October 2016 was when I initiated my metamorphosis into an
amateur runner. Running changed from a fun activity which happened once in a
while to something more impactful. I discovered my passion for doing something
that was simple yet challenging. As the days went by, I joined a running group
which connected me to some like-minded people and I ran some amazing running
events like the Vasai Virar Mayor’s Marathon, the Mumbai Marathon etc, where
the spirit of the runners and the crowds took the enjoyment of the runs to
surreally amazing levels. There was one event which captured my imagination. It
was called the Satara Hill Half Marathon. It was marketed as the “Ultra Half
Marathon” and had been featured in several international magazines as one of
the marathons one must do at least once in a lifetime. As an event which had so
many accolades to its name (including a couple of Guinness World Records), it
was too tempting and too close to Mumbai to miss
The announcement of registrations opening for the event
resulted in an early morning with the laptop. Registrations opened at midnight
and were closed within 20 hours for the 3000 slots for runners from outside
Satara. A friend from my running group who had done this event twice before
knew someone who could help us with a challenge as big as the hill, the
accommodation. That and travel were taken care of and we were 18 running
buddies from our group heading to take on the hills head on. The practice runs
took us to a number of runs at different hilly parts of the city including
south Bombay, Borivali National Park (with an investment of Rs. 161/-), Aarey
colony and of course, Mount Mary. It was fun to prepare for this event with a
lot of us learning new things which were bound to make us better runners on all
terrains
As the day for the race approached, the changing weather
showed its deadly side effects including Viral fever. I thankfully had my tryst
with it a good 7 days before we had to leave. A few friends dropped out due to
viral fever and other (happy) circumstances. We took the bus to the destination
in the Sahyadri range, 270km from Mumbai. The bus journey was like any bus
journey with friends. Absolute madness with singing dancing and yes, lots of
water/nimbu paani and Enerzal(we were heading for a half marathon so pre-race
hydration was a must). Our first halt was the race expo. The theme of the event
this year was “Rajdhani Satara” and the venue reflected that. There were stalls
for the sponsors (like one sees at most event expos) and then there were things
which made this event stand apart. The venue looked like the set of a medieval
castle. There were cultural performances and there were chants of “Jai Shivaji
Jai Bhavani”, etc. The pacers were called Shiledars and their attire in the
promotional wall suggested that they may poke us with swords and spears to keep
us moving forward. There were stalls where one could click pics of themselves
in attire of traditional Maratha warriors. It was brilliantly organized and one
could see the passion of each of the volunteers. They were all working as
though they were telling us, “This is my event and I am going to ensure that it
will remain etched in your memory”.
The bib collection was done early in the afternoon. We had
the rest of the day to visit another attraction of the region called Kaas
Plateau. It was quite a nice place to visit though I would have enjoyed it much
better had I charged my camera battery the previous night. In the bargain we
managed to do a route recce in our bus. We had practiced on steep slopes which
were had bigger inclines than what was in store for us. But none of these
slopes were anywhere near the length of the steep uphill section. Some of the
race reviews said, “The route from kilometer 4-7 varies from steep to
ridiculously steep”. We looked to retire for the day early so as to reach the
starting point on time. We left after a nice dose of pre-race fuel in the form
of bananas
On the morning of 17 September, all roads led to the Police
Parade grounds. After warming up, we lined up in our respective starting slots.
It was pretty dark when the race started at 6am but the artificial lights were
doing their job. Someone had told me, “You start straight on a steep hill”. I
couldn’t see anything like it but could feel the gradient while running.
Another person said, “It is super crowded till you reach the ghat”. Yes it was
crowded but not even close to the density of people one can see at the sea link
during the Mumbai Marathon. After we climbed up the first slope which was
almost a kilometer in length, we got our first taste of the support which we
could expect from the locals. There were a good number of people, playing music
or clapping to cheer for us well before daybreak. In the undulating third
kilometer was a live music station where a person was playing a synthesizer and
another person singing the song, “Woh sikandar hi doston kehelata hai”. Singing
along gave an energy boost as we moved away from the city centre, towards the
hills
We were out of the city by the time of the 4th
km. The ochre sun was hiding behind the clouds in the east. The warm light made
the beauty of the lush green cover on the hills reach a level of divinity. The
roads were painted Orange, the colour of the race T-shirt which a lot of people
chose to wear for their run. We had all started our ascent on the steep section
of the route. I had calculated the slope of the steep section to be around 4.5
degrees. The wonderful Mount Mary hill where we had practiced a lot had a
gradient of around 7 degrees. This should have been a piece of cake.
