From Doubts to Desert Bliss: A Journey of Discovery in The Border Ultra 100K

 

  "The miracle isn't that I finished.The miracle is that I had the courage to start." - John Bingham

                           '  ( The Border Disclaimer Document  page 3 , para 1)

"Hypothermia is a potentially serious risk! It can strike very quickly, especially when the pace slows from exhaustion or injury. The runner may feel very cold, experience uncontrolled shivering, and become unaware of their surroundings, possibly posing an immediate danger to themselves."

This paragraph in the caution section of the race disclaimer sent by The Hell Race Team a few days before the event further scared me. It all began with a phone call on October 31, 2023. I received a call from my friend and accomplished runner from Gurgaon, Geeta Ahalawat.

"Dilip ji, you wanted to do the border race? One spot is available. Do it now. You can continue breakfast after that."

Caught in the spell, I registered for the race, despite the fact that the Border Run had always lingered as a distant desire. Little did I realize the gravity of the situation until a day later – a 100 km race with only 6 weeks for training, tapering, and actual travel.

Untrained and uncertain, I found support in Geeta, who connected me with her coach, Hemant Beniwal. Doubts clouded my mind – about myself, the training plan, and my other commitments. While the city celebrated Diwali, I ran through the scorching heat, dodging crackers.

A month of interrupted training passed quickly, marked by travels and minor health issues. Then, the handbook with its dozen warnings and disclaimers arrived by mail. Having witnessed hypothermia in cycling tours and faced desert heat before, the challenge loomed ahead.

One month passed quickly in training, hindered by some travels and minor health issues. Then the handbook, with a dozen warnings and disclaimers, arrived by mail. Having witnessed hypothermia before in my cycling tours, facing desert heat posed another challenge. Flights and hotels were booked, money was spent, and there was no turning back. I have observed that those who start also finish, even if not in the best training condition.

Fortunately, discussions in the race WhatsApp group were more about everything but running. It was sometimes annoying, but in hindsight, it helped me distract myself and not overthink about the upcoming race.

Before every race, I meticulously plan my run, study the route, create elaborate Excel sheets, summarize it hourly, and revise it. But this time, I couldn't think straight; there was no question of planning anything.

I don't know how the mind works, but as I chose the bag to pack, all my fears were replaced by excitement. I could overhear words like Ultra, border, 100k, and 100 miles in the flight itself. The flight was landing in the brown landscape of nowhere, and I got my first feel of the desert. At the airport, it was a pleasant surprise to meet Chetan, my comrade buddy with a black and pepper beard.

The expo of any ultra is always about catching up with friends and making new ones from all over India. Fortunately, I could chat with legendary runners like Raj Vadgama. Friends had told me that the race briefing of The Border is one of the highlights of the event. I had seen glimpses of the style of our race director Vishwas Sindhu , an interesting fellow - bold and straightforward in his true Haryanavi style. Though he seemed rude at the beginning, this man knew his business, whether you liked it or not.

Out of the 360 runners lined up, many were repeat offenders like my friend Chetan, while the rest were first-time participants, like me. Similar to how the Comrades Marathon was started as a tribute to the soldiers of the First World Wars in South Africa, The Border Ultra began as a tribute to the 120 soldiers who defended the frontier in the famous Laungdwala battle. The organizers, The Hell Race, limited the cap to 120 runners in each category in respect of those soldiers.

Though everyone seemed excited, taking selfies, shouting slogans, I tried not to think about what lay ahead. The sun was scorching in the clear midday sky. The start line at the Indira indoor stadium was outside the city of Jaisalmer, and we were on a desert road in no time. In ultras, runners preserve energy, and the start is always easy - chatting with fellow runners is the most wonderful thing in the first few kilometers.

"Where are you from?" is a common question, and you can hear names of any of the 36 odd Indian territories. Different accents, different languages, different names, but the same passion. Veteran runners talk about their experiences, recalling what happened in Malnad or Khardungla Challenge. Ultra Matheran runners are a different breed, made of something else. They are distinct from general marathon runners, and I still don't belong to that category. This is a small community scattered all around the country, aware of each other. "How fast" is not the buzzword here; "how much distance" is the common question.

In ultras, you have to take care of your needs yourself. There won't be pampering. Water stations or aid stations are 10 km apart. By the first water station, the race had spread like a big 2 km long snake. The terrain was rolling with a brown landscape - soil, rocks, homes, even fencing poles were made of brown stones. One big Jain Mandir property was fenced by very huge blocks of golden sandstone. Tharparkar cows stopped grazing invisible desert grass to watch the long line of runners.

