The Mummy Run

Today I ran for an hour and ten minutes.

My daughter, 7, plays tennis. Generally I drop her off at her courts and run on the track alongside at the club where she plays. Or I hop across to the gym (which is also at the club) and run on the treadmill. When I run on the track, my daughter is half proud of Mummy heffalumping away in plain sight of all her buddies and half embarrassed.

Generally her brother, 3, stays home and plays in the park or rides his bike. Today, because there was no one home to look after him (long story – some other time), he had to be dragged along for tennis. When I settled him down on the chairs near the courts with his toys and his books and asked him if I could run on the half km track, he nodded agreeably.

So I took off.

Exactly one minute later, I heard a wailing keening cry. When I turned around he was coming after me like a bullet. Mummy, mummy mummy, you wicked girl, I’m so scared, don’t leave me, he wept burrowing into my vest. Please don’t go where I cant see you

Sometimes a mum’s got to do what a mum’s got to do.


I ran for 70 minutes straight.

Except, instead of running the half-kilometer loop where I would have been out of his sight for quite a few stretches, I ran only along the length of the courts.

A distance of maybe 20 metres. Back and forth, back and forth.

Passing him playing in the mud every 7 seconds. Admiring the leaves he collected and throwing away the beer bottle shards he found from somewhere. Pulling a band aid off his finger as I ran, “because its getting too dirty to play with mummy”.

I ran for 70 minutes basically circling my son. Before I could get into my stride, I had to turn around and come right back. I ran without knowing how much distance I covered. I ran though I made myself giddy with the blink and you have to turn around loop. I ran despite the fact that my daughter rolled her eyes up at me every time I looked, because she thought I looked “so weird”.

It looked weird because it was weird. It was a really really weird run. The mummy run.

It was also the happiest run I’ve run in a long long while

Double crises of faith

This is a double crisis of faith.

Not only am I not running the Hutch Delhi Half Marathon any more, but it’s also not the Hutch Delhi Half Marathon any more. It’s now called the Vodafone Delhi Half Marathon.

This whole blog - hutchdelhihalfmarathon – is a lie based on a factual inaccuracy.

Since I’m not running the Hutch Delhi Half marathon any more, so anyone looking for any inspiration, amusement, empathy, sympathy, or even just plain old-fashioned pathetic-ity– is bound to be disappointed. In addition, because of the change in name even the Hutch Delhi Half Marathon does not exist any more. Except as the title on this blog, which really isn’t about it any more.

Its enough to make me lose my feeble mind.

I’m off to the gym, in order to reclaim the tiny little bit of it that I seem to be able to access when my body has been pummelled into submission.....





PS: Quick status on the running –

1. Ran 13 kms on Wednesday on the treadmill. Took exactly 80 minutes to do it. At a one degree incline which I read somewhere sort of approximates running on the track or road. Except I know its not true. Running in an air conditioned gym even at a 60 degree incline can never come close to approximating running anywhere in 35 degree centigrade with 90 percent humidity, even when you run in one of Delhi’s beautiful parks, where the air is laden with frangipani fragrance…
2. Funny side effect of the run on Wed – my elbows hurt. I think being held at an angle for an hour and a half must account for it. Unless of course I have discovered a secret nerve ending that connects elbows with shins and knees and ankles…in which case, can someone tell me how I can make a fortune from this discovery..?

Giving up - a brand new way to reach the finish line!

Its been 2 weeks since I last posted anything. Home computer hassles. Or maybe MTNL connection hassles since some sites just not loading,this one included! My feeling is that there may be some sign of intelligent life in my ancient pc yet, since the two sites it is consistently blocking over the past two weeks are Facebook and this blog, both of which, for me, are the biggest timepass on the planet...

Anyway, in order to singlehandedly perpetuate the myth of the lazy employee/ consultant using office resources to surf the internet I am now posting this from the office.

Lots of stuff to report.

1. I decided to not run the half marathon I have been training for.
2. Decided on the basis of not enjoying my run at all anymore, constantly worrying about 7 kms vs 9 vs long run vs oh god only eight weeks left and last year this time wasnt I doing eleven and not breaking into a sweat and am I eating right, surely i cant be too thin to run and now i am bloated so I cant run, why is my sugar avoidance not helping me run better yada yada yada..
3. Decided to simply run instead
4. Ran instead
5. Ran fine, no pressure, did 11 kms Monday last, then 7 on Wed, 9 on Friday and 5.5 on Saturday which beats any mileage Ive managed to get for the past four weeks
6. Happy bunny, running as much or as little as I feel upto without being traumatized by how ill prepared I am for THE RACE


There's many lessons hidden in there for me. Fortunately for the rest of you, only a few are making themselves apparent to me right now. So here they are

1. There's nothing like seafood slathered in coconut and spices to clear your head. All this confusion and trauma and obsession on distances and techniques and diet dissipated when a critical mass of prawn curry hit my system

2.Training makes me feel like Mummy's standing over my head telling me what to do, running feels like the exact molecular opposite, i.e I am racing far away from every Mummy figure I have ever known - from every ought and should in my life.

