It was the day off and I was tempted to put in an optional run. Instead, this morning, I practised just the G major scale, after pottering about on my phone, and alternating between a coffee and a tea.

On this second day of 2025, I decided to do my easier run on the driveway. No music, it was silent and cold all around. Even the birds seemed to be hunkering down except for a lone peacock calling me names from a far distance.

I started slow and kept accelerating till I reached a comfortable easy pace. Counting down the rounds, looking at my watch, and seeing that each loop was within a second of the next, was amusing, fun and satisfying.

A hustle and bustle core workout rounded up the morning.

It was dawn when I reached Nehru Park. A smattering of cars were already there, runners making their way around one of the loops.

For me, it was a hard intervals day. Other than the fact that it was the first day of the New Year, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about the morning . Except that today, I was keen for a good start. There is something to be said about any start and New Year’s Day counts for sure.

The intervals went really well; it’s was more than I could have asked from today.

Later at home, while the young boy and the young girl played with each other, I worked out with kettlebells and a medicine ball, occasionally catching their eye and attention.

A perfect beginning to the year.

Up and down the driveway. New shoes. The run came by easy. Lots of thinking pinged around in the head.

Eventually the run took over, and washed the dust off everyday life.

When I was leaving for work, the young boy had begun his run in the driveway. Kids run effortlessly.

A good way to round up the year for us.

Took my weekly off and hit a busy work morning.

Instead of a run, Mendelssohn’s Nocturne was the cello challenge to begin the week.

Nearly as soon as I started this morning, I met Shikha. She had already done eight. After exchanging a few words, we ran silently, in step, barely any variation in pace. The weather was pleasant, the sky featureless, charcoal shades.

We ran one side towards Shanti Path, then the other side down Vinay Marg, alternating between the two loops.

As dawn broke, the sky reluctantly changing to the colour of dark jeans, we decided to head down Niti Marg, down the curve, to where Niti Marg meets Nyaya Marg at the roundabout and the arc continues perfectly to make a semicircle the next roundabout where Nyaya Marg is perfectly parallel to Shanti Path which in turn is parallel to Niti Marg.

These wonderful roads of Lutyens Delhi in the heart of the embassy area, providing the picture perfect flat training ground for hundreds of runners each Sunday.

Where else in the world can you run freely down the streets, at times in the middle of the road, literally as was the case with Shikha and I as we made our way down Nyaya Marg. Of these three roads, Nyaya Marg is wide with barely any traffic.

The same familiar and faithful dogs lolled around at the American Embassy.

We looped around and made our way back for Shikha to complete her run at thirty one kilometres.

Then the young boy arrived and off I went again, down the same Niti towards Nyaya, running nearly the same loop as I did earlier. As always, the young boy got hoots of encouragement, claps, and shabash. After a quick water break at the car, we ran one shorter loop to complete ten kilometres for the young boy and thirty three for me.

A couple of waffles and a short snooze later was a good way to round up long run Sunday morning.

This morning, I wasn’t sure how the training run at marathon pace would go. I warmed up, did some exercises and off I went.

It went perfectly well, a few seconds variation on the better side. I did have dark thoughts of whether I would be able to sustain this pace for the long haul.

Well, running can work in magical ways on race day. I can only put in the goods and enjoy the ride.

Took the break. It’s been thundering and raining since morning. The temperature is cool and some of the pollution is washed away.

When I was driving back from my easy run today, I heard that Hasin Khan, my father’s driver of nearly forty years had passed away.

I learnt how to drive in eighth grade during the summer break. The National Gallery of Modern Art, situated at the India Gate quadrangle, held summer programs on art history and I was enrolled in one such course.

Hasin Khan would drive me there and in the dusty grounds around the quadrangle, before or after class, he taught me how to drive. It’s unimaginable that a car would be allowed to do that today.

Sometimes, a long run, takes me around that quadrangle and I remember those days. The memories are sepia toned, my father’s grey Nissan kicking up dust and Hasin Khan telling me the best advice I’ve ever heard about driving in Delhi.

Always go around people and animals.

3, 2, 1 miles x twice over counts for long intervals. At least in my book.

Because it was Christmas, I went to Nehru Park when it was nearing dawn. I was just here twelve hours ago but that was inside the park. This time, it was my usual place down the flat straights of Niti Marg and Shanti Path.

Hints of fog wafted through the misty and cool air.

Off I went.

It was a five star run.

I came back home, completed a workout and then it was the young boys turn. On the treadmill for his intervals with hurdles in combination.

A perfect workout morning. 360 degrees.