The pandemic enforced work from home this year has made us adapt our schedules and working styles to the new way of life. I for one was an avid whiteboard user in the meeting rooms at work. Now, no more. At home, watering a bunch of potted plants and trees in my backyard has become a daily evening ritual. A time, that was otherwise occupied by my over 90 min commute from work for the past several years. There is an almost religious order to which I go about my business. Starting with the Mint plant, I follow a neat sequence of Curry plant, tomatoes, peach tree, pomegranate plant followed by two lemon trees. Clearly this is not a selfless act. There is a very objective outcome of being able to reap the rewards of this effort by way of fruits or leafy vegetables these trees have to offer. Not the second lemon tree though.
For the better part of this year I have never failed to water this lemon tree. The tree on its part has never tried to flatter. For the past couple of years this tree has yielded no fruits or flowers and yet I water it everyday without fail. WHY?
As I headed to Moab for my biggest challenge — A 240 miles race, I had an air of quiet confidence on me and was very thankful. Confident because I was able to check most of the boxes leading to such a big multi day race:
a) I had my share of long runs leading up to the race that helped me tune my gear and load strategy
b) I had tried/tested a collection of a variety of nutrition that I might consider using during the race
c) I was well rested and mentally prepared by playing out what-if scenarios
d) I was completely in tune with my running partner Hima
e) I was thankful for an awesome crew/pacer combination of Kaushik and Tharuna who covered their lack of experience crewing such long races with the preparation and planning that was well beyond our imagination.
5 days of magic ensued:
Day 1: Beginning of the end?
In my middle school years I had some serious challenges comprehending basic mathematical concepts. I still remember failing in my 6th grade on 3 consecutive maths tests with scores that represented a simple arithmetic progression: 24, 26, 28 of a total of 100 each. Since then, I worked on my concepts and with the guidance of some good teachers brute forced my way into mathematical literacy. In my high school, maths became an act of craftsmanship and not an object of fear. I headed into my high school term quiz brimming with confidence. I took a quick glance at the quiz and was only intrigued by one question that needed me to work hard. Other questions were only a matter of ‘due diligence’. I ended up spending the first hour of the test trying to ace the only question that I found difficult and ran out of time to answer the rest of them. As a result I barely managed to get passing grades. Fast forward to 2019, in my Big Foot 200 attempt, I had 12 ankle twists on the first day, that eventually led me to DNF (a runners acronym for Did Not Finish)/drop out at mile 131 of the 200 mile race. Clearly I need to watch out for the firsts.
The only thing I wanted out of the first day (Day 1) was it to end. My simple motto for Day 1 was: go slow, avoid injury and let it pass. It was a hot day, but I managed to get out to it with just ONE ankle twist and plenty of short trail naps at night.
Day 2: The demons within
I am a ‘work in progress’. Nothing seems to come easily to me. It’s always been a struggle. In my first 100 mile race attempt, RDL 100, I remember getting a panic attack in the middle of night at the top of Cardiac Hill after crossing the Overlook aid station. I was running alone and froze as I got afraid of the dark. I waited out of fear for 30 min for another runner to show up. I followed the runner who showed up since, all the way to mile 75 where we both DNF’ed (Did Not Finish)the race as we both missed the time cutoff. As many such failures accumulated, self doubt crept in. So what I needed was a process to silence the demons inside when they showed up. While I worked on a strategy, I must acknowledge that every DNF(Did Not Finish)teaches you something more about yourself. If success was the only criteria of nurturing, then the world would be a very cold place to live in. Failures have taught me immensely and I am not shy of celebrating them.
The Lemon Tree perhaps is a reflection of my own insecurities. And I continue to water it without any expectation of an outcome. At some point all of us need to look at life without the prism of failure or success. It’s only then that the demons within would die.
The day was hot. Tharuna got us Daal, Rice, Ghee and Pickles at the Indian Creek aid station. There’s this thing about comfort food. It brings you to a place where memories and happiness override any sense of physical discomfort. Kaushik started pacing us from here. The food had taken us to a great place mentally and was critical towards ensuring the energy levels were up. The heat was catching on though. Specially between Indian Creek and the Island aid stations. I struggled in that section. Realizing that my frequent breaks led to losing a crucial buffer we had built from the time cutoffs (background: each section of the race has a time allotted by which that section needs to be completed or else the runner would be removed from the course) , I tried to get in some segments of slow and steady runs to make up for the lost time and reach Island. Keep moving, I said to myself. From Island to Bridger Jack my tummy wasn’t holding up anything. The demons had started working on my mind as well. For a good few hours I started thinking about ways to quit. Self-doubt crept in and I began questioning my abilities. Am I good enough? It was then that I set my strategy into motion. It was simple: Carve out a time for your demons. But if you are at or anywhere near to an aid station (Background: Aid Stations are points in races that the race management sets up to provide food/water and medical help to runners. This is where the runners can quit the race as well as they can be transported to the start/finish line. You cannot quit the race between aid stations cause there is simply no way to get the runner back to their home/hotel/car) then the demons would be strictly off limits. I promised myself that I’ll silence these demons a couple of miles before the aid station. At the aid station it was only about eating enough calories and getting out of it. If they still try to haunt me, they can, but only after I have moved a few miles out of the aid station to the next section. This strategy worked. I got a second wind and started power climbing the final section of the Shay Mountain climb. I also ran some fast down hills to the aid station.