Chetan told me that Tharparkar cows are found in the Thar desert, spread in India and Pakistan. Chetan had excellent knowledge about nature, and you could find stones from different ultra marathon routes in his collection. "Don't go into bushes. Babhul thorn will spoil your entire run," I heard someone warning. The terrain was full of Babhul ,thorny Ber and surprisingly evergreen Rui plants. My other Comrades Marathon buddy, Arti Agarwal, zoomed past us,  ,

"Slow down Arti ; you have 150 kms to go." But she had her own plans of pace.

Hell Race volunteers stacked their aid stations well with water, electrolytes, and fruits, and they were very happy to help runners. The sun was still strong, but there was a slow breeze that made it bearable. The terrain was changing; shepherds in Pathani attire looked after flocks of white sheep grazing bunches of Shewan grass. At one place, shepherds were loading a truck with sheep crowded like Mumbai local trains. Hopefully, the truck was going to a sheep-sharing event and not a slaughterhouse.

Although my buddy and I had decided to run together, we had different goals. He had to conserve more energy for his 160 km, so we decided to go at our own paces. Three kilometers of running and 200 meters of walking were my strategy. "Every third walk should be at a water station," I told myself. Like camels in the desert, refill your bladders, grab something to eat, and move ahead.

At some junction, we turned and headed west on a very narrow road. At some places, the desert sand had covered the road. The sun was inching towards the horizon, and it was an enjoyable time. Legs were still not tired, and the desert looked different now. Some farmers were preparing fields. "Jeera," a farmer replied when I asked what they were sowing. Tubewell was the source of water. Right from Jaisalmer, majestic windmill farming was a salient feature of the landscape. Every windmill was so huge that one could rest in its shadow. By the evening, their presence became more prominent with the sound generated by their huge blades.

The fifty-kilometer mark was still a few kilometers away when sunlight faded. Before twilight turned into darkness, it was necessary to reach the drop bag point. Though the crescent moon was in the sky, its light did not reach the desert. I heard stories of the last year's run when the moon was nearly full, and the desert looked different. They didn't need to turn on headlamps.

Our drop bags with winter clothes and other essentials were transported and made available at the 50 km and 60 km points. At 6:30 PM, it was total darkness. Finding the drop bag station in the field, locating my bag, changing in darkness, and putting on a headlamp was a total challenge for a tired mind. I grabbed some hot, solid food. The whole process took a lot of time and took away the desire to run again. I walked almost half a kilometer to gather the courage to run again. It was pitch dark. In daytime, some runners were always in sight, used to talking to each other. By this time, hardly anyone was in sight. When someone passed, hardly anyone talked. Those were the loneliest hours.

We were on a big, wide Bharatmala road. It was super flat, with no turns, no rolling hills, and no landmarks visible in the dark and no vehicles. It was like a long tunnel in darkness. ”Three kilometers of running, 200 meters of walking. The third walk at the water station at every 10th kilometer.  was still my strategy. Water station was the only place alive. Though I was running, I was not feeling alone. There was nothing to think about, no one to talk to. Just the jingling sound of the bouncing hydration pack on my back was my company. I don't listen to music while running. Lyrics get lost in my chain of thoughts, and only noise remains. Secondly, handling all those earphone wires is not my thing.

I could sense the silhouette of sand dunes on the sides of the road. I looked up at the sky, and it was a mesmerizing scene. In decades, I had not seen such a starry sky. I remembered my childhood when we used to identify constellations. I almost spotted one, but I kept going. Am I going west? How could I know? I wanted to stop and find the North Star, not for navigation, but for the sake of it. But I had miles to go before I stopped. I still regret not stopping and looking for the North Star guide of all nomads and wanderers. I don't like only one thing about running. It is too focused on the finish line.

The difference in kilometer marks of water stations and my watch reading was increasing. The seventh water station arrived well after the 71st kilometer. I got irritated at the thought of the extra distance. Anyway, I was just two water stations away from the finish point. That was a reassuring thought. By that time, my legs were tired. So, the 200-meter walk increased to 300 or even 500 meters. It was like the law of inertia. When I was walking, I didn't want to run, and when I was running, I was afraid of walking. So, I changed the formula to a 3.50 km run and a 500-meter walk.

