Tokyo Marathon - Emotions or Efficiency ?

                             

                                     

  The sun was high when I crossed the finish line of the Tokyo Marathon, arms raised in exhausted triumph. My legs were heavy, my mind foggy, but my heart was full. Relief, pride, and gratitude washed over me—not just for finishing, but for the lessons this race had taught me. Lessons about discipline, resilience, and the quiet beauty of Japanese hospitality.

 Couple of days earlier in the labyrinthine subways  of Shinjuku. Lost and overwhelmed, I stopped a young office worker for directions. He didn’t speak much English, but he understood my confusion. Without hesitation, he walked me to the correct exit, bowing slightly before hurrying off. That small act of kindness, so characteristic of Japan, stayed with me as I ran through Tokyo’s streets. It reminded me that even in a race defined by efficiency and precision, there’s room for humanity.

Reflecting on the Tokyo Marathon, I couldn’t help but think of Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times. The film satirizes the relentless efficiency of industrial workers, even inventing a machine to feed them during lunch to save time. Efficiency and precision are hallmarks of Japan, deeply ingrained in its culture. You feel this in the Tokyo Marathon—everything is meticulously designed for success. What’s needed is provided, checked off, and executed flawlessly. The event is a masterpiece of organization, but it doesn’t account for the emotional and physical demands of its “industrial workers”—the runners.

The marathon treats the event as a competitive sport rather than a festival. Strict cut-off times are enforced, and slower runners are swept off the course, unlike other major marathons that allow them to continue on footpaths. For 99% of runners, a marathon is a personal challenge, not a race to win. It’s an emotional journey, a celebration of perseverance. Tokyo, however, prioritizes efficiency and rules over this emotional side. In other cities, marathons are city-wide festivals where fast and slow runners are celebrated equally. In Tokyo, the event feels like a small blip on the city’s busy calendar.

 Getting into the Tokyo Marathon is as challenging as qualifying for Boston. I tried every avenue—time qualification, tour operators, charity bids—but nothing worked. Finally, a cancellation opened a spot, and I grabbed it without hesitation. This meant running three marathons in 100 days: Mumbai, Tokyo, and Boston. Each was important, and I found partners equally committed to this “crime.” The Indian World Marathon Major community is tight-knit, and past finishers shared invaluable tips about Tokyo’s unique demands.

Among my buddies was Sanjay Sethi, a fellow runner with an impressive finish in London the previous year. We had connected through our shared passion for running and were traveling together for Tokyo. “What pace are you planning to start at?” Sanjay asked me as we lined up in Corral E. I had a detailed pacing plan, broken into four segments for easy recall. “My plan is 11.50 km per hour for the first three hours,” I replied. I wanted to compensate for the tough weather during the Mumbai Marathon and aimed to push my collapse point beyond 42 km this time.

Another key member of our group was Kalyani, a much faster runner who had already conquered several World Marathon Majors. Her experience and advice were invaluable. On race morning, she lent me a 250 ml drink box she had cleverly repurposed. I had emptied the apple juice and refilled it with water as my emergency supply. This small act of camaraderie became a lifeline during the race, allowing me to sip water between aid stations without breaking stride.

Tokyo’s efficiency is remarkable. The race doesn’t wait for stragglers; roads are reopened promptly, and cut-off times are strictly enforced. This can feel cruel for slower runners, but it’s a reflection of Japan’s culture. The marathon is a well-oiled machine, and the city moves on quickly, leaving no trace of the event.

Race day arrived with unpredictable weather. The forecast promised cool conditions, but the weather gods had other plans. It was warm, and the sun grew harsh as the race progressed. The Tokyo Marathon rule book warned of limited porta-potties, and public urination would lead to disqualification. I avoided drinking water the night before, but the heat made hydration crucial. Aid stations were placed every 5 km, with additional ones every 2 km after that. Water  and thrir sport drink Pocari Sweat was served in  cups, and littering wasn’t allowed. I had to stop, gulp, and keep moving—a stark contrast to Indian marathons, where runners carry their own bottles and plenty of water stations with disposable bottles .

The race began smoothly. I settled into my pace, keeping an eye on the pacers for direction. The route was full of turns, and running tangentially was essential to avoid adding extra distance. The early kilometers felt good, and I completed the first segment (11.50km) right on target. The second segment (23 km in my watch) was equally steady, but the sun grew relentless. By the second hour, I was pouring water over my head at every aid station, frustrated by the small quantities. “Why only a quarter-filled cup?” I thought. “I need 200 ml, not 50!”

The third segment (34 .5km) was where mental fatigue began to set in.    My feet      could feel  hidden elevations on small bridges now.  I had planned meticulously, but the heat and lack of water were taking a toll.

One of the most emotionally charged moments came during the switchbacks—those U-turns where you see runners coming from the opposite direction. In Tokyo, these switchbacks are poetic. If you feel fast, you see elites and faster runners gliding past, inspiring you to push harder. If you feel tired, you realize you’re still ahead of many others, giving you a boost of motivation. At every switchback, I looked for familiar faces but found none. The runners moved silently, like the millions of hurried commuters in Tokyo’s subways. The only sound was the rhythmic thumping of shoes on pavement.

The fourth segment ( after 34.50 km ) was where the real mental battle began. My legs weren’t tired, but my mind was. I pushed through, reminding myself of the privilege of running this prestigious race. Some wait years for a spot, and here I was, just kilometers from the finish, wanting to quit. “This isn’t funny,” I told myself. “You need mental strength as much as physical fitness.”

 I searched for external motivation—cheering crowds, funny signs, anything to lift my spirits. But Tokyo’s crowds were eerily silent. Unlike other marathons, where spectators line the streets with colorful placards and deafening cheers, here the atmosphere was subdued. The few cheerleaders I spotted were placed so far off the route that they felt more like decorations than motivators. It was as if they were there to entertain the city, not the runners.

