Beautiful run.

Rested today.

Skin as if leather and bearing a serious expression, I have seen this man for over two decades. We know each other, cursorily but hardly get the occasion to meet. But recently, I have crossed him on the road nearly every time o drive to Nehru Park. There he is running up and down the long sloping Jawaharlal Nehru University stretch.

I’m neither sure of his distances nor his time on feet but it sure feels endless. And from what I know of previous stories and conversations, it’s several hours of running. Whatever the stories of lore might be, I have endless admiration for runners who above all else have uncanny consistency and an unshakeable commitment. For runners like him, it cannot be unlike oxygen, it’s not even training anymore. That word got left behind at germination or perhaps never existed.

It’s a state that I meander in between my goals. In between effective training months of which my current state may be adequately described as the longest since Covid days. This meandering.

With not much sleep and a night of coughing, I still made myself go to Nehru Park. For this I am grateful.

Then I resolved to do short 400m intervals and give it a go. For this too I am grateful.

There was no target but my pace was all over and in a word: slow.

While this might be the bitter end of things, gratitude for the training today outshines all else.

My sister and I drove back together and chatted about this and that and of course our respective runs this morning.

Did not run today.

It is probably because I am running alternate days that I am feeling better and quicker on my feet. It is also because I haven’t done any interval work for ages so it is always easier to be quicker during the easy runs.

Slept in. On one hand I need to get back to training and on the other hand, I am enjoying this noncommittal approach. For now.

I know the restless demon will awaken soon enough. And allegiances must find their way home.

Quiet and easy couple of loops around Shanti Path.

Productive day at work but did not run.

I was just coming up to my fifth kilometre, when a familiar bare chested middle-aged man like me was coming near the Nyaya Marg roundabout at the back entrance of the Canadian high commission.

Wearing wraparounds and his trademark printed shorts (he wears the most colourful clothes of any runner I know) he asked me if I would pace him for three kilometres.

He was running considerably faster than me but this seemed like the perfect way for me to get some pace under my feet after weeks.

So we set off at an eventual pace much faster than his intention and reasonably effortless for me, I am pleased to report.

Oh nahin bhai, he said occasionally. Oh bahut ho gaya. Arrey do kilometre hi kaafi hai. Arrey thank you bhai saheb. Oh. Aah. Oooh. Aaah. Maza aa Gaya. Oh bhai saheb. Bas.

And all such and what not that he continuously spoke. I hoped I encouraged him.

When it was all done, a quick hug and I went my way to complete a steady hour on feet.