I was frustrated to run up to 93 km on my watch to reach the 9th water station, supposed to be at 90 km. If the finish point is 10 km away from here, my run will be 103 km but my mind was programmed for 100. I hoped that the race director was just pulling our legs, and the distance would be only 7 km. But that didn't seem possible. I lost all my enthusiasm. My pace dropped, and I started walking more frequently. I even lost count of how much I needed to go.

Suddenly, I saw some headlamps coming back running. I shouted, "What happened?" Some volunteer emerged from the dark. "These runners are doing 160, going to Laungewala."

"So what about 100 km?" I almost screamed.

"Congratulations! Your finish line is just 500 meters away near that light."

I was overjoyed. I sprinted with tired legs towards that light in the distance. One runner ran past me. I ran faster, but before I could overtake, there was a timing mat and the race director waiting there to greet finishers.

The real challenge came after that. While I was running, my body felt warm. This warmth, along with the layers of winter clothing, shielded me from the biting cold of the desert. After the excitement of completing the race, receiving the medal, and taking photos, I began to feel the chill. I located my drop bag containing dry clothes and a jacket, but I lacked the courage to strip off my sweaty garments in the cold. Putting on fresh clothes over the sweaty ones only made matters worse. I started shivering so intensely that I lost all the hot tea from my cup.

This was my most memorable race of my life. I lived every mile of it. I still remember every water station, every turn, arrow markings on the road. May be because this was I was not obsessed with finishing time. I have not kept any target. I was careful not to exceed certain level of efforts and preserve energy. When you don't focus on results but on efforts, you get more than your expectations. I was blank before the start, because of my undertraining.

I had decided that this will be my first and last 100 km Ultra Race. But now I am not sure.

 

My Berlin Wall

Until a few months ago, I was unaware of the world major marathons. My only desire was to participate in an international marathon in Europe. At first, I leaned towards Amsterdam, but after experiencing the Comrades Marathon bug last year, I knew I wanted something different.

I didn't want to repeat the Comrades Marathon, so I began searching for marathons in Europe. I was fortunate to know Gauri Jairam, who had organized a wonderful tour in South Africa after Comrades. She recommended running the Berlin Marathon over Athens and Amsterdam, so Berlin it was. My primary intention was to combine tourism with running.

The enormity of the Berlin Marathon hit me when I joined some international runners' discussion groups online. The record numbers of participants, the breaking of world records during the run, and the status of the World Majors Series by Abbott became apparent. The World Majors Series comprises six marathons across the globe: New York, Tokyo, Chicago, London, Berlin, and the notoriously challenging Boston. Runners from around the world dream of completing these six events and earning the prestigious six-star medal.

Eliud Kipchoge is a name synonymous with the Berlin Marathon. The Kenyan superstar secured his record-breaking 5th victory this year and even set a world record on this very track.

For any marathoner, running on the same track as Eliud Kipchoge on the same day is an incredibly special experience, and it was going to be my lucky day too. I admired Kipchoge not only as a runner but also as a motivator. I remember watching one of his YouTube videos in which he addressed fellow runners in Kenya. He used the metaphor of climbing a tall tree: "First, you look at the lowermost branch only, then you climb on it. When you finish in five hours, you look at 4:30." It's like improving your running or anything else in life, step by step. My aspiration was to run faster, just like every marathoner.

Last year, my personal best (PB) improved with every event, from 4:26 in Pune in June 2022 to 4:09 in Jaipur in February 2023. So, naturally, the idea of achieving a sub-4 marathon time was in the back of my mind. Kipchoge's words resonated with me: "Look at the branch above you," and the sub-4 branch was just above my head.

"My training was laser-focused on achieving a sub-4 finish, with my dedicated coach and running guru, Satish Gujaran, closely monitoring my progress. We endured grueling training sessions, including speed workouts, hill repeats, and long runs, all aimed at building not just physical endurance but also mental fortitude. Satish Sir instilled in me the belief that a marathon is a battle of both body and mind. As the race day approached, he fine-tuned my race strategy, emphasizing the importance of pacing, nutrition, and mental resilience.

 

While planning for a family vacation added some distractions, the sub-4 goal lingered. My coach and friends wouldn't let me forget it. It seemed like an impossible task, but their constant reminders made me believe in it.

Being too fixated on the destination can strip away the joy of the journey. The buzzing Facebook group of over 20,000 runners from around the world had already created excitement about the Berlin Marathon. I now understood why Berlin is a World Major. It's not just a one-weekend morning event; it's a week-long festival.