I thought of my friends back home tracking my progress, but the R Navi app was basic and difficult to navigate. I wasn’t even sure if anyone was following my race. The lack of external support forced me to dig deeper into my own reserves. I reminded myself that this was my race, my challenge, and my victory to claim. I took my gels as a duty, even though I hated those and kept pushing forward.

The final kilometers were a blur. My watch showed a longer distance than the course markers, adding to the mental challenge. I reminded myself that I had planned for this—not just for the first three hours, but for the entire race. A tentative plan leads to a tentative finish, and I was determined to push through.

Finally, the finish line appeared. I spread my arms in gratitude and crossed it, exhausted but triumphant. I walked past the finish, looking for familiar faces to share my happiness. I sat on the curb beside an Indonesian runner and struck up a conversation. A Mexican runner joined us soon after. I felt happy with my effort and my new personal best.

As I reflected on the Tokyo Marathon, I realized how much I had learned—lessons that will stay with me as I prepare for Boston next month. Tokyo taught me the importance of mental strength. It’s not just about physical fitness; it’s about pushing through when your mind wants to quit. I learned to adapt to unexpected challenges, from the weather to the strict cut-off times. I discovered the value of meticulous planning, not just for the first three hours but for the entire race. Most importantly, I realized that every marathon is a unique experience, shaped by the city, its people, and its culture.

Tokyo’s efficiency and precision were awe-inspiring, but they also reminded me that marathons are more than just races—they’re celebrations of human spirit and resilience. As I look ahead to Boston, I feel ready. Ready to embrace the hills, the unpredictable New England weather, and the electrifying crowd support. Ready to apply the lessons from Tokyo and push myself even further. Ready to celebrate the joy of running, no matter what the clock says.

Tokyo was a milestone, but Boston is the next chapter. And I can’t wait to write it.

                                                 

The Pilgrimage - Tata Mumbai Marathon

                                                  

 Date - 19/01/2025

 TATA MUMBAI MARATHON 
 Name - Dilip Ghadge
 Age - 57 Years
 The Plan - Positive Splis . 11 km per hour 3 hours . Maintain the pace till Pedder Road climb . Push     the  last segment and better PB of 3:59:20               Result  :-  Achieved . Comleted in 3:58:21        Rank - 23/470 ( Age ) 1039/9515 ( Overall )

 

The Tata Mumbai Marathon (TMM) has become an annual pilgrimage for me, much like for any other Indian runner. I can’t afford to miss it. My schedules and travels are carefully planned to keep January free every year. While almost the entire country experiences winter in January, Mumbai’s weather often stands as an exception. The city sometimes makes a special concession for the marathon, providing cooler weather during the third week of the month.

Runners generally prefer cooler conditions, but they too make an exception for this extraordinary race, and I am no different. As soon as registrations open, I sign up without even checking my calendar. And soon enough, my calendar starts filling up. I registered for another iconic race, the Tata Ultra Marathon, scheduled in February. I got an opportunity to run in Boston in April and a surprise entry to the Tokyo Marathon on March 2nd. My schedule was getting crowded.

With only a few weeks between these races, I had to decide which one to train for. “Mumbai,” I told myself. World Majors would be taken easy or enjoyed for the experience. Although I had improved my personal best in Chicago, the race taught me many things and pushed me back to basics. I altered my training methods but missed some mileage due to life’s other demands, including organizing our own marathon event, the “Borgaonkar Rotary Kalyan Marathon,” as the race director.

Despite these challenges, I was happy with my training. A tune-up half marathon in December gave me a huge personal best and boost in confidence 

For Indian runners, the race starts a month earlier with a plethora of discussions on social media platforms about how to tackle Mumbai’s weather and the notorious Peddar Road climb at the 37th kilometer. Teams of pacers guide their followers or personal best aspirants, answering queries for a month. In TMM 2024, I was part of the pacing team, interacting with more than 400 runners on a WhatsApp group and some on the race track.

My target this time was to beat my personal best from Chicago. Running on home turf has its advantages: no travel stress, sleepless nights, dramatic weather changes, jet lag, or unfamiliar route support. Spirits were high until a week before the actual race when Mumbai started warming up with AQI levels rising. I began to doubt myself. But I had to keep my spirits high, not just for myself but for my trainees as well. I had the dual responsibility of being a coach.

One thing I love about TMM is that it is a meeting point for runner friends from all over the country. Procam, the organizers, felicitated runners who had completed more than ten TMMs with a permanent chest number in a function at their famous expo, graced by Sir Mo Farah, the international ambassador of the event. This being the 20th edition of the Mumbai Marathon was a significant milestone.

Mo Farah is a charismatic and energetic figure. He charged the atmosphere whenever he addressed the crowd, including at the flag-off. Runners were sleepless, doubtful, weary of the rising mercury levels, but once Mo Farah started speaking at the flag-off, the atmosphere was infused with the energy of a champion. The energy behind his words was contagious.

I was fortunate to begin in Wave A and absorb that energy. It was a dark dawn at 5:00 AM when the race was flagged off, but the sweating started by the second kilometer. The usual banter among runners in the initial phases was missing. A glance at my watch told me that my plan might not be working.

Before every race, I make a plan. Most of the time, it doesn’t work fully, but it still helps me prepare. It is interesting to compare results with the plan, as it gives insights into limitations and possibilities. This time, I had planned my race week nutrition, carb loading, race time nutrition, hydration, and electrolyte reloading as well.

My simplified race plan was to run 11 kilometers every hour for the first three hours and try to maintain that pace until Peddar Road. Negotiate that climb with respect and encouragement from the wonderful cheering residents. The final 5 kilometres always defy my plans, so I kept that block at the mercy of heavenly forces.

