17th Jan a date Bombay eagerly awaited. The Standard Chartered Marathon. This had been the talk of my household for the last 4 months. Amit’s intention to attempt the whole 42 kms, had been the butt of many jokes, inspirations, sighs and the end to many ‘is it really possible’ kind of conversations.
The night before we partied till 2am, not really conducive for someone whose attempting the full run and for the very first time. But hey! you live only once, but the marathon can be attempted again. I have to admit, as I lay myself to sleep, I wasn’t very confident of his resolution. But at 8am I was rudely awakened to an empty bed, the half, which by now, had completed 19 kms! He did it! He made it for the 6:45 am flag off! Feeling sheepish I quickly changed and ran out in my rubber chappals to meet him as he would cross the Worli Sea Link. Thought this to be a good opportunity for pictures and lend the family pillar of support.
What I hadn’t thought about was the journey I was about to embark upon myself. The sweltering heat didn’t seem to deter the spirit of the runners as I saw varied age groups run on. The old ones paced themselves, the young ones attended to calls and sms’, the even younger ones were tied at the wrist to an older partner, as they were dragged along for pace. But no feet stopped. There were live bands at water stations and a few took minutes out of their timing to shake a leg to the dhol beats before they jogged on. There were volunteers who took it upon themselves to simply wake up early, this Sunday, stand by the sides and cheer on the spirit of Bombay!
The Nigerian runners, a sighting every one waits for like a species going out of fashion. It’s more like they come, they run and how! Small petite bodies that lift with the wind, legs that stride longer then their shadows, the determination in their eyes focused on the finishing line kilometers away, and their speed, ever constant, never dropping, just watching them guarantees a facelift.
There he arrived, the man whose strength I doubted till this morning, touching 25 Kms, still smiling, still running! I walked along trying to catch the action, and catch I did, myself on the Worli Sea Link with no exit! So with a bag full of things I didn’t need, a camera and rubber chappals there was only one way to head, straight on! There were times I wanted to throw myself off the bridge, I’d eventually float to someplace, which seemed easier then attempting this mini marathon. I plugged on, along with many others. As I finally approached the end of the bridge, an old man ran past saying “c’mmon guys, the bridge is almost over. Buck up, Buck Up!’ So caught up was I in this sea of adrenaline, that I started running as well. Precisely for two minutes. Then I controlled my emotions.
5 hours later, Amit was still running. The award ceremony had already taken place. The winners were probably half way home by now. But he wasn’t, I was so proud of him. I was also really, really proud of every child that looked exhausted, but wore his marathon number with pride, of every man that sat alone in some corner catching his breathe, of every volunteer who dug into his pocket to supply water, fruits, relief spray to the runners. I’m also grateful to that lady who jumped in from the crowd, just as Amit was giving up, ran a kilometer alongside- just to pep him up. To the two boys who swooped in like an eagle from behind, scooped up another boy who’d given up and sat down, hand on shoulder the three strangers ran, the last few kms, together. To the father who ran the dream marathon with his polio stricken son on his back
To the bhangra dancers who greeted all at the finish line celebrating the end of a journey that commenced at CST Station, to NCPA, across the Marine Drive, Babulnath, Went over Peddar rd, reaching Haji Ali, to Worli Sea Face, across Worli Naka, then to Prabhadevi, across Shivaji straight down to Mahim,then to Bandra reclamation, over the Bandra Sea link, returning back to Worli sea face, Haji Ali, Up hill on Peddar Road, Babulnath, Marine drive, Churchgate and finally crossing the finishing line of the 42kms at VT Station.
This line was of utmost importance because that morning approx 37,000 strangers set out together and somewhere through the journey their paths crossed, at one point they were all an invisible force to the other, urging the mind to keep running when bodies had given up.
I salute all those who ran, walked, crawled, wept, laughed, but attempted to cross THAT line of limits.
Bombay ran and howJ
