The Ciudad de los Ninos (City of Children) Orphanage Benefit Run, a 50K race was organized at the Bluff Creek Ranch, Warda, TX this year on January 24, 2009. The race raises funds to construct a water line from the city water lines to the orphanage building in Matamoros (Mexico).
I used this race as a training run for my upcoming 50-miler at Rocky Raccoon. I was familiar with the course as I had already run 25K at the Cardiac Run in November. There were 4 loops of around 7.75 miles each on this semi-supported race. The trails are mostly single track, 70% shaded with pines and old oaks. The trail also winds through acres of cow pastures and even an oil rig in the ranch!
It was cold and windy, but overall, it was a good day for a long run. I had fairly even splits to complete my race at 6hrs and 10 mins (a PR for me by 25 mins). I started out very slow, partly by choice and partly because I was very sore after playing squash on Thursday after 12+ years! I was in pain the first 2 loops but slowly eased into some comfort in the latter half of the race.
Running slow had some almost unintended effects. For the first time in a long run, I maintained roughly the same pace throughout as opposed to tapering off and taking more walk breaks towards the end. A lesson learnt then about my body: if I start out slow, then I am able to maintain stride and form steadily through a longer time without pushing myself too hard.
The race was, as usual for the organizers, well directed and the volunteers very helpful. Thanks to Damon and family for putting up a wonderful race! I now have to run the Doogies in March to complete the Warda triple!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Bandera 50K
So it was finally here. The race that I am actually feeling trained for - Bandera 50K at the Hill Country State Natural Area (HCSNA) in Bandera, Texas on January 10, 2009. This is a very beautiful park, and typical Texas hill country - rugged. The trails are steep, rocky and flanked by sotol bushes with sharp thorny leaves. You slide on loose rock, climb over stone ledges and get scraped, cut and bruised by sotol and other cacti along the trails.
I am feeling good about this race, I have been running well this winter. Both physically and mentally, I feel ready for what surely is going to be a tough challenge. Here is the race course.
Pre-race (Friday)
Gaurav and I, after our customary invocation to the Taco Deli gods, drive into the park on Friday afternoon. As we reach, we see that the kids' race is just over. The wind is starting to pick up, so now would be a good time to set up our tent. We walk into the Lodge in time for packet pickup and the race briefing. Joe and Henry are giving the lowdown on the race course and what to expect, but all I can hear and sense is the atmosphere in the briefing tent, 'twas electric with anticipation and excitement from all the runners! Ah, friendly faces all around, chat meet shake-hands chat, and is that food over there, attack chop chow. It is dark and getting late, and I reluctantly tear away from the fun and head over, along with Naresh, to a-bar-a-bunk-house, a home accommodation in town.
The house is nice, it looks cozy and it is warm and Cris is making tea. Hello! How are you? How is the tea? I am done with tea, let me take my bags upstairs and get ready for the race. I am feeling brave, let me wear just a long-sleeved shirt for the race and drop my wind jacket in my drop bag that I can access 15.5 miles into the race. Yeah, and since I start with a long sleeve, the natural progression is to have a short sleeve shirt in the drop bag as well. Surely, if I am not frost-bitten by 15.5 miles, my bravado can continue on for 15.5 more.
Pre-race (Saturday)
My nose is all stuffed up. My cedar allergies are acting up, and I am not able to sleep. I sneeze, breathe hard and noisily and turn over many times, all to no avail but keeping Naresh awake. I wake up still excited but sorely lacking sleep, and head over to the park. I decisively stick to just a long-sleeved shirt, and am determined not to listen to any doubting Thomases in the form of Gaurav, who asks when I see him 15 minutes before the start, 'is that all you are wearing?'. In a sea of eskimos, I am dressed for a warm day at the beach. Almost. After informing him that all that separates his tent from becoming an unidentified flying object is one flimsy peg, I head out to the race start.
Race start to Boyle's
It is nice to see all my friends along the start line. Hi Cris, Oz, Justin, Tania, and hey Jeff, long time! And after a rather social gathering, we go. I cannot go out too fast, I start out slowly, breathe slowly, go slowly. I think I should line up behind Bhavesh and John, they seem to have the same nice idea of going slow. Oz is off in a flash, but my legendary determination wins through and I stay turtlesque.
Hey Roger, good to see you man! Roger is at the Last Chance aid station half a mile into the race, where we pass the station but get no aid other than Roger waving us away.
Cairns' climb is ahead, and I start slowly. I feel good, but climb rhythmically. I let some of the stronger climbers go, I need to run my own race not someone else's. There is a lot of mental talking-to-oneself going on. Wow, is that all that Cairns' has to offer? What a wimp! Here I go then, yippee yay, I see downhill. I find that downhill is good. And I said let me do the downhill. Cairns' goes by without making an impression, maybe Boyle has something bumpy to offer?