But the first 5 kilometres were giving me jitters. It was keeping me from enjoying this wonderful festival. So, I decided to ignore the watch, forget the plan for now, and just enjoy running in the iconic century-old fort area of the city. I took my mind off the race and let my legs do their own work. The race entered the modern high-rises commercial zone for a couple of loops before taking the famous Queen’s Necklace Road at Mumbai’s waterfront. During the loops, you spot a friend, shout their name, someone calls for you, but you can’t figure out who in the fast-flowing river of runners.

Pacing buses were starting to take shape as runners tried to find the flags of their target times. Last year’s pacing experience was amazing. There was always someone talking, asking questions, or cracking jokes throughout the course. This time, it was lonely. Except for some buddy teams in identical tees, no one was talking. Everyone was trying to get as many kilometres under their belt before the sun rose.

Spectator groups, bands, and some brands were doing their best to entertain and encourage runners. This carnival atmosphere helps us most in the first and last leg of the race. The sea breeze at Marine Lines blew away thoughts of high temperatures, humidity, and AQI. I think it affected the mind more than the body. Once you find your rhythm, weather worries don’t bother you.

I glanced at my watch. My one-hour target seemed achievable. I had enough time to cover two more kilometres to reach the 11-kilometer mark. Kilometre 10 had a steep incline, the same Pedder Road that feels easy while going. KM 11 was downhill, so I pushed a little to get a good finish to the first quarter of my race. Victory in this small target encouraged me to stay positive.

The second hour was mostly flat in the Haji Ali and Worli areas. It was still dark, and the race started to thin out. You could see the half marathoners running in the opposite lane of the road. My daughter, a few of my trainees, and many friends were doing the half marathon. But this year, I couldn't recognize anyone as the road was much wider. They seemed so far away.

The infrastructure boom in Mumbai is particularly evident in this part of the city. The huge coastal road project has completely changed the scenery and skyline. It’s challenging to determine which road goes in which direction.

I wasn't carrying a hydration belt as the Mumbai Marathon has an excellent record of support. By the end of the 12th km, I was feeling thirsty and was about to curse myself for not carrying water when I spotted an aid station. The Procam (organizers) had planned and manned the aid stations very well. The volunteers were full of enthusiasm.

As I entered the Sea Link, I noticed the changed skyline once again. A huge bowstring arch bridge was glowing with street lights on the new connectors to the coastal road and Sea Link. The sight was breathtaking.

Procam hasn't changed the route in perhaps a decade, but Mumbai around the route is significantly changing every year. The surface has slowly transformed from asphalt to concrete. When I did my first half marathon here in 2016, it was mostly smooth asphalt. Nevertheless, you have to take that hard change in stride.

 

 

Entering the Sea Link, the sight was breathtaking. The 5 km Sea Link patch is the most beautiful part of the race. “Keep smiling, have good posture, run tall, there are photographers around ” I reminded myself. Last year’s 420 bus was missed for its singing and chanting on Sea Link. This time, it was silent. I chatted with a fellow runner from Kerala and a few others from different parts of the country.

The halfway mark was approaching. My watch said 1:55,  my finish line for the second hour was just  a kilometre ahead. Done . I had saved half a minute here, but  the difference between my watch's distance and the race marker had grown to 400 meters. My heart sank, and my smile vanished. "Oh, I am lagging behind. My calculations are going wrong." A race is always in the mind before it goes to the limbs. This depressing thought further slowed me down. Suddenly, I remembered that I had considered the race distance to be 42.75 km, so the difference had already been accounted for. The smile returned, as did my cadence and energy.

There are a couple of big loops here at km 22. The sun was about to rise. You could see runners in the opposite lane. I spotted the 4-hour pacer, my friend Ravi G from Delhi. Dr. Harish, another friend, shouted my name from that lane. I answered loudly enough. I was searching for my buddy Sanjay Kalukhe there. By the two-hour mark, his plan was to complete 20 km. He is a good runner, a successful businessman, a great friend, and an excellent cook too. He had made a wonderful breakfast for both of us at the hotel in the morning.

 

In Mahim, I heard Kranti Salvi ma'am call my name. Recently honoured with a permanent Bib number, she is a multiple Guinness World Record holder for costume running. We chatted briefly before the sun fully rose and the race entered the city again. Spectators lined the streets with funny placards and cheers.

My hydration plan was working well. There was no bloating as last race . I was feeling light and nice.

 Mahim, Shivaji Park, and Shri Siddhi Vinayak passed like a dream. The finish line of my third hour of the race was at 33 km. I was on track with a lap pace of 5:27/5:28. Sometimes, my pace would drop at water stations, but I would gradually push a little to bring it below 5:30 in a funny way. "It is 5:40, by the third light pole I should bring it to 5:38, then two poles later to 5:36," and so on until it came to 5:30. Once that was achieved, I was running easy again. Throughout the entire race, I never thought too far ahead; just one lap at a time was enough.. I finished my third-hour target on track.

With 10 kms to go, I needed a new goal to stay motivated as my plan post 3 hours  was bit vague.  Randomly, I decided on a mini race of 5 kms within 30 minutes. Pedder Road appeared, and I walked a few meters in respect, reciting my annual “I love Pedder Road” song. Funnily that moment was captured by vlogger Avinash as he was just behind, Jogging again,  Enjoying local support I  pushed through the climb and managed to reach 38 km ahead of time.

The final stretch was tough. It is always tough for me .My pace dropped, but I wasn’t going to miss a personal best if I kept running. The last mile felt like the longest, but I smiled wide as I crossed the finish line. I knew it was a personal best. More than the time, I was happy because I executed my plan well.

Nir Eyal's theory from a book resonated with me: "Small wins can trigger a cascade of success." Each small success encouraged me to keep going. Breaking the target into achievable pieces was the mantra, and I’m glad I could follow that.

    My mind already made a  calender entry for third Sunday  of   January 2026.

Chicago Marathon - Winds are blessed

 

"You’re going to America just for a marathon?"
The lady at the immigration desk in Mumbai seemed amused by my answer.

