Short Shorts

At the Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon 2016

Running shorts are my favourite thing in the world. Though I have never found a satisfactory pair of them in India. As in the past, in my recent trip to the US, I obsessed over it for days and finally ordered a bunch of them on amazon, to my hotel room. Only to discover a rather nice running store round the corner... 

It was heartening to read this article making a desperate plea for better shorts for women:

Longer Shorts

The options in India are generally pathetic as far as women's running shorts are concerned. I admit having to resort to men's shorts - they rarely fit well though they at least they are longer. I occasionally succumb and buy the latest model of Nike or adidas shorts since they loudly proclaim that they are for running, but they are all uniformly disappointing. 

I am seriously contemplating moving to those three-quarter tights that seem to popular among women runners in India (and beyond). I may even be okay with the weird patterns that these tights seem to possess. Maybe then my daughter will stop teasing me about my 'thunder thighs' - at least they will be decorously swathed in colourful polyester... 

For the love of writing

At the end of it all, when I think about the reasons why I love this little space of mine, it boils down to just that. The love of writing. The joy in seeing words form in my mind and find their way to the keyboard and then on to this nice little template on blogspot.

Admittedly, 2016 has come and gone and I have very little to show for it. I used moodle a fair bit for my course and even that was not with the same degree of enthusiasm as usual. Aside from that, I wrote a number of articles of a general nature for The Wipro Chennai Marathon's public outreach. The most fun I had was when I wrote for our magazine The Rundown. Here have a look at something I recently put together, just some irreverent stuff in the context of The Wipro Chennai Marathon.

From The Rundown, Dec 2016 Edition

I like my alter-ego Maami Thayir Saadam, or MTS. She has gotten around to saying things that I wouldn't have said as Preeti, or KPBM, for that matter. But it's a tag team effort with the one and only ludwig for the column (not that he is a Maami, though he could be I suppose!) and so it may be that we have to fight it out for our space there at some stage, we'll see!

Meanwhile, having finished with the myriad responsibilities of 2016, which left me breathless and with barely a minute of time for myself, I am glad to be back here, doing what I like to do on a Saturday evening! (Having spent Friday evening putting together a little space for my course, over here). 

A page for my current course

I am also determinedly attending to my twitter and facebook handles, I won't repeat what I said over there about the annual pilgrimage to the Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon, go see it over there, instead! 

Oh I suppose I will do this. The child, monster, as it was referred to earlier times, does occasionally use the opportunity to diss me in public, on her own blog, at The One Blog To Rule Them All  as she likes to call it. Do have a peek and give her some back pats once in a while. I do rue the day I set up the page for her occasionally, as my name is dragged through mud, but I guess it's all a part of the joy of motherhood! 

Till later then. 

Birth Month Update

It has to be most lame birthday I have had in my 1000 year life on earth. First of all, I bought a bucketload of things earlier in March. Like, an iPad (admittedly, I have barely touched it up to now), and a Garmin (Love It), boots, and clothes, and things. Not to mention an inverter battery, and new tires for my car, and stuff like that. When some NGO called me repeatedly and emo-blackmailed me into donating some money, I sort of did that too.

So, all in all, it was no time to treat myself to an iPhone (like I did last year) or anything. & I went off to the holiest of holy places - Tirupati. Though I couldn't walk up the steps, go stand in the Serpentine queue, and get darshan of Lord Venkateshwara, I was happy that I could visit there and see a whole new bunch of students!

First up I met up with some 200 girls in the Engineering stream at Padmavathi Mahila University. It was a great experience to be in a room of enthusiastic, well dressed, neat and tidy students! It was great that it was all girls - strange as well! I spoke about a bunch of things and threatened to ask Chemistry questions if they didn't interrupt me. So, interrupt me they did!!

"Who is really your inspiration" they asked - after I had rattled on about Tessy Thomas and Kathrine Switzer and Lijjat Papad. I hmmed and hawed and said this and that and finally the bulb clicked and I said "MOM" - and they all nodded happily at that. And I nodded inside as well, because, well, that's epiphany in public.

I then spoke in the weirdest shaped room in all the civilised world! I mean it was a super wide room - how to cover that much ground? I walked everywhere and had them swivel their heads like that horror movie child thingie, but still, it was weird. This was in IIT Tirupati (temp. location). I spoke about adapting to change, and marathons, and stuff like that, and it was good fun though the bunch was pretty rowdy and noisy.

We ended the session with a loud karaoke rendition of Lungi Dance, and I resisted the temptation to Dance Like It Was My Birthday. After all, 42 is no joke. Yep, that's me, the forty-two year old who rode a train and took selfies and resisted the temptation to eat Masal Vada in the train station. 

Meanwhile, the child has, in a moment of inspiration, and in an attempt to avoid learning html coding that the school wants her to, started to blog. I mean, she has started today, just hope she keeps it up. I will be fine with all the hazing-the-mom activity if she keeps it up and practices writing or vents her thoughts, or whatever it is she wants to do with it. Here, read if you want to:

New Kid On The Blog

Why Don't I Feel More Bummed Out?

Back In March Me Being All Gung-Ho About A Random Sunday Run... 

The most important growth as a runner is the ability to be positive through injuries, don't you think? Here I was, just a month ago, thinking, hmm, it feels like a niggle. It should work out fine with a few days of rest. Then a couple of weeks later with a few runs, testing the niggle out gingerly, which didn't go too well. But kind of not too worried 'cause the Half Marathon I was training for MONTHS for was still a couple of weeks away.

I stayed positive and did all my home remedies including being optimistic and not succumbing to the vicious cycle of waking up late - skipping workouts - losing motivation - feeling ungainly and unfit - lacking energy - needing more sleep - waking up late. I did OK, slogging it out in the gym or cycling, and hoping for best.

And then one day it hit me - BOOM! This wasn't going to happen. It hurt in new and different ways everyday. The pain never really went away though it was never severe enough to wake me up. Finally I did the sensible thing and went to the doc. Who was encouraging and said you are right, it is the dreaded Plantar Fascitis.

He said he did not hate hate me, although I was one of those people - you know - who self-diagnose and self-treat (not self-medicate - that I won't do - I swear) and mess everything up before finally succumbing and going to the doc. He said chill, it's alright, continue all the good stuff runners do when they get PF. And rest up.

He was even all fine with me running as long as I took it easy after and before, and did some pampering. Till he heard about my minimalist shoes. And my 41 years of age. And the fact that I was traveling till the evening before the race. You shouldn't run this half marathon in my medical opinion, he said, and that, was that.

Thanks to all the collective advice of lots of people, I managed to not ruin the foot despite the travel - it wasn't very hectic travel admittedly - despite having to wake up at 3am on one of the days (I did my usual trick of sleeping from before take-off to after landing - a handy hack I use very effectively when I travel alone). But still, Saturday night I took myself to bed, with no race stress.

I even woke up early on Sunday, dressed in Dryfit finery and went to the race start/finish point by bike. I wheeled my trusty steed all around and met up with tons of folks who were running or cheering. I hung around a fair bit, and returned home very happy at having met all these crazy runner friends of mine. I expected it would hurt a lot (emotionally) that I was missing out on the fun. I only had a pang of regret that I didn't volunteer at the aid station (actually the doc told me not to. He said it is probably worse than running! Thanks, doc!).

Aside from that I was generally fine and happy and looking ahead. So yes, not bummed out much about missing the Dream Runners Half Marathon for the first time since inception. I have run three years in a row and the fourth was going to be super good for me, with all that training under my belt and all. It was not meant to be, I guess!

