Looking back to the beginning

I had mentioned earlier that this journey did not begin today.

In many ways, it began more than 30 years ago - when I was still in college. 

“ The pilgrim’s walk may be beginning now, but the inner journey started 35 years ago.“

It might come as a surprise to those reading this. But when I look back now, it surprises me as well — how someone so young, even before completing college, could take such decisions, and more importantly, live with them.

Two words — God’s grace.

Let me turn back the clock and ask you to join me in that phase of my journey.

Even before college, I had read the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. I was deeply drawn to Rama — his righteousness, his adherence to dharma despite all difficulties. On the other hand, Krishna felt very different to me — almost cunning, someone willing to go beyond dharma to get things done.

Those impressions stayed… until I read the Mahabharata in more detail, and more importantly, the Gita after college. That’s when I began to understand Krishna.

Somewhere along the way, these shaped how I looked at life. I felt I should be honest and truthful. While the Ramayana guided my sense of principles, it was the Mahabharata and the Gita that quietly influenced my decisions.

During my third or fourth year of college, a thought took root — that the bond to samsara had to be removed. That I should not get tied down by attachments that would hold me back.

I began observing fasts — entire Saturdays, for Perumal.

Slowly, something within started shifting.

At some point, I made a decision: I would remain single, and when I turned 40, I would step away from worldly life. I would travel to the Divya Desams, visit the great rivers — Ganga, Yamuna, Cauvery, Godavari — and spend time along their banks.

Looking back now, it feels like a surprising decision for someone that young.

Even before I started working, I had decided that I would retire at 40.

Why 40? I don’t know. Maybe it was just a number.

But more importantly, I knew why I chose an age and not a financial goal. If I chased a number, there would always be “a little more” to earn. It would never end.

After college, there was a gap before I entered the corporate world. During that time, I read a more elaborate version of the Gita. That phase only strengthened my resolve.

It also introduced me to the idea of nishkaama karma.

For many years at work, I tried to live by it. I did what was asked of me, without questioning whether it benefited me personally, and without expecting anything in return.

For more than a decade and a half, I never asked for a promotion, nor did I question my salary hikes.

But that changed in my last year at work.

Maybe that, too, was a sign from above.

Winning the Nobel Prize, and the celebration a day later

Well, I am writing this two weeks after completing my half marathon. The first week was a killer after the run. And the second week… well, something I brought upon myself like an idiot.

As I hobbled into my house, broken and battered, my younger brother welcomed me with a big smile and asked how it went. (He is an experienced half and full marathon runner — and my in-house inspiration.)

My reply was simple: “Well… I am alive.”

He said, “Okay, I’ve bought a chocolate brownie and a tub of vanilla ice cream to celebrate.”

Yes — the Nobel Prize for running a half marathon.

I took a long, hot shower, almost willing the water to wash away the pain.

After that, I had a protein bar. Dinner was ready, but I was in no shape to eat. The abdominal pain that had started during my 18th km had increased. I didn’t feel like eating anything.

Finally, after nearly two hours, I ate a little curd rice and went to bed.

The Nobel Prize had to wait.

I thought a good night’s sleep would make me feel better.

Well… yes and no.

Sunday morning was better, even though I hadn’t slept well. The abdominal pain was gone. The physical tiredness remained, but mentally I felt better.

But not for long.

I had a simple lunch that afternoon. The brownie and ice cream celebration finally happened.

And then things started again.

The pain returned. My bowel movements became erratic — loose motion combined with sharp, on-and-off pain for the next three days.

I became anxious. Was this going to trigger a flare-up of my Ulcerative Colitis?

I prayed that it wouldn’t.

At one point, I was cursing the “wise man” who said life begins at the end of your comfort zone… and more importantly, myself for trying to live by it.

Thankfully, things began to improve by Thursday evening. I finally got a good night’s sleep.

By Friday, my anxiety had reduced. And by the weekend, I was already thinking — maybe I should restart walking from Monday.

Easier said than done.

Despite living with Ulcerative Colitis for nearly 11 years, I don’t seem to learn my lessons that easily. 😂🤦‍♂️

A round of store-bought, oil-fried snacks on Sunday and Monday afternoon set off my bowel issues again. The next two to three days were erratic.

But this time, I was at least sure it was due to something I had eaten.

By Thursday, things settled.

On Friday evening, I stepped out to attend a lecture on Tamil scholars. It was an interesting session and the fact that the I went out of my house for a few hours was a huge morale boost. 

On Sunday evening, I visited an exhibition on the Indus Valley Civilization. A long conversation with a fellow history enthusiast put me in a great frame of mind to start the new week.

I’m writing this after coming back from a 6.5 km walk in 60 minutes.

Well… life goes on.

The Half Marathon - a dream come true, or did it not?

As I locked the door, I just prayed to God — please ensure that there is no bowel movement till I come back home. It’s fine if I don’t finish the half marathon, but no embarrassments, please.

Prayer said.

I walked down to my usual running area, about 5 minutes away from my home.