With marathons happening in India nearly every weekend, traveling 10,000 miles to run just 26 miles might not make sense to most people. But when you've experienced one of the World Marathon Majors, you're bound to want to run the others.

I didn’t know how many runners on my flight were headed to Chicago for the marathon that weekend. But on the return flight, more than a quarter of the passengers were wearing either a Chicago Marathon medal or jacket. People from different parts of the world, regardless of age, race, skin color, or the language they speak, were connecting easily. Running is the common thread. The language of running breaks the ice, no matter how thick. You meet new friends, reconnect with old ones.
“Are you on Strava?” — and a friendship begins.

When should you arrive for an international marathon?
Some might say to come a day earlier and do some sightseeing after the race. I chose to arrive four days ahead of time to shake off the jet lag, soak in the city’s energy, and get in a couple of shakeout runs while exploring.

The marathon expo is similar everywhere: chaotic, with runners searching for shoes, gels, and other essentials, queuing for race souvenirs, and catching up with friends. The international flavor is unmistakable, as runners from around the world check out new products and try on the official race gear. It’s the same at every major marathon.

The day before race day is the hardest.
Should I sleep? Should I take a walk? Maybe visit a friend? There’s the Nike Finisher Jacket just launched , go grab it —it might sell out after the race. There’s a new shoe on the market, On Cloud, that might not be available back home. What should I eat? What food here has enough carbs? Am I drinking enough water? What should I wear on race day? What time should I set my alarm, assuming I even sleep?

Even for an experienced runner, these questions cause stress.

Since arriving in the U.S., I hadn’t been sleeping well—just a few hours each night. But on the night before the marathon, surprisingly, I slept for five solid hours. This never happens before a race because of anxiety. It felt like a good omen.

My race was scheduled to start at 8:00 AM, so I arrived at 6:30 AM. It was cloudy and cold, and the corral was nearly empty. I realized I was too early. That was my first mistake. I had to spend two hours waiting in the open. I found a corner and sat on the curb near some Americans. Slowly, the corral began to fill up. To pass the time, I struck up conversations. Americans are very friendly, and marathon talk was on everyone’s mind. A woman nearby was running her first marathon, another man was doing his 17th Chicago Marathon, and another runner was chasing the Marathon Majors like I was.

In my opinion, standing at the starting line requires more  effort than finishing the race. You think about all the training plans, the missed runs you had to make up for, the strength training, the travel across 10,000 miles, and the stress of navigating an unknown country.

Due to the large number of participants, the organizers split the race into three waves, with the first starting at 7:30 AM and the others 30 minutes apart. After the national anthem, we heard the flag-off for Wave 1. I was in the second wave and eagerly awaited our start, only to realize they were flagging off each corral separately. Apparently, there were about 15-20 different flag-offs!
Our corral (J) didn’t actually start until 8:30 AM. So I ended up spending nearly two hours in the cold. If you ever run the Chicago Marathon, arriving just 30 minutes early would save you a lot of trouble, especially when it comes to porta-potty visits.

Though waiting in the corral was uncomfortable, this format had its advantages—the race never felt overcrowded. Unlike Berlin and London, I always had the blue line beneath my feet, without having to zigzag around slower runners.

The pacer dilemma.
Because of Chicago’s well-known GPS issues, watches often show incorrect distance and pace, especially in the first 5 kilometers. To avoid this confusion, I decided to follow a pacer. In my last race, I missed my 4-hour target by 90 seconds, so I aimed for a 3:55 finish here, hoping that if I missed the moon, I’d still land among the stars.

I spotted the 3:55 pacer in the corral, but as the race started, I lost sight of him. Chicago pacers don’t carry the tall, distinguished flags like in other marathons. Instead, they hold small placards with blue lettering on a white background. You really have to look hard to spot them. I finally found a pacer at the 5K mark, after the GPS issues subsided, and settled into my planned pace.

Though I tried running with the pacer group, I quickly realized it wasn’t for me. Sometimes they felt too slow, other times too fast. I always felt like I was being left behind, which stressed me out and made me lose confidence. Many pacers believe in running negative splits, where they take it easy in the first half and push harder in the second. But I know my weakness—I slow down at 35K, so I don’t have the luxury of taking it easy in the first half.

At the 10K mark, I decided to leave the group and run ahead. After a few miles, I found another 3:55 pacer. Chicago Marathon’s pacing groups aren’t as large as Berlin’s, which makes it easier to overtake them. I ran with this group for a few minutes before moving ahead.
I was manually resetting my laps as the distance on my watch didn’t match the course. If I wanted to finish in 4 hours, I couldn’t rely on my watch, but had to follow the course markers.

Motivation and mental tricks.

You always need motivation to keep running, especially over a distance like 42 km. After the initial euphoria, your energy dips and so does your pace. With both pacers behind me, I started focusing on random runners ahead, particularly those in bright T-shirts. I’d tell myself, "I’ll follow this lady until the next signal," and after passing her, I’d pick another runner to chase. This pattern continued until the 30 km mark.

The crowd’s support was incredible, with every part of the city embracing the marathon like a festival. Creative signs with funny slogans made runners smile and forget their pain, at least temporarily. But when you’re chasing a time goal, you tune out the crowd and focus on your watch, making their cheers just background noise.

When someone asks if the scenery was beautiful along the route, my answer is, “I wouldn’t know. I spent the whole race staring at my watch and following the blue line on the road.”

The Route

Chicago’s course is straightforward—the only curve you find is a learning curve. The streets are laid out in a grid, with every block and intersection of the same length. Even without checking his watch, a local could calculate distances by counting intersections. While this grid system dates back to the 1830s, it wasn’t the first of its kind—Mohenjo Daro in the Indian subcontinent had a similar layout as far back as 2600 BC, though we can’t run a marathon there.

The first five kilometers of the race take you past iconic skyscrapers, which I had visited in the days before the race. Some spectators were even lucky enough to watch from the ledge of Willis Tower. But running through the city is always the best way to experience it.