So here goes me, all positive and optimistic, enjoying a few more weeks of non-running workouts - I am hitting the gym, though sometimes a tad dejected when I see my form in the mirror; I am cycling, despite the crumminess of my bike; I even swam yesterday, after much haranguing by the child and a few insults flung my way. I may suck at all these things, but then there is no recent evidence that I am good at running either, so I pull on the big girl undies and plod on! 

Going to the gym, gym, gym

My husband was only too glad to show me how bad my push up form is. #OrangeYouGladYouAsked

When I was in college I spent a lot of time with my ankles swathed in crepe bandages. Mostly, everyone thought I was being a major drama queen and did not hesitate to tell me so. Unfortunately this was in the 1990s and no one (at least in my near and dear ones) had realised the importance of things like balance and stability and so forth.

I tore, strained, screwed up many ligaments and tendons and other such things in my feet over the years. I continued to play basketball, stoically suffering the aftermath with tightly bound ankles. I slowly migrated to better shoes once I reached western shores (still not super good shoes, as I bought them in sales in the kid's section - I only recently realised that quality of kids shoes are not as good as adults). I got nice ankle braces and wore them a lot.

Thankfully, being small built and being super busy with studies and research meant that there was only so much damage I could do to myself in those days. Now, of course, you may argue that the world is my oyster. And not in a good way. I am heavier, and it is four decades and counting, and there are so many miles to be run, after all. At any rate, despite retiring from basketball several years ago, and for all my sensible and joyful running and whatever, I suffer niggles on a regular basis now.

I back the hell off when that happens. My friends laugh at me at my constant whining about this pain that pain. My husband shouts at me and says funny things like "Why don't you run 50Km and see if it goes away" [It did, one time, I swear. My knee was all wobbly and I was griping big time and I sucked it up and ran to Mahabalipuram with my buddies and it was all Endorphins Baby All The Way and I felt awesome].

Now the trick is to not succumb to the low feeling too much. Like last month I was positive my ITBand was screwed up. I had a 21Km run on the schedule that was bothering me a lot. It wasn't like I had been running too well anyway up to then. I foam rolled [Hate It] and whined and griped. The 21Km felt fine though I was off target time. The ITB thing went away. But then right now my heel hurts. I swear it's like Three Men In A Boat. Just missing Housemaid's Knee!

I hereby resolve to count my lucky stars. The important thing is to Keep At It. So I have been doing whatever feels good. And is not = lazing and sleeping unnecessarily. I upped the weights on my strength routine. I increased intensity on my core routine. If I skipped an exercise that loaded my left heel (which is hurting), I added one that doesn't. Thinking of this as an opportunity. To fix my push-up form. To get a couple of pull ups under my belt. Like that. Hell Yeah. #FortyOneNotOut. But for now, I am back in crepe bandages and hoping it helps heal my heel! 

Of Life, Niggles, and Mental Strength

"Women Power" 

It has been a strange year for me, this 2015. Half way through, it is a good time to figure out a few things I guess. Instead of thinking, here I am, typing furiously and hoping the thoughts sort out in my head somehow. 

A few days shy of my 41st birthday, I dropped my precious iPhone. It wasn't even a particularly old iPhone (by my standards), so it was really earth-shattering for me to find that the touch screen konked immediately. The blasted alarm was on and I couldn't turn it off 'cause I couldn't swipe to unlock it. It was a relief when the battery died out (not that that took long - y'know). I replaced it with much guilt with a new one, thankfully it still fit into my old back-up battery. I declared it my 41st birthday gift from the family and they didn't seem to disagree, so that was that. 

Sometime in February, I started thinking seriously about training for marathons - something that I have never managed to do, like, ever. I started valiantly on the Run Less Run Faster program back in 2014 before the Chicago marathon, but the whole thing got derailed thanks to a shady tendonitis issue. Anyway this has been a good thing for my life, having a real personal coach and all. I have understood a lot more about my body (& mind), and while I fight another very recent niggle, I have good things to reflect on! 

The #CleanKotturpuramCampaign (https://www.facebook.com/CleanKotturpuramCampaign) was born this year on Jan26th. It is a neighborhood initiative and we work on waste segregation and tons of other related things. I have met such wonderful people and it is quite convenient considering they live so close by! We sweep and dig and level and talk and talk to everyone. We have had frustrations but look forward to growing this in the immediate future! And I have learnt so much about waste, it has been wonderful. 

The #100SareePact was also born this year. That one I cannot take credit for, but it has been an interesting journey for me. I feel mature and sensible and more confident walking about in a saree. I am not, as I say often enough, a fashionista. I hate figuring out crap like accessories. And being a chronic mix-and-match-er means that sarees are always tough treading ground. A bit of creativity on the blouse front, and recognising that there is a particular accessory I like (dangly ear-rings), has been great for me! Somehow it gives me the happies. 

We took two vacations this year - and are dying to take another one. The first one was an almost stay-cation. We just went to Mahabalipuram and it was super fun - mostly involving swimming, trying somersaults in the pool, and chatting. Then we went to Yelagiri on a big ol' family trip which was also great, with kids milling around, lots of trekking, and many arguments with the hotel guys who I suspected were trying to starve us. 

The child moved to a new school this term. That was an interesting set of tasks, I don't know how we managed to get it all together. But if I was worried about the transition, it turns out I needn't have. 'Cause she has been the trooper as always and adjusted super well. She is learning Language # 4 (Spanish, after Hindi/Tamil/Sanskrit for a few years each since Grade 1), and basketball (well, it's too soon to say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree), and seems in great spirits. 

What the next six months will bring up, I don't know. But I hope my running picks up - first the niggle to solve of course - and then a couple of nice races won't hurt even if they are not full marathons; I hope I get a hold on this nutrition; I hope we get some vacation time soon-ish; hope the child figures out some time for her swimming & most of all I wish for mental strength to stay happy and positive and a be good person! (and some mental clarity to blog more often!) 

Mysore Half Marathon

Even in the most megalomaniacal mood I couldn't write this in TWCM blog, so here I am. With some not-so-breaking news! And musings! 

On Sep 29th, I ran in the 3rd Namma Mysore marathon organised by Life is Calling. I have been meaning to run in this event since inception but it was always one thing or the other. All legitimate excuses, I promise. I managed a quick trip in and out of Mysore this year for it, so glad I could. Plus met up with the family and ate mum's dosas.... Yippee!

Of course, it is an exciting thing. I drooled over the race route every year - it starts at the Mysore Palace, winds all over, hits the Kukkarahalli Kere, goes past my sister's college and my school, dad's college, Neha's college, comes back down near where we used to live in those days, and returns to the Palace again. Drool.

I am in decent shape lately, I must say. The hyderabad marathon, where I was the 5 hour pacer, was good. I finished strong. The crazy flyover runs we have been doing in Chennai actually helped a bit. I have reduced mileage since end-August as I am working with a group of beginners training for TWCM, but have been super disciplined anyway.

The first km is itself uphill at Mysore. It's a super familiar place (Devraj Urs Road) having been here a million times but I was quickly out of breath running there! Of course I started in typical fashion at an insane pace (someday I am going to learn to start slow). It stayed uphill past Regaalis etc. and then it was up and down but I was enjoying running in all these places so much that I kind of didn't worry about things till the KM 15 or so. I did slow down but was still at a good clip throughout.

I saw all the lead runners on the trail part of the run, and was glad to note that I was in third position. But wasn't sure if there were any women near me, with all the uphill parts I was sure I would slow down in the later part of the race and that if anyone was near me they would overtake me. Not that I was too worried about it, of course. If they did, they did. Nothing I could do about it.

When I passed my school - 12 years there - I really really wanted to stop and take a photo. I was grinning like an idiot. But I was also hurting a bit and didn't think I would get a good shot thanks to the high compound wall - so continued on. I was all alone on this stretch, I couldn't wait for someone to catch up with me to tell them. That someone was a nice looking chap from the Navy or something but by then I had stopped tearing up and it was cool. I just told him, my school is lovely.