The uphill climb on Boyle's Bump starts out a tad gentler than that on Cairns'. This is almost enjoyable. I am not cold, and for once, I am in a position to commend myself on my sartorial choice. I come up along a ridge and I start running, it feels great. I take the Bump of Boyle in my stride and I am having a party down the other side. I stretch out my stride and move...
Boyle's to Nachos
As the downhill tapers off, I am letting the momentum carry me past the aid station at the 5 mile mark. I know Gaurav is supposed to be here, but I cannot see him initially. Hey Gaurav! I have everything I need, food and water, and I don't feel like breaking my momentum. So I just keep running and turn back to see Gaurav make some hesitant steps towards me. He decides wisely to not follow me and just tells me I am doing great. Which is a lie, but it still feels good to hear that. I look at my watch, and I realize that I have been doing 10-minute miles on the hardest section of the course.
John and I are doing good pace along the Sky Island trail. Rob the coach is up there, perched on top of the sky island. He tells us we are doing good. These hills are enjoyable, partly because I still have my head and it tells me that what goes up must come down. And I have just come up quite a bit, and go down the hill with glee.
As we near Ice Cream Hill, we see Damon and he's telling us we are doing good. Everyone lies on a day like this. Bhavesh catches up with us here, and we climb up. There is no darn ice cream up the hill, hey you dark-humored cynic! I am done feeling good now, I want Nachos.
Nachos to Chapas
Nachos! I take a small break here, re-fueling and putting a piece of banana in my mouth. I head out slowly, its a nice day for a soothing walk in the park. Five minutes into the aforementioned s. w. in the p., I hate to break it to myself but it must be done. Buddy, this is a race not a picnic, move it, will ya! Reluctantly, I break into a trot and maintain a steady shuffle. I pass Bar-O and for the first time, I am doing trails I havent been on before. I take it easy here, not because it is hard, but because I want to finish strong.
Chapas to Crossroads
The Chapas house and aid station comes out of the woods like an unexpected gift. I am so happy I just sit down and get into my Patagonia Capilene shirt, and start eating my tamarind rice. And that is about how far I get with the eating, the rice is hard and dry and I cannot eat. While I am still struggling with my picnic preparations, Cris walks in and lets me know what she thinks of my slow pace. I realize she is right. I just pick up a gel or two and head out into the wild.
I have stayed too long at the aid station, I am feeling cold and my body is not warming up. I try to pick up the pace but don't want to push it when I am not feeling warmed up. I continue my slow and steady shuffle and run into Crossroads. More friends here, it is just wonderful to see everyone. Jeanette, Jim and Jeff and more. 5 miles after parking at Chapas, I positively hunker down again at Crossroads. My mind goes, if there is food to be eaten, eat it. If there is a chair to sit, sit.
Cris turns in once again, she is just 5 minutes behind me at this point. Once again, she goads me into moving, thanks Cris! I pick up my reluctant body and head out into the Three Sisters loop.
The Three Sisters
I am in no mood to push uphills anymore. I take it easy, as easy as you like, climbing up. Surprisingly, I still feel good hurtling down and I do, down all the Three Sisters. The Three Sisters are three hills that you go up and down in rapid succession, and they do go by eventually and I hit upon the flat and downward mile back to the Crossroads. This is all familiar territory and it picks me up considerably, I start running well knowing that the aid station is not far away.
Surprise, surprise! Gaurav is outside Crossroads even as I run in, taking pictures. Bhaskar and Gaurav start fussing over me, and that perks me up so much that I want to just head out again and take on whatever comes my way! Gaurav fills my bottles. To the full, to the hilt...
Finish
My bottles are starting to feel heavy. Its just a 5 mile loop, mostly flat, and I start watering the plants along the trail. Better them than me at this point. I run/walk hesitantly here, for my mind is expecting the dreaded Lucky's Peak. I tell myself that I am never going to listen to anyone else's opinions, especially dreads, anymore and let them affect me. Lucky's eventually shows up and I struggle up that monster. I call this the second FUJI, J for my coach and race director Joe. Hauling your thingy over Everest at Mile 30 is not fun. But it gets over, all hills at Bandera do eventually get over.
And now it is just a mile more of fun flats and downhills. I pick up speed and excitement as I narrow the distance to the finish. Good to see Roger again, I must be close now. Stretch 'em legs boy, lets go, there's a party waiting to happen in just a bit. Just a bit. Just a bit.
Done. Done! Joe is standing at the finish clapping and cheering and puts out a hand. I smack his outstretched hand with my bottled hand. Sorry Joe, didnt mean to, just really excited. Joe is cool, hands me my medal and Gaurav comes in all smiles. I sit down for a while, enjoying this moment, it feels very good. I check my time, its under 7 hours which is nice. I had a reasonably good race, and given all the things that generally can and do go wrong in a race, I have a rather smooth affair. I am happy.
Lessons learned
I have had a good race, but I still learn. I learn to keep my body warmed up at all times, and to move through aid stations more quickly. And perhaps head out even slower at the race start. And I also realize that my race goes well when I am well-trained.