After downtown, the route moves into the residential neighbourhoods of the North Suburbs. The streets here are wider than those in London or Berlin, making it easier to follow the blue line. As we loop back into downtown, if you’re relaxed enough to look around, you’ll see flags and supporters from various cultural groups. I even grabbed a water bottle from a Mexican support group.

You cross the Chicago River several times during the race. The bridges are made of steel plates with gratings, which can feel odd running on it . Some sections are carpeted to prevent slipping in case of rain. These movable bridges allow boats to pass, and if you’re lucky, you might spot one raised in the distance. The Chicago River is unique; its flow has been reversed to prevent city drainage entering  Lake Michigan, which keeps the city cool with its breeze.

Despite the history, architecture, and beauty around me, I sometimes felt alone in the crowd. It was as if the other runners were merely side characters in my story.

By 30 km, my brain was too focused on keeping my body moving to spot new pacers. I saw a runner in a bright orange shirt and decided to stick with him for a few blocks, but my mind wandered, and I lost him. This happened several times, and the pacing trick wasn’t working anymore.

---

 

Nutrition was also a challenge. I tried a new strategy with Maurten hydrogel plan , which I hadn’t tested in training, and it backfired. By mile 18, I was bloated and my stomach hurt. I couldn’t focus, which was my second mistake. I didn’t dare to consume any more gels .
I also gambled by running without my usual hydration belt. Relying on the course's aid stations was fine in theory, but in practice, I missed having my own water. The stations provided cups, not bottles, and I couldn’t drink enough without slowing down. By the last 10K, I was feeling severely  dehydrated.  That was my third mistake.

Despite these issues, my pace remained steady, and I kept pushing, glancing at my watch and calculating the time remaining. As the race turned back downtown, I knew I was on the edge of my goal. I pushed harder, even though my mouth was dry, and my body screamed for water.

With 1 mile to go, I had 10 minutes. With 1 kilometer to go, I had 7 minutes left for a sub-4 finish. I didn’t feel the famous incline on Roosevelt. At 400 meters to go, my watch showed 3:57. Like in London, I was tempted to let it go, but then I reminded myself—"No, Dilip, you may never get this chance again. You’re not dying, so keep going."

At that moment, the runners around me were pushing for the finish line. I tried to smile and run, even though both were difficult. I crossed the finish line at 3:58, feeling neither joy nor achievement—just sheer relief.

I didn’t feel like calling anyone; I knew my friends and family had been tracking me. I collapsed on the sidewalk and lay down. After a few minutes, a volunteer helped me up, encouraging me to walk. I felt intense cramps in my calves but managed to reach the medal station. I received my medal mechanically, not caring for a photo. I gulped down some water, but I still felt nauseous.

“I’ll never run a marathon again.”
That thought crossed my mind as I collapsed on the curb once more, crying out in pain from the cramps.

I wandered into the party zone, feeling much better after resting. The Chicago skyline looked stunning beneath the dark clouds, and the sound of happy chatter in countless languages filled the air. My cramps were gone, and I realized—there was no reason not to be happy.

I grabbed a beer can from the counter and smiled. Yes, I had finally achieved my sub-4 dream.

  

 

London Marathon - Narrow streets , colourful crowds , Majestic Tower Bridge and Finish at Palace Grounds.

 

"Standing at the start line of a marathon demands more than just courage, effort, and training; finishing it is simply the logical conclusion."

 I heard somewhere, or maybe I just made it up. But standing at the start line of a world marathon major certainly demands much more.

Chasing world majors isn't just about your running abilities; it involves securing entry, obtaining a visa, sparing time, finding affordable flights, traveling thousands of miles, braving different climates, and let's not forget, some training . Finishing it is just a matter of a few hours.

This time, it involved more than 24 hours either in the air or airports due to Dubai floods and another looming Gulf war. And here I was, shivering in the cold at the Blue starting wave, just after crossing acres of lush green sheep-grazing yards of Blackheath.

The London Marathon is unique in many ways. It has four start points: blue, red, green , and championship or elites, and many starting lineups  in each colour. From 9:00 AM to 11:30 AM, waves of runners from different countries start running this iconic race depending on their target finish time. Faster runners start first and slower runners start last, making it a colorful festival throughout the day. My time was 9:42 at the blue 10 starting wave.

All marathons in Europe start in the late morning. In India, we have to wake up at 4:00 AM to get to a 5:30 AM starting line. But here in Europe, you can have a normal sleep, have some breakfast, and then move to the holding area. This is unimaginable in India due to the hot tropical weather. The support and festive atmosphere started right from our photography session at the London Eye. People were wishing us luck on the streets, at tube stations, until we reached Blackheath.

The flow of thousands of runners continuously streamed from the station to the holding area in the vast, seemingly sheep-grazing area. I wondered how one of the biggest cities in the world  could still keep such huge open areas clear of buildings and land development. The color of lush green grass always pleases the eyes. The first sight of holding area was half a mile long, parallel lines to toilet porta cabins. Warming up with more than 1000 runners in Blue 10 wave, I wondered how many runners in total were running.

As the weather was cold, runners were clad in layers. As start time approached, jackets started flying overhead towards the donation box. People started moving, but I couldn't make out if the race had started or not until we passed a gate some distance ahead. It was quite an uneventful start.  The street was narrow, passing through a colony of two/three-storied brick houses with sets of chimneys over the roof, fenced with ample green  space within those. I felt like I was running in the monsoon in my native village. Cheering was so loud from the beginning; it looked like the entire village was there on the sidelines with bands and music.

One singer of the cheering band ran with a  probably local runner ahead of me for a few meters with a microphone in hand, singing a melodious song. It felt like a festival and not a marathon.

