A personal note of gratitude to the organizers behind the stadium run - you are my heroes today

I write this with actual tears in my eyes. I am very humbled by what occurred this morning. But since most have no idea what I am talking about, I will do a quick recap of what happened over the weekend: On August 1st and 2nd Bangalore played host to some of the best ultra marathoners in the country. 38 men and women took part in a 24 hour and 12 hour stadium run and they ran inside the 400 metre track in Kanteerva. Organized by the Bengaluru Marathon team, it was truly an incredible sight to see - men and women who pushed past what is generally considered humanly possible.

Of course there were more men than women. There was only one woman in the 24 hours category (Aparna Choudhary) who  participated. Now I want to talk about the women for just one moment. These were fabulous ladies who were currently participating in a world dominated by men. And training for an ultra means you are on your feet for hours at end in one day. If you are a woman runner in India, then chances are you have had to face some interesting characters in your day. Now imagine facing such harassment on a larger scale because you are alone on the road for many hours. These ladies are more than rockstars, they are pioneers and trendsetters. They are paving the way for other girls in the country who are told they can't do something because of their gender.

Now why am I talking about the ladies in the ultra? Because while I was very happy to see the crowds, the organization, the incredible running by these incredible men and women, I felt slightly pinched at the end. The women who won got goodies bag and the men who won got goodies bag and prize money (of course like I mentioned there were more men than women). What about the women I wondered? I didn't sleep very well in the night and I tossed and turned a whole lot. I got up and wrote a Facebook post about these women I considered heroes and professed my wish that they could have gotten prize money.

Of course my post invited a fair amount of controversy within an hour of its posting. Some agreed with me and some didn't. After all, the organizers didn't take any money for registrations from the participants. I myself witnessed the ultra runners being treated with reverence and care. They were provided with every bit of nutrition they asked for. Perhaps it was wrong of me to even point out issues when the larger picture was about promoting running in the country.

But if running is to be encouraged, then it should be encouraged for everybody. And women and men should be recognized for accomplishing great feats in the name of sport. Now this New York Times article points out why men are faster than women biologically. We are all human beings but men have less fat and more muscle and women have hips (and boobs). Oh and there is the issue of testosterone. Which is why any race that has open category is inherently sexist. A man and woman who are both at the pinnacle of their fitness levels will still not be equal. The man will swim faster, run faster. Open category does not work. Period.

Now on any other day in any other world, this post would have been read by a few, ignored by most and invariably someone would have told me to "chill Aishu". Except it didn't quite happen that way. The organizers called me. They wanted to know why I had a problem. I explained it to them to the best of my abilities (I was quaking in my boots). I knew I had a massive responsibility on my shoulders. They genuinely cared about what I had to say. It was scary because I am so used to writing Facebook posts that go nowhere. I don't want to lie, I snuck into my office bathroom to cry from the sheer fear of having caused "trouble".

To my very genuine surprise, I wasn't yelled at. I was listened to. It is really a show of how great the organizers are behind Bengaluru, that I wasn't swatted aside like an annoying mosquito. They cared about the views of a random runner who is lucky if she completes a two hour half marathon. I have been screaming bloody murder about the Vodafone cyclathon for two years now for having only open category (I am famously known as the girl who shows up to yell at the organizers about this every year but never listened to).

A few hours after my conversation (during which time I emotionally ate my way through most of what Arya Bhavan had to offer in terms of junk food), I was contacted again. The organizers heard me out and thought I had a fair point. They told me that they are going to given prize money for the female winners too. When I read that message, my hands shook. I was stunned. And as is generally the case with me, I broke into tears (I am still in office but thankfully went back to the bathroom for a good emotional cry). But this isn't about me. This is so much bigger than me. This is about the fabulous women who ran ultras this past weekend who deserve every bit of this recognition. This is about a large race organizer going above and beyond to do what's right for the community. This is a miracle that I am glad to have witnessed. So, at the end of this very rambling and emotional post, I just want to say a few things:

• I am really  sorry if I caused trouble to anyone. It was never my intention. I really do apologize.
• I am so happy that the women who ran yesterday will get the recognition they truly deserve. Ladies you were inspiring. You are heroes. Just having witnessed you women run yesterday, I came out a changed person. You deserve every accolade and every award that comes your way. You are setting precedent for the future generation. And we women thank you for everything that you do. 
• And finally a THANK YOU to Nagaraj Sir. You are my hero sir. You have today taken such an incredible step towards bringing more women into running. You listen to every runner. You have made  history in what you did today. You have set precedent for future races. Now we women can march up to other race directors and demand equality because of YOU. I shall forever be indebted to you and am very grateful for who you are as a person. You are not only the best race director in the country but an outstanding person and I am grateful to you. 

So, friends. There you have it. The world is filled with people who are willing to change it for the better. And women, let's ensure we flock the organizers of Bengaluru Marathon with as much love and support as we can possibly imagine. They are batting for us. They are batting for us when not many are.

P.S Yes. I am still in the office bathroom. But I stopped crying. 

The marathon is about the city...not just the runners

Marathons matter. They aren't just about world records and Kenyan runners running faster than supercars (although let's face it, it's inspiring to watch elites scorch the roads). For the most part, they are expressions of how ordinary people  push towards something that they would have never thought possible. Folk who have battled severe illness, or taken up running to stay healthy or even because they wanted to do something with their lives to somehow matter. Folk like me. We never win the big races but we work hard to do the best that we can. We don't get the glory but we are part of the bigger community that's willing to push itself beyond the possible. We love torturing ourselves for the sake of elusive PBs. Our toenails fall off...our feet blister. We sweat. We bleed. And it's all worth it on race day.

I cried while running the Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon. Am embarrassed to admit it but I couldn't help myself. I reached the 8k mark and looked at the masses that had gathered to cheer me along. I choked up. I was overwhelmed. And this little kid who could not have been more than 7 years old screamed - keep running didi! And for a few moments, my sweat was mingled with tears. This kid was cheering me along. Little me who kills herself to be just an average runner. Who might never win any big races. To whom glory means an extra slice of pizza. Mumbaikars really wanted us runners to feel special. They made me feel special.They were proud of their city. They were proud of the thousands who showed up to run. They wanted to make sure every one of us had the best experience of our lives. And honestly, most of us did.

Yesterday I ran a race that I had been looking forward to months - the Bengaluru Marathon. It's my race. I started running in this city. It's my home. And it was a great privilege for me to run here. I wanted to be part of the city's history. However one thing I didn't count on was people who were stuck in traffic actually trying to harm the runners.

The traffic police was at every turn trying to ensure the roads were safe and free for marathoners but motorists became hooligans and were yelling at the cops. We could hear them yelling. We could hear them shouting. We heard the abuses. And we also saw them blatantly break the rules, push past the cops and start riding the streets where runners were running. They were honking their horns and pushing us out of our own roads as the cops helplessly tried to do their best. Runners then had to take it upon themselves to ensure their own safety and the safety of others who were running as well.

Am sure there are lessons to be learnt for the organisers, the cops and the runners too. But there are bigger lessons to be learnt for the city itself. We are part of this city. This is our run. This is our pride. We should want runners to go back to their cities and feel jealous of us. We should want every runner to have done their best.  Our goal shouldn't be to run them over but to carry them to the finish line. Ordinary people coming together to become part of something extraordinary.

Of course I want to thank all those who did come out to the streets to cheer us along the way. The kid who was gleefully giving high-fives to hundreds of runners who went past him. The uncle who doubled back during his own race to give me oranges because I looked like I was going to pass out. My friend who wouldn't leave my side as I struggled through illness during the race. The army men who applauded us. The volunteers who ensured the aid stations were perfectly packed. And of course the thousands of runners who joined me to run their bests.

Marathons matter. Not just for the elites who run so fast and hard that they are no more than a blur whizzing past us mere mortals. But for the runners who beat odds to just show up for race day. And they should matter to the city too.