I began meeting fellow runners at Mumbai airport, and Berlin filled with runners as I arrived. The expo was impeccably managed; I obtained my bib in just 5 minutes, with all my booked add-ons. A South African lady noticed my Comrades cap and jacket, making her instantly friendly. She located my exact bib number among 50,000 runners within minutes.

The expo at the old Berlin airport became a festive gathering place for three days. Lucky runners could even listen to Kipchoge and other elites at the Hall of Fame event. On Saturday morning, there was a free 6 km breakfast run for anyone who wanted to join, turning into a significant event with thousands of runners, even those without bibs. On Saturday evening, there was an inline skating race on the marathon route.

Sunday morning marked the race day.  It starts with race of wheelchairs and hand carts  in the beginning .

Unlike Indian marathons that finish before 9:15 AM, the Western world seemed to embrace races as late-morning events, with the ability to divert traffic for the entire day.

The first wave was flagged of at 9:15 with elite runners in lead.

With 50,000 runners divided into four waves based on their best times, my race started at 10:05 AM. Despite the chilling weather, excitement filled the air. The host provided updates on Kipchoge and Assefa leading the race, and the iconic song "Sirius" by The Alan Parsons Project motivated the runners inching towards the start line. On a big screen, an Indian barefoot runner, Chandrashekhar, shared his running story. The race officially began at 10:05 AM, but it took me a few more minutes to reach the start line.

It felt as though everyone in a Mumbai local train suddenly started running; the crowd was tight, and you had to follow the pace of the crowd to avoid toeing or elbowing.

In any marathon, you end up running more than 42.195 km since the measured distance is the shortest possible on the route. Every runner aims to stick to the blue line. My plan was clear: maintain 11 km per hour for the first three hours. At kilometer 5/6, a bus for a 4-hour finish time was blocking my way. I managed to overtake the group at one bend but found another 4-hour pacer leading his group at the next bend.

The race remained congested, but I managed to achieve my first-hour target with a couple of minutes to spare. Despite the diversity among thousands of runners in terms of nationality and colors, there was minimal conversation. Instead, there was plenty of apologizing for elbowing and using "please" or "bitte" to request passage. The constant rhythmic sound of shoe thumping on the tarmac filled the air. At water stations, the shoe-thumping sound became dangerously different as runners trampled on plastic glasses thrown on the road. However, the sidelines were full of cheering spectators, shouting enthusiastically, and various groups like drummers, bands, and Swiss horn players added to the vibrant atmosphere.

Berlin boasts numerous architectural marvels, many of which were reconstructed after the Second World War. Even the Brandenburg Gate, an iconic symbol, had been reconstructed. Yet, my focus remained on my watch, not allowing me to appreciate these beauties.

As I achieved my third hour  goal as per plan, I remained on target, but the fear of the unknown lingered. I began calculating. "I'm still on track," I told myself, giving me the luxury of a restroom break. While the temperature wasn't scorching, the sun's strength was beginning to affect me.

I spotted a placard that read, "Run Kiki Run." It seemed that Kiki and Dirk were the most popular runners in the race, or perhaps there were just many Kikis and Dirks running that day. There were several such placards, and people cheered relentlessly for every runner.

My family was waiting to cheer me on at kilometer 39, in front of our hotel. However, I realized it would take me hours to reach them. My heart sank at the thought. I kept glancing at my watch, calculating, and reassuring myself, "I'm still on track." But exhaustion was setting in.

I started to doubt myself as a runner. "Why did you come here if you can't run?" I considered quitting not just the race but running altogether.

"Just have fun on Saturday evenings, Dilip. Why are you punishing yourself?"

"How did this happen? This is my 15th marathon, not to mention the ultras I've completed."

I recalled a message in our group, "Berlin is a fast track, but there are also many DNFs (Did Not Finish)."

Doubts kill you first. I can train my legs, but how can I simulate the state of my mind at Kilometer 35? Three four-hour Pacers (they call them Pacemakers in Germany) ran past me with their flags and busses between Kilometer 35 and Kilometer 38. The first one I tried to follow for a few meters. The other two did not provoke any thought in my mind. For a long time, I watched the growing distance between their flags and me. I slowly and indifferently watched my dreams slipping out of sight with those flags.