Dad's college passed by too quickly and I was going down a familiar downhill. How I used to love to ride my bike fast down that part of my commute home! I advise all the people to chill out and not run fast downhill lest they blow their knee out, but I couldn't resist... One final small hill to crest - and then the course flattened out nicely, and I left behind sentimentality and concentrated on keeping to a decent time.

I ran into a friend from Chennai at some stage and he pulled ahead, strong, at a water point. I was glad to see him go 'cause the sub-2 was in the bag for him, it meant. But I looked down at my watch and realised it was likely that I could do it as well. So I urged the little heart to fight it out. Another friend who had finished earlier showed up to pace me the last few hundred meters. I didn't put in as much as a kick as I usually do at the finish ('cause I only do that if I am on a track!) but came in in 1:57 and change anyhow.

I was super duper happy with the time. I did feel like I had worked hard, and finished strong. Did my usual Viparita Karani (suspending my legs) move on some random palace wall (after finding one that didn't have any gods on it!) and drank up all my water, and stretched out nicely and walked around a lot, admiring the Palace and taking pictures...

Then waited and waited and waited a long while to finally get the chance to go up on stage and collect my third place trophy. The auto I flagged afterward had this super chatty driver who refused to believe that anyone would pay money to just participate in this mad caper of a race....

Mum and Grandmum and Aunts and all were very kicked about the whole thing... Paper had my name going on which was cool. And check me out all pink and smiling with my trophy thing!

The Ultra Experience

I didn't even describe in gory detail my Hyderabad Full Marathon experience this year..oops..last year. So I guess I am allowed to go on a bit about the latest thing I ran. Just in time to welcome the new year & bid goodbye to the old one, on 30th December, 2012.

Try not to tell my mum about this. I ran a 50km Ultra from Alwarpet to Mahabalipuram. Yes. Thats 8km more than a full marathon. 8km more than I have ever run in my life. I ran for six hours. Thats almost an hour and a half more than I have ever run in my life...

The Shahid Ultra is a regular Chennai Runners feature in December. The date is usually earlier in the month, but was postponed to 30th this year in honour of the now world famous Wipro Chennai Marathon extravaganza 2012. It involves running from the usual CR gym at Alwarpet, past Kotturpuram, on to OMR and then to ECR.

On ECR you go on and on till you reach Radisson Blu in Mahabs. The Radisson Blu guys love us and provide us ice, towels, iced tea, shower stalls and a sumptuous breakfast. The ever enthu CR folks - a handful who don't run - volunteer and drive around on ECR serving as mobile hydration & fuel spots.

I declared after the SCMM in Jan that I would run the Ultra fully this year (last year I ran 28kms, starting from the Uthandi Toll Booth and ending up in time for hot breakfast at the hotel). I felt good enough in the first part of the year to not regret that statement. The second part of the year was terrible and I couldn't seem to catch a break.

They call me Drama Queen, and I guess I am that person who is never satisfied with her preparation or performance, but this time I was genuinely worried. I had that foot pain (no, not Plantar), I am definitely 1 kg heavier, my core seems to have disappeared somewhere, I fell sick several times with colds, coughs, stomach cramps, and so on.

I don't even dare look at my workout notebook too closely  - yes, I have moved to writing this stuff down in a diary. Ever since I started strength training somewhat seriously and feel the need to write down names of the exercises and reps & weights. The notebook makes me feel worried, and fat.

But I had promised KP that we would run. Rocket was going to run with us. Krishna had promised to support us by driving around and giving us whatever things and encouragements we needed. I had decided to use the Run Walk method, in a bid to ensure that my legs stay safe for SCMM - I have loved the Run Walk whenever I have done long runs that way.

I did a strong 28km last week. Then went off to Bangalore and ate a lot and felt cold and anemic and sick. My mum started yelling at me and asking me if I am eating Calcium supplements (I am not). I promised her that I would eat multivitamins (I didn't buy them yet). We had a house party, I slogged for it.

I drank a little (not much thankfully) on Friday; and slept at 3 am. On Saturday I woke up late and cleaned up and stuff and took the child to Landmark. I sat in uncomfortable chairs feeling tired but proud of my little one spelling 'Quatrain' and 'Clairvoyant' & so on with consummate ease. She came in fourth (missing by a whisker, and spelling 'Nauseous' perfectly). I drove back home.

We had family visiting. Power was cut all over the area. I returned to a fully dark home. I was calculating furiously when I had to sleep to get enough rest. Food in the fridge had gone bad. The kids were getting antsy. It was raining. Mosquitoes were feasting royally in the absence of GoodKnight power....

I didn't think about much. We dropped everyone off at my in-laws place, and the two of us decided to eat out so we could charge our mobiles (which were dead). We argued loudly about our respective parenting styles and I tried hard to eat extra but couldn't. Slept at 10 pm (power had returned by then) only to wake up at 11 pm amidst very loud banging of some sort.

Counted sheep to fall asleep again till the alarm went off at 2:45. Got ready, felt fine, hitched a ride with Rocket's kind husband, and then that was that. The enthu of the CR carried me through after that. We started running at 3:30am. The pace groups split almost immediately. We silently passed through the dark city, chatting only desultorily.

Soon we hit ECR and plodded on determinedly towards the goal. We used a 5:1 run walk during the first hour, a 4:1 run walk during the second one, 3:1 during hour three, and 2:1 after that till the bitter end. I expected cramps and pain and much suffering. But I was just fine. I look at my garmin data and feel super happy - consistent throughout.

We started off as a group of 6. Two pulled back at the Uthandi toll booth. The four of us stuck together very well till almost the very end. After the toll booth, it became my task to call out the run and walk breaks. I used my voice till I could, and then just recoursed to raising my hand to indicate to the others. Finally I just stopped when the 2 min period finished and hoped the others noticed...

I check on myself periodically during long runs. Mental faculty - was great throughout. I could count, and was counting steps like crazy. Feet felt fine, despite the rain (thanks to vibrams!!). I wore a cap and sunglasses when the sun came out so my eyes and head were happy. Thanks to my friends driving around, I consumed orange slices, banana pieces, gatorade and water in sufficient amounts so stomach felt perfect.

I have never done anything so crazy in my life I don't think. I don't usually give myself the option of not finishing something I start, but you never know, right? Weather is a big unknown, and even after all these years, I still don't know enough about my body. Whatever it is, I am very glad and grateful and happy to finish off 2012 on a strong note... 

Kickin' It

I am training for a marathon again. I mean, its spreadsheet time. Though I haven't yet registered for the race. Though I have ignored emails from friends suggesting travel/acco plans to race venue (Hyderabad, if you must know).

The logic of my marathon training is a simple one. First the left hand side column is populated. How old am I? What historical injuries will I bring to the start line? Is the weather any comfort to humans (or any flora/fauna for that matter)? Excuses, you may say. Most important things in the world, next to guilt, which I consume as a major food group.

Next starts the browsing and analysing of the running folk-lore. The McMillan. The Galloway. The Murakami (useful tips from him that help left hand side column things a lot, especially the aging funda). I obsessively determine my 'expected finish time' and correlate it to last year's race standings. And thus depress myself immensely, at the get go.

Synthesis of all information and excuses and the scheduling of runs is up next. I have a simple excel WS marked out with stuff. This year I am at any rate logging all my runs and workouts and swims. Would use another sheet for the next few months, thats all.

I am aiming to add in a bit of speed-work this time around. Alternate weeks on the track. Yassos or Mile repeats; or at least 100m sprints/Tabata sessions. The latter are much easier for me than the former, but I suppose I could up the intensity and be somewhere in between in terms of difficulty. We'll see. The knees, ankles, and back health will determine that.