Post-race
After eating continuously for hours on end, I wait around the finish area and cheer all the runners finishing. Savitha eventually rolls in with a big grin on her face, she has had a good race and tells us stories about her rolling down every hill on the course. More runners finish, and a lot of backslapping happens.
Course tear-down
At night, as the course tear-down gets underway, Gaurav and I head out to pull down the glow-sticks, ribbons and signs from a section of the course from Nachos to Chapas. Its almost 6 miles, but at night, it is very beautiful and we enjoy the hike a lot. The bright full moon casts a strange and beautiful halo around itself, and nature itself seems to be enjoying this night. We pull down ribbons and as we climb into Chapas, we join Joyce and others as they tear down the aid station.
It has been a long and tiring but enjoyable day. I am in the grips of a Bandera hangover for several days after that. And I cannot wait to go back there and race, and volunteer, and meet all my friends again.
I am feeling good about this race, I have been running well this winter. Both physically and mentally, I feel ready for what surely is going to be a tough challenge. Here is the race course.
Pre-race (Friday)
Gaurav and I, after our customary invocation to the Taco Deli gods, drive into the park on Friday afternoon. As we reach, we see that the kids' race is just over. The wind is starting to pick up, so now would be a good time to set up our tent. We walk into the Lodge in time for packet pickup and the race briefing. Joe and Henry are giving the lowdown on the race course and what to expect, but all I can hear and sense is the atmosphere in the briefing tent, 'twas electric with anticipation and excitement from all the runners! Ah, friendly faces all around, chat meet shake-hands chat, and is that food over there, attack chop chow. It is dark and getting late, and I reluctantly tear away from the fun and head over, along with Naresh, to a-bar-a-bunk-house, a home accommodation in town.
The house is nice, it looks cozy and it is warm and Cris is making tea. Hello! How are you? How is the tea? I am done with tea, let me take my bags upstairs and get ready for the race. I am feeling brave, let me wear just a long-sleeved shirt for the race and drop my wind jacket in my drop bag that I can access 15.5 miles into the race. Yeah, and since I start with a long sleeve, the natural progression is to have a short sleeve shirt in the drop bag as well. Surely, if I am not frost-bitten by 15.5 miles, my bravado can continue on for 15.5 more.
Pre-race (Saturday)
My nose is all stuffed up. My cedar allergies are acting up, and I am not able to sleep. I sneeze, breathe hard and noisily and turn over many times, all to no avail but keeping Naresh awake. I wake up still excited but sorely lacking sleep, and head over to the park. I decisively stick to just a long-sleeved shirt, and am determined not to listen to any doubting Thomases in the form of Gaurav, who asks when I see him 15 minutes before the start, 'is that all you are wearing?'. In a sea of eskimos, I am dressed for a warm day at the beach. Almost. After informing him that all that separates his tent from becoming an unidentified flying object is one flimsy peg, I head out to the race start.
Race start to Boyle's
It is nice to see all my friends along the start line. Hi Cris, Oz, Justin, Tania, and hey Jeff, long time! And after a rather social gathering, we go. I cannot go out too fast, I start out slowly, breathe slowly, go slowly. I think I should line up behind Bhavesh and John, they seem to have the same nice idea of going slow. Oz is off in a flash, but my legendary determination wins through and I stay turtlesque.
Hey Roger, good to see you man! Roger is at the Last Chance aid station half a mile into the race, where we pass the station but get no aid other than Roger waving us away.
Cairns' climb is ahead, and I start slowly. I feel good, but climb rhythmically. I let some of the stronger climbers go, I need to run my own race not someone else's. There is a lot of mental talking-to-oneself going on. Wow, is that all that Cairns' has to offer? What a wimp! Here I go then, yippee yay, I see downhill. I find that downhill is good. And I said let me do the downhill. Cairns' goes by without making an impression, maybe Boyle has something bumpy to offer?
The uphill climb on Boyle's Bump starts out a tad gentler than that on Cairns'. This is almost enjoyable. I am not cold, and for once, I am in a position to commend myself on my sartorial choice. I come up along a ridge and I start running, it feels great. I take the Bump of Boyle in my stride and I am having a party down the other side. I stretch out my stride and move...
Boyle's to Nachos
As the downhill tapers off, I am letting the momentum carry me past the aid station at the 5 mile mark. I know Gaurav is supposed to be here, but I cannot see him initially. Hey Gaurav! I have everything I need, food and water, and I don't feel like breaking my momentum. So I just keep running and turn back to see Gaurav make some hesitant steps towards me. He decides wisely to not follow me and just tells me I am doing great. Which is a lie, but it still feels good to hear that. I look at my watch, and I realize that I have been doing 10-minute miles on the hardest section of the course.
John and I are doing good pace along the Sky Island trail. Rob the coach is up there, perched on top of the sky island. He tells us we are doing good. These hills are enjoyable, partly because I still have my head and it tells me that what goes up must come down. And I have just come up quite a bit, and go down the hill with glee.