As my daughters and wife stood in front of the NH Collection hotel at kilometer 39 with a placard that read "BHAG DILIP BHAG" (Run, Dilip, Run), I greeted them with a tired, almost lost smile. They took photos and videos, which I would later view and consider deleting. With just two kilometers left, my energy was at its lowest point, and I was feeling the heat, even though the temperature wasn't particularly high.

I removed my arm compressions and knew I had energy gels and salt tablets in my pocket, but I had no desire to use them. I stopped looking at my watch; I had just one more turn to make, and the iconic Brandenburg Gate was only a few meters away. The finish line was just 300 meters past it. Summoning all my remaining strength, I managed to smile for a photograph and crossed the finish line.

My legs and hamstrings were aching, and I was in pain, but I collected my medal, took a selfie, and found a spot to sit down and close my eyes for a while. Nearby, another runner was doing the same. We exchanged smiles and started chatting. His name was Fahim, a British citizen of Pakistani origin. We talked for quite some time, helping each other stand up eventually.

It took me a while to figure out how to rejoin my family near the Brandenburg Gate, and in the meantime, I checked my race results online. Overall, I hadn't done badly; I finished in the top 35 percent among nearly 50,000 runners. However, I couldn't help but notice that thousands of runners had passed me in the last seven kilometers.

My watch revealed that I had run over 800 meters more than the official marathon distance due to the crowded route. It also told me that I had completed the marathon distance in 4:03, making it a personal best. However, the official time still displayed 4:10.

Despite not achieving my initial goals, I had gained a few friends along the way, both Indians and foreigners. That evening, it was time to celebrate. Every pub in Berlin was buzzing, and our tour operators, Active Sports, organized a fantastic party at a local pub. The Berliner beer was so good that it helped me forget about my race time and allowed me to connect with my newfound friends. Thanks to Gauri, Suraj, and the Active Sports team.

No one was talking about finishing times at the party; instead, discussions revolved around plans for the next major marathons. After a few beers, I even gave up my thoughts of giving up running.

In the end, the Berlin Marathon was more than just a race; it was a journey of self-discovery, camaraderie, and determination. Despite the challenges and missed goals, I had the opportunity to experience a world-class event and make lasting memories. It's a reminder that in the world of running, it's not just about the finish line but the journey that takes you there.

 

 

 

7th Heaven Day

 

Satara hill half  Marathon....

I did my first one in 2016. It is called Indian mini comrades because of huge elevation, scenic route, and wonderful crowd support..

Last year a bus full of our friends travelled to Satara and had fun. It was my 4^th Satara.

This time I was not very keen as group was going to Ladakh and  my other friends from all over India were also doing  world’s highest ultra Khardung La Challenge there .

 My Berlin was round the corner so Ladakh Ultra was not an option. Though I registered for Satara I was not very keen to travel all 6 hours for just an half marathon.

No travel, no hotel was booked. I almost decided to skip it till my coach Satish Gujaran sir insisted me to do it .

 Guru said go. And do sub 2 hour finish in that 415 meter elevation gain event .

 I resisted. But he insisted

“ It will increase your confidence for Berlin.”

 Entire Satara hotels were sold out  but buddy Dr Anant accommodated me in Fern.

Expo was great. Crowd was huge but they managed it well. Bumped into some friends there.  Excitement started to kick in.

Made a plan accordance with elevation gain and loss at every kilometre

Fern was good hotel., full of runners from across India. Tried to sleep early but as usual  night before marathon is always a sleepless one.

 In huge police ground around 5000 runners were doing warm up on music .It was exciting. I forget my reluctance. In line up I found friends from Palava runners .

 “What is plan? “I Asked Arijit .

” Nothing less than gold medal!”

“What is that?”

“If you finish sub 2 hour  you get gold ( coloured ) medal”. Manoj replied instead.

"I  also want Gold medal " I shouted loudly  .

 When you speak your loudly, it becomes commitment I read that somewhere.

Runners anthem a new idea by Satara people was followed by energetic Indian national anthem. And there was flag off.

Air was cool but I was feeling hot after  uphill 1st km .   Next 2 km were gentle rolling. Clocked sub-6. Wow. Plan was working. 4th was bit climb but I continued running . 5/6/7 I had planned walk . It was really tough to run.

