Loneliness of the runner

Over this weekend, I saw two men jogging on the main road at Prabhadevi

Loneliness of the runner

Over this weekend, I saw two men jogging on the main road at Prabhadevi. It was 5.30 pm on a Sunday, a time when cars are roaring past, people readying to spend their Sunday evening at a friend's place or savouring the few hours before work week starts.

The men, water bottles in hand were running at a slow and steady pace, fit amateurs eating up those miles of road. The Mumbai Marathon comes closer, the city's landscape changes. Along side those four-wheelers clogging the roads, are the runners matching lungpower with horsepower.

Those lungs take a battering in this smog-filled city. As vehicles go past, runners breathe through the fumes. They skip over rough patches, wobble on uneven pavements, keep an eye out for shit, dodge zillions of people on the way, keep going when a stray dog snaps at their heels and twist their feet on dislodged paver blocks.
They skip over rough patches, dodge zillions of people and keep going even when a stray dog snaps at their heelsu00a0

A London-based marathoner once said he trains near the Thames but rues the lack of open parks in London where one could run. You have the Thames, sir. Mumbaikars have it much worse; this is one of the hardest cities to train for any kind of distance running. I have seen Mumbai joggers run at night after a day's work, winding their way through traffic, pound stoically on cement roads playing havoc with their knees, catch buses and trains to run at the few open spaces in South Mumbai.

Non-runners would not understand the pain coursing through those aching legs, strained back or even creaky knees, non-professional runners carry with them through the day. They log those miles and then go to work to their offices many a time in Mumbai's unforgiving public transport.

Women runners are very often the target of wolf whistles, cat calls, even the odd early morning cyclist or male pedestrian reaching out to molest her physically as the roads are lonely at that time of the day.

Many years ago taking a cab after landing at Heathrow very early morning once in London. The streets were deserted and London looked like a little Lego set with its small red homes and manicured gardens. A woman suddenly emerged from one of the subways in shorts and a short running top. I thought to myself ufffd yes, I am in Europe, where eyes don't fall out of sockets ogling if a woman wears shorts for a training run. This then, is for all those amateur runners ufffd taking Mumbai's mayhem and madness in their we-run-because-we-love-it stride. This is a salute to them, more power to their running feet.u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0u00a0

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