Spice Coast Run & Fun

I don't like to write about the same topic twice, especially in such a short gap. And that's what all the senior runners told me too -  'Don't run two half marathons in such short gap of a week'. 'But someone in the US did 50 marathons back to back according to Kiran Doc' 'But you moron he is an athlete not a dumb couch potato like you !' This was the conversation that was playing in my mind over the last few days. But being an idiot, I went on to run the Spice Coast HM and now have the OCD to sit down and write about it.

As always I was joined by my running company Sujit on my way to Kochi and picked up Simham Vijayaraj en route. We promptly jumped into carb loading exercise opening the innings at Mothers Kitchen somewhere past Karunagapally. If nine appams and three egg curry cost 300RS and is no were near the taste of what your Mother makes, you have chose the wrong hotel to dine at. Taking the wheel from me Sujit drove us till Allepy where we lavished up the Neera and continued onward to Oberon mall. With the tech savoy Singham around our conversation revolved around different gizmos for the runner and biker in us.

Bib collection

We reached the mall and collected our bibs, tees and bit adieu to Simham who crashed at his bro in law's place for the night. Sujit and self decided to go to Decathlon sport store, the Mecca of sports enthusiasts in Kerala. After much deliberation some how we convinced our self that we do not need an inflatable kayak, a camouflaged tent, angling rods or a bow right now, and after three hours of ogling at the sports accessories and emptying the wallet we emerged grinning like idiots. A hefty malabar briyani followed by directions to Thopumbady/Tevera by Dr Louis and Cubelio we found a dirty little hotel that was cheap but had the necessary amenities like car parking and an attached beer parlor. Freshed up, we downed a couple Elephant strongs and had a dinner of fried rice. In between Cubelio and his sis who were my running buddies in last years Spice Coast 5K payed us a visit. Reached back to the hotel and set our running gear in order so that we could wake up at 3.45, get ready in 30 minutes, drive to venue in another 15 to reach by 4.30. Warm up and wander around till 5 and begin in style.

Geared up

This is cliche at its best but 'The best set plans are the ones which fail most spectacularly'. We woke up, got ready and went down to the lobby according to the plan and then shit happened. The shutter at the lobby was down and locked and there was no one around. We tried the restaurant, the bar and every other possible exits in the building but everything was locked. With the level of panic raising faster than lactic acid on a climb I started to bang on the shutter rattling the entire street. After an eternity someone responded from the other side and told something which we could not make out. A few more tensed minutes later the security fellow emerged from one of the corridors. I showered him with the most choicest of adjectives and ran towards the car. We blasted to the venue,locked the car and started running towards the start line and just kept running. Mind you this is not the regular long distance run but a mad dash that leave you panting like a dog. At around the 500 meter marker I noticed that I was clenching my mobile phone and wallet in one hand and car keys on the other. Asking Sujit to go ahead, I tucked them into my pockets and secured them with a couple spare safety pins I had in my pocket thanks to the Tracs HM last Sunday.

As this is my second HM my plan was to finish it in a better time than what I did last time. A sub 3 hour run was my idea, but now starting 10 minutes late my new plan was to make sure that I am not the last one to finish. The second kilometer brought the welcome sight of the tail of the HM runners, I once again quickened my pace to catch them. Once the task of being not the tail was accomplished my next quest was to find and catch up with Sujit but could not reach him. Hydration points flashed by, the volunteers cheered and the band boys hammered their drums to boost us up. I always wondered why they had drummers in medieval war games but today it was clear. In war it causes blood lust, in a marathon it must be run lust, pretty awesome idea Soles. At the next way station there was this guy giving hi-fies to the runners and myself who was feeling the first signs of weariness decided to give him a hi-ten and he responded with a bear hug. I must confess that I am not a very touchy guy, but this dude just infused me with a magic mushroom that Mario had. Shaking off the tiredness, I took off through the aromatic spice market, Jew street and finally towards the turnaround point. The lead runners flashed back on their way back and soon the main body of the HM hit me. I saw may familiar faces in them cheering each other up. Singham and his bro in law rushed pass so did Vishwa and Abhay from Tracs. Sujit waved and ran on while I took the loop around the ground. The return run was mostly uneventful other than the beginning of a nagging pain in my left ankle. In between out of nowhere Paul Mathew on his bike appeared and cheered me on and there was this band guys lighting it up. I stopped for a minutes and broke into a small dance involuntary. Composing myself, continued the run. By the 20KM or so I was  running on fumes and it was a couple of co runners who coaxed me to keep up with them. With the finish line in sight I pumped up what was left and went for a sprint . The thing I loved the most about Spice Coast events is how they present you with a medal. A kid gifts it like you are an Olympic winner, it is the one moment that washes away all the fatigue in you.

