When the alarm went off at 4am I felt the same searing headache I always do when being wrenched out of a deep slumber. My eyes adjusted to the faint light in my hotel room in Hyderabad and it was time to get ready for the race that I'd come to run. I set the electric kettle with water and padded barefoot to the bathroom for a long warm shower allowing the throb in my head to settle
This race was special, in that, I'd agreed to pace Avijit Sen, a close friend for a sub 2:45 finish in the Half Marathon. He needed this in order to register for a full marathon for the Mumbai Marathon coming up in Jan 2016. Before I fell ill I was doing a scorching 1:45 finish time and today I would move with runners that finish an hour later. One thing I learned in this long journey of falling down and picking myself up, is humility. Slow is relative and crossing that finish line is all that matters. I'd been a beginner a second time and a recent tryst with Hyperthyroidism had got me to do it a third time.
I drank my cuppa, laced up, wore my race bib and went to the lobby to meet up with friends. Avi looked cheerful but he couldn't fool me with the lines of tension drawing that taut look on his face. His last two long runs were only about 16K and those had an average pace of 9:00 per km. To qualify today he would need to do 7:45 per km for 21.2K....on a course with inclines; a really horrendous task at hand. We'd both agreed to give it our best shot.
We reached the race venue and after hand shakes with runners and a few photo ops it was time. The jostling crowd of runners at the holding area with adrenaline shooting thru' the roof didn't serve to bolster our flagging spirits. The count down began with the crowd herding us to the start line timing mat. As we crossed it, I punched my POLAR GPS and muttered 'Show time Dan', just like old times.
I rubbed shoulders with Avi as we cruised thru' the first 4K keenly listening to Avi' breath. I relaxed when I saw that we were doing about 6:55 pace and he seemed to be taking it well. If you've run the Hyderabad HM you should know that the inclines begin around this mark and do not relent till you cross the finish line. I saw the first flyover coming up and whispered a prayer for Avi. We took the steady incline by dipping our pace. We passed a dead puppy that had been run over by a vehicle. My love for strays caused my heart to shed a tear for the poor doggie and I crossed myself.
I'd made many pace calculations to aid my job as a pacer for Avi but I junked all of them and decided to play it by ear. The inclines were taking a toll on Avi and I was watching the 'Average Pace' that was 7:00 so far, creep up to 7:15. There was a reserve but it was just the 8K mark. There was a decline coming up now and I hit upon a strategy to make better time. I grasped Avi' hand with our fingers laced together and got him to run with me at a thrilling pace of 5;30! Yes, it was only my hand that held his that prevented Avi from going face down on the asphalt. Thru' pain tinged eyes Avi grinned at my lunacy. I saw that such measures moved the pace to a better looking 7:07 by the 12K mark. I cheered Avi by telling him that the remaining distance had now moved to single digits. This drew a bright smile from his pain lined face and his eyes brightened up as if I'd told him the finish line was close. There was so much work to do and we had a hard journey ahead of us. I needed to distract Avi from the fatigue that must now reach debilitating levels in his limbs.
The steep and endless inclines had begun now and I assumed the roll of a drill Sergeant. I barked 'Walk!' to Avi every time I guessed his heart rate spike causing his jaw to drop; a sure sign of hyperventilation...an involuntary response for drawing deep breaths. After a walk that should settle his HR, I clapped loud with a 'Let's go, let's go, let's go guys!!!'. I could see that only sheer faith in what I was calling upon him to do would get this man, whose lower extremities were on fire, to respond and begin running despite an over-riding desire to just lay down by the roadside.
The average pace had now reached an alarming 7:40 and I saw that our measures of speeding down declines was just about keeping below the danger mark. And then came the worst of the inclines at 17K. Our 'walk!' lasted longer than the runs and a grim emotion gripped me as I saw that the average pace was now 7:52. We were losing the plot. Avi did not know what was happening as he grinned at me saying, "I'm just following your orders coach." Such faith in me got me to resolve that I would not fail him if I could help it.
With a little more than 4K to go, I drove the pace like a rider cracking a whip on the horse' rump. We raced down the smallest of inclines and did wincing shuffles on inclines. The final turn into the stadium came up and there was still a little less than a km to go. I saw 7:43 pace on my watch. You can see now that I never once looked at 'elapsed time' because I wanted to simply focus on our average pace; the rest would be taken care of itself.....and I was right!
'It's going to be close Dan!!' I shouted to no one. I saw the look of relief and expectation on Avi' face as the last 600 m crept up and he was now at a canter. Avi and I entered the stadium and with about 150 m to go he must have seen the LED clock at the finish line at the same time I did. It showed 2:43:something ! For the umpteenth time I can vouch for Dr Tim Noakes' theory of the 'Central Governor' over-riding the pain barrier because I saw Avi dig deep and come out with an impossibly fluid stride zipping to cross the finish line in 2:44:06; elation and joy consuming him as he raised his arms heavenward in victory. He then suddenly turned around, came stumbling up to me and hugged me, sobbing inconsolably saying, 'Coach, thank you coach'. I held his hug firm and patted him on the back saying "We made it Avi. It's done. We did it."
The stress of making all these pace calculations and driving us as a herd for close to 3 hrs had somehow exhausted me. I found a shaded area and lay down feeling my own heart settling down. What a 21 km journey it has been. I'm struck with disbelief every time I look at what we'd achieved. It seemed impossible but then someone wrote, 'Impossible is nothing'. It was time to head back to the hotel and slake my thirst on my favorite beverage; cool amber bubbly discovered eons ago by Ninkasi, a Sumerian goddess of brewing.
You're running on guts. On fumes. Your muscles twitch. You throw up. You're delirious. But you keep running because there's no way out of this hell you're in, because there's no way you're not crossing the finish line. It's a misery that non-runners don't understand.
Martine Costello (running quote on the New York Marathon)