As we near Ice Cream Hill, we see Damon and he's telling us we are doing good. Everyone lies on a day like this. Bhavesh catches up with us here, and we climb up. There is no darn ice cream up the hill, hey you dark-humored cynic! I am done feeling good now, I want Nachos.
Nachos to Chapas
Nachos! I take a small break here, re-fueling and putting a piece of banana in my mouth. I head out slowly, its a nice day for a soothing walk in the park. Five minutes into the aforementioned s. w. in the p., I hate to break it to myself but it must be done. Buddy, this is a race not a picnic, move it, will ya! Reluctantly, I break into a trot and maintain a steady shuffle. I pass Bar-O and for the first time, I am doing trails I havent been on before. I take it easy here, not because it is hard, but because I want to finish strong.
Chapas to Crossroads
The Chapas house and aid station comes out of the woods like an unexpected gift. I am so happy I just sit down and get into my Patagonia Capilene shirt, and start eating my tamarind rice. And that is about how far I get with the eating, the rice is hard and dry and I cannot eat. While I am still struggling with my picnic preparations, Cris walks in and lets me know what she thinks of my slow pace. I realize she is right. I just pick up a gel or two and head out into the wild.
I have stayed too long at the aid station, I am feeling cold and my body is not warming up. I try to pick up the pace but don't want to push it when I am not feeling warmed up. I continue my slow and steady shuffle and run into Crossroads. More friends here, it is just wonderful to see everyone. Jeanette, Jim and Jeff and more. 5 miles after parking at Chapas, I positively hunker down again at Crossroads. My mind goes, if there is food to be eaten, eat it. If there is a chair to sit, sit.
Cris turns in once again, she is just 5 minutes behind me at this point. Once again, she goads me into moving, thanks Cris! I pick up my reluctant body and head out into the Three Sisters loop.
The Three Sisters
I am in no mood to push uphills anymore. I take it easy, as easy as you like, climbing up. Surprisingly, I still feel good hurtling down and I do, down all the Three Sisters. The Three Sisters are three hills that you go up and down in rapid succession, and they do go by eventually and I hit upon the flat and downward mile back to the Crossroads. This is all familiar territory and it picks me up considerably, I start running well knowing that the aid station is not far away.
Surprise, surprise! Gaurav is outside Crossroads even as I run in, taking pictures. Bhaskar and Gaurav start fussing over me, and that perks me up so much that I want to just head out again and take on whatever comes my way! Gaurav fills my bottles. To the full, to the hilt...
Finish
My bottles are starting to feel heavy. Its just a 5 mile loop, mostly flat, and I start watering the plants along the trail. Better them than me at this point. I run/walk hesitantly here, for my mind is expecting the dreaded Lucky's Peak. I tell myself that I am never going to listen to anyone else's opinions, especially dreads, anymore and let them affect me. Lucky's eventually shows up and I struggle up that monster. I call this the second FUJI, J for my coach and race director Joe. Hauling your thingy over Everest at Mile 30 is not fun. But it gets over, all hills at Bandera do eventually get over.
And now it is just a mile more of fun flats and downhills. I pick up speed and excitement as I narrow the distance to the finish. Good to see Roger again, I must be close now. Stretch 'em legs boy, lets go, there's a party waiting to happen in just a bit. Just a bit. Just a bit.
Done. Done! Joe is standing at the finish clapping and cheering and puts out a hand. I smack his outstretched hand with my bottled hand. Sorry Joe, didnt mean to, just really excited. Joe is cool, hands me my medal and Gaurav comes in all smiles. I sit down for a while, enjoying this moment, it feels very good. I check my time, its under 7 hours which is nice. I had a reasonably good race, and given all the things that generally can and do go wrong in a race, I have a rather smooth affair. I am happy.
Lessons learned
I have had a good race, but I still learn. I learn to keep my body warmed up at all times, and to move through aid stations more quickly. And perhaps head out even slower at the race start. And I also realize that my race goes well when I am well-trained.
Post-race
After eating continuously for hours on end, I wait around the finish area and cheer all the runners finishing. Savitha eventually rolls in with a big grin on her face, she has had a good race and tells us stories about her rolling down every hill on the course. More runners finish, and a lot of backslapping happens.
Course tear-down
At night, as the course tear-down gets underway, Gaurav and I head out to pull down the glow-sticks, ribbons and signs from a section of the course from Nachos to Chapas. Its almost 6 miles, but at night, it is very beautiful and we enjoy the hike a lot. The bright full moon casts a strange and beautiful halo around itself, and nature itself seems to be enjoying this night. We pull down ribbons and as we climb into Chapas, we join Joyce and others as they tear down the aid station.
It has been a long and tiring but enjoyable day. I am in the grips of a Bandera hangover for several days after that. And I cannot wait to go back there and race, and volunteer, and meet all my friends again.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Year's
What were you doing when the new year broke? Here is a short selective history of my eves. The New Year kind.
