Back on track/trail: The first running event experience
That arch, the swarming crowds, volunteers, bib pick up stalls, excited chatter, infectious smiles, pleasant greetings and the photographers. Everything felt so familiar. So why did I feel like a kid in the candy store? Why did I look around with this inexplicable sense of delight? My eyes big and bright. My grin like the Cheshire cat. I pinched myself twice and yelped much to the chagrin of a few runners. It wasn’t a dream, I told myself. And yet I lost count of the number of times I must have dreamt about being in such a scenario.
There were several weekends I’d check the pages of running websites for updates. My Facebook news feeds popped up races I’d done in the past. Though I was enrolled in a Master’s program in writing, I couldn’t help feeling this sense of void. A part of me felt dead despite the fact gyms and pools had opened and I was training regularly. The feeling of crossing a finish line of a running event is something else. Even when you aren’t necessarily racing.
When the organizer of a trail running event sent out an email, I yelped in glee. I immediately signed up for the 10-km run which was a part of my training as I had a brick workout the next day. The night before the run I tossed and turned worrying if my alarm would ring or not. I checked my phone twice to ensure I had set the right time. I managed to wake up on time and reach the venue thirty minutes before the run started. This gave me ample time to click some photos. The best part about trail running is the little things that you notice which you might not otherwise.
Across the sprawling stretch of green, a few gulls walked around. Squirrels darted across. One of them came towards me. It looked at me with its curious black eyes that reminded me of chocolate chips. Swishing its bushy tail, it went back and forth, partly afraid and partly indignant of this stranger intruding into its abode. Muttering a silent apology, I walked back on the gravel pathway. Puffs of grey clouds paved way for clear blue skies. The sun peeped out smiling. I blinked. The sheet of water in front of me caught my breath. I recollected how I sought refuge in hikes amidst nature during the pandemic. There is something magical about nature that envelops you into a mystical embrace. It was no different today.
It was time for the run to start. The crowd gathered near the start line and took off at the blow of the horn. I merged with the sea of runners and was soon lost in thought. It’s usually the case whenever I’m running. The pavements gave way to a trail. I maintained an easy pace. June and July were turbulent months. With my thesis deadlines, reading and training, I was beginning to feel fatigued. The weather was getting hotter and an unexpected viral infection sometime mid-June disrupted my momentum. It wasn’t covid but I had this annoying bout of dry cough and cold for almost ten days. The persistent cough kept me awake for nights and it took a while to recover. This in turn triggered my condition of ulcerative colitis. The doctors attributed it to stress and asked me to take it easy. I decided that this year I wouldn’t race at any event but just treat it as fun events and focus on embracing the finish line.
I decided to do a heart rate based run. The gravel did not make it easy to run fast anyways. Mere running shoes weren’t enough. I overheard some runners talking about some trail running shoes. I continued running along the bay focusing on every breath and stride. Something inside me was awakening. After a long time, I was beginning to feel like my old self. The self that would participate in some running event on weekdays. It was a great way to explore different parts of the bay area. I smiled at the photographers, egged people on the way and thanked volunteers for their support.
The route was an out and back course with aid stations and mile markers. In just two miles, I was surprised to find myself drenched in sweat. I looked up. It almost felt like the sun God was enjoying watching the spectacle of runners soaked in beads of perspiration. No amount of water made me feel hydrated. I watched a few runners stop and take walk breaks. The heat was unrelenting. I stopped at the water station at the turn around point. I poured some water on my head and cursed myself for getting my sun glasses back home. I ran back all the way, watching the patches of green on one side and the sparkling blue sheet of water on the other with shades of brown interspersed in between. It almost gave me the feeling of running inside a painting and I wondered what that would feel like. It reminded me of a Woody Allen movie that I had watched a while ago-The Purple Rose of Cairo- where one of the characters from the movie steps out of the screen. With such crazy thoughts, I continued my strides.
The path of gravel stretched ahead of me. Little stones began to find their way into my shoes. They poked me and compelled me to stop. I spent a few minutes getting rid of them and watched some people run past me. I observed a woman running with a stroller. What an admirable feat, I thought. For a while I trailed her before I overtook her at the next water station. I was just two miles away from the finish line. My watch buzzed and I paid no heed. I wasn’t supposed to stress myself. It felt refreshing not to look at pace or time for a change. I reflected on the number of deaths the past few years. The news that depicted the lack of hospital beds and oxygen supply. I felt my breath. For that moment, I looked up and thanked the heavens above. What a blessing it was to just be able to run, to feel the breeze, your breath and your heart pumping inside you.
I was just a few yards away from the finish line. The familiar voice of the emcee, the claps, cheers, the sprint and the medal being garlanded on the neck. I pinched myself again. “Are you ok?” asked a kind faced volunteer. “I couldn’t be better,” I told her. “Well. Congratulations,” she smiled. I glanced at the medal. The image of Poseidon looked back at me. Incidentally I was reading Circe and had the book Ariadne on my list to read next.
I clutched my medal. My first one in 2021. Hopefully it wouldn’t be the last. I looked around at the smiling faces and people discussing their run. It almost felt like old times again, back to normal. And then I recollected the masked faces of the volunteers. The virus was still lurking around. There was uncertainty around. I decided to bask in the glory of the moment with the endorphins, the post-race refreshments and most importantly the runners’ high!
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