 As planned earlier, I was going to run this race monitoring running power in the first half and the last 5 km. I practiced that in my training runs. I didn't want to spend all my energy in the beginning and hit the wall later. It was a pattern I wanted to break now. Sub-4 finish or not, I would not bonk and finish the race strong. So my watch was showing running power, average heart rate, and average pace. The second important thing was I didn't want to run extra miles, so I stuck to the blue line. With running power below 250, I was getting a good pace; just my heart rate was higher than usual. But I ignored it, attributing it to the cold weather. Fortunately, it settled after a couple of miles.

Everything was perfect in the beginning, not much crowd. We could see the road beneath our feet. In London, they have colorful roads with different colored gravels showing on surface. They don’t make it smooth with black asphalt  perhaps because they don’t want it to be slippery in perennial rains. The broken blue line was visible on those colored gravels. I wished to follow that line till the end. The crowd was ecstatic, loudly shouting names on T-shirts or runners. The houses were still three stories high with yards on both sides of narrow streets. Volunteers' warnings of road bumps saved us from tripping. We enjoyed the descent in the route till runners from other starting areas joined us. In Berlin, I planned and executed 11 km per hour till three hours before hitting the wall. Here, I didn't want a heartbreak again.

Though I saved 2 minutes after the first hour, I was not sure about what happens next. The race had thickened by now, with more runners now running in similar narrow streets. I guess we were running towards the centre of the city from the suburbs. Houses were not tall but close to each other. All the cheering crowds were encroaching, making the street narrower. My pace dropped as there was no way to get ahead without zigzagging, which I wanted to avoid. My running power was around 240 now.

"Everything happens for the good. I am preserving energy," I thought. Easy in pace, I started noticing the colors of the race. Runners pushing wheelchairs, runners in costumes. I too had applied to Guinness World Records for costume running with a book costume, which they approved. But later  I chickened out and withdrew. Placards added some flavors to any Marathon. London Marathon is no exception to this. Placards supporting loved ones, friends are common. Promise of a beer, evening in the club, even a marriage proposal was waiting at the finish line. Some promised to pause your  Strava when you fall. Some of those mocked tired runners with "Never say again, see you next year."

I could see flags of many countries in the crowd. The most prominent seemed to be the UAE. Running is going places. It is picking up in the desert as well. Great! I thought. Later, I came to know it was not UAE . I was looking for my India flag. I remember in Comrades Marathon South Africa, there was no need to search for the India flag. Indian runners get huge support from the Indian diaspora as well as locals with India chants and hundreds of tricolors waving. And I saw one on my left near the barricades, a big Indian flag was waving 200 meters away. I was on the right side of the road, full of runners. Zigzagging, I reached there. It was Suraj of our tour operator Active Holiday. Got my energy tank topped up with a high five with him.

With the increased crowd, following that blue line was getting difficult. At some places, it was passing into the cheering crowd. Distance on the watch was moving quicker than the same on the route. It was certain that I would have run more than 26.2 miles today. The race had entered the city now, with some modern architecture in addition to Victorian. When we turned on Tower Bridge road, someone familiar with the area said, "Wow, we will pass through Tower Bridge now." It was really the moment I won't forget in my life. A river of runners crossing the River Thames below the iconic Tower Bridge arches. I smiled wide, threw my hands in the air, being sure that some race photographer would capture the moment. The stone arches above the bridge were so majestic; I wanted to stop and admire the beauty. But when you add the result to your efforts, the joy takes a backseat.

“I have a promise to keep,” I thought before moving ahead. Many iconic buildings were located in this locality. I thought of watching a play in a London theatre someday. Though I couldn’t get a ticket this time, I was fortunate to experience the FA Cup excitement at Wembley on Saturday. When we took a right turn after Tower Bridge, a stream of runners was coming from the opposite direction in the next lane. I could spot the 3-hour pacers. I was aiming for a 4-hour finish, which meant this loop would take 45/50 minutes. I tried to calculate. Simple mathematics takes so much time when you are running a race.

Despite all these distractions, I crossed the half marathon as per plan and the second-hour target of 22 km as well. Berlin was constantly on my mind. I remembered I took a loo break at the halfway point and lost some momentum. I slowed down a bit after 22 km, and the third hour was 1 or 2 minutes slower in Berlin It was not going out of my mind .

 By this time, I had crossed around 5 sub-4-hour pacers, and I was behind another one running 200 meters ahead. I didn't try to reach him but decided to keep him in sight. The race was still full of elbowing and toeing, not thinned even after 25 km. And the crowd was more in central London. Spotting aid stations was a challenge in the colorful and noisy crowd. A runner ahead of me spotted one and stopped suddenly, causing me to collide into him. There was sharp pain and a cramp-like feeling in my legs because of this sudden change in movement. I was terrified. I walked for a couple of minutes to allow the pain to subside before starting running again.

The race was on the other side of the Thames now. I could see the 3-hour, 3:15, 3:30 pacers in the parallel lane. I could not see the 4-hour pacer now. Alarmed, I looked at my watch. I was getting bored. This was a warning sign. You first feel bored, then you question your decision to run such races, and then you get slowed down. That dreaded runners  wall is somewhere around the corner. I want to avoid that. I remember my professor( 25 years younger to me ) at ACSM, where I am learning to be a trainer, explaining about the energy system working. It looked like both my carbs and fats stores  were exhausted, amino acids came into play, reached to the brain, and started playing games. I popped my caffeine gel and started thinking about happy things.

The big loop was almost complete, and I could see runners on the other side of the route with pacer flags of 5 or so. My third-hour end target was 33 km; it took me a few minutes and several attempts to calculate the pace required to achieve that target. Simple calculations became very difficult when I got fatigued. To accommodate the crowd or for some other reason, volunteers were slightly diverting the route with the help of barricades. It was making us run a few meters more. That was making my job difficult.