That afternoon, my younger brother — a more experienced runner — had said, “Warm up for 5 minutes with a slow jog. Then do some dynamic stretching. Then start slowly for the first few kms, and once you feel comfortable, speed up to your goal pace and try to maintain it. If possible, try to speed up in the last 2–3 kms.”

Sane advice.

But since when do we listen to advice — that too from a younger brother?

During all my training runs, I had noticed one thing — on days of fast running, the pace at which I start becomes the pace for that session. I could never increase the pace as the run progressed. That was a big mental block for me.

Anyway, I started with a 5-minute walk followed by a 5-minute jog. Felt comfortable. No bowel sensitivity. This improved my confidence.

Then, when I started doing dynamic stretches, the hydration pack on my back felt a bit loose. It had a mind of its own — going all over the place. So I stopped, adjusted a bit, and started my Garmin watch to officially record what could become my second half marathon.

My goal pace was 7:00–7:12 minutes per km. I set myself up for a slow run for the first 2 kms, well below target pace, just to get into the groove.

But then, sometimes something random happens which frustrates you.

That happened within one minute.

The hydration pack belt at my chest broke, and it started slipping off my shoulder. I adjusted one side. After some time, the other slipped. By the end of the first km, this had become a constant nuisance — something I had to resign to. Adjust every 10–15 meters.

At the end of the first loop (about 2.1 km), I felt comfortable. I thought, this is good. Another 9 loops to go.

At the same time, the constant adjustment reminded me of Kamal Haasan’s dialogue in Pammal K. Sambandham —

“maadu isthukunu poguthu, paambu kazhutha nerikuthu… ithula dialogue vera pesa solriye directoru.” 😆😂

After 2 km, I increased my speed to target pace. Running became comfortable. I was sipping water every 10–15 minutes. One important lesson from training was to stay hydrated — it really improved performance. So, almost on the dot of every 2 kms, I took 2–3 sips.

As the sun started setting, the weather became cooler. There was no breeze, but the lack of traffic and the ample street lights made it a good experience. I was just focusing on my breathing and hydration. Not thinking of anything else.

Just hearing my footsteps, in that calm stretch, gave me a kind of zen feeling.

After the second loop, I increased pace further and was now cruising under 7:00 min/km. My target was to finish in 2 hours 30 minutes. At the halfway mark — 11.5 km — I was right on track.

I finished my 13th km, and midway, I hit “the wall.”

Cricket lovers might think I’m referring to Rahul Dravid. No. This is the runners’ wall.

You just get exhausted. You feel like you cannot take another step forward.

I stopped. Checked my heart rate — 184 bpm. That was my maximum zone.

For a moment, I thought — this is bad.

I had read experienced runners and coaches say: never push yourself at max heart rate. Stay at least 15 beats below.

I immediately stopped and started walking. Decided to walk until my heart rate came down to the 160s, and then restart running. This recovery was necessary. No point in pushing and getting injured.

False bravado doesn’t work in life.

As they say, when it rains, it pours.

As I started walking and breathing hard, within 30 seconds, a Chennai Corporation mosquito fogging machine passed by — spewing a thick cloud of chemical. 😂🤦‍♂️

That pushed me down even further.

Finally, once my heart rate settled around 160, I restarted.

The 14th km was good. By the 15th, I was back at target speed.

Then tiredness crept in.

At the start of the 16th km, I decided on a strategy — walk for 30 seconds at the start of every km, then run the rest. I felt I had a plan. It gave me hope that I could still finish within my target.

As a wise man once said — hope is not a strategy.

Still, the 16th km went well.

Then disaster struck.

As I turned a corner, just about to finish the 16th km and start my walk break, a few stray dogs started barking — with one of them following me.

Fear gripped me.

I stopped completely. Tried shooing them away — no effect. Slowly walked away. Thankfully, they stopped.

But by then, I had lost almost 2 minutes.

More importantly, I had lost rhythm. Flow.

When I tried to run again, it was slow. My legs wouldn’t respond. Somehow managed to complete the 17th km.

Start of 18th — even slower.

Midway into the 18th, I started getting abdominal cramps. While I had heard of runners’ cramps, it is usually in the legs. Abdominal cramping triggered a new set of fears.

Now the mind started questioning everything.

Should I stop?

Go home?

Is this even necessary?

What am I trying to prove — and to whom?

At one point, I told myself — if I have to go on my long pilgrimage, I will face far tougher challenges than this. If I give up now, it becomes easier to give up later.

So quitting was not an option.

To cut a long story short, I jogged the last 5 kms and finished in 2:41.

Slower than planned — but a very important lesson learned.

I stopped my watch and simply said — thank you, God.

When I reached home and opened the door, my younger brother was waiting with a chocolate brownie and vanilla ice cream — to celebrate me winning the “Nobel Prize.” 😂😂

Well… there was a dampener on that celebration.

PS: As they say, to gain somethings, you have to lose something

My pains over 14 weeks of training and the actual half marathon run.