The past week was an experiment on what I call 'core tightness.' Might sound super stupid I warn. Of late, I have been running about 3 days a week (2 short, 1 long), swimming 1-2 times a week (crappily), and indulging in some species of core workout (usually p90x) 1-2 times a week. I mix it up fairly haphazardly based on morning mood but on average this is it.

I have been eating fairly badly. Mostly fried stuff like Murukku and Beetroot chips from Chennai Chips. I don't overeat so thats not a problem. I eat lot of veggies, so thats not an issue either. But the Murukku, Thattai, Chips, Boondi type stuff are still an enemy. Somehow I am reluctant to totally clean up my act here. I rationalise saying its 'not too much'

So the experiment this week was to run my 'pants off' as the case might be. Avoid any 'mat work' - no core synergistics, no insanity, no swimming even (which is just as well as the pool is ridiculously crowded). I ran everyday Sun-Thu. I was supposed to get out and run a bit on Friday as well, and then test behavior in long run today.

The experiment failed. I had to take yesterday off, first of all. My tempo run on Thursday (a long tempo - 6 miles - tough) was not great. The weather kicked my ass. Work and other commitments kicked my ass. I slept in. Never mind, I told myself. Rest is good. Lets bend the long run over.

I woke up this morning with a start, 2 snoozes later. Did my thang & woke up child (for her swim lesson). Child went to the bathroom and we discovered she has loose motion. I KNOW its not a big deal okay? But its 5:15 am. I am alone. I am a mommy. I am an idiot. I told her to go back to sleep, switched on the ac.

I took off. Mind disturbed. Legs were not great. Never mind, I told myself. They will heat up. I pulled out a 9:20 first mile, then coaxed out a 8:53 mile 2. Then I let it all flow. I took to the track for a bit - about 3 miles - and had the satisfaction of overtaking all the old people there. I was pushing myself though. Never mind, I told myself.

The core felt bloated, not in the least bit tight. At any rate I got my period yesterday so the experiment has to be repeated again for sure. Everything is all bloaty and weird at this time anyhow, run or coresyn, hardly matters, I would think.

I got out of the track and to the road. Lost in the ipod. The garmin died an ignominious death. Two dogs barked at me. Thankfully I was faster than them plus threatened to punch them. So they held back. On and on I went. Weather. Child. Legs. Back. Thirst. Blood blister. Oh well. I turned back.

Guess I did okay. No idea if my pace was good (it was decently good the first 10k, this I know). But I hung in there for nearly 2 hours. A few ticks more than last weeks long run. It has been a reasonably high mileage week. My left column is ready (add blood blister). New shoes! New worksheet! New everything! Hyderabad, here we go. 

Exploring new lands

(Footprint in the sand in the Andamans last year in my most loved vibrams)

Same old boring running. Whats the big deal about running. One foot in front of the other. Why does this one go on and on about this running? Not as if she is some super elite Usain Bolt types. You are thinking, right?

Well it is true. This post is also about super boring running. So there is a chance that this one is not going to connect with you at all. But hey. Has that ever stopped me? How many books have I dismissed, with snide remarks about 'playing too much to the gallery?' I obviously indulge in the opposite of that. Meaning, doing my best *not* to keep my audience in mind...

In the past several months my relationship with running has taken on a new and more wonderful flavour. And the time seems ripe to share that here. To the (possibly disinterested) gallery of Party People. There are stories and incidents to share from my 2012 life!

• On April 7th, my dear friend Bala ran this phenomenal run of 46 kms. One for each year of his birth, and an appealing new way of celebrating a birthday! Prior to that, he had run 21 kms each on 21 consecutive days. Yes, you read it right. 21 half marathons in as many days. The mind is still boggling at the thought of that. The thing about Bala is that he is so humble, and so very unassuming. The 46 years lie lightly on him, for sure! He did this to raise awareness about cancer and to test the limits of his (super) human body. And boy. I swear the city changed.

• Coincidentally, I call him my birthday brother because a long time ago when Bala was celebrating his 8th birthday (and possibly doing something equally awesomely crazy), in another part of the country and completely unknown to him, I was born. I joined him on his quest this year but ran only 26 kms - joking that I would run my 'apparent age' rather than 'real age' I cannot think of a better way to celebrate birthdays. 

• On the other end of the spectrum (in terms of age), are these two 'crazies' as I call them lovingly - running buddies of mine. They are training for a 10k race in the near future. And goodness me. Super disciplined training. They feed off each others enthusiasm and drive, and are constantly pushing themselves. When I saw how much they seem to enjoy their training, I decided to jump in with them too (although I am not running the short race). 

• I am scared of things that go by the names tempo, interval, short tempo, goal pace, Yassos, mile repeats etc. I have done them a few times early on in my running career and it always seems to result in some weird pain that dogs me for days and makes everything uncomfortable. Yeah well, not any more. I have run two crazy tempo runs with these friends of mine, and it has been a spectacularly awesome experience! Oh yes, I really enjoy these and will go for it again.

• I was lying around all pissy mooded after the Mumbai Marathon when I read emails about the Republic day half marathon. I had managed to twist my ankle walking - but went anyway to the race. I am glad I did because that was a race that I am going to remember for a while. And not just for the Personal Best HM time but generally, for how great I felt. This was a huge party.

• I did pay the price for ignoring my ankle though, in fact, I am still paying the price. I was on a long run in early March (maybe Feb), singing and feeling genuinely happy. It was early morning I was sweating buckets and had run about 8 km. I tripped on the uneven pavement, and, didn't fall. But my ankle went. I walked for a long while hoping it would fix itself. I swam, I compressed, I iced, I ignored for the next several weeks. Its still not fully happy. 

• The vibrams experiment started in summer 2011 after my Boston trip. I eased myself into it. It felt like my form was neutral enough that there was no marked difference between asics and vibrams for me. I neither felt less or more pain, was neither faster nor slower. Given my unhappy ankle, I am trying a new experiment. And that is a more vibram dependent training. At least I don't need socks. 

• Another running friend runs what he calls the 'Walmart' adventure. Meaning, he runs less. Does more. Strength and mobility and core and stuff like that. He steadfastly refuses invitations to crazy runs involving logging indeterminate number of miles. Has this spreadsheet. And a terrace where he works out. I joined him on what we have termed the 'motta maadi' workout (Tamil word for terrace). My thighs cried for days but it was wonderful. Bear crawls are my favourite exercise now! 

• A close friend for years, and a self-proclaimed 'anti-runner' and when he does run, an 'anti-social runner' this giant who is my husband is running these days. Equilibrium has been achieved wherein he runs and I run, completely separately, and we high five when we meet going in opposite directions. He sets his own targets, I set my own, and we compare and since both of us are disciplined like that, we usually meet them and we feel happy for ourselves and each other. Decoupling rocks!

So many different things have happened to me already in 2012! I am loving it! New friends, old friends, new ideas, old ideas, inspirational stories, all mixed up in the bag. The weather, my injuries, the busy schedules at work & at home, these are only incidental to my running life now. There. I am done. 

Uterus Calling

My friend tells me this story of how she was running. Alone. She was in kilometer 15 of her long run that warm humid Sunday in Chennai when she was accosted by a buxom old lady. Who stopped her. Chow had to take her music off and cock a polite ear to said lady. She was informed that she should stop running, stat, because her uterus would fall out if she continued to gallop like a horse.

Chow is a nice girl so I guess she didn't smack the lady but smiled and continued to gallop in a distinctly equine manner. I cannot wait for her to come back to the circuit now, after her well deserved break for what else? Motherhood.