Toiling hard :/

 I went directly to the food counter where Sujit joined me and I drowned six iddalies in sambar and ate them in minutes. A few photographs, congrads and smiles later we joined the bunch of guys to shake a leg to the tune of the band guys one more time. Simham joined us and we head back to the hotel to freshen up and leave for home. In the car it was decided unanimously that we would return for the FM next season. Three rapid pings in the car meant that our timing message had come and to our joy all three of us bettered our times from the last marathon. My self bettered by a huge 18 minutes !

Shake a leg

The return trip was enjoyable and relaxed with all three of us sharing the wheel and had an awesome meal from a Kuttanadu shop. I consider the karimeen pollichathu as the medal I gave myself for the most enjoyable run I had till date.

Kudos Soles, see you next year.

Simham, Sujit & Self

With Tracs

A Fried Medal

Run Fatty Run.

Running is the mere act of placement of ones legs subsequently one ahead of the other in order to propel himself forward; an action that can be distinguished from walking based on the pace of motion. I believe it is the basic action that leads to the survival of the mankind from cave dweller to the present day fatty sitting in from of a laptop. Back in the not so good old days, when you want to eat you need to run and catch that rabbit or run and pluck that pear before the neighbor gets there. More importantly you need to run faster and longer to avoid being eaten by a saber tooth. You need not have to run faster than the big cat but you just need to out race your neighbor. As time progressed, it was girlfriends, money, bus, prizes and fame that we were running towards and wives, responsibilities, Maneka's pets and insurance agents we were running from. Thought the stimuli changes, the one fact remained same, we were running, we are running and we will be running. Dusting off the philosophy, today I will share my experience on running my first half marathon. 

Dr Louis shaking conventional nutrition advice at Tracs Expo

I was always a fatty. I weighed a scale shattering 110Kg not far away and today i weigh a scale cracking 85Kg. To a BMI fanatic, I am an overweight moron, but dear expert can you run a half marathon? Well I can. I was that kid in school who was often picked after the sick and handicapped for any sporting event. I was the one who found solace in books, chess board, road rash (the game), TV and a bag of potato chips rather than haul my ass to the playground. This lethargic life continued all the way from my KG to my PG. It was then one of my friends bought a cycle. I was amused as how someone who could well be my twin possibly ride a bicycle? The damn thing will break when he sits on it. As I ridiculed him somewhere in my mind I wanted to ride it. So i subtly went and purchased one for me. One year, two new bikes and around 5000km later, ta-da, Me version 2. I dropped three dress sizes and was brimming with energy. 

During my rides, I have often seen the dudes running around the city and wondered why does someone run when he can bike? After all biking is much easier, more fun and it takes you places. Still out of curiosity I participated in a 5K event at Kochi last year, it was a cake walk. Then I started running little bit and managed a decent finish at another 10K event at Trivandrum. In between I had to change my job schedule and finding time for long rides became impossible. With despair I noticed my scale creep back to the nineties. Donning my running apparel, tighten the laces and took on the roads. I lumbered each mile while the fellow cyclists went far and wide. Slowly I stated to love running as I loved cycling. Incidentally Tracs 21K was open for registration then and I jumped in for it. 