Unfortunately the length of this hill was almost 10 times of what we had to
cover at Mount Mary. It went on and on and on. It sieved out and separated the
people who had trained well for the hills and those like us who thought we had
trained well for the hills and those who had not trained for the hills. Most
runners switched between slow runs and brisk walks and some opted to walk up
the slope. We were all however enjoying views which were unique to this event. The
elite athletes had flown up the hills. We could see the Orange River which they
were pulling uphill with them. The organizers had photographers at regular
intervals on the hills and also in the skies. The drone photos showed the
enormous scale of the event
After a point, I realized that it was time for the flying
elite athletes to cross us on their way down. The volunteers were trying to get
the path cleared for them by getting us to run on our left. “Its time for the
elites to fly by”, I exclaimed. “Kenyans aa rahe hain”, said another runner. I
tried to remind him that we have our very own Indian runners who were in the
same league. It felt sad that their talent and hard work was getting
overshadowed by people’s awe for foreigners. The arrangements seemed to be
false alarms. We went past the “Waterfall Point” where some runners took a
quick dip and drink of fresh mountain water. How many events can boast of such
points on the route?
We almost reached the top of the steep climb. We then saw
the lead vehicle’s lights. It came closer. The elite athletes were right behind
flying downhill. Their speed seemed faster than the fastest speed I may have
logged during speed intervals. The race leaders were gone in a flash. It gave
the same rush as watching a Formula 1 car zooming past at 300kmph, without the
eardrum shattering roar of the engines. We continued after the steep climb for
the relatively flat section. We could see some orange up ahead on a slope which
led to the turn-around point. The length of the steep section had drained me
quite a bit and my muscles were letting me know. I was unable to push at a pace
I normally would run at around the 7th km of a flat half marathon.
The view from the top of the hill was surreal. A lake
nestled between the hills, low clouds over the city and the orange sun rising
and shining through them, bathing the city of Satara in light. I felt like
stopping and just sitting there. But we were running a half marathon and the
views were just one of the perks. The kilometer markers too had witty messages
to keep the runners going
After the u-turn, I passed by a lot of familiar faces on the
opposite side, exchanging high fives with many of my buddies. Most people I met
on the route were either from Mumbai or Pune. There was one inspiring bloke
from Pune who was running with his arm in a sling. When I asked him about the
issue, he said that he had undergone a shoulder surgery not very long ago but
the urge to run at Satara drew him to run. There was another gentleman from
Thane who was 65 years young and was running strongly a little ahead of me. We
could see the flying Sikh, Mr. Amarjeet Singh Chawla who in spite of having no
vision, has done over 70 half marathons, including some tough races.
After the undulating section which was relatively flat, I
reached the top of the slope which had killed the legs of a lot of people. I
had stopped and sprayed some pain relief spray at the aid station before the
downhill. The crowd which people talked about and experienced while going
uphill was all gone. We were all running freely downhill aided by our friend
gravity. There were locals at different points on the hill cheering for us and
that helped us go faster. The efforts on the uphill stretch had taken a toll. I
was unable to push hard yet I was able to go at a good pace. I could see the
average pace value come down on my Tomtom, well below the 7 minutes/km which
was the pace uphill. The sunshine had got quite a few more people out to cheer
for us runners. The chants of “Bharat Mata ki…” “JAI!!!” got louder. That gave
a little kick to my exhausted body on the way back towards the city
As the slope then got shallower and crowds got louder, the
cries of my tired muscles got louder too. Having friends running along always
helps. A friend from Dombivili was right in front of me and he too was tiring. We
pushed each other to keep going. Then there was the amazing live music station.
They were still playing some amazing music, this time it was “Humma Humma”. Did
I sing along? Of course!!! I sang what they were playing, even though it was
the musical interlude. I got the kick which only great music can give
The distance to the
finish line kept reducing. A fellow LRC runner caught hold of me and literally
pushed me forward when I slowed down into a walk break. She told me to stay
with the 2:20 bus as they were on time. Saying this, she went ahead and so did
the 2:20 Shiledaars, who had the image of a shield on their back. The final
downhill was here. My hip flexors were hurting like crazy. It was time for mind
over matter running. I pushed as hard as I could. The two 2:20 flags got
closer. The board said 300m to the finish. It was time for something special.
Beep!!! My Tomtom showed that I had completed the 21st km in 5:30. I
was almost next to the pacers who had also picked up the pace. We turned into
the police parade ground towards the finish line. I felt like the spirit of
Usain Bolt entering me pushing my body as fast as it could go for the last 100m.
I ran neck and neck with the pacers and we strode over the finish line
together. 2:19:50 said my Tomtom. Victory!!!! The hills were conquered in some
style and the medal represented the battle we all waged to become better
versions of ourselves
