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."

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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?