winter carry on, I thought. Indeed it was cold, felt colder than yesterday but quite the perfect weather to run.

One would warm up quickly in this weather – the kind of air in which one could run for miles and miles.

But ours was a short run, a casual up and down. It’s still so dark, he said as we made our way down a westerly direction. When we flipped around, I pointed the sky at that opposite end. See that.

The sky was changing to its glowering orange and later the clouds seemed ablaze with hues of indigo and purple.

It was a good way to start the running week.

When I woke up and made my way to make coffee, the sky was just turning an inky blue. It was just past six AM – and it was a joyous, wonderful sight. It had been so long since I had seen dawn rise at this time – months of fall and winter.

There is an assumption – even often amongst Delhiites that winter is just a passing fad in this city. Not so – not in my mind at least. It’s cold, dark – and often brutal.

I opened the door to a chilly morning but the change of weather was evident in the air.

It seemed apt to sit quietly in the verandah watch the colours change behind the dark silhouette of the trees and find some moments of repose.