They weren't vultures, they were kites. I'll never be a professional writer, I just can't do guiltless embellishment. I wanted them to be vultures, but they weren't. And it wasn't a hobbling lamb it was a pile of dead chickens. There, I can sleep soundly again tonight. I apologise.
Talking of kites, the day before the marathon there's the kite flying festival of Sankrandh. The focus of this festival is Gujarat and Rajastan. We were in Jodhpur a couple of years ago at this time of year and it was quite a sight. But there will be kite flying in parts of Maharashtra. People will take to their rooftops to fly their kites. The aim is to 'cut' your opponents kite; this dual being called a 'Pecha'. The kites themselves are very light, usually made of light wooden stalks and tissue paper. But it's the string that's important: it has to be thin and strong and will usually be strategically coated with ground glass.
As far as the running is concerned I'm very much enjoying my taper. I've had five light runs so far (40 - 60 mins), and the feeling has been one of carefree enjoyment. The only run I havn't enjoyed was one during the hottest part of the day, after a 2-day lay-off and half a bottle of Indian port the previous night. But even that wasn't too bad. For the first time the seriousness of getting the training done has been replaced with a feeling of occassional mild satisfaction. It's not like I know which questions are going to appear on the exam; but I seem to have at least covered the subject reasonably well. A strange feeling for me, I must say.
I also received some positive news about the climate in Bombay. We'd been invited to a South Indian family's house for a tradional breakfast of idli (a light, white dumpling), coconut chutney and sambar (a daal soup); followed by a lunch of Hyderabadi style mutton with wada (a savory donut). One of the daughters said how Bombay was much cooler since the flooding last year: the temperature and humidity had dropped. Great, I thought. What a relief. Then I looked at what she was wearing: salwar kameez, jacket, trainers, wooly hat. Then I looked at what I was wearing: shorts, sandals, thin kurta, head complete with beads of sweat. I took a small pinch of salt from the dubba and carefully sprinkled it on my sambar.
I'm also gaining some notoriety around these parts. I was out on Zeta the other day (my Vespa scooter, a 1963 Italian import, no less) when a couple of chaps pulled level with me on the rubble that passes for a road around here. 'Not running today', the pillion said, motioning with two fingers. 'Later' I said, smiling. Big grin. Head-wobble. Grin back. Overtakes. Beautiful.
Tonight I ran through two seemingly endless columns of young soldiers marching up the small suburban street near the flat. As I ran between the two lines it felt as though they had been sent in my honour. I was only yards from the entrance to the colony. I quickened my pace and raised my head. This was a sign, no doubt. The end of the beginning.
I've managed to procure another toy since arriving here, apart from young Zeta. Harbajan: a single cylinder, 4 stroke, 350cc, 1959 Royal Enfield Bullet. He needs some work to the shocks, electrics and a few original bits need to be found. But I can't wait to hit the open roads in England with this thudding old beast. Giving them names seems abit girly, but they've got real character these machines, so why not? My VW Passat is called .... a VW Passat. But two wheels ... Harb and Zeta ... forever.
So it's Bombay the day after tomorrow, Friday. We'll take the morning train up and have a couple of days to relax before the race. Glaconwoman belongs to Bombay, it's her patch. So there'll be much excitement as we take our stroll along Marine Drive, drink sugarcane juice and eat puris from the stalls, shop along Fashion Street and ride the 'locals' up to Andheri and beyond.
I'll try and post another entry from there. Otherwise: Smoke me a kipper. I'll be back for breakfast.
Great post, GM. You sound more vegged-out than that market stall looks. India is so wonderful; in fact, more than wonderful -- wondrous. You describe it well, and you do it in the way that the Spanish correspondents on here describe Spain: not by trying to describe the country and the total experience, but by talking about intriguing, if relatively trivial, details that connect to each other and create a sort of unintentional tapestry. Good stuff.
If we don't hear from you again before the race, I hope it goes well. A marathon is a long distance. Sounds self-evident, but you'll understand that truth better after Sunday. You've probably heard the old cliché that the halfway point of a marathon being the 20 mile mark? It's not quite as bad as that, but it's true that those last 6 miles can be very leaden, and it's through this very long, lonely, introspective stretch that either you'll be very glad that you took our advice (start slowly and take it as steadily as possible), or will be cursing yourself that you didn't.
You'll learn stuff about yourself and the human condition this weekend. Please come back and tell us the bits you remember.
Good luck mate.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Ee ghad, Glaconman - you seem to be writing home from another century; wonderful stuff.
Harbajan looks like a most regal beast. I remember the Kites from my visit to New Delhi in 2004 - there are so many it can be a little frightening. If I don't get the chance, best of British for the weekend. As you say, your revision is up to snuff, so no matter what questions come up in the exam paper you know you can at the very least wing it and still pass with flying colours.
It'll be nice to meet up for a beer or two and hear all about it some time.
Until then hydrate, have an indecent amount of fun and tell us all about it when you can.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Thanks very much for all your support and comments pre-race.
I'd gone to the cyber cafe shortly after the race but received some terrible news about a close friend, so my full report will have to wait a wee while.
But the short of it is this: the marathon itself was a tremendous experience. I didn't have it all my own way. I ran the first 10k in a controlled fashion but then got carried away and turned up the heat. By 35k I started to run into trouble as the heat of the day set in. I ran/staggered/walked for a couple of kilometers before finding my feet to run strongly to the end.
This must be the story of most first marathons I imagine.
Hey, hearty congrats g-man! What a pity it had to be tempered with bad news of your friend, but that doesn't diminish a tremendous achievement. Can't wait to read your race report!
Likewise, sorry to hear bad news coincided with this incredible achievement.
Look forward to hearing all about it when you've had chance to come to terms with both.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
