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?

BUS NO 420- TMM 2024

 
Friends,
The Tata Mumbai Marathon is a pilgrimage for Indian marathoners, and it is truly an honor to lead the bus on this iconic route. With its massive crowd and numerous turns, this city marathon presents a unique set of challenges. Negotiating the packed streets often leads to running extra distance on turns, as the sharp curves are not easily navigable. We'll aim to run tangentially to minimize this effect, even though  we will be covering a few extra meters in total distance.

Considering the elevation points and the increasing warmth of the Mumbai weather, our strategy involves starting the first half slightly faster than the second half. Our average pace will hover just above 6 minutes per kilometer, adjusting for the course dynamics.

To simplify monitoring, I've divided the course into 5 segments: four 1-hour segments and the last one to the finish line. Our strategy is straightforward—maintaining a pace of 10 km every hour for the first three hours, around 9.5 km in the fourth hour, and finishing the remaining distance in the last 20 minutes. Finishing the 10 km in the fourth hour also provides a cushion for the final segment.

This approach not only makes it easier to remember and monitor but also has a psychological advantage. Focusing on just 10 km at a time helps us stay mentally strong throughout the race, especially since we're the bus number 420!
Remember to carry your hydration for at least the first 10 km, which take you through the heritage sites of South Mumbai's Fort, the modern area of Nariman Point, and the refreshing sea breeze along Marine Drive. It's a journey accompanied by music both on the streets and within.

As we progress, adopting a strategy of walking 50/100 meters after every third kilometer adds an interesting element to the race. This provides a mental break and helps maintain an average pace. After obtaining the map of aid stations, we'll plan our walk breaks strategically, allowing everyone to grab water bottles during those intervals.
Consider implementing a walk-run strategy after the first 10 km, as the race begins to thin out, and walking in a group might obstruct others. These walking streaks also provide an opportunity to consume gels, salt tablets, or electrolytes from aid stations. Plus, we can even take a memorable selfie at the iconic Sea Link during one of these walks.
  Shortly After we take  blessings from lord Ganesha at  Siddhivinayak Temple, our third segment concludes. While it's a flat stretch, it's a defining moment for the bus. Fast runners may find us too slow, and tired runners might struggle to keep up. Stay positive, listen to your body, and remember, TMM happens every year. Here we have opportunity to watch almost  flying elite runners on the parallel dedicated lane.

At 37 km, we reach Pedder Road—a famous yet misunderstood part of the Mumbai Marathon. The moderate elevation at this crucial point, coupled with the support from residents and even the Japanese consulate members, adds spice to the race. Embrace the challenge; it's what makes TMM beautiful.

As we approach the end of our fourth

segment, with just a couple of kilometers to go, enjoy the music, bands, and cheerleaders along the route. Acknowledge their support with a loud thank you, but stay focused as the finish line is almost within reach.

In the final stretch, despite the fatigue setting in, maintain your pace. Remember, your mind may be tired, but your legs can carry you. The camaraderie among runners becomes evident as they cheer and encourage one another. As we leave the waterfront and re-enter the heart of the maximum city, the crowd's energy propels us forward. Dont forget to smile here ,  Race photographers are trying to give you best Insta pics 

By the time we see the finish gate, more than 42 km would have been conquered. Sprint those last few meters with a wide smile and your signature pose. Don't forget to end the activity on your tracker before receiving your medal and indulging in a wild victory dance. And, of course, don't forget to hug your pacer if you've reached the target time.

See you in Holding  Area Corral B !