2009. This year, it was a comparatively quieter affair at the Draughthouse Pub followed by some samosas at Ken's. It was good fun nevertheless with friends old and new.
2000. The last new year's eve of the previous millennium was a sodden affair at San Francisco, with hundreds of thousands of revelers. Not much to write home about though, could have been just about any other night at the pub.
2001. The millennial start! The hype led me and a friend to New York, where we stood in below-freezing temperatures for the better part of an evening and night, and watched, with dumb anticipation, the ball, only a ball really, drop. This was clearly one of those moments that you presently can't dig but talk about endlessly in future. One for posterity, nothing more.
2005. The most surreal one. And perhaps, for ironical reasons, the most memorable one. Subbu, Ramdas and I had gone to Big Bend for a multi-day backpacking hike. We had planned to continue the tradition of a wet new year's, but what happened out there was an altogether different experience. At 4.30pm on the 31st, we came across a nice campsite, primitive though it was, it was still a campsite. Feeling cocky however, probably through inexperience, we decided to move on to find the next campsite. Darkness fell at 6pm, and we could barely hike through the trail at this point. Desperation led us to search for anything that might work as a camping spot, and this thing turned out to be a stony ledge, slightly slanting downward and enough for maybe 2 dwarves to sleep comfortably. So here we were, 3 grown men, lying on that sloping stone, sleepless in mild fear of snakes, scorpions, and nameless fiends, and just counting all the stars all through the dawn of 2005. A memory keeper.
1999. Another memorable one. In Madras this time, a few quick ones and then a ride to the Elliots Beach. The beach where tens of thousands of inebriated men (men alone) were waiting like a cinderbox for an explosion of excitement. Any girls foolhardy enough to venture into the beach got earfuls of tips on improving their personas, and a few frank verbal appraisals of their bodies, which in some cases, turned physical. The large posse of uniformed, good-humored and indulgent coppers however seemed to draw a hard line at the physical bit. Out came the lathis, and a lathicharge perhaps not unlike the freedom movement days, ensued. All the freedom-loving patriots ran for cover, many into the cool water and I got hit smack on my elbow for the sole impropriety of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Nevertheless, a badge of honor that I now share with a few luminaries of this world.
2002. At home in Bombay, wandered around late-night with a bunch of newly made acquaintances, bestowing visits to a seedy "beer bar" and a late night roadside eatery making "fry ry". Got back home at an unearthly hour and woke up next morning to smells that reminded one of past misdeeds!
2006. A tradition of bring-your-own-scotch-but-drink-all instituted. There may have been some dabbanguthu involved, but that was a fairly regular occurrence back then.
2007. A tradition of bring-your-own-scotch-but-drink-all continued. New Year's Eve spent with friends and their families in a downtown club.
1997. A Goan binge to forget, and promptly forgotten. A few fennys (the local drink then available for 3 rupees or 10 cents a pop), some wholesome seafood and some contributions to increasing the noise levels later, we went to sleep. If there are any allegations about my indulgences that night, I meet them stoically with stout denial.
2008. First Night Austin. Music, love and fireworks.
Happy New Year!
2009. This year, it was a comparatively quieter affair at the Draughthouse Pub followed by some samosas at Ken's. It was good fun nevertheless with friends old and new.
2000. The last new year's eve of the previous millennium was a sodden affair at San Francisco, with hundreds of thousands of revelers. Not much to write home about though, could have been just about any other night at the pub.
2001. The millennial start! The hype led me and a friend to New York, where we stood in below-freezing temperatures for the better part of an evening and night, and watched, with dumb anticipation, the ball, only a ball really, drop. This was clearly one of those moments that you presently can't dig but talk about endlessly in future. One for posterity, nothing more.
2005. The most surreal one. And perhaps, for ironical reasons, the most memorable one. Subbu, Ramdas and I had gone to Big Bend for a multi-day backpacking hike. We had planned to continue the tradition of a wet new year's, but what happened out there was an altogether different experience. At 4.30pm on the 31st, we came across a nice campsite, primitive though it was, it was still a campsite. Feeling cocky however, probably through inexperience, we decided to move on to find the next campsite. Darkness fell at 6pm, and we could barely hike through the trail at this point. Desperation led us to search for anything that might work as a camping spot, and this thing turned out to be a stony ledge, slightly slanting downward and enough for maybe 2 dwarves to sleep comfortably. So here we were, 3 grown men, lying on that sloping stone, sleepless in mild fear of snakes, scorpions, and nameless fiends, and just counting all the stars all through the dawn of 2005. A memory keeper.