3. The hardest thing was getting over the attachment I felt for myself as a half marathon runner. I know Ive done it once before ( running the half marathon) but once is like a fluke - do it a second time and it really does become like a bad habit. Once I managed to rid myself of this self image - the noble, athletic, stoic, half marathon running type chick who has it all taped up, I could officially just fall apart and carry on again.

4. Since I am anything but noble or stoic, the only thing taped up about me is my mobile phone which is held together with masking tape and my chickdom is at least 20 years past me, giving up the half marathon part was not that difficult either


All of which brings me to 2 issues

a)Is my deciding to stop training a good decision? A decision you would have made? A decision a runner would make? Or have a I just quit and am trying to put a good face on it?

b) what on earth am I supposed to do with a blog that supposedly was to be a blog on my training for an event i am no longer going to take part in..? Since I no longer officially care about this whole thing, why will anyone else?

Will my two and half incredibly discerning and loyal readers please give me their views?

Running advice from prawn curry

The last week has been a zero run week for me.

On the other hand, I HAVE seriously depleted the marine life in and around the Bombay coast so I'm not as gutted as I might have been if I had had no practice on an empty stomach

I went to Bombay with the kids for my annual pilgrimage. We lived in Bombay for about 8 years, so i have wonderful memories of it. I remember particularly the wonderful food - prawn gassi and surmai fry at Trishna ( in the days when it was a small sidey restaurant where they sold you alcohol in quart bottles!, not the multimillion dollar industry it is now) and bombil fry at Gajalee, and pomfret stuffed with prawns in Sahiba and Berry pulao at Brittannia ... I can go on, but my keyboard is awash in my own drool..

I also remember running in Bombay. Running on Marine Drive, after office. Running in Priyadarshini Park, on Napean Sea road, with the tiniest loop in the history of running park loops, with one edge skirting the sea. And also running on the Mahalaxmi race course, with its slightly dug up loop, where all the serious runners went to train...

I remember my first race - it was a 5k for CRY, maybe in 1996 or 97. we ran down Marine Drive, from Chowpatty to Nariman point. They called it a Mini Marathon, and i was so excited to be running in anything that was even named a marathon, I practically floated two feet above the pavement the entire distance... Then, we ended up at the Palms, what used to be the Oberoi coffeeshop in the old days, where we proceeded to systematcially chow our way down the entire breakfast selection on offer, before winding up at noon...

Yes, Bombay is my favouritiest city in the whole world - where the food rocks and the running was easy...

However, this time I did no running. The presence of two kids, 7 and 3, stuck to me like tenacious barnacles 24X7 somehow put paid to that aspiration. I was staying at Bandra with friends, so was desperate to run in Joggers Park, which I havent actually run in before. I'd taken my shoes, my shorts and plenty of good intentions, but a bad cold and the kids hanging onto either shoe sort of stymied me.

To cheer myself up from my string of commendable failures and complete lack of trying in the past two or three weeks, I decided to concentrate on the food. So since I didn't run at all and have no progress to report, here's what i ate

1. Pomfret done whole in red rechaido masala
2. Prawns cooked in a seductive coconut gravy with the sharpest bite
3. Prawns Sookha, dry prawns stir fried with pices of onion and garlic and diced potatoes
4. Patranai machchi, fish parcels steamed in a yummy green chutney
5. Iranian berry pulao, with slivers of tart berries and chunks of meat wrapped up in buttery fragrant rice


Yummy yummy yummy. Now the foods just a wonderful memory and I'm back in Delhi. I should have gone out to the gym or the track today but I didnt, since my cold is much much worse, and even walking's making the pounding unbearable.

So tomorrow, if I feel better I shall hit the track. Lets see how it goes. I am no longer so anguished about my lack of progress. If I cant train for it, I simply wont run the half marathon. It wont mean the end of the world.

It's funny. I would have thought going back to the place where I have run so much - not just in the parks, but also, foolishly pounding the roads, running up from Napean Sea Road to Malabar Hill, from Malabar Hill to Walkeshwar, from Hanging Gardens down to Breach Candy... it would have made me feel worse about my current training impasse. But it didn't.

I just realized that running's given me so much pleasure for so long, that it really doesnt matter whether I complete a race or a distance or not. I would like to, and will try to. But if I cant, i wont beat myself up about it.

There's something about the spirit of Bombay that gives you such acceptance and wisdom. And the wonderful food just helps you to digest it....

Is there such a thing as being tooooo thin...?