I am usually small enough to go un-noticed by passersby. In fact, I think I am well nigh invisible. The deshvaasi will tell you the story of how I went to buy tickets in a smelly sweaty office in IIT one time, with him in tow. People walked over me (literally), sticking their armpits in my face and stuff. So, except for a few stray dogs, I don't receive much attention from fellow citizens on the road.

But in general, there is a lot of gyaan dispensed over the years that rings in my head. This business with the uterus? Well. I was started on it a long time ago. I used to cycle a lot in my youth. Yes, yes, you are not surprised, I know. My parents bought me a nice shiny red bike when I was 12 or so. Sort of right on the cusp of adolescence of womanhood or whatever. I used to ride it like a banshee all over the city at all times of day (not night. I had 7 pm curfew. Seriously. I think I still have 7 pm curfew in my mum's house. For sure).

My aunt who lived with us was pretty upset at me. She was sure that I was ruining my body with all the cycling and running and so forth. I think she even tried to accost me one time to talk about my hymen. Thankfully I escaped her clutches and complained to my mum who had bigger battles to fight and some family thing or the other ensued and everyone forgot about me, my uterus and tubes and associated things and I was left to my own devices.

We should have a short race for women in the near future (March 11), in our campus - I am working on it. I hope we get rid, at some point, of all these stupid notions about the relationship between exercise and our bodies. I am not recommending that we all jump on the marathon band-wagon, and I am the first one to preach moderation (even if I don't always practice it). Also, I believe strongly in the power of training, good support, hydration, discipline, and taking small steps. But seriously? It is really unlikely that your uterus will fall out if you run.

Marching to a different tune

I used to run short races. Really short ones. That was my thing. What I trained for. Not trained in a particularly correct manner, no doubt, but as it were, those were the events that excited me in the field. The ones I felt the correct mixture of apprehension and excitement about. There was no boring talk about a mid-foot strike there. It was all toes. I do feel that there remains some unexplored potential there and sort of regret having to live in this nearly-forty-year-old body and have no more chance of chasing after that. But then, it is fine. Its just a life, half-forgotten.

800 meters was a long race for me. My friend Durga was the champion of that distance. She was thoroughly intimidating in a way that large, non-vegetarian people still are to me. She was built of sturdy stock, no doubt. She whupped my ass on a routine basis and it was through sheer grit and because of my low body weight (I was sure) that I could manage to stay a step ahead of her in the 100 m dash. I recall the introduction of a skipping race once. A race that Durga thought was stupid and therefore was goofing off at, knotting the rope into other people's feet and so forth. I was focussed as ever. She still won.

As we lined up at the OAT yesterday for a race, I cleared my mind of thoughts. The entire deal was too different from my recent race experiences for me to really connect with it coherently. I was still a bit woozy from my trip and that horrid flight back that I took (crying babies crying babies till I have to deal with being a real grandmother, I think I am going to dislike crying). We dropped the child off at her swimming. The husband was my running mate this time. Thats a big difference. He was not grumpy, despite it being an early hour of the morning. Another huge first.

I brought a bar of some sort of cereal with me. I find that I am hungry in the mornings, and unless I start running before I fully open my eyes, hunger pangs overcome me. In fact, at Auroville, I was pretty hungry and seriously considered stopping for a bite to eat, except for the fact that it was a 10k and seriously who eats in the middle of a 6-miler? I ate the cereal bar, except for a tiny bit that fell on the road and I refused to eat it (husband did eat that quoting the 5 second rule back at me). I took a sip of water and left the bottle behind in the car. Didn't think I needed that either. Plus some guy at Auro told me my stance was all skewed from carrying a bottle on my right side. So.

The place was packed with people I know. From every pore came folks I knew. The thing with middle-aged folks is that no one talks about goals and pace and such like. I harassed KP and the rocket about that and they made some non-committal noises. I asked the husband (who always has a goal in mind) and he growled at me. I plastered a fake smile as I stood around in my black shorts and considered whether my period was truly truly done with or if I had a last day to contend with. The MIT maroon T thats hangs a bit loose is a favourite these days, I could hardly feel it. But I felt bottom heavy, of course.

The course is 7 km long, they said. I wasn't too concerned thanks to Le Garmin. It was 10 mins past the proposed start time so a bunch of us got impatient and started a flux towards what we presumed was the start point. I was tempted to just flag off and run and in fact KP started a fake countdown. Then someone took the mike and counted us off finally. "I need to feel the air"I told the faces as I took off. I did a dancing toe strike movement for ten steps to get ahead of all the walkers and laughers and faces and found myself up ahead, as I wanted to be.

This is not a casual saunter in the park Preeti, I told myself. I always start fast, the trick is to keep at it. I kept at it for a mile or two and saw all the familiar faces at the turn. I was running in my vibrams. I am not devoid of pain currently. There are at least four identifiable pain spots now. But nothing to complain about in a short race. I was breathing heavy. You are supposed to breathe heavy. No conversational pace today, I told myself. The route is familiar and I hardly had to look, my feet just took me. I glanced down at some point and registered a 5k PB. I claim this is a PB for 'this season' - but considering that I acquired Le Garmin in September 2011, I don't know. It could be a PB for life. Who knows?

I clung on then, knowing I had 2 kilometers (or less, surely the distance wasn't measured that accurately) to go. I was several minutes ahead of the rocket, and consequently of any other people of my gender. Not that I even try to keep that as a goal any more. Rocket was chilling in her new vibrams at any rate. This time my goal was to beat a whole lot of young boys in the race. To show them I'm the boss. And at the turn thats precisely what I was doing. Mani and Niranjan were up ahead - Mani a bit more ahead and Niranjan within my sights. It was good not to let our age get in the way of anything.

I slowed it down a bit as the finish slope is super steep. I recalled the last time I sprinted down that slope - back in January with MSB - in the finest physical fitness shape I have exhibited in a long long while. We sprinted right back up after that for a few further kilometers that day. Today I was content to stop and smile slyly at the look of total surprise that the young boys scattered around the place had on their faces. 6.5 km in 33:10 (per my Garmin, which I started a bit after the start point) is not bad for a has-been who started her early running career intimidated by large, rather solid women with long oily black plaits running down their backs.... 

Sum Total

Germany is done with. I returned home bleary-eyed last night in a real crabby mood. Showered. Kissed the people sleeping in my bed without waking them up & felt a bit better. Crashed clutching my hurting head and before I knew it it was 10 am and a new day had dawned in my life and in Chennai.

It was an awesome few days. I had good company when I wanted. Lots of alone time when I needed it. High speed internet. I exercised a number of times. I explored trails and tracks and the whole town on foot. The weather was crisp and cold but not altogether unpleasant. The conference went well and I talked research for many hours with many intelligent people.

I did some minimal sight-seeing. It was not my first time in Germany (third or fourth time I have been there). I feel comfortable in that beautiful country now. I feel like I want to go back. I like their history. I especially like their old people, and I met one wonderful old lady who had tears in her eyes when we left her. I loved your enthusiasm Eve Maria Star, maybe we will meet again some day. 

I loved the trains. I loved traipsing around in the wonderful Inter-City Express, but also the tiny trams that took me to the little town we stayed in. Bad Herrenalb (pop. <10000!). This is right in the Black Forest, and had tons of beautiful trails going into the forest. It was like living in a fairy-tale. With a happy ending. And beer.

The images above are a collage of my experiences there. Except for the fact that I did not drink all that beer - that picture is from the internet (sorry!). The rest are my own. I drank some wonderful beers, I especially liked a thin but dark beer called Kostritzer. The last time I drank a Pils I really hated it, but the Pils I drank this time I liked, also.