1999. Another memorable one. In Madras this time, a few quick ones and then a ride to the Elliots Beach. The beach where tens of thousands of inebriated men (men alone) were waiting like a cinderbox for an explosion of excitement. Any girls foolhardy enough to venture into the beach got earfuls of tips on improving their personas, and a few frank verbal appraisals of their bodies, which in some cases, turned physical. The large posse of uniformed, good-humored and indulgent coppers however seemed to draw a hard line at the physical bit. Out came the lathis, and a lathicharge perhaps not unlike the freedom movement days, ensued. All the freedom-loving patriots ran for cover, many into the cool water and I got hit smack on my elbow for the sole impropriety of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Nevertheless, a badge of honor that I now share with a few luminaries of this world.
2002. At home in Bombay, wandered around late-night with a bunch of newly made acquaintances, bestowing visits to a seedy "beer bar" and a late night roadside eatery making "fry ry". Got back home at an unearthly hour and woke up next morning to smells that reminded one of past misdeeds!
2006. A tradition of bring-your-own-scotch-but-drink-all instituted. There may have been some dabbanguthu involved, but that was a fairly regular occurrence back then.
2007. A tradition of bring-your-own-scotch-but-drink-all continued. New Year's Eve spent with friends and their families in a downtown club.
1997. A Goan binge to forget, and promptly forgotten. A few fennys (the local drink then available for 3 rupees or 10 cents a pop), some wholesome seafood and some contributions to increasing the noise levels later, we went to sleep. If there are any allegations about my indulgences that night, I meet them stoically with stout denial.
2008. First Night Austin. Music, love and fireworks.
Happy New Year!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Got gat?
A classic scene in Big Money by PG Wodehouse where an inebriated and well-armed Mr Hoke intrudes into Berry Conway's home and interrupts a conversation with Lord Hoddesdon who has just come in to discuss weighty matters with Berry.
Wodehouse has been my favorite author since I was 16. Hardly a month goes by without me re-reading one or more of the 90-odd books authored by him. I may, from time to time, add a nugget or two from his timelessly laugh-out-loud funny books. Watch this space!
'Do you want to see me about something?' he asked.
'Got gat,' said Mr Hoke pleasantly.
'Cat?' said Berry.
'Gat,' said Mr Hoke.
'What cat?' asked Berry, still unequal to the intellectual pressure of the conversation.
'Gat,' said Mr Hoke with an air of finality.
Berry tentatively approached the subject from another angle.
'Hat?' he said.
'Gat,' said Mr Hoke.
He frowned slightly, and his smile lost something of its effervescent bonhomie. This juggling with words was giving him a slight, but distinct headache.
...
Lord Hoddesdon rose.
'Where is my hat?' he said stiffly.
'Gat,' said Mr Hoke, his annoyance increasing. It seemed to him that these people were deliberately affecting to misunderstand plain English.
...
'You thinking of leaving?' asked Mr Hoke.
...
'...in answer to your question, I am thinking of leaving,' said Lord Hoddesdon.
Mr Hoke's momentary lapse into amiability was over. He was the strong man again, the man behind the gun.
'Oh, no!' he said.
'I beg your pardon?' said Lord Hoddesdon.
'Granted,' said Mr Hoke. He produced the gat, of which they had heard so much, and poised it in an unsteady but resolute grasp. 'Hands up!' he said.
...
'I had a mother once,' he said.
'You did?' said Berry.
'Yes, sir!' said Mr Hoke. 'That's just what I had. A mother.'
'The man's a dashed, drivelling, raving, raging lunatic,' said Lord Hoddesdon.
Mr Hoke started. Something in his lordship's words had caused a monstrous suspicion to form itself in his clouded mind. It seemed to him, if he had interpreted them rightly, that Lord Hoddesdon was casting doubts on his sanity. He resented this.
Wodehouse has been my favorite author since I was 16. Hardly a month goes by without me re-reading one or more of the 90-odd books authored by him. I may, from time to time, add a nugget or two from his timelessly laugh-out-loud funny books. Watch this space!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Battling it out in the greenbelt
The day I was supposed to do my longest training run of 28 miles added a few twists of its own. The day started warm and extremely humid, and as the day progressed, it grew warmer while still remaining humid. I have typically not done well in such conditions. Actually, that is quite an understatement. Humidity and heat have always oppressed me on my runs, so this long run was going to be a challenge.
We started out at 7am in the Barton Creek Greenbelt at the 'Hill of Life'. It was a new route for me today, and I promptly got lost on the trails in the first loop and did a couple of extra miles. I ended up doing 3 more loops, shorter because I knew the trails now. The hilly loop including a couple of overlook vistas with breathtaking scenery and I lapped it up greedily. The beauty of the greenbelt with some fall colors thrown in for extra credits really helped keep my mind off the pains and struggles in my mind and body today.
There were a few positives to take home today. I have now learnt to pace myself much better in different conditions. Previously in summer, I would run a few miles and then give out completely in exhaustion and frustration. But today, I slowed myself down after the first frenetic loop. I mixed in liberal doses of forced walk breaks to make sure I was not pushing too hard against the elements. Consequently, each loop thereafter was taking around 2-2:10 hours to complete, even as I grew more tired with every passing mile. It was rather slow, but consistency won the day today. And by conserving energy initially, I was also pleasantly surprised to be running strongly even in the last mile!
