I want to be in cross maidan with all my people similarly dressed in too bright running shoes and shorts and tights and set off toward CST, hoping that maybe we might run a little faster that day — and that we would be cheered at the end whether we met that goal or not. All of us nameless crazies, who meet on the road, whose identity is the distance we run and our gait, who meet at races, smiling and suffering, complaining and celebrating.
This Sunday should have been the Tata Mumbai Marathon. I’ve tried coming up with an eloquent way to say how I feel, but I can’t think of anything better than this: It’s a huge bummer.
I’ve run the TMM/SCMM every year since 2005, 7 HMS and 8FMS. It is an important a date on our calendar, as life is lived around that (all trips, parties with wining and dining are postponed until after the race). It is a day that pulls together everything that running means to me: the satisfaction of a goal met (whether I run well or not), the camaraderie of the sport, and a celebration of running with those who also rise up to meet the challenge, along with the crowds who gather to cheer us on.
This event has brought us together as a city and as a nation. The pain and the shared suffering binds the running community. Cheers to my running family it was wonderful to see everyone out on the street commemorating this special day.
I miss racing.
I miss TMM.
ps: Last year has practically been a washout for racing and training for most of us, but all and sundry have used the phrase…”Covid-19 is like running a marathon!” (dude-eyeroll!)