My running was not quality running. It was exploring a new place alone running. It was pushing beyond the envelope running. It was being Indian and living in Chennai but getting out there at 6 am before anyone wakes up to crunch on the snow running (it was not all that much snow, but the temperatures were a little below 0 C). It was 'lets figure out how much you love running' running. The little green google map up there doesn't do justice to the wonder I felt.

I'll be back someday. To walk amidst tall Germans. To see apple-cheeked children carrying toboggans that I would like to try someday. Auf Wiedersehen!

Party Pooper

"What do I wear?"  is not the first question that comes to mind when I get invited to go to a dinner or a party. Seriously. Before my friends completely disown me, let me forge ahead and explain.

"What is my long run plan for the weekend?" is the question I ask myself. Seriously. Now go ahead and disown me.

As I age, my ability to operate on fewer hours of sleep than usual is there, somewhat. But my ability to exercise on fewer hours of sleep has vanished poof into the void.

"At least you get out there" I tell myself. And this is true. It is a big achievement. I like my group of friends. I like meeting new people. I like all the chatter and noise and alcohol and food and so on. Up until 9:30 pm. I can drag on till 10 pm for special occasions. But after that, I hate everything and everybody. And I pull my hair out and drag my shirt out of my jeans and generally follow the child about like a lamb looking for a comfy mattress to lie down upon and sleep.

My brother in law, when they lived in the US, had cracked this problem well (though he was not motivated by long runs). He would disappear into one of the conveniently located bedrooms, claiming that his child needed to sleep. He would take a quick nap. If the child slept during this time, well and good. He was not too bothered by that outcome, really. Refreshed from his nap, he would emerge all gung-ho and ready for ice-cream.

My husband is absolutely the opposite of me. He will sit around slightly grumpy for the first hour or so of the party. He will have normal conversations with people - without excitement - just neutral-like. By and by he will overtake the party. The point at which conversations in new languages enter the mix is really when I start very quantitatively evaluating things like number of hours of sleep, converting 9:00-9:30 min/mile long runs to any LSD (long slow distance) I can muster, number of hours I can run, whether I can make up somehow through the course of the week, etc.

The sensible thing to do, in these situations, is what one of my girl friends does. "Preeti, can you guys drop my husband off at home?" she will ask, knowing full well that we are in it for the long haul. Then she gives a sweet smile at everyone and goes home to sleep, a fluffy mattress, sleeping children, and sleep, blissful sleep. Meanwhile I look daggers at my husband, who ignores me, and has the company of another night owl and an obligation to hang out till he is ready to leave. I find the child curled up in a corner and plonk next to her (she ignores me as well). Then some enthusiastic adult comes up to me to ask if I am bored, don't I want another drink, did I eat my dinner, etc. (no, no, sort of).

I think I am theoretically ready for parties and dinners and socialising and late nights. But my body is telling me something else. When I hit the big four-oh, I think I am going to hang up my socks and stay home in my comfy bed and read or sleep while you all waltz around through the night. We can always chat over email or something in the morning hours. I have 700 odd days to grit my teeth through then... 

Water Water Paani Paani

When I was in school, we had a dark room that was the video room. We were periodically taken there and shown a movie. It was always the same one. About giants and bad guys in a desert. The details are irrelevant (meaning, I have forgotten them), but they were walking in the desert and really dying of thirst. Because they were bad guys. Not because the desert is such an environment where water is scarce. "Paani Paani" they would rasp at periodic intervals. God may or may not have been involved.

Being a geek, I sat down and watched the movie whenever they showed it to us. The activity in the dark(er) regions in the back of the room was not happening, as far as I was concerned. I would nod off periodically (I would have gone nuts from about 5:30 am with various, so putting me in a dark room with a boring movie at 2 pm was a good recipe for that, surely). But I swear I watched that movie at lot. Without once asking them why they went on showing it to us. Whatever.

I was reading eatdrinkrun yesterday and well, I did not disagree with her, but like I have said before. I don't drink much water when I run anyhow. I rarely bring a bottle along. I don't own a fuel belt. Well, I do, but its tight round the gut, I don't use it. I don't like it. I will snap on a bottle of gatorade to my bike if I bike to the run. Else I just step out of house and home with the towel & watch, pretty much.

So I was not thinking of camels, deserts, or god (!) when I waltzed out this morning. It was 5 am. I zoomed over on my bike & discovered that the group was out in numbers today. Which was pretty cool as I hadn't looked at the emails and as far as I knew, it was only KP & I. Not that I mind running or galloway-ing with KP, he is awesome and super enthu. But imagine. Its still dark out and there are 11 people stretching. Thats pretty inspiring, eh?

We decided to run through (lets say, I decided for our gang of 5 that we would ditch the run-walk and just run). Off. We reached the beach at around km 5. And gosh, it was warm. Everyone had water/gatorade with them, but I was too cool to ask for it. I generally don't like to pile on others hydration packs 'cause you know how it is. You carry it, I will drink it? Sounds a bit mean, no? Anyhow, when KP called the 1 min walk break, I was very happy. In a dehydrated sort of way. Like your smile can only stretch so much because of the white goo on the side of your mouth.

We ran for a total of 1:14; I still retained enough moisture to stride at the end; but I tell you folks. I was super dehydrated. I gulped down my gatorade the second I found my bike (bad idea, I know, but it worked okay for today). But the good part? Legs were perfect. My breathing was good (has been troubling me of late, possibly just that MSB's pace is not comfortable for me any more). The group is fantastic, so positive and so cute. I biked back home and by the time I got in to work, I had drunk at least 3 liters of fluids. Really, I don't drink much of anything, except stout beer, of course. But today, I did.

Next up:: My comeuppance akin to the giants in the video in the school dark room place? Naah. I'll be fine. I will carry water on my runs henceforth. I will carry water on my runs henceforth. This is Chennai.

Black: Rain

Of course you mainly come here to try and see if there is any connection between title and contents of blog post. Of course you do. Let me help you out by quickly providing you this, so that you can move on and read phdcomics, or krishashok, or hhc, or whatever.

It was raining. I wore black. Which, without really consulting a mirror, I think hides wetness well. Mind, I did not consult a mirror, so perhaps I am wrong. Whatever. Who cares? At my age...

This is a blog post that ludwig was supposed to write. Especially given that I specifically asked him to. Since he hasn't, I take the burden upon myself. Always the shoulders, always the burden. Thats Kenny.

Saturday dawned dark and dreary. I clutched my phone as I am wont to in the wee hours, taking care to press on the right and not the left (left switches off the alarm, right snoozes it). The homies were sleeping blissfully, breathing (and snoring, respectively), in harmonized manner. I love them a lot when they are asleep, especially when they have not entangled themselves into me and dug their hands (one smooth and soft, the other very rough) into the small of my back in a knotty knot, are not breathing on my face, and have given me the space I justly deserve, in our bed. The bed which I have covered currently in a navy blue sheet with six-petal-white-flowers drawn on it.

So I jumped out. Sat long run. Bring it. I looked outside the window. All dark. All monsoon-y. But in a nice way. Not like nasty Mumbai - somehow I hated the Mumbai rains except for the first fifteen days of the season. I used to wear a raincoat and carry an umbrella for a large part of those four months of rain. I like the Chennai rains. My indiscretions of the weekend usually catch up with me on Wednesday, hump day, as it were. I am hoping I will not change my mind on this, the day after tomorrow. Anyhow it was not a real long run. Just a short 10 km or thereabouts.

Messages back and forth. A quick call to ludwig. An increasing sense of my own lunacy. I ignored all the nagging thoughts. Slush. Puddles. Water. Soakedness of clothes (after all, modesty, above all! modesty!). Monster's half-day of school. Fuck it. I am going. I wheeled my cycle out. The asics can use a bit of a wash, I remember thinking.

