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Bombay Jan 2006
Well done, Glaconman. Good to see it's not just Indian food that gets you going.
A friend of mine ran in Chennai in 2003. Here is his report to get you in the mood (he's seriously fast, by the way, having finished top 10 in The Grizzly one year, and probably capable of sub-3 under UK conditions). It sounds to me like you really need to get that 20 under your belt before you fly. Good luck !
"In response to enquiries from distant lands, here is my race report for the Chennai Marathon 2003. The reason I haven't provided the customary prompt summary is that I had difficulty knowing how to give you an honest account without leaving you with some dubious impressions of my new home town. I may not have succeeded, but don't think that I'm not happy to be here, it's just that running exposes you to the less salubrious side of Indian life.....
6.30am last Sunday 30th November found me on the start line of the third Chennai marathon, half an hour early for the race, just a couple of miles from our flat. A slightly over-ambitious speed session on the tread-mill 10 days earlier had left my otherwise injury free body with its regulation stiff two feet, and I was running in my flats. Would my feet last 3 hours with minimal protection?!
Several hundred people were milling around ready for the marathon/half/10km and 5km races. Mine was the only white face and I was attracting some attention. Several people stopped to pass a few words and, as usual, there were some who wanted their photo taken next to me. I set off down the course for a warm up and to escape the attention. Convinced that the race would begin late, I emerged from a loo adjacent to the start with about three minutes to go. I was mildly surprised to be told that the marathon had started several minutes ago. I mildly sprinted the next 10km in sub-40min, before my legs finally started listening to my head and I managed to slow the pace. In my wildest dreams, fully fit, and in a temperate climate I might hope to run a marathon at that pace, but my hopes here were to be inside 3 1/2 hours and if possible to beat 3h16min (1min/mile down on my theoretical best pace). The reason for this was the climate: most of my outside training had taken place in 70-90% humidity in temperatures of up to 35degC, and I was finding it hard to achieve any speed. Half my mileage (and all of the speed work) was on the treadmill. Race day saw humidity at 80%, however the temperature was below 30degC, and best of all the NE monsoon had brought cloudy skies so there was no direct sunlight!
In the early stages, running along Chennai's famously long marina beach road, the police were keeping a grip on the marshalling, however, as we headed across the river and down the East Coast Road, with its ribbon development of shops and housing, we were left on our own to avoid the trucks, cars, autorickshaws, bikes, cows, goats and dogs. I was running strongly, and gradually taking the slightly slower runners who had set off before me. I don't think they liked the light shower at 15km, but it suited me! Many of the runners were barefoot, some without even the meagre protection of taped toes to help them through 26 miles of tarmac running, which puts all my agonizing over footwear to shame! Seeing Isobel and the kids at about 16km lifted my spirits, and they passed me again a few minutes later in the car on their way to the next of several cheering points.
A little while later my spirits weren't helped much by seeing a dog being run over. It must have been an auto or bike that hit it as it wasn't wiped out straight away, but hauled itself across another lane of traffic to either lick its wounds or expire on the other side of the road. A km or so later we ran past a dog who had met a quicker end: I tried hard not to look at its entrails strewn along the road. The street dogs are everywhere, living off scraps foraged from the businesses along the road: their numbers are kept down by the huge number of road kills. To put this into context, there are 9000 (human) road deaths every year in this state, Tamil Nadu. To give you some idea what its like, think of a big city centre road, then add a few potholes and raised manhole covers, some cows, London rush hour traffic density with any gaps filled by two-wheelers, cyclists (and motorcyclists) riding against the flow of traffic, and then add in pedestrians blithely mingling with the near-side traffic lane, and there you have Chennai's streets.
We were on our way now to the turn point at 19km, and the leading men were seen across the road moving very fast in the opposite direction, unbelievably some of them going barefoot. The turning point was metaphorical as well as physical for me. It was pretty obvious I'd been going too fast, and was in no danger of a negative split. I was out on my own now, fending for myself on the busy road. I opted to run along the central reservation, relying on my eyecatching yellow vest and thigh-revealing shorts to slow the traffic down. I picked up a motorcycle outrider who stayed with me most of the way home. It took him a while to realise that he had to stay closer than a cars width to me, otherwise it actively encouraged motorbikes and autorickshaws to cut in between. I probably did quite well to only have to physically hand-off one autorickshaw and side-step a couple of bikes cutting me up.
Seeing the family again at 29km was great, but I was starting to get lost in my own little world, and by the time I hit 30km, I knew I'd shot my bolt. From here on in it was going to be attitude and a little bit of stamina that would get me home: no more racing for me. Although the sun was hiding, it was heading towards 10am and the day was warming up, but thankfully a brace of tropical downpours came along to refresh me. I passed one runner who was seeking out the puddles that I was avoiding to cool his bare feet.
As I hit the still-cordoned off marina road, 4km long, straight and flat, my legs went numb below the knee, answering the question whether I should have worn shoes with more padding or not - I'd never make it as a barefoot runner! Finally I could see the towers of the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium, the race finish. I increased the rate of my reduced-length stride into some semblance of a sprint finish, entered the stadium and finished the last 150m on the track, to applause and some stares, in 3h08m. Someone took my arm to make me walk away from the finish line, and I hoped he wouldn't let go, as I was pretty certain I'd fall over if he did! The moment passed, and I started looking around for water and family. A contingent of club athletes wanted their photo taken with me, but for once I wouldn't accommodate them - until I'd found the drinks table anyway. I asked where they were from, thinking somewhere like Vietnam, but they told me they were Indian - from Assam in the north. They look nothing at all like the dark skinned Tamils I live beside. India is a really big and diverse country!
I located the kids who found me a chair, and brought me cups of water to pour on my head, much to the amusement of the onlookers (and there was a big circle of them), who took many photographs. My 18th position qualified me for some prize money. I was glad I had not come in much higher up the order (my late start robbed me of a few places) as I would have felt guilty about taking money from the other athletes. First place was a substantial 150,000 Rupees (£2000, an Indian record). This is twice my driver's annual salary and three times what a maid would make, and they qualify as middle-income earners because of their employment by expats, with consequent higher pay.
OK, so the race itself was dreary, and the climate is not conducive to pleasant running, but I still felt pleased with a better than expected time, and it was good to participate as an equal with the Indians, rather than to be a distant expat.
Training for the marathon was a mental as well as physical endeavour. Training runs have introduced me to parts of Chennai that I would not have seen otherwise, and given me a rapid introduction to the conditions India's underclasses live in. My run to work takes me through palm-leaf slum dwellings, and people sleeping on the street, past water distribution points compensating for the city's dry wells. I am intimately acquainted with the toilet habits of a sector of society who know that if they all use the public toilets they'll get unspeakable diseases, so they use the beach, the river bank, the gutter. I've had to deal with uncomfortable thoughts that just by running through these people's housing I'm in some subtle way flaunting my wealth: they are thin because they can't afford to eat enough, not because they're on a marathon regime. India may be aiming to be a superpower by 2020, but they're going to have to deal with the 100,000,000 street dwellers and copious other social ills at some point.
Anyway, I'm going to have to come back and do it all again to try to get under 3 hours next time. But I cannot deny that I would much rather spend the time running up a mountain!
Alan"
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