It was too uphill. But  Why I am surprised?  I ran here four times before .Then  started segmenting this tough part in walks and runs . Managed to clock it below 8  minute per km .I was running as per plan but  I  started doubting  my  own plan. Because averages pace has reached above 6:30

Damn this pace thing. I am not seeing thousands of runners running along with me . Different colours . Some familiar names on T shirts. Some colours constantly running ahead of me like my pacers. The historic city in valley. Clapping of supporters all along route. Drums, music. I was indifferent to everything. Even I didn't heard shouts of water station volunteers .

I remembered last year's race. When I was pacing friends.  No goal finish was set .Many high fives   with crowd cheering from side lines  . Cracking one liners with them. Playing Tambourine while running. Mocking photographers with weird poses.

This year I was missing all of that and just focussed on damn pace.  Though this was my fifth Satara, it was  mountain didn’t become easier .Sub 2 was almost impossible task for me.

And now my chances looking dim. But I believed in my calculations. So I thought after 7^th  it is flat terrains. I will push and cover lost time. But it was not that flat, it was rolling . I was running sub 6 minutes  per kilometre . But I knew it was not enough. Now kilometres were feeling like miles. I had calculated to reach   turn around point  at 63 minutes , latest by 65 minutes .

But this halfway target  was also looking distant. All of sudden a huge incline welcomed me in 10th km . Was it there last time ?  I had to walk. I gulped a gel by walking glanced at watch .and I knew I will not finish in two hours .

     Turn around happened at 68 minutes.

   “10.50 km in 52 minutes.” not possible. Period .

  I felt free.  Relieved.

No pressure of expectations. It doesn’t matter now.

" Anyways this is your training run for Berlin only. This is not your race  .so no point pushing. for impossible.” I convinced myself.

Now I could clearly listen music,  slogans  hailing great king Shivaji , patriotic , motivating songs on loudspeakers ,Drums playing on sidelines .I could smile at girl at water station who was wishing good luck .

I could see known faces in runners running towards turn around point in opposite direction and wave and answer their waves.

I could reply greetings of runner friends. I stopped glancing frequently at watch .

By now I crossed 12 /13 km mark. My feet found downhill and responded in accordance with training  it got . Running was easy and fast. My watch vibrated at km 14 and told me that  you running at 4:31 min/km. I was surprised I don't run that fast even in my sprint practice . Legs were making merry encouraged by steep slope. I started targeting colourful T shirts ahead of me and overtaken hundreds of those. My watch vibrated violently and shouted “  Last Km was4:09”

 “Is it happening real or I am in dream?” I questioned in my mind. Slow down Dilip. Might be cramps are waiting round the corner.

An ambulance siren was becoming louder. “Give side to ambulance "

  A runner behind broke my train of thoughts.

I stepped aside. Ambulance zoomed past. I prayed for runner in it .Last year's incident crossed my mind. Some runner from Kolhapur lost his life in final  kilometres. Very sad incident.

I came back on tarmac and continued cruising downhill. “4:17” watch yelled .

Alright sir this is happening real .I was really enjoying slopes. At water stations road had become slippery I  rolled over it with  dangerous cadence .

"Slow down Dilip. Berlin is just three weeks away. You don't want to get injured for your first world major "

“4:25”   watch vibrated again.

. By the time hill was over and I entered into city .there was no more sharp downhill . but rolling. I got bored as Honeymoon  was over . I walked at a small uphill  glanced watch for time lapsed . Mind automatically calculated required pace for Sub 2 . Wow!!! It is easily doable. Immediately legs started running. I was running easy but interestingly pace was below 5. But I was afraid to push  .

"This is not your race " I reminded myself again ."This is just training run for you . Coach just wants sub 2 finish"

 And calculation told me sub 2 is very much possible now .no need to rush .  I eased and kept cruising easy on gentle slope at pace of 5 . Few runners ran  past me . I didn't care .

A white paint writing on road told 300 meter to go. Wow 150 steps of each foot .

I started counting. Red carpeted finish line was waiting for me with half a dozen photo graphers.

Drum was playing loud in police grounds. I wanted to dance on that tune.  may be Couple of hundreds  runners finished before me  ., So  this huge ground was kind of empty .

Selfie stands were all available. This was rare scene for me not to wait for my turn for photographs . I took the opportunity to take some selfies.

I was not still believing  my  dramatic  finish . I checked my watch app .  I ran last 10 km in just 47 minutes . My  four year old PR was 51 . And current was 53 . It was huge progress of 6 minutes.

 Later that day  when official result were out I found myself at 7th position in my age category.

 It is 7^th Heaven today!!!