I had many thoughts. I crossed many puddles and pools. I got soaked within seconds of leaving the house, and so I rode my cycle into the puddles with impunity. I used to love to do that in school but mum would kick my ass about it so that would make me hesitate. Now, I am the master of my domain (and do my own laundry, thank you), so ha! I appreciated the dry-fit material of my clothes extensively. I felt encouraged thinking about how I have always been a bit of a mountain goat - I don't fall easily. I especially loved the green fresh look of the campus. And the waterproof-ness of my Timex. Sivey and Ludwig, after giving me those weird looks from inside the car, finally got out after a while and ran. It stopped raining too. I don't remember sweating. I don't remember much, except that it was awesome.

"Are you fucking insane?" asked the husband when I returned home. All pumped up on endorphins, soggy wet, and jubilant and extra-energetic. "I guess so. But it was great fun" I said, as I dried out my hair and showered....

Inspiration

I keep thinking 'ooh i must write that in my blog' as I read something. Then I think 'naa. let me finish the book and then I can write a proper summary' - of course that never really happens. By the time the book is done with, my opinions of various things read along the way have changed. I have forgotten how I felt at the beginning of the book. I have started to even dislike it a bit. I never seem to like a book as much towards the end as at the start. And also, I don't do reviews of movies or books or stuff like that, generally. It feels like too much effort!

Just to mix things up a bit, I thought of talking about what I am currently reading. A running book (its highly unlikely that a running book ends as well as it begins, unless, of course, its the Murakami, that genius). It doesn't matter what it is. Or who it is by (you know its not the Murakami, of course). But its super inspiring! Sports stuff always is, to me. All the sports movies my husband has made me watch over the years. The books by all the basketball legends that I have managed to plod through despite the poor English and organisational glitches. And more recently, all the books by runners I have read. Oh! And not to mention that article about Zola Budd I chanced upon in Runner's World in October last year. Just super cool!

It made me think about my own career as a sports person. Or the lack of my own career as a sports person. Some of these people seem to hint at a genetic predisposition to sports. I had none. Dad used to claim some prowess at Tennis and Swimming, but I never saw that side of him, really. Mum wore a half-saree to school and though she is good at Yoga and can really walk a fair bit for an ancient person, is not particularly sporty. None of my various relatives, except one cousin of dad's who was supposed to be brilliant at Kho-Kho (but he doesn't seem to have done much, and well, he died young), accomplished anything by way of sports. It was thus a pain in the neck to describe to them my passion for basketball. And then later for the guy-who-played-basketball. Of course, the fact that I did not grow much (or at all) was another problem, in both cases (He is SO tall! Well, I will soon cut him down to size, I would reply, though I DID NOT mean that). This still is.

It was in the VI std. that I started on basketball. Initially, as in most coaching I have gone through, the coach made us just run. It would drive the boys nuts because I could beat them. They would go crazy the next day, trying to beat me. But there was always a bunch of boys I could defeat rather easily, and I am sure they all hated me (probably still do!). I was not particularly skilled in basketball though, I worked hard, somehow always preferring the running parts of the coaching to the others. Now I think I do okay, I can shoot decently (for a short person of middle-age) and dribble reasonably with my right. I guess there was a point of time in the past when I was good. But it was when I was in the 9th std. My parents refused to even consider sending me to the camp in Bangalore. I was not overly keen anyway, I figured it would be painful, and was studying for various things, which was the reason I used to wake up at 5 am, drink milk, study for a bit, cycle off with best friend to the courts, sweat buckets, return home, shower, eat, pick up bag, cycle off to school (and then take a nice nap in class)...

At the coaching, after a point, I was with the girls from the sports hostel. They were all nice athletic strong meat-eating girls. I was a skinny vegetarian kid who had eaten maybe one egg her entire life. But the coaches liked me. I am not sure if it was just my crazy enthusiasm for running and sweating; my geekiness in listening closely to their advice, or the fact that I was not supposed to really be there. Girls from our type of families, who were good in studies, and not looking for athletic scholarships for college, did not show up day after day to sweat it out. I think it was something like that! Skill-wise I am not sure I was that great, really!

The sub-text of it all was irrelevant to me. The coach had once come home to ask my parents to send my sis to some camp. He was politely turned down. I felt super good though because it meant I stood some chance, genes-wise. And also, I adored and worshipped her. (Now I just love her!). As for me, I just was looking to be out there, wind in my face. I had people come up and yell at me about studying for the JEE or something like that. I was doing that. I loved that too and was doing that as well as I could, and my early morning jaunt only made me concentrate better, never tired me out or anything!

This is getting too long. I did not want to say all this stuff, at least not now. I just wanted to say that I like those books, mostly 'cause they make me feel like I am not the only insane person around. That there are insaner folks out there. With the difference that they all manage to accomplish something using that insanity, whereas, I, just, well, run. And hope that my past mistakes and irresponsibility towards my ankles will somehow be forgiven and forgotten...

Call me crazy in Potsdam

(Again from the desk, just a couple of days ago. Disclaimer, after I wrote this, they actually took us on a very long city tour, and yes, it is rich historically, no doubt).

The German city I find myself in since yesterday is called Potsdam. Familiar to keen readers of world history as the place of the Potsdam Conference at the end of World War II, though, for some strange reason, this is not a matter that comes up in average German discussions regarding the city. Although everyone insists that it is a historical and cultural hub, at first glance it feels slightly gritty, and the large construction crew next to our hotel does not help much in changing that image.

Nevertheless, at the end of the day’s meetings, a bunch of guys and I stepped out of the hotel to a square, with a nice fountain & lots of music and filled to the brim with people in sports outfits. I was salivating thinking about a possible race when one of the guys, who speaks fluent German, asked someone, and found that indeed, there was a race on!

We wound through a bunch of people, walked into a school (called the Einstein Gymnasium!!), registered me, paid up the requisite 15 Euros, got me a t-shirt and bib, and a running chip (!), and I returned to my room to change. Back at the location again, my brown skin and pink shirt (of course I wore my usual Asics running shirt and not their cotton one), sort of conspicuous amidst all the (very tall) German people milling around. I sent the guys off to do their thing, set the watch on Chrono, and before I knew it, we were off.

The Park Sanssouci is a three minute walking distance from the Hotel. I had discovered its many pleasures – interminable steps, leafy arches, fountains, plenty of quiet (aside from chirping birds) paths – early this morning, running here and there and everywhere while two of my (sane) friends walked around wearing their sweaters.

Naturally, come evening, my legs were not particularly in the mood for a run. But the race was for 7.2 km – four rounds of 1.8 km each – 1.8km being called a Prussian Mile, for some reason that we did not understand. The announcements were all in German. I relied on my gut feel that Germans, if not anyone else in the world, would start a race on time – it was scheduled for 8 pm, and after eating a large banana, I reached there at 7:30 pm, well in time.

People would look sideways at me and then glance away. I tried to be nice. I tried to smile but it rarely worked. I soon gave up and decided to concentrate on running, after all, that was my primary purpose of being there, not to fraternise. The first round was not very comfortable, I ran it in 9:15. The next three rounds felt a bit better, I suppose not really knowing the running route can be a bit of a psyching factor in a race. I finished finally in 39:34; which is about 3+ mins less than I anticipated, so I was pretty happy. My legs were a bit off from the jet-lag, the morning run, the slight stress about my morning presentation, and I was a fair bit hungry. Besides, I never like the evening runs much. Nevertheless, an opportunity I would not have missed out on!