As I mentioned in the last post, I gave up eating sugary foods about 4-5 months back. I also gave up eating fried stuff, which wasn't that much of a sacrifice, greasy food isnt really what gets MY knickers in a twist. Anyway, I happened to lose some weight.

(so what does this have to do with a running blog, you're asking... wait, Im getting to it...)

Since then, everyone's been telling me things like You've really lost weight, I can look around you now. The polite ones have been saying stuff like you've sort of lost your belly, which was like your butler, it announced your presence three minutes before you actually entered a room.

Charming. I must have been a real Miss Piggy before, without really realizing it, since as per me, I have lost only about 4kgs over 4 months, which is a decent amount, but its not like I dropped 150 kgs in 6 months, like those poeple you see on Oprah. In response to their stupefaction at my new silhouette, I have been preening piously and gabbing on about not having eaten sugar yada yada yada. And feeling quite pleased with myself in a non- butler- belly sort of way.


Ok, enough already about the boring diet bit. Here comes the running part.

Sunday was supposed to be my long run for this week. I was supposed to do 11.2 kms - 7 miles. So I get up in the morning, hit the track, start off great, am running along ok, legs feeling strong , mind feeling positive. Then, all of a sudden after 6 or so kms, with no premeditated plan, literally on the spur of the moment,I simply run off the track, cut across the rolling little hills and paths and thickets of jacaranda trees and frangipani trees, lope with an intensity I havent experienced in my running of late, all the way to the parking lot, sit in my car and drive home.

Hmmmmmmmm.

While I drove home I thought about what had just happened. It's almost as if I simply could not run another step. It wasnt as if I was stumbling and fumbling and fighting with myself to carry on and then deciding I really didnt have the energy to.One minute I was running ok, and the next I had veered off across the trees and was sitting in my car.

If this were some sort of lawyer show on TV, and instead of simply driving home, I had taken a pick axe to somebody, I would now be pleading not guilty by reason of temporary insanity. Because that's exactly what it felt like. Temporary insanity.

When I think about it, my runs have been tortured of late. I'm not a natural long distance runner, i know that. I adore running about 5 kms or so, more than that i really have to work myself into. However I have never been so unable to push my body for such a long period. So maybe I'm doing something wrong.

You're too thin to run, my (non runner, butler belly comment) friend chortled when i called her up to report on this momentary lapse of reason. I always knew this silly diet of yours would boomerang on you. You have no fat on you, and you arent eating any fat either, so where will you get your energy from?

Ok, its not a diet. Giving up sugar and fried stuff isnt really putting oneself on starvation rations. Also, how terribly charitable to think that i have to spend my life veering between a butler belly and the lack of it boomeranging, how unfair is THAT? Most importantly, Paula Radcliffe my friend aint- she's never run three steps in her life and has no clue about nutrition so its not as if she knows what she's really talking about.

I havent been eating badly at all. By a long shot. I eat two fruit for breakfast, along with tea, whole wheat toast and an egg. Sometimes I skip the egg and eat oats instead. For lunch I have vegetables, lentils, rice, salad, yogurt. At tea time I eat fruit, tea, millet biscuits, whole wheat crackers and dinners the same as lunch. Occasionally I eat meat ( not very fond of it!) and not so occasionally I have many glasses of beer. or wine! I drink lots of water every day. I think i eat fine.

But I cant deny, I havent been able to push up the mileage the way I generally can. Running 7 miles isnt really something that's like climbing Mount Everest. Yet my body is scuttling away from the task before I get the chance to intervene. So could she be right?

Was eating sugar ( lots of it) and the occasional fried samosa what was nurturing and nourishing my butler belly and therefore allowing me to run? Was my adipose fuelling my adrenalin? Has my body, independent of me, managed to prove that you really CAN be too thin...? And can you really be too thin without being too thin? ( as in too thin to run without being to thin to exist, since at 5'5" and 55 kgs, I'm not exactly fading away)

What do YOU think?

And right after you've figured it out can you please help me disprove the too rich part as well....?

Sweet rewards

I crave sugary foods

I dream of lush fields of chocolate mousse, of virgin billowing clouds of tart cheesecake, of the simple wonderful embrace of a just-baked pound cake.

And Indian sweets… aaaaaahhhhhhhh. The intravenous injection of 100% sugar and fat that constitutes most Indian sweets is what constitutes my idea of pure heaven. Crisp hot jalebis, creamy tracts of kalakand, rasgullas that dance with happiness inside your mouth, the crumbly perfection of a bundi laddu cooked in ghee….. these are the things my palate dreams about.

