Today I felt tiredness of the weekend travel and the runs.

My mind seems full and occupied and it would be good to get a time on feet tomorrow.

Sunday morning, after a road trip and a long draining Saturday, at Nehru Park was just what I needed.

A couple of kilometres into the run, I met Shikha who was already well on her way to a thirty seven this morning. We picked up the pace steadily for about ten kilometres after which we settled into a rhythm. A few seconds up and down, each kilometre feeling just at that border of easy to medium tempo. Sustainable.

The roads of Niti Marg and Shanti Path were teeming and we had to often weave through crowds of runners or be careful of oncoming traffic and runners alike. Etiquette in running has to happen not only quickly but the slightest of gestures – motioning which way to pass or giving way.

Perhaps even more so than etiquette, it’s an acknowledgement – of effort, of the act of running, of these roads and Sunday morning that for so many is the anchor of routine.

Twenty in, the young boy joined me for a steady six. The pace dropped but not by much. After that the last four was simply to get the job done.

I reached the track early enough that there were only two people warming up. I began the warm up quickly – I was in a hurry to get the run done.

As I was finishing the warm up, Ashwini was a welcome sight.

Here we go, I thought relieved. But it was not to be. Aaj time trial hai, said Ashwini. I was on my own. 400 after 400, I was on my own in Lane One. Soon the track started filling up and Suryansh came bounding up during a break. As is expected, speed improved even if by a second or two, a giant leap in intervals. It never fails to amaze amateur me how very hard it is to get those seconds down. I can only but imagine what time might mean in the professional running world.

Later on, somewhere in Rajasthan, mustard crop was waving at me, a bright sky above. I hoped for a good day ahead.

The young boy wanted to run the gardens today. After a one kilometre warm up, we ran aimlessly and yet with some consideration, to enter and exit at the same point, and to try and run the perimeters.

We started together in daylight which was a welcome change even as it was a dull grey, colour of used bathwater. We chatted about dogs and whether they understood the meaning of dates and days.

No, I don’t think so, I responded. Then I said, I don’t know. Perhaps they do.

Do they know my birthday?

It was an interesting question, possibly bordering on medical and philosophical facets and later this interesting website seemed to add more information to what the passage of time might mean to a dog.

When we ended, a short time on feet, the air cooler than when we started, the sun nowhere to be seen, a grey luminous dome above our heads.

When I began at the track it was just me. Ashwini and Sujit had taken the day off. Good for them, I thought.

Twenty minutes in, I was joined by Suryansh bounding up like a gazelle. Ten minutes later, we were a pack of five.

Pace fast ho gaya, said Dipasha. Then we spoke about RPE and I told her to lead the run.

Few rounds later, it was Khushbu leading the pace and Dipasha dropped from the pack.

Others weaved in and out including Suryansh who dropped for either a break or to join another group for a bit. I couldn’t tell.

It seems like lane nine is my club but really I’m the only member for long time on feet.

At any rate, the track kids, even as they join me, whether for a bit or a longer duration, it’s uplifting and changes my run too.

Kitna aur, said Khushbu. Three kilometres, I said. And so we finished, speeding up towards the end, hitting five strides of seventy to hundred metres apiece, the track teeming, the dome like sky still empty of any light.

So I said this morning to the young boy who was protesting, loudly, against the hill repeats.

Saying something loudly doesn’t make it so, just like if I yell, ‘my name is Tony,’ doesn’t make it my name. And we both burst into laughter.

Earlier, much earlier, I went to track and inaugurated my first intervals for the year. Alternating between 400s and 800s, Ashwini, Sujit and I hammered out the repetitions.

We started each repetition fast and then settled into a rhythm – the 400s of push and speed – the 800s of adjustment and ever so slight caution. After all, I had to last.

In that, I tried the negative split approach for 800s, pushing the second loop just a second or two faster than the conservative first. It worked and still felt like a 8-9 on the RPE scale.

I am sure the track boys felt the same way – the exertion. The difference between me and them apart from age is the elegance with which their effort is manifested whereas I feel like I am floundering on sacred land.

And so it ended, me pleased at the session, all the same feeling the irony of these thoughts.

The brown-headed barbet eyed me just at the 100m mark, where I stood, my hand on the timer, as the young boy readied for his sprint at the far end.

Go, I yelled, my voice echoing back.

It was good training for him this cold but clear morning. Repeat after repeat, something about today made me feel like he turned a corner. That he wanted to do it harder, faster.

When he finished, we ran an easy cool down round to end today’s session.

The track offers familiarity and repose.

The time on feet in lane nine feels like home. Ashwini, Sujit, Gokul and for some part even Coach Ravi.

Perhaps familiarity falls short to describe the track. The track is known. The geometry seems innate and intuitive.

Sujit and Ashwini just half a step ahead leading seems as if this is how it is meant to be.

Meanwhile, we can see Suryansh doing a 5000m time trial in lane one. Monu is pacing him. And then it’s just Suryansh. Then Sujit leaves us and paces him for his last lap.

His time is 16:42 and he has smashed his previous time. I see him finish and stumble to the side, clearly spent, exhausted.

I clap while I continue on. Good for him, I think, brimming with pride and joy for him.

The pace shifted in the second half, as if willing for the run to draw to a finish, as if reaching to Suryansh’s victory today.

After I finish, I walk away to the exit, Suryansh comes bounding up and we give each other long hugs.

I look up at the cloudless night, no dawn in sight, but light everywhere.

The young boy reached just as I finished the main set of my long run. I was ready to run the last ten kilometres with him.

Within a few minutes, I knew it was possible he was heading for a personal best. And so it came to be.

There was, as often is, spontaneous encouragement from fellow runners and utter strangers, including a delicious shabash cheetah from a runner in the opposite direction.

Sunday long run. The young boy. Nehru Park. The roads of Vinay Marg, Niti Marg, Shanti Path.

The familiar faces of Sunday morning. Shikha. Piyush. The moonwalker.

The sky above this beautiful city on the last day of the year.

To feel better, no place like home ground to do the job.

The track today was mostly empty, perhaps because of the holiday season. Ashwini was already there, on his third lap, he said.

It was intervals today coming at the back of the illness this week. I wasn’t close to hundred percent, feeling my legs trembling during the repetitions.

But just to be here and be able to go through the sets – that in itself was enough and godsend.