Tireless feet

I began running in the year 2000, mainly due to adipose and monetary considerations. At a super healthy 80 kilos, I rolled rather than ran. But what kept me going was the fact that my thoroughly petite and athletic flat mate could still not catch up with my pace. Surely, there was hope! 

However, it was only in 2005 that I found my running feet and reached distances that put me in the marathon sphere. I started off with 10 km runs at Ulsoor Lake, moved on to half marathons, then to full marathons. Stumbled through an Ultra last year, which has been my best running experience to date (The Great Tibetan is a close second).

I am sure a lot of non-runners have asked all of us the same question time and again: Why? Why do I insist on running so obsessively?

Why do I run?

1. I can run at 6 kmph, but if I run long enough, I can and do call myself an athlete.

2. The older I get, better the chances of my winning in a category.

3. And if I fail still, I can loudly proclaim the marathon maxim to one and all: It does not really matter whether you have finished first, or second or even last. It just matters that you ran.

4. The medals are uniformly lovely. If I am lucky, I even get a T-shirt out of the whole deal, proclaiming me as a certified hero.

5. I am encouraged, nay bullied, to eat my guts out, practically guilt-free.

6. By default, the sport gives one a pair of gorgeous legs; so flaunting them in a pair of shorts is the next best ego-boost after the Wonder Bra.

7. I am always the freak in every social circle. Friends parade and display me alongside their Beluga caviar and Ivy League second maternal cousin.

8. It's a perfect excuse to moan, whine and absolutely go on a gripe drive. After a marathon or an ultra, forget ankles, knees, elbows, shoulders; mere existence hurts. So I take a few days off, catch hold of a poor, hapless dear one and let loose; pure bliss.

9. Insanity is a must. Even if I started out sane (which I heartily doubt), a steady excessive infusion of endorphins, and sugar loaded Gatorade/PowerGels have ensured my fall into the deep, comforting arms of cuckoo land!

10. To paraphrase George Mallory, I run because I bloody can.