Still feeling the effects of the long run from yesterday. So much so that my friend Aditi commented on me looking out of it when I met her in the morning.

C’est la vie and all that.

This morning I started off with my friend Gokul. We caught up on the Sydney Marathon that he ran the previous weekend and talked about recent US tariffs on India. An interesting start to the Sunday dawn.

Gokul handed me off to Shikha, coming from the opposite side. Shikha and I ran Niti Marg, Nyaya Marg, Shanti Path and then after a short water break went towards Safadarjung Road. A circuitous route down Tuglak Road, Teen Murthi brought us back on Shanti Path.

I was around the nineteen kilometre mark at this point and finished the next eleven kilometres on my own. This was the part that hit the brutal zone. I was sweating buckets. I was exhausted. I pressed on and finished but several times in the last five kilometres, I thought about calling it a day.

Once it was all done, I met my sister Roshini and we drove home together. I nearly emptied her bottle of electrolytes. We spoke about the upcoming race season and to take a bit of a breather from the relentless routine after Diwali.

At home, I demolished a pancake with maple syrup and an appam with coconut chutney.

Long intervals are guaranteed exhilaration. People talk about the runners high. I felt it in an extraordinary way for miles during the Bombay marathon back in 2023. As I write this, I can’t believe it has been that long. That run was the run of my life.

I felt it in Boston this year, nearly from start to finish. That was solely and only because of the crazy, unbelievable crowd.

Usually, the runners high, at least for me, comes in short bursts. Lasting a few seconds or perhaps half a minute, where my face breaks into a smile. Sometimes a kilometre or so whooshes by in a stream of light.

But the post run high is another reason to hammer a run home.

As I drive back, the rest of the day, work agendas and to do lists ping into action. My mind is best poised to think creatively at this time. This is my Goldilocks zone. Typically at some point on Africa Avenue – if I am returning from Nehru Park – an idea will pop into the brain.

A fabulous morning today, rounded up at home with a solid circuit workout even as I crawl my way into some manner of fitness.

Finally. After weeks and months of the usual Friday rest, I ran the optional run today on the treadmill. Very easy. Nose breathing. A simple thirty minutes. Feels like fresh air.

It was raining lightly this morning. The raindrops made wonderful patterns on the dark asphalt. The drop bounced back creating thousands of pin prick splashes. The sky was just turning colours and the black road reflected back the early morning.

As I looped around Shanti Path, I saw a familiar person running towards me. I’ve seen him for years and perhaps on an occasion run with him in a group.

On instinct, I turned and asked if we could run together. He’s slightly older than me. He’s faster, runs with a stoic expression and beautiful form.

Within no time he began speaking about races around the country, the world and recent participations in mountain country. We spoke about Ladakh, Boston, Bombay, Delhi, Kinnaur, the recent Sydney marathon and everything in between.

He spoke about timings, paces, elevations and routes. About salt tablets, gels and water stations. Sometimes I forget how intense runners can be.

But it was his sentences that were punctuated with colourful language that nearly made me laugh out loud and took me by incredible surprise. The BCs were said as a comma, semi-colon, or under the breath to take a breath.

The runner who I thought was a monk turned out to be a hilariously serious potty mouth.

This gentleman reminded me of several things.

Never judge a book by its cover. Indeed.

That I was unfit and needed to get back to a different level of training pronto. A version of me six months ago would have glided in this run, even if he is the faster between us.

That it was delightful to train midweek in the roads around Nehru Park and as always I was filled with gratitude for the extraordinary company.

Today I heard that Gaju wasn’t in town. It had been raining incessantly and Coach Ravi told me on the phone that the track might be flooded. I took a u-turn and went to Nehru Park. It continued to rain on and off. But the rain abated around the time I began the 800s.

I did most of them in Shanti Path, up and down, seeing some of the regulars, waving hellos.

It’s amazing what bad shape I am in. But it’s possible to thoroughly enjoy the intervals and put in the goods while knowing you’re nowhere close to where you need to be. That felt great.

Today I slept in a bit and ran on the treadmill for a steady forty five minutes increasing the speed gently through the run.

After, it was a quick core and plank workout to round up the morning with a cup of tea.

Rest.

The weather was slightly cooler this morning than has been. Or perhaps it was less humid.

I reached later than I would have preferred, and as usual Nehru Park was bustling, busy and carnivalesque.

As I was turning in, I saw Shikha running the Vinay Marg loop around the park. I started anti clockwise so I could bump into her.

How much more, I asked. Seven, she replied. She has been running fourteen kilometres on Sunday giving her back injury recovery time. Even though we were running at an easy pace, I admired her form and her natural running style.

We looped around the park and headed out towards Nyaya Marg loop. One way or the other, through conversation and a bit of cajoling, we did eleven kilometres together.

She remarked – finishing eighteen – that it was the most she had run since her injury. At my end, I was grateful for the company.

I had another nineteen to go. I ran this way and that, covering all manner of loops in the Nehru Park area. I bumped into Ravi, a fast runner aiming for a 70 minute half marathon in Delhi. I ran a speedy two kilometres with him. We both bemoaned our recent alcohol intake. Old fashioned for me. LIT for him.

I took a water break and put on the Jabras for the last nine. Hearing the Beast Mode mix on Spotify was good company counting down those last few kilometres.

Done, dusted for Sunday.

After a late evening board meeting, my friend Anmol and I decided to hit the hotel bar for a drink. As these things happen, that turned out to be one too many. This resulted in missing a road run and a woozy start to a busy day.