Its that time of year again.

Its wretchedly hot and humid. I am wretched and hot and humid. However, unbothered by the state of the weather, or my personal feelings on the matter, the Hutch Delhi Half marathon is back. With pictures of grinning you-couldn't-find-unlikelier-runners-if-you-looked-for-them-with-a-light-under-a-slimy-stone unlikely runners. All grinning maliciously. Not looking hot or humid. Or even wretched. All supposedly there to reassure everyone that running's for everyone.

(...To run the half marathon..) All you need is heart says Mrs something or the other, in her bindi and her sari, pale lipstick bravely in place. Sure, you need heart. But you also need ten thousand buck shoes, or you're not about to finish this decade on your own two feet if you're above 35. And heart's very well, but you also need to train. My heart would sure give way if I just got up, put on my bindi and my pale pink lipstick and trotted out the door to run 21 kms.

I think its admirable this whole Hutch half marathon thingy. But I think they need to put someone who runs in charge of it. For once.

Last year after moaning and pissing and boasting to every passerby that i was running or attempting to run the half marathon, I did in fact complete it. In about 2.30, which is roughly the time taken by Magellan to circumnavigate the globe. Suffice it to say, that at that speed, no world records were in jeopardy when I ran. Small kids running barefoot, old men wearing thin canvas soled shoes on their prostheses and giggling grandmas breezed past me throughout the race.

But right through I was struck by how the runners (and since I use the term loosely, i include myself in that category, though technically my shuffling and wheezing and lurching may not qualify exactly as running) were the last people the organizers were thinking of this entire event.

To begin with there was a callow youth at the holding centre before the race began who insisted on talking non stop - telling misogynistic mother in law and girlfriend vs wife jokes. Right before most normal people like myself went out to the most gruelling physical task we had set ourselves in this lifetime, listening to jokes from a callow RJ type ass was exactly what we wanted.

Then in order to entertain us, 5 kms into the race they had set up a little van type thingy with a PA system, where some demented child from one of the 125 talent shows on TV was shrieking into the mike. Strange that not one single runner stopped to appreciate her not quite dulcet tones.

After you lurched through to the finish line, you still had to fight your way to the enclosure to hand in your time chip and get your certificate. Near riot near the water tent. Meanwhile lots of glippy oily weasely 'commentary' on the loudspeaker on how blessed we were to have all sorts of page 3 celebrities to flag off the race. Of course , if after two and a half hours in 35 degree heat (and the lack of water at the finish) hadnt dehydrated most of the particpants, I'm sure the organisers would have seen real tears of gratitude from all of us towards the aforementioned celebrities.

Dont get me wrong. Despite all my moaning and pissing I loved the whole experience. It was the most democratic thing Ive seen in Delhi in my 5 years here. The traffic guard from my kids school started the race alongside me ( he finished a good 1 hour 20 minutes before me!) I chatted with a 52 year old woman half way through the race who told me this was her fifth half marathon, her first was when she turned 50. I ran alongside people with no shoes and people with shoes, the price of which would have kept a small African nation in style for 6 months. I loved running through the most beautiful parts of Delhi ( though Rajpath was a bitch - beautiful but no shade - not a blade of grass to protect you from the sun). I loved ignoring the temptation of the Delhi Golf Club's serene facade along km 17 of the route - what i wouldnt have done to have nipped in for a long cold beer...! But most of all I loved running. Every last pain filled this-will-never-get-over and-I will die-right-here- step of the way.

All I'm saying is, Hutch, get your act together. Dont just put runners (or your idea of what runners are) on the billboards. Put them in charge. Let this be one day that everyone who runs is much more important and whose needs come before any one who doesn't.

What do you think?