Finally, I managed to complete 33 km in just the nick of three hours. I relaxed a bit and celebrated with a short walk. It was another warning sign. You feel you have plenty of time and you get relaxed. I had just 9 km to go and a full one hour in hand. So, my brain boss said I could walk. Relaxation is the biggest challenge. It kills your goal silently. If you think just below 6 pace will suffice, tired legs take some more liberty and walk above 6 min/km. And you don't notice that all the advantages you earned are slipping away. Secondly, we calculate according to watch mileage. But on the course, we did run extra distance, and we have more to go which is not considered for calculation.

I started running again. I didn't notice that the race was in the most beautiful part of London. It was running in Royal London on the banks of the Thames. Only Friday, I was admiring the  same beauty of Buckingham Palace neighbourhood  while watching the Changing of the Guards. One more 4-hour pacer slipped ahead of me. I tried to hang with him for some distance, but I could manage for only a short distance. There was a strong urge to walk. But my other mind said, "It is now or never; you are not young and don’t have many chances; you were never this close. Don't stop." Legs reluctantly followed the order.

After passing through every timing mat, I thought about my family and friends back home tracking my run on the London Marathon app. I had to keep my promise to myself and tried to push. It was just 2 km to go on my watch, and I had enough time. I noted many runners walking.

"Run, we are so close to sub-4, don't walk."

 I knew their state of mind, having been there so many times. Mine was not much different. The difference was I kept pushing, though every muscle in my legs was shouting to stop.

"800 meters to go." It was 3:58 on my watch. Is it possible? I didn't want to test my brain with math again and just kept running with a steady pace. I was not pushing; that was also taking a lot of effort. Sub-4 or not, I decided to be happy with my efforts. I wanted a smiling finish more than anything else. The finish line was within sight but not approaching fast. I raised my arms in the air with a broad smile on my face. It was less for photographers and more for me, for my efforts, for though not winning but not losing the battle within myself to negative thoughts. My legs almost defied signals from the brain. I crossed the finish line of my second major marathon. Like any other runner, the first thing I did was stop the watch. The time was 4:01:30. Though the distance I ran was 500 meters more, officially my sub-4 did not happen.

Immediately after the finish, it was literally crawling as there was no space for even walking. I collected my medal, switched my phone on . The first call I received was from Nagesha, my cyclist friend now settled in London. He was waiting for me in the meet and greet area. I found my tour operators clicked some photos with the medal and tricolor. It took almost 20 minutes for Nagesh and his two friends to find me. It was very cold weather which I didn't realize while running. After the sudden drop in activity and internal heat, I was feeling very cold and shivering. Nagesh's friend offered me his jacket. We had hot chocolate for some warmth before moving to the hotel.

What went wrong was not a question in my mind! I was content with my efforts. If I had finished within 4 hours, I would consider myself as the winner of the London Marathon, notwithstanding that 20,000 more finished ahead of me. I have divided the race into 4 parts, I succeeded in three of those. I was mostly able to defy negative emotions. I was able to recognize warning signs and tried to act on them. It was my legs, not my mind, which needed more training. My professor at ACSM, where I am learning to be a trainer, Samson Sequera, believes in mileages, which I didn't agree with him. Now I see his point. Now I know if I wish to finish in good time, I should invest in mileages.

If finishing strong is winning, I was the runner-up here. The next one, I am going to win!!!!!

Beyond the Run: My Journey as a Pacer in Tata Mumbai Marathon"

 "What is the treasure you seek in dedicating your time?"  

A compassionate soul replied, "I unearthed the richness of human connection, my friend."

---

The Tata Mumbai Marathon is a pilgrimage for every Indian marathoner like me, the first marathon I ever heard of. Since then, I haven't missed it. The magnitude and charm of the Mumbai Marathon continue to overwhelm me, even after participating in marathons and ultras worldwide.

A pilgrim doesn't dream of being part of a temple, and neither did I. "Why are you not responding to the TMM Pacer invitation?" I got a call. I didn't believe him until I scrolled up my messages, finding the invitation buried in Christmas messages. My heart skipped some beats.

I was about to miss a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

I filled out the form with all the credentials and hoped for the best outcome. However, my joy was short-lived as my dear Dad left us for the heavenly abode just a day after Christmas at the age of 91. I hadn't resumed training after the Border 100 km hell race in mid-December, so running was on the backburner.

A call just 15 days before the race changed everything. I was selected as the official pacer for the 4:20 bus. Based on my previous runs at TMM and my strengths and weaknesses, I prepared a pace chart for every kilometer. The official pacer groups kept swelling endlessly. "What is the strategy, Pacer?" was a common question after every entry. I didn't believe in just giving a pace chart. Half of the runners were first-timers, and many faced challenges around the 30/35 km mark every year.

Analyzing the splits of my friends from the previous year, I decided to share the thought process behind my chart and strategy in a small blog. Though I planned for every kilometer, it's impossible to monitor it on the field. I narrowed down the chart of 4 hours and 20 minutes into four segments of one hour and a final one of 20 minutes.

Now, everyone knew how much to run in every hour. Focusing on just the current segment at hand, roughly 10 km per hour, eased the anxiety of first-timers. If you were slow in the 7th km, don't panic; you have 3 km in hand to cover up lost minutes.

The Mumbai track has some elevation in the second half, and I've seen excellent runners struggle there. I wanted to convert that weakness into strength by taking that elevation into account.  

Another intention of sharing a thought process was running together was not possible  in this big race .  Well understood strategy in hand anyone can be his own pacer if  not spotted my pacer flag .

I pinned that blog in the group, and it got a whopping 700 views in just 24 hours—double the size of my team.

Not only did my team like my idea and strategy, but they also shared it among other runners. The marathon was only for a few hours, but it was a 10-day journey for the bus. We got to know each other, our runs, our goals. Runners from all walks of life, from all over the country, and four other countries shared their stories, expectations, doubts, and apprehensions. Our group was an open forum till the end, but no one spammed. It was the most respectful forum, and I am grateful to all of them.

I felt like a short-time micro celebrity when people clicked photos with me and my image at the expo. I was fortunate to meet the international ambassador of the event, Olympic gold medallist pole vaulter Catie Moon, and have selfies with her.

