Just a day of rest for running. But all over the place as it so happens on a Monday.

Last night, I was Simone Biles win her third gold in the Olympics on the Vault.

Even for me, who has no real knowledge of gymnastics but endless admiration and amazement at what gymnasts do, it was apparent that she was a clear head and shoulders above her competition. This was literally true when thanks to today’s photography, camera work, motion capture and what not, you could see the height and range she achieved. It was simply wow.

When I woke up in the morning, I read that Katie Ledecky had become the most decorated female swimmer in Olympic history.

While running, I thought about these amazing athletes and their ever powerful world record breaking feats. What it must feel like to be that young, competing at the highest level, striving to win medals for yourself and your nation. I can only try and imagine – but no imagination can put one in their shoes.

The young boy and I ran together. We took unusual routes today and I switched off the lap function on my watch. Run footloose and fancy free, I thought. We played our game of naming places – Atlas – each to start with the last alphabet of the previous place and the kilometres ticked themselves off.

When he left, I carried on with my Sunday morning long run. Putting on some music, I decided to run a bit faster than usual. When it was done, I was as always grateful to these Sunday mornings that mean so very much to me – a punctuating and metronome like predictability of routine and satisfaction.

Once again, this Saturday was a rest day for me. Having done the interval session on Friday, I didn’t feel too bad about it but it would be good to have a straight up normal week.

After a brief debate with Suryansh, Nikhil and Coach Ravi whether to do the mile intervals at the track or on the road, we decided to head out. It’s a nearly a mile from the track entrance to Bakhtavar Chowk. We warmed up till that crossing to begin our first interval back towards the stadium.

Straight road intervals feel decidedly different from the track. In some ways it seems easier but at other times endless. All in the same mile. I can’t make out if I prefer one over the other. Probably not.

At any rate, what is certainly true is that company whether at track or road counts for a great morning. A thank you to Nikhil and Suryansh, and of course dear Coach Ravi on the bike.

Lapwings with their awkward gait dotted the track. Large swathes of water logged the infield, the mood and sky gloomy and overcast. It had rained torrentially the previous night and the parking lot at the stadium was submerged in knee high water.

I had a straightforward time on feet that I began in lane nine. This first day of August there is a noticeable change in sunrise and weather. The first fifteen minutes were run in darkness before the hint of dawn crept up behind Medicity.

It was lap after lap done quietly, in solitude. At some point Suryansh joined me, then Ashwini. After a few rounds, they slipped off to do weight training and I carried on.

Not looking at the watch, instead relying on the eastern sky, my sense was correct when I finally did look at the watch predicting there would be one lap to go.

My sense or an innate sense? I’m not sure but when Def Leppard came up on the way back home, all senses lit up.

Short intervals with many repetitions are brutal in their own way. The total distance doesn’t amount to much but the effort put in each repetition takes you right out of any comfort zone.

If you’re not panting, you’re not working.

And so it went today with Suryansh and Nikhil with Coach Ravi at the whistle. Round after round, two repetitions each round. It was head down and hard going. I tried to concentrate on my form which I was sure was flailing compared to the elegance Suryansh exhibited.

As always, the fact that I have the chance to train alongside these young kids is a true privilege and has been a turning point in my amateur running life.

The kids have their day off on Tuesday. Coach Ravi was there with the solitary Nikhil. He decided to join me. Aaj continuous, he said. I nodded back.

After a couple of rounds at the track, we headed out to our usual L-shape out and back. At the U-turn, Nikhil was fading and took over the scooter from Coach Ravi who then ran alongside for a couple of kilometres.

Nikhil switched again to run the last section with me. All this was a bit distracting but I told myself to hold and be patient. After all, I had the company and a scooter that was evidently going faster at the last mile.

The It in this case is sleep and rest. Starting off the blocks tomorrow to hopefully a good week ahead. Keeping fingers and toes crossed.

Meanwhile, it has been good to read a plethora of articles on Caeleb Dressel, his endless medals, internal battles with perfection and his stature at the Paris Olympics. Hats off to say the very least.

I ran. Long run Sunday. Didn’t do the distance I wanted to but managed a reasonable twenty two.

The young boy joined me for the initial eight. When he left I picked up the pace but I struggled. The after effects of Friday night still lingered. The humidity and heat were tremendous and I imagined the toxins leaving the system.

Enough man, I tell myself. Too many weeks of mediocrity. Except this past Friday. Got to get the groove back.

That’s hangover. Need to get into my game. Just as I nailed it yesterday, I lost the plot. Need to get in the game.