Everyone at the conference is now thoroughly convinced of my craziness. My German-speaking friend was sweet enough to wait for me at the finish, walk back to the hotel with me, convince them to give me a bit of pasta (the buffet was removed by the time I showed up), and hang out while I ate. This race, not that it was spectacular in terms of my performance or anything (I think I did the 8 km in campus last semester in 40mins), I dedicate to him, denizen of beautiful campus in South Mumbai.

Back in the room, washed the clothes, switched on the football, and spent a few minutes thinking and missing my little girl immensely. In a way it is a good thing this, that love is sort of immutable and unchangeable and is unaffected by external forces. Or maybe it is not love but just stupidity. Anyhow, I am counting the hours....

Oh! There was an agenda!

Apparently, the annual alumni meet is supposed to shake the world. Yes, such are the delusions prevalent in my alma matter to date. At least, knowing it as I do, the alma matter could care a rat's ass but the well-placed alumni feel this is an occasion to pontificate at length and have panel discussions and other such jazz, and, at the end, breathe a collective sigh of contentment and exclaim on how effective and wonderful and wondrous and so on the whole thing was. 3000 people attended! Nine parallel tracks of discussions! Unbelievable number of ideas were generated! Such like. ludwig of course has it absolutely right when he calls it the wtf of the century.

I strolled in, monster in hand, and found this bloody ten foot board of small print indicating the various activities one could indulge in. The only relevant one was conveniently kept off the board of course (i.e. could not proclaim to the world that among our other important traits, as a unit, we are alcoholics). My eyes promptly glazed over. The monster took this opportunity to start scratching in the mud. Really. I mean you could have knocked me down with a feather. Never known her to do such things. Mind you, I had books in my back-pack, which I of course was not going to release as yet. She scratched in various colours of mud, and since thankfully her father was away some where, I just let her, only having palpitations when she got too close to the main road as she was playing.

Several frantic messages later I was joined by our girl gang and their paraphernalia. I vetoed all suggestions of attending sessions, made all of them hang out in the coffee area, encouraged the children to follow my daughter as she jumped up and down some yellow bean bags in the exhibition area, and happily drank some juice that one of the kindly husbands bought for all of us. Then was lunch. Which was a nasty combination of unpalatable things. I sat next to a three year old budding IPS officer from Kadapa, and marvelled at his adventurousness in sampling all the shady things that were included in our box of food. We then loped slowly over to our hostel to hang out. It was really beautiful. We all felt really nostalgic, but in a happy sort of way. We talked schools and kids, and of course, all the vague things that we remembered from those long ago days when we queued up there to brush our teeth.

The kids were awesome. I could not play much with them because really, Chennai was too hot for human consumption (even for a semi-Mumbaiite). It was a pleasant surprise to find the husbands so cool and accomodating of our madness. Of course I also met a lot of my husband's friends many of whose names I promptly forgot. Plus I had a long-ish run (the idea was to run 20 k but I chickened out after 8 k thanks to foot); an excellent game of basketball (which improved my foot's condition somehow :-)), both on campus, and another short but fast run of about 6 k outside the campus. Met with our Californian friends (who have returned home to roost in Chennai), visited the most beautiful campus of The School (just too awesome), had an official meeting (where I got immensely pained because, get this, some one slimed into the office as I was having my meeting and refused to leave, plus he kept talking, idiot, I wish sometimes that I was blunter than I am), drank some poison called Kalyani Black Label (and regretted it immensely; give me my Kingfisher any day), showed off my hostel room (from the outside) to the monster, and of course, mom-daughter used the hostel loos (and lived to tell the tale).

One afternoon, while everyone was busy networking and whatever the shit they were doing, a bunch of us sat our asses down on some chairs in our usual coffee shop place. Nothing has changed there. He was even using the same nasty paper plates - the super flimsy ones that make Maggi Noodles spill out ignominously. People came and went. We just could not get up. Several suggestions were made. Lets do this. That. Or the other. But inertia ruled. The monster, thankfully, found full occupation in an emaciated kitten and its mother (who seemed to be playing hide and seek with each other). I gossiped a bit with my girl friend. Mainly things like who we are fatter than and who we are not fatter than. You know, the usual. Another of the girls came over. She tried to compare her beer belly with one of the guys. Yeah, while being dressed very primly in a major salwar suit. Totally crazy.

Finally since we were staying with friends and they had to go back to get their child, we forced ourselves to leave. But slowly. And having planned to meet a few more people over dinner that night. I got a lot of rest the next day, and although I did not even attend anything at all the entire time, it was all very awesome and completely jam packed. It was really nice to see all the familiar faces and compare notes about children. And the children themselves were all so absolutely darling. Unlike this whiny boy who was on the flight with me just now and who kept going 'DADDY DADDY' in the world's most irritating voice. Grr.

Back at the helm, as it were, damn tired and eyes bugging out though. Its too damn hot ya. Meanwhile the husband has come up with three important points to consider regarding Chennai:
1. Booze is not to be had by ringing up at Two-Five-Seven-Zero-One-One-One-Nine. No sir.
2. The weather. Seriously. Should borrow some Bangalore into the city (minus the LPG fumes).
3. Gas Cylinders (As if the man cares about this, really, but he objects. They offend his sensitive eye).
And has dismissed my points such as (a) Salwar Kameezes (help!) (b) People waking up and talking loudly at 5 am (c) Unnecessary traffic and fly-over type situations.

Liquid Diet

I occasionally joke that we are still on liquids. I mean when people start eating their dinner and as far as I can tell, the husb. & I are still sipping (uhh gulping) our liquids. And startlingly, the child has inherited my capacity for liquids and solids. She does pretty well with juices and milk and lassi and so on but is particularly annoying with chewy things like naans and tofu and so on. Anyway we met up with a big bunch of friends over the break and it was great fun as usual. Other than that we drove around all over Chennai and met with all nearby relatives, which was a lot of fun too. The little niece was there and boy, she has a TON of hair. We all took turns coochie-cooing her and of course missed her like crazy when she left early one morning. Somehow the entire family was united in stating that he fully deserved it when she unleashed some potty on the husband. He was acting all smug and showing off and saying look she is so comfy with me; she is hanging out in my lap; she loves her big uncle and so on and really, we all felt very satisfied at the end of it. MIL and I are generally pathetic in estimating the amount of rice required to feed a normal family. This time was no exception and much to everyone's mirth we had about three times as much puliodarai as could feed a small hostel of teenagers. But it was yummy. With great enthusiasm, the husband and I, in one voice, decided to stop denying crackers to our child. It is her decision to abhor and avoid them in her later years, obviously. We bought her some flower pots and those swirly wheel things and of course sparklers. I was quite surprised at how brave she was with all of it, and, how unnecessarily worried I was (I am turning into my own mom, heaven help me). I wore saris like it was no one's business. I even took a nap wearing my sari. Of course the monster was all over the paavadais. We had two exercise sessions (I prudently wore shorts to those; not the sari). A 5k run followed by stairs one day. A 7k run and a game of basketball the other day. The latter with two old buddies from college; it was just too poignantly happy an occasion. We were all back in the old alma mater and lo and behold one of the markers (the guys who put that rangoli white thing to mark the tracks and so on) whom we know from our days as students showed up. He got us a ball and some water. We played. It was nice. I held back my aggression though regretted it later when in the night drinking session the boys felt smug on winning the game. Pssh. Food-wise, apart from mountains of puliodarai, I was very careful and cautious. I ate two pieces of Kaju Katli. One very small piece of thattai. Two vadais (that MIL made); and two more vadais (from Saravana Bhavan, with the breakfast idlis). When we ate out, I ate rice and sambar and curd. In small quantities. I ate one Gulab Jamoon that a relative offerred us (she had made it herself). BUT I woke up yesterday and my stomach was lurching around. I am still in bad shape. Tired and stomach is cramping. Must test how the lunch will work out... See, liquids are better.