I did more or less of a structured training program and was comfortably clocking 15K's with my buddy Sujit and was feeling confident about the HM. As always shit happens and I went down with a fever. Luckily the marathon was postponed for a week due to the local body elections and I had a week to recuperate. On the day of the event it was raining cats, dogs, pigs and cows.  I don't want to run for my life so strike that.  I was totally drenched by the time I reached the university stadium and found a bunch of miserable fellows shivering. Good, let them all suffer, it’s not just me. Found Sujit at the counter and manged to get his bib which he could not collect yesterday. Trying to shield us from the rain and the onslaught of the event anchors voice, we discussed the strategy for the race. It was simple; run when you can, walk then and finally crawl but make sure to finish the damn race. You will start at 5.30AM and the course is open till around 10AM, so ample time. We met the fellow runners, our fanatic cyclist turned runner Doc Kiran who was complaining a HM is too short; Mr Poland who conveniently opted for a corporate relay, bunch of soles from Kochi and a lot of Tracs runners. I saw myriad of people anticipating for the flag off. Fellows who competed in the event, people who wanted to complete the event, to prove or improve them, kids who wanted to experience the event and then there was us, grinning like idiots. 

 

Zumba session

Stretching session

Couple guys from the Talwalkers gym, who was one of the event spongers, took the stage for a session of Zumba dance to warm us up. No, I didn't dance, but i thoroughly enjoyed the event, way better than the warm up we had back in the PT class from school days. Then we had a few uber fit fellows showing up how to warm up with stretches and stuff. I wanted to do that but doing those feats may drain me off the juice which i needed to run so skipped that too, which later on I found was a huge mistake.

The event was flagged off by 5.45 after a 15 minute delay in the rain and Sujit took off ahead of me. In a few minutes I was among the tail. It was not because I was too slow but it was my master plan. I am a narcissistic guy and cannot bear the thought of someone overtaking me. So I will run as the last person so no one will overtake me. Duh ! The plan worked brilliantly for an hour or so, but then the fellows in the lead completed a loop and over took me in their second loop. So much for the plan! Just after a few KM, I made conversation to a co runner Parvathi. She too was a novice and it was her first HM. So was Ajith. From then on we mostly ran together, rested at the hydration points, chatted, joked and laughed harder than we ran. I saw many of my friends and acquaintances during the run, waved and high fived them and wished them all a strong finish. K7 & Kutty were on their bikes as pilots for lead runners and Santosh on his Enfield as a moving time board. I begged all these morons to lend me their rides so that I could finish in ease, but none obliged. During cycling when attacking a significant elevation I constantly chatted the mantra ‘low gear, high cadence, low gear high’ cadence under my breath; today my manthra was ‘Run fatty run; run fatty run’. Finally when I reached the final marker and lumbered my way into the stadium almost spent. Santosh out of nowhere joined me and stared urging to sprint, infusing some of his energy, I mad a last dash to the finish line and went horizontal on the track near to Sujit. Lying down there attempting some stretches, I waved at the other finishers who came jogging in and joining us. Few minutes later we went to collect the finisher’s medals and the race Tee's. It was a beautiful medal but unfortunately, there were no medium or large sized tees and i had to settle for a small sized one. Maybe they want me to lose my flab and get inside the small size as the Doc told. We went to the food pavilion and wolfed down idillies and omelets like there is no tomorrow. Later on took a few snaps and before we parted I said 'Well see you at Spice Coast Marathon next Sunday'.

The finishers medal

The running company

Running company with Parvathi

Last time when I did a 5K in Kochi, I got lucky as my photograph came in the TOI, this time a couple days after the race one of my friends sent me a watsapp image. Once again I featured in a TOI article. Looks like someone in TOI loves me a lot. 

Sometimes life reward you rather quickly. From SCM 2014

Trivandrum Times on Tracs 21k

Dr Louis elixir for recovery - Warm milk+Turmeric+pepper+ghee.
Before you cringe, know that it works, add a pinch of sugar for taste

Thanks for reading :)

The Chameleon In Red

The Game of who makes a bigger public nuisance is on !

Loudly and proudly we celebrate many festivals. Up in the north the skirt clad Rajisthani men dance to 'dol bajje dol', pretty damsels watch the moon through a sieve, Bengali's burns down effigies and the whole of the Hindi heartland gets soaked in colors. When you travel down to the Dravidan homeland, the festivals vary much. My Tamil brethren enjoy a week of Pongal while we Malayalees or your beloved Mallu's have the Onam. But there is one festival which is celebrated throughout the length and breadth of the country with equal vigor. A festival of many faces often celebrated once in five years. The elections. Presently the little patch of reclaimed sea bed called Kerala is suffering from one such occasion.

