I have been enthralled and completely consumed with reading a book, "Born to run", gifted me by Madhu. I had heard so much about the book and was delaying its purchase because I was deluged with travel and a lot of other reading material. However, the gift from Madhu was a God-send. It is a gripping saga about a tribe, called the Tarahumara, that is reclusive, stone-age primitive and live in the desolate canyons of Mexico; but, possess a divine and primal ability to run unimaginable distances at an amazing pace - everyday!
This narrative is woven around an epic and real race, unadulterated by commercial swindlers that normally flock such events, and takes place in these canyons, between gifted but urban ultra-runners and the Tarahumara tribe. So possessed and passionate are the urban ultra-runners that they leave home and hearth in the USA and travel across the vast mountainous regions of Mexico, braving rickety bus rides thru' treacherous inclines on cliff faces and risk being killed by drug runners, to race with this tribe. The race is organized by a white Ultra-runner nicknamed Cabollo Blanco (White Horse) who had renounced all his earthly possessions and chose to live in a cave in Tarahumara land where he communed with nature and ran the trails as a free spirit.
I went out for my run this morning in an environment that shuts out the sounds and sights of our obnoxious urban existence. I drew in the cool air even as the odour of dung, from nearby cow-sheds, pierced my nostrils, as I slowly ran easy and ate up the miles in a smooth 8K. I have often relished such runs wherein I look at my watch only upon returning home - no pace; just pure strength and smooth stride. There is a place for obsession with speed, but for the most part that is only for a race round the corner. After all, you get the oppotunity to play a game with yourself and throw your hat in the ring. It adds a zing to the whole process of becoming - a runner.