For such a hot and humid day, my improvised nutrition plan also worked well. Normally, I found it hard to eat anything after a few miles on such days; it becomes hard to chew and digest, and the taste buds complain a lot. Today, I relied on an array of options: 1 banana, 2 clif shot bloks, 2 hammer gels, a few spoons of tamarind brown rice mixed with some lentils, 1 bottle of ensure, 2 packets of Succeed Amino, and countless tablets of salt, all taken with a total of about 200+ oz (~2 gallons) of water. That sounds like quite a feast now, but while I was running, I managed to ensure a steady supply of energy.
Thanks to the humidity, I also used up quite a bit of gear today: 2 shirts, 2 shorts, 2 bandanas, 1 cap, and 2 pairs of socks. I sure wished I had more though!
Another positive today was my handling of my IT-band pain. My tight IT-band has been a bane recently, it has forced me to back off training and try different things to alleviate the pain, like tying my bandana above my knee. I recently came across some nice stretching exercises for the IT-band, and by doing a few stretches every few miles or so for 30 seconds at a time today especially when I felt it may start to bother me a little, I managed to keep that issue at bay.
On the whole, I am happy I ran long today and did not bail early. It feels like quite an achievement for me, especially after the nightmares of summer training. I have clearly learnt a lot through experience, and I am still learning with each run on what works for me under different conditions. And battling it out today on the hills of the greenbelt under hot and humid weather and making the 28 miles slotted for today is a nice confidence boost! All in all, a great training run.
We started out at 7am in the Barton Creek Greenbelt at the 'Hill of Life'. It was a new route for me today, and I promptly got lost on the trails in the first loop and did a couple of extra miles. I ended up doing 3 more loops, shorter because I knew the trails now. The hilly loop including a couple of overlook vistas with breathtaking scenery and I lapped it up greedily. The beauty of the greenbelt with some fall colors thrown in for extra credits really helped keep my mind off the pains and struggles in my mind and body today.
There were a few positives to take home today. I have now learnt to pace myself much better in different conditions. Previously in summer, I would run a few miles and then give out completely in exhaustion and frustration. But today, I slowed myself down after the first frenetic loop. I mixed in liberal doses of forced walk breaks to make sure I was not pushing too hard against the elements. Consequently, each loop thereafter was taking around 2-2:10 hours to complete, even as I grew more tired with every passing mile. It was rather slow, but consistency won the day today. And by conserving energy initially, I was also pleasantly surprised to be running strongly even in the last mile!
For such a hot and humid day, my improvised nutrition plan also worked well. Normally, I found it hard to eat anything after a few miles on such days; it becomes hard to chew and digest, and the taste buds complain a lot. Today, I relied on an array of options: 1 banana, 2 clif shot bloks, 2 hammer gels, a few spoons of tamarind brown rice mixed with some lentils, 1 bottle of ensure, 2 packets of Succeed Amino, and countless tablets of salt, all taken with a total of about 200+ oz (~2 gallons) of water. That sounds like quite a feast now, but while I was running, I managed to ensure a steady supply of energy.
Thanks to the humidity, I also used up quite a bit of gear today: 2 shirts, 2 shorts, 2 bandanas, 1 cap, and 2 pairs of socks. I sure wished I had more though!
Another positive today was my handling of my IT-band pain. My tight IT-band has been a bane recently, it has forced me to back off training and try different things to alleviate the pain, like tying my bandana above my knee. I recently came across some nice stretching exercises for the IT-band, and by doing a few stretches every few miles or so for 30 seconds at a time today especially when I felt it may start to bother me a little, I managed to keep that issue at bay.
On the whole, I am happy I ran long today and did not bail early. It feels like quite an achievement for me, especially after the nightmares of summer training. I have clearly learnt a lot through experience, and I am still learning with each run on what works for me under different conditions. And battling it out today on the hills of the greenbelt under hot and humid weather and making the 28 miles slotted for today is a nice confidence boost! All in all, a great training run.
Friday, December 12, 2008
A dangerous intellectual infancy
Arundhati Roy writes another essay, in a way only she can, this time about the Mumbai attacks. From the politicians to the police, from the US to Pakistan, from terrorists to communists to communalists, and from celebrities to the media, they all come under fire for the state of affairs that allows incidents like Mumbai's terror attacks to happen.
In Mumbai was not our 9/11, Arundhati has some classic one-liners.
There are many threads to follow in the essay. One concerns why the Mumbai attacks should so outrage the Indian media and elite, and why it is even being called India's 9/11. That is a stretch in so many ways, and Arundhati surely does a great job of bringing that out. Reasons why these attacks are "special" probably include the targeting of elites by the terrorists, and the opportunity for breathless media coverage.
An even more dangerous development seems to be, what she calls rightly, a regression into intellectual infancy. Media and elites flirting with the idea of a police state, and whipping up anger against all politicians seems like an attack on Indian democracy itself. Truly, media coverage and analysis in India has touched heights that Fox News can only dream of.