A sight that occurs once in five years

 The elections for the local bodies have kicked off in the state with half the districts got their index fingers painted and the rest waiting to do so in a couple days. The campaign as always was a noisy affair. They blocked the roads and blared the loudspeakers.  We even had our homes invaded by hordes of candidates with a smile that would make the dentist in me cringe. You should at least have brushed off the stains from the teeth before dedicating yourself into public service. To my relief the campaign season is now over, so is that of the smiling marauders whom hopefully I will see only after five years.

This election is important to me. Not because I care which of these clowns get a five year opportunity to loot us but this will be the first time I will be voting. I am a 30 year old joker in a country where anyone with a voters ID above the age of 18 can vote. In my defense, I was busy studying out of station and never felt it worthy enough to take a leave to come home and vote. May be I am after all an advocate of totalitarianism. This time, I am settled at my home town, have free time and got no valid excuse to convince myself not to vote and hence, here I am as a law abiding citizen about to perform his fundamental duty.

But there is one little problem. Even though I have never voted, I am deeply political in nature. Like every other Mallu, I have a strong opinion on everything under and over the sun. My family since three generations back is die heart communists. So much hardcore that my grandfather was one of the first party members back in the day communists were considered as enemies of the state. My father is one among the final members of true communists who was forced to hide during the emergency and till date considers Marx as a God (Oh the blasphemy). I am sure somewhere in my house he has a secret lair where he worships Che Guvera and Lenin. And yes, do not mention the word Poland to him.

The Communist 'Party

Myself being an ardent reader from my childhood had devoured The motorcycle diaries, Mother, War and peace, old issues of the Soviet Union magazine etc back in my school life and grew up with wild ideas of socialism, equality, secularism and of course revolution. Like my father and his father before him, I saw my share of strikes, marches, sit ins, public address etc in my college life. I was a dedicated member of the Red League.

Then life happened. The communist party withered and died in most of the states and only left with a shadow of the former glory in Kerala and Tripura. The great leaders in Kerala who inspired the public like EMS, EK Naynar passed on to the Communist heaven if there is one. The last true comrade VS have been shelved only to be unleashed at time of elections. 

The political landscape all over the nation changed. Fed up with rampant corruption and minority appeasement of the congress lead coalition, the people turned to the right wing BJP and their charismatic leader Narendra Modi. The echoes of this change rippled even down south where the once super secular land was showing signs of increasing religious polarization. In a certain northern district only the green flag flutters and only the secular green party with a religious name wins. In central Travencore the shadow of the cross decides the political wind. With the two minorities vote bastion in hand the respective political class always found a way into the corridors of power and to be fair, they served their communities well.

Things went well until the majority realized that they are being taken for a ride; I being a member of the majority was aghast. What stung the most was not the action by the Congress party and its minority backed allies in robbing us of what we deserved but the betrayal of the communist party which we loved so much. They were supposed to be the guardians of secularism, they were supposed to balance the act, and they had to take care of the masses who voted them into power irrespective of our religious orientation. It was then I understood that secularism is a one way street and unless you are a vote bank, no one gives a fuck about you. Communism is dead and all that remains is an aura of the past. It was then I along with thousand others shifted our allegiance to the saffron. I battled my ex comrades with the same fervor that I once fought the fanatics. I became the man whom I once opposed. 

Fading Red, Surging Saffron

All this went well with me but not so with my Dad. He was least impressed with my new found zeal for Nationalism or the saffron surge that drowned the electorate. On the day of the elections as we walked towards the polling booth he handled over my ID card and told me, 'Remember who you are, remember your legacy, remember the history'. As I got my name verified and my finger painted, my mind rolled over and over. Dad being Red is his choice and so is myself being Saffron. I will vote for the Lotus. But since the time of independence and free voting, my family has always voted for the Hammer & Sickle and I will be the first person to break a tradition as old as this country. The crimson that flows in my veins is the same that flutters over my head, but the soil that I stand on shares the saffron that I hold so close to my heart. I looked at the electronic voting machine and there were over ten different names and symbols. Slowly they blurred out and all I could see was the Lotus and the Hammer-Sickle. My finger extended, an ominous beep was heard and as I walked out the returning officer gave me nod, the sentry at the door gave a quick smile and still the sea in me rolled on and on.