"How will the weather be this time?" is the favourite topic of runners since the start of the month. Mumbai is a coastal city with warm weather and high humidity. Winter months are a bit pleasant, but still hot for people from other parts of the country. It was comparatively pleasant weather this year. An early start ensured finishing before it became too hot. Runners were expecting to improve their time.

The night before every marathon is always sleepless and restless; this time it was more so. I was expected to walk (or rather run) my talk. Entering the holding area of TMM gives you an idea of the enormity of the event. A huge number of runners entering the gates, music, and warm-up drills make you feel like you've come to a party.

You bump into many known faces, your buddy from this race or that race. I meet some runners in this holding area only once a year. But in no time, the gates open. Before you find a way to your gate, it's already time, and the race has started. At a starting mat, you will always find a stunt or slogan of a runner. I crossed the starting line after walking half a kilometer. It was dark, and I couldn't feel my bus. Where are those who posted countless messages to run with me?

Since the underground metro work started, they put a huge steel sheet with welded grips on the road instead of tar; it was a scary run. Someone asked me how I manage my pace without looking at a watch. He was reminding me of my pacing duties, I thought. "If I stumbled on those welded grips , there would be no pace and no race," I didn’t said that aloud.

As we entered Nariman Point's turns, I could see other pacers and my bus. As you are heading the bus, runners stay behind you, watching your flag but invisible to you except for the turns. My bus's target was finishing 10 km in the first hour. Fresh legs, cool sea breeze, meet and greet continued. We were dot on target, though there was a bit of an incline in the 10th km.

"Is this the much-dreaded Pedder Road?" asked a South Indian runner. "It is 2 km ahead; don't worry, it will be downhill now." Pedder Road's uphill is at the 36th km. It is not that steep, but legs are tired by then, so it has become a bit notorious among runners. It is a lovely part of affluent South Mumbai. Residents come out in large numbers to support runners here. "I love Pedder Road" is my slogan while everyone is walking here. Anyways, it is the later part. We picked up a good pace on the incline. The bus was forming its shape now, and there were no strangers running alongside now.

By the time we reached 16 km, my fellow pacer, Mehwish, joined. Mehwish Hussain, an IT professional and Yoga trainer from Mangalore, is an excellent runner and pacer. The happy bus cruised on the beautiful Sea Link, chanting "Bus no 420." It was still dark, and we could see the city lights of Maximum City on the right and lights on fisherman ships in the vast Arabian Sea on our left.

I had promised in my strategy blog for the bus to stop for photography on Sea Link. We had the luxury of 3/4 minutes in our kitty. Taking selfies, videos here is a tradition now. A runner coined a funny slogan for a video for Bus 4:20. "I am 420, and I will remain 420." 420 in India means a con artist, but ours was a smart bus, not a con. It was a fun slogan, and I was happy to reach the halfway point almost exactly as per plan. But this is the point that quietened the bus. Some legs started to get tired, some were full of energy, roaring to go.

The bus is just a metaphor, a loose group of runners roughly targeting the same time. The only pacer, the driver, is bound by his own plan. I was heading the bus and couldn't see back; I could listen to less noise. Maybe because the noise was now from the sidelines. We were in the city again, and residents young and old were cheering loudly, offering water and snacks.

Mehwish and I were both in sync now, some paces ahead and some paces behind. The rhythm was set, and there was no worry until the end of the third hour. By now, the bus had thinned further. There was just the occasional cry of "Bus no 420." Restless guys left us for chasing their PBs. I hoped tired legs were not far behind and were enjoying the hospitality of Dadar and Prabhadevi.

To be a good pacer, it's not enough to be a good runner; you should have good mental math. Now, running with a plan was not enough because the distance on the course is always more than the distance on your watch. So, you have to see mile markers on the road, calculate the remaining distance, calculate your remaining time, divide the distance by the time, derive the pace, and run by that pace. Confusing enough? Yes, it was confusing. While running, even simple math seems difficult.

One time I thought I was going too fast, then slowed down. A few meters later, the calculation was wrong. Pedder Road was still there with an invisible placard saying, "Love me, Hate me, but don't ignore me." "My respects, dear Pedder Road, I love you," I started walking, grabbing a chocolate offered by a resident. Most of the runners were walking on the incline. Midway up the incline, I started running again. Pedder Road conqurred.

I was not tired, but my mind was fatigued with constant calculation. There were a few FM distance signs on the road. I didn't want to go too fast and slow down at the finish line. That would be unjust for those still running in my bus. I was running easy, crossed some more friends on the way. We were at Marine Lines again. The sea breeze was not as pleasing now. The plan told me it was time for a gel, but I hated it now. I wanted something warm like chocolate or chikki but didn't want to stop. Maybe Marine Lines had few bands and cheerleaders this year too, but I was too occupied to notice.

Somewhere I saw a signboard of 41 km. Was it for the Elite or Amateur? I didn't pay attention. I had 8/9 minutes and 1.20 km to go—easy. I thought about Mehwish; I knew she must be a few meters behind. But by the time I reached 1 km to go, I had just 6.50 minutes. I got worried. I tried to step up, but my legs were heavy. With 500 meters to go, Mehwish shot from nowhere and sprinted towards the finish, which was still far away. It sprouted new energy in my legs. I sprinted behind her but not that fast. First thing after the finish line, I saw my watch: 4:20:35. Thank God. I lived up to the trust. I didn't fail those who believed in me.

It was joy. I could recognize faces around me. I smiled sheepishly. I was tired and tried to walk before settling on the curb. I didn't know how many in my team achieved their target until messages started pouring in. I could meet some of them. It was the first time I was happy with the success of strangers. But they didn't remain strangers now.

I looked at my medal. I won more than this medal— an enduring connection with fellow runners and the collective heartbeat of shared goals. 

Isn’t that a greater treasure?