Three or four months back, for reasons to do with vanity, I gave up eating sugary foods. Since then, I have been able to do up the waistband of several items of clothing that were precariously being held across my waist with giant safety pins, so that’s been wonderful. However that’s been the only impact I’ve really felt (apart from the craving, which, though its much better now, was terrible terrible terrible for weeks)

Yesterday I read a blog of someone who seems very put together both as a runner and a writer. In it she wrote that she knew she was a runner because she went to a fair and decided to forgo eating sugary snacks because she knew it would impact her run that evening. And had a wonderful run subsequently, which she declared was sweeter than any food she could have consumed.

How incredibly unfair is that? I have eaten my way through a trillion truckloads of sugar and run my entire life. Then, I give up eating sugar, suffer depression, anxiety, withdrawal and have strangers move away nervously from me in crowded places, since I am leering like a gargoyle at their sweets/ desserts/ ices. I think my reward will come when I junk all my safety pins and can make the two ends of my trousers stretch across the expanse of my waist. Which it does.

But, since I am ignorant of the benefits of not eating sugar for running, I have no expectations of the impact my no sugar diet will have on my abilities ( or lack thereof) as a runner.. And guess what, my no - expectations get fulfilled. Because my running has shown no improvement. At all.

Nil, nada, nothing.

So now I am hopping mad. All this while, even though I thought I was denying myself the pleasures of paradise ( with an extra dollop of jelly on the side) just to lose weight, it turns out I should have been able to run faster, longer, stronger as well. Which I haven’t. Anyone reading my recent posts knows that I have been pushing the envelope on being training - challenged.

And that is soooooo unfair. Just because I was ignorant doesn’t mean that the benefits don’t accrue me.

Someone , somewhere owes me.

I am off to dive into a moist chocolate cake while I figure out who to sue.

Does a long walk count as a long run?

The trainer in the gym I go to is a sadist.

His name is Bobby and he thinks that I am a gym wuss. He, meanwhile has been put on this earth to call me on my essential wimpishness. The fact that I am a lazy dog who would never do a 756th crunch on my own without him yelling into my face just proves his point.

Two days back he made me do some squats and lunges that I thought were hard, but not un doable by Bobby's standards. Ha ha ha ha ha.

My thighs, my calves, my hamstrings have been killing me since then. I'm not exactly unfit, so I dont know what muscles he made me use, muscles I obviously have never used in my life, but I have been a walking sore for the past two days.

Ok, so I decide I am going to do my long run for this week today. Its 6 miles - 9.6 kms. And since I have discovered that running on the treadmill's easy peasy for me, it has to be on the track. So I set the alarm for 5.40 am to be off by 6 to nehru park where I figure I will run for an hour or so, be back by 8.

I hate mornings. Specially Sunday mornings. So i dont stir out of bed till 7, reach nehru park at 7.30. Oh oh.

Everyone in Delhi is there. And I mean everyone. Cancel everything I've said about Delhi being a lonely place for runners. Bar me, who is gloriously solo, there are three thousand running groups, all doing efficient looking things, ( yes I did see some doing fartleks, my old friend!) So obviously, while I have been snuggling into my quilt at 7 am, all the runners of Delhi have been congregating at Nehru PArk and training.

So I start my run. Its supposed to be 9.6 kms so that's 3 and a half loops of the 2.75 km track.

I can barely run. My legs hurt. My thighs are leaden. My hamstrings are about to give way. Bobby is a bastard and may he rot in hell. I get a stitch in my side. I hobble on gamely, while all around me the real runners, the ones who wake and toil while I sleep blissfully, are loping past me, all lithe and controlled.

I give up after one round. I stop hobbling fast and begin to stumble slowly. i.e I stop what passes as running in the first round and walk for about 250 m. Then shame and the old competitive spirit at seeing so many runners in fine fettle overtakes me and I start the whole rigmarole of stumbling- running-clutching-side- cursing Bobby again. Ditto after the 2nd round. Ditto after the third.

When I finally cross the 6 mile mark, I try and put my leg up to strech it on the frangipani tree near the marker. I am in so much pain, I have no idea where my leg ends and the tree begins. I end up with both legs and bum on the ground, heavily crushing the pale pink blossoms scattered below.

When i get my breath back, I realise that out of the 9.6 kms I am supposed to have run ( this weeks long run) I have walked at least .75 kms of it. Maybe even 1 km of it. This is afirst for me. Either i am running or I have slunk home. I have never ever been a walk run walk sort of runner.

Obviously, Bobby's squats and lunges, the presence of the entire Indian contingent for the Commonwealth Games athletics at Nehru park, the time of day ( running when i am generally asleep)have all contributed to this abberation.

Im proud of myself, that i didnt just slide behind the wheel of my car after my first loop and take off home. I am also amazed at how unfit I am. But most of all I am thinking to myself. If you walk quite a lot of it, does it still count as a long run?

After all there has to be a run in the long run, right?

What do you think?