Day 3: DNF (a runners acronym for Did Not Finish)
I have spent numerous nights contemplating alternative scenarios after each of my DNF in Tahoe 200 and Bigfoot 200. In Tahoe particularly, I remember lying down on top of a large rock hallucinating and calorie deficient at night unable to move further and drained mentally. What could I have done differently? Did I quit too soon. From my experience, the race starts at Night 3 and I was determined not to let this opportunity go. I was ready for it. I knew night 3 would be a struggle but I also knew that it was just about putting one step in front of other and moving forward. I imagined how beautiful and rewarding the 3rd morning would look like. In this section I would also cross mile 135, a personal milestone that was critical for me to overcome mentally.
Tharuna joined us here and paced us through the over night marathon across a very uninteresting terrain. She was on point and methodical. I still feel, the story of Isaac Asimov that she shared at night was trippy. We attempted trail naps but it was very cold to the point of being uncomfortable. Perhaps nature has its ways to getting us going. The attempted sleep with the bivy felt cool but the cold temps made the sleep sub optimal. And we marched on and on. Objectively and literally all the way straight.
Day 4: Death March
My mom passed away when I was in high school. After her death we went to a crematorium in Kolkata to perform the final rites. I remember sitting on the floor for a few hours in front of my mom’s body wrapped on a white cloth with her face visible. For each second of those few hours I remember trying to see/hope/pray if I can see even a faint movement or a breath and for her to somehow magically come alive. Very naive of me but all I was looking for was a second chance. And there was none. She passed away worried not knowing how I would shape up. What she saw of me, was a directionless young boy with an uncertain future. I, for my part, miss her. Her death should be worth something. I want to impress her. And also, perhaps she is up there working to tilt the scale of balance in my favor.
This has been a tremendous source of inspiration for me in my runs as I dig into the mental and philosophical aspects of running. The night of day 4 was the most critical section from Pole Canyon to Geyser Pass. The overnight section across high altitude over single track ridge-line was a tough ask for 2 sleep deprived runners and their pacer. While I spent a good one hour carefully watching Hima’s stride and devise ways to catch his fall, Kaushik as a pacer was committed to get us through this section on time. Emotions frayed and we came to a moment of truth. On those mountain of La Sal in the middle of the 4th night something magical happened. All three of us were united in purpose and we were able to put our physical discomforts into suspension and march on, with purpose, towards the goal. With beautiful synchronization I must add. These are the moments of trail running that are lifelong memories. And from there on, there was no looking back. We dug into every inch of fortitude left on us to reach the Geyser Pass aid station (mile 200) on time. In times like this, I sense my mom helping us from above. Thanks Mom!
Kaushik as a pacer was amazing. I was blown away by his sense of purpose and his astute navigation skills that never let us go off track.
Day 5: Hazra
I was in grade 6 or 7, I don’t quite remember, but Sports Day at school was a time to bag some medals. My gig was the shorter distances. I ran a bunch of races on that day and bagged a few medals. The final race of the day was the 400 meters. The heats were easy and I moved into the finals of the 400m race. The race was on. For a good 300 meters of that race I was comfortably leading the race as we headed to the straight 100 meters with the finish line in sight. My brain had worked on the sight of a podium finish and I was waiting for the obligatory distance to get over. As I casually turned my head to look back, to my surprise I saw my buddy Subhendu Hazra running past me in the final 25 meters to the finish line. He won and I came a close second.
25 years hence, even today when I am sprinting the final 10 miles of a 240 miles race I always look back to see if Hazra is closing in. And I push on just a bit more to make sure no one crosses me in the last segment. I crossed about 12 runners in the final stretch to the finish line. Was feeling really well to up the ante for the finale.
Running they say is an individual sport. Perhaps it is but only to a certain extent. You dig deep within yourself but you also feed off each other’s energy. I can tell you this, I would not have made it to the finish line without Hima, Kaushik and Tharuna. #friendsforlife
Also a huge thank you! to each and everyone who followed and encouraged us in this journey and the sacrifice my family had to make to give me this extended period of race and training time.
And yes keep watering that lemon tree.
