A rest day that always seems to have hectic overtones as the start of the week.

I got up relatively early, reached the office earlier than usual and got a few tasks done before anyone was in.

But I didn’t run or workout today. Rest day.

After a couple of rounds down the Shanti Path side, my friend Amit met up with me and we did a loop on the Vinay Marg side. Twice in a month now with Amit. Not bad at all considering we’ve barely run together in years.

After that it was me by my lonesome. One more round towards Vinay Marg and then I went up and down the familiar roads of Niti, Shanti Path, Nyaya and Vinay but combined them in unfamiliar patterns.

On the bars and deadlifts rounded up Sunday morning. Later, it rained cats and dogs.

When I reached track, good ol’ Gaju was already waiting for me. I had short intervals pyramid style. The first one was a bit of a disaster. The rest were spot on or faster. Fun. Humid.

Back home, circuit workout and out the door.

Just rest.

Aaj continuous? Coach Ravi’s question for any run short or long, hard or medium that doesn’t involve interval training. For me it was easy or time on feet. Continuous makes perfectly good sense too.

Gaju and I had had two days straight of Coach Ravi accompanying us on the trusty scooty so today it was the friendly Lane Nine for us.

Normally I don’t listen to music – especially not at the stadium – but today round after round felt like it could use some old school rock.

Rage Against the Machine isn’t exactly morning music but what the heck.

The track was full. By now, the kids were shirtless, abs gleaming, sprinting like their life depended on it. Others walked. Young kids played around following their parents or their coaching instruction. There was a boxing class in the infield. Me and Gaju in lane nine.

Round after round, I watched a young man in lane one. Moustached with a Rami Malek look, black sleeveless, red shorts. The kind of runner that makes running what it is. Beautiful stride, effortless running and laser focused seriousness.

Back home, it was on the bars and a quick circuit to round up the morning.

How can it feel so awful? And yet I have to do it, don’t I? It was a seemingly straightforward interval session on the road, Gaju giving me company, Coach Ravi on the scooter yelling splits.

The shimmering heat was frying us, baking us. Even the Coach looked sorrowful on our behalf. I’ve been writing so much about the heat these days, it seems like I’m trying to capture the essence and the way it feels and burns you up in training. Especially hard runs like today.

Relief when it was all done.

Last evening I went to my friend Gauri’s home for her birthday. As always it was raucous and fun with family and kids milling about, food and drink flying, cricket on the television.

I was introduced to Shalini who I learnt was a golf pro. Almost immediately, we spoke about the good old days at Delhi Golf Club in the early 90s and it made me reminisce this morning on the drive back from the run. Ali Sher, Gaurav Ghei, Arjun Atwal, Daniel, Jeev Milkha Singh, Jyoti Randhawa, Shiv Kapur. This was the stuff of legends. In those days, anything seemed possible.

Three decades later, meeting Shalini, trading stories – although we barely scratched the surface – her life in the sport continues on.

I was thinking about this as I ran with Gaju today, up and down our usual road, adding a few bits and bobs of extra road here and there, to compete an exact hour.

The sport has changed from golf to running. But then so has time. Those days of lounging in the clubhouse ordering sandwiches and fresh lime sodas, pottering about the putting green near the eighteenth, going to the range to hit another bucket – time had a different cadence then.

Today as I ran back – literally to the car – thumping along to Flo Rida and Usher on the way home – for a few moments, I was against my usual self, nostalgic for days past.

Rest as usual on Monday except that I woke up a bit groggy after an exceptionally unnecessary binge watching TV night lolling about.

After nearly two decades of running in Delhi, one would think I would be used to the humidity and heat that come as a partnership during Delhi’s summer.

Perhaps, this Sunday was one of the first of the season where it has felt this terribly hot during a long run.

I was baked and cooked. I took my first break after eleven kilometres and doused my head and neck with water. Then after another seven. And then at the end of the twenty one. Furnace running.

I tried to play all the mind games – especially how great this is for training. Did it work? I’m not sure considering how desperate I was to finish the run.

In these years of running, I have come across all sorts of everyday debris on the road including needles, syringes, catheter and IV bags, condoms, road kill, a full wallet come immediately to mind. I have, of course, been chased by dogs and monkeys. Which respectable Delhiite hasn’t?

But today towards the end of the run, a myna swooped in front of my face and I felt the vibration of air, my face fanned by the beat of its wings. That was a first and distracted me temporarily into thinking about the probability.

This morning at track, the heat and the humidity had me for breakfast.

I had 400s and young Gaju joined me for all. There were sixteen of these and it felt like forever.

There was no choice but to be conservative and to go by feel rather than timing alone. Before we began, during the warm up, we decided on a strategy that would keep us ticking along a couple of seconds within each interval.

Start fast. Let go. Ease into it. Finish strong. Rest. Pour water on the head. Repeat.

Finally job well done.

Back home it was on the bars and a strong circuit workout to round up Saturday morning.