In Mumbai was not our 9/11, Arundhati has some classic one-liners.
A superpower never has allies. It only has agents.
We're now in the era of Grabbing by Force, and democracy has a terrible habit of getting in the way.
In the business of terrorism, victims and perpetrators sometimes exchange roles.
If Kashmir won't willingly integrate into India, it's beginning to look as though India will integrate/disintegrate into Kashmir.
Anti-terrorism laws are not meant for terrorists; they're for people that governments don't like.
There are many threads to follow in the essay. One concerns why the Mumbai attacks should so outrage the Indian media and elite, and why it is even being called India's 9/11. That is a stretch in so many ways, and Arundhati surely does a great job of bringing that out. Reasons why these attacks are "special" probably include the targeting of elites by the terrorists, and the opportunity for breathless media coverage.
An even more dangerous development seems to be, what she calls rightly, a regression into intellectual infancy. Media and elites flirting with the idea of a police state, and whipping up anger against all politicians seems like an attack on Indian democracy itself. Truly, media coverage and analysis in India has touched heights that Fox News can only dream of.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Terror in Mumbai: Enough Already
Some more links on the terror in Mumbai, there are quite a few more thoughtful and sober analysis coming out now.
An editorial in Guardian talking about what the idea of India means, and why that dream is still attainable. Inspiring, and despite all the social inequalities that still persist, I think we should take heart from what has been achieved so far in the face of almost-insurmountable odds.
The unforgotten dream
Adding perspective to the media's hysterical coverage, Badri Raina plays on NDTV's rather ridiculous and vacuous caption 'Enough is Enough'. Enough of NDTV and its breathless sensationalism perhaps.
Enough is Enough
Mumbai, Muslims, beards and Jews. Jawed Naqvi looks at some misconceptions and dangerous stereotyping by a terrorized people.
Mumbai rekindles debate about Muslims, their beard and so on
Patrick Cockburn, a journalist whose reporting and analysis I mostly look forward to, lays the blame at various commissions of Pakistan and omissions by the US.
From Baghdad to Mumbai, by way of Pakistan
Good ol' Tom! Never thought I'd say this, but I actually find good merit in what Thomas Friedman says in his op-ed piece. He calls on all Pakistanis to rally and protest against the perpetrators of the Mumbai carnage, similar to how they stood up and even lost lives over the Danish cartoons. Its an altogether different matter that he didnt write such a sensible and potentially more useful article asking Americans to stand up for, say, the Iraqis dead in some mindless collateral damage in the Iraq war. Oh well, with dear Tom, we are grateful for the small mercies of life...
Calling All Pakistanis
Another Pakistani opinion-piece. Another one looking self-critically at the politics and policies of Pakistan. In many ways, the mass media in Pakistan is more independent and sober about their own country than the generally India-is-shining media in India. Pakistanis seem quite pessimistic about their government and even country, possibly because of the rather sorry state of affairs there. Irfan Hussain is fun to read though, and I have generally enjoyed many travel and political articles written with insight and compassion by him.
Facing the truth
An editorial in Guardian talking about what the idea of India means, and why that dream is still attainable. Inspiring, and despite all the social inequalities that still persist, I think we should take heart from what has been achieved so far in the face of almost-insurmountable odds.
The unforgotten dream
Adding perspective to the media's hysterical coverage, Badri Raina plays on NDTV's rather ridiculous and vacuous caption 'Enough is Enough'. Enough of NDTV and its breathless sensationalism perhaps.
Enough is Enough
Mumbai, Muslims, beards and Jews. Jawed Naqvi looks at some misconceptions and dangerous stereotyping by a terrorized people.
Mumbai rekindles debate about Muslims, their beard and so on
Patrick Cockburn, a journalist whose reporting and analysis I mostly look forward to, lays the blame at various commissions of Pakistan and omissions by the US.
From Baghdad to Mumbai, by way of Pakistan
Good ol' Tom! Never thought I'd say this, but I actually find good merit in what Thomas Friedman says in his op-ed piece. He calls on all Pakistanis to rally and protest against the perpetrators of the Mumbai carnage, similar to how they stood up and even lost lives over the Danish cartoons. Its an altogether different matter that he didnt write such a sensible and potentially more useful article asking Americans to stand up for, say, the Iraqis dead in some mindless collateral damage in the Iraq war. Oh well, with dear Tom, we are grateful for the small mercies of life...
Calling All Pakistanis
Another Pakistani opinion-piece. Another one looking self-critically at the politics and policies of Pakistan. In many ways, the mass media in Pakistan is more independent and sober about their own country than the generally India-is-shining media in India. Pakistanis seem quite pessimistic about their government and even country, possibly because of the rather sorry state of affairs there. Irfan Hussain is fun to read though, and I have generally enjoyed many travel and political articles written with insight and compassion by him.
Facing the truth
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