It’s a cold morning. The clock shows four. I am nervous. I have to be up by five, at least.
The mind keeps posing all sorts of questions. Will I be able to do it? Should I have given it a little more thought? May be, I should just back out now. If I do, it’s just four hundred bucks that would go. But, if I don’t complete the task, my confidence would come crumbling down. I know I am not at all prepared for it. But, it is okay to give it a try. Why not? I can do it. How can I not? I should do it.
With that kind of anxiety, the next thing you’d do is just go off into the toilet and erm relax.
What’s this sound now? Where is it coming from? My phone! What’s the time? Five forty. Oh my God. Why the heck did I get back to bed?
Brush. Make Coffee. Boil eggs. Wash. Change. Drink coffee. Eat just one of the eggs. Pick up stuff. Keys. Lock the door. Run. Start the bike. Ride.
As I rush into the university grounds, I sense a blue wave hitting me. Adults. Children. Old people. Youth. College girls and boys. Families. Sisters. Colleagues. All of them dressed in blue T shirts waiting to show their might. The scene overwhelms me. It gives me the courage to face the task in hand.
I take my phone out and call Bingo’s mum. I’m wearing a mutli coloured Tee and a purple tracks, she says. We recognize each other. She is nervous too. We chat and laugh to shoo away our fright. We reminisce how we decided to do this in just a day’s notice. We laugh at our stupidity. We instill confidence in each other. Just do it, we tell ourselves.
It is seven o clock. We are all set after the warm up sessions. The task in hand is just a minute or two away. Our bibs are pinned. The countdown begins. We are ready with butterflies running up and down our stomachs. Yet, we are raring to go.
Three. Two. One. Go. The balloons go up. Our first ever 10K. We begin running. With what so ever no preparation at all. Our only intention is to give a wake up call to ourselves about how unfit our bodies are.
We run the first few feet. Then, we stop to walk. Then, we run a few feet. From this lamp post to the next we shall run. It’s a downward slope, should be easy for running. We’ll walk up through the upward incline. Until the next speed breaker we are running non-stop. We should be able to do it. From this white flower to the next pink one, we shall run. That’s how we keep ourselves going.
We cheer each other every time we see a milestone. One done, I say. Nine more to go, BM completes. Blogs and music and cinema and family stories keep us going. We watch an old aunt run faster than us and we stop slowing down. We see a little boy of seven or eight running past us which gives us the impetus to run a little faster. We stop and refresh ourselves with Gatorade and water and biscuits and wonder how RM ran even without water.
Between 7 and 9K, we lose our steam. Completely. We walk like taking a stroll in the park. Our legs would not let us do any faster. Yet, we’d not want to give up. Other runners cheer us up. Come on, just another couple of kilo meters, they scream. By the time we reach 9K, we are raring to finish. We run a little and try walking a little faster. So, we walk and run and walk and run. And, finally reach our 10K mark with a time much longer than we’d anticipated. Nevertheless, we’d unlocked an achievement. We manage to complete the 10K run.
We get our medals, a rose and more importantly, a box of our breakfast and settle down in a corner to eat. We are relieved that we’ve finished. Next time, we should do better, we vow to ourselves. We bid each other good bye and, we go each other’s ways.
This has been the first time I meet a blog friend to do something fruitful together. It was BM who informed me about this run and me, in turn, pulled her into this. She was sportive enough to accept my absurd invite and here we are nursing our aching legs together. Thank you, BM and hope to see you next at a half marathon! 😉