The universe conspires & I get a shot

After many weeks of angst, wondering if all my efforts would come to nought, the dark clouds lifted and my running dream was given a reprieve. Niki and Rhea offered to squeeze me into their corporate quotas (supporting an NGO), which would allow me to run the beast after all. I decided to go with Childline, an NGO after my own heart, and quickly turned the forms in.

Heart pounding with excitement, I picked up the reins of my tottering SC Marathon wagon, and set forth on my journey once more. All the emotions of fear, self-doubt, intimidation resurfaced, and with a pit the size of a cantaloupe in my stomach I mentally geared myself to giving it another go.



I've never crossed over to the other side



Heartbreak - Gam zeh ya'avor

This evening after waiting through 4 intolerable weeks, I checked my mail to learn that I was not among the registrants randomly selected to run the Mumbai edition of the SC Half Marathon. I should have checked sooner - would have saved me 1 wk of grief. It was a polite, yet fairly definitive email, which I re-read 5 times, in abject disbelief. Apparently only 58% of the applicants were able to find a place on the runner’s list. I am not one of them.

This is the first year the cutoff of 2500 runners has been implemented, presumably to put our great city’s best foot forward. My fate ball couldn’t find it’s way past quotas of females, past timed runners, senior citizens, etc. and came to an abrupt halt midway through the maze.

Needless to say, I’m absolutely gutted. The hardest part of this effort, well beyond the training, the largely unsuccessful weight loss program, the stop ’n start quit smoking movement has been wrapping my mind around the fact that I will be running 21 km in full public view.

And now having reached at a respectable 10K in 1 training run (albeit at a turtle's pace), having pushed fears of not completing deep down where even I can’t reach them, I find I will not be able to run. Gam zeh ya'avor!!

Oats burning in Hells Kitchen ...

I cannot believe I have brought myself to the point where I am now giving oats a go. This week I’ve been been treating my palate to a breakfast of warm oatmeal mixed with raisins and nuts to help keep I down.

Prison food ... for worst offenders

I have never tasted anything less suited for the human palate than oatmeal - this gooey, non-crunchy, porridgy, pointless food gets my dander up, and to have to swallow this swill just to drop a few pounds drives me crazy.

The rasins and nuts provide the elements I consider real food while the gooey mass filters in alongside.

Subs loves oatmeal, and this morning at breakfast I was forced to hear her blather on “there’s something warm and comforting about a bowl of oatmeal,” while I glared at her, and gulped down another spoonful. If this doesn’t shed my keelos by the pound, I’m going to be MAD!!

Taking the Plunge

I'd been tracking the registration dates for the SCMM for weeks now, and when the opportunity came I was quick to act. As I filled out the online Registration form, I was more than a little conflicted on whether I'd have a chance in hell of finishing. But i don't want to give it more of a sense of drama than there truly was. I knew I was going to sign up - I had to sign up. I'd spent too much time obsessing over this to back away now.


The form had this unexpected wrinkle, though. It indicated that in the event of over-application, runners would be selected by way of lottery, unless the applicant could provide a time-log of a previous run. Since I've never run this distance, let alone gotten an officially clocked time, it was pretty easy to duck this step and move on. I figured the provision was in as a technicality, and was unlikely to be enforced.