This was the evening of a double cocktail. I figured I had earned them after my faster than normal 10 mile run. The drinks are almost identical liking but they cannot be any more different from each other in taste or character.
This is the Nineteenth Hole – made from gin, both varieties of vermouths and some bitters.
“How long are you planning to run?”
I turned around, thoroughly exhausted, and saw a stranger, profusely sweating, and running like me. I had never seen him before and there was nobody around. He was obviously addressing me. This was not part of my plan.
This morning, the plan was to put in a ten mile run. Having already run a half marathon race six days back, I thought twice before deciding to go for ten miles. But then to up the stakes, I wondered if I could put in a fast one too. Fast by my standards, of course. I would probably prefer to do a 10:30 min/mile in Sep temperatures on a flat course. I can push to go for 10 min/mile or maybe even sub-10.
I asked myself if I could go for 9 min/mile if I allowed myself a break in the middle. Decided to go for it. Posted the first one at 9:40 as my sleepy body started waking up. Moment the Garmin beeped indicating the first mile was over, I started picking up speed very quickly. I have noticed that if I run the second mile fast and then take rest for 30 seconds and stretch, the rest of the run’s speed is governed by how fast I ran the second mile. I think that speed dictates how quickly the blood rushes into the tissues and the brain and body is put on alert on the effort it might have to adapt to. In any case, I finished the mile in 8 minutes with bursts of 7:40 at times.
Took a breather for 30 seconds and then started the long haul. Predictably the next miles started coming in around 9 min pace – give or take a few seconds. After about 5.5 miles, I had reached where the Chalupa group (my old Sunday morning running group) were finishing up. Drank up some water from the fountain and joined in the picture session with the Chalupa folks. And as they headed out for Starbucks coffee, I dived back into the trail.
After half a mile, the sun hit me pretty bad. There was a long stretch – over a mile where there was no shade and worse – there was a small incline upwards. The energy was starting to peter out very quickly. I started wondering if I could keep up the pace of 9 min/mile. I suddenly realized that not carrying water with me was probably not such a great idea.
Somewhere in the 8th mile, I got into shade and some soft boardwalk. Managed to catch up some lost time but I was starting to get cramps with all the fast breathing. Somehow dragged myself to the end of that mile. 2 more miles to go. The ninth was the worst. Sun was out again. I was fast losing all the mental strength. I toyed with the idea of breaking my own rule and just pull over to take some rest. Decided against it. But the problem was that I could not slow down. First, I had only a few seconds – literally less than a minute to spare to slack from the 9 min/mile pace. Second, overtime I would slow down, I would panic at the thought of missing my mark and would speed up.
Finally got very close to the end of the ninth mile. Still getting beat by the sun, I could hear footsteps coming up from behind. I moved a little more to the right to let the runner pass by me. I was expecting another young high school shirtless kid to zoom past me. But the footsteps never crossed me. It was almost like he/she was following me. I did not have enough energy to even turn around and see if that was the case.
It was then that the voice asked “How long are you planning to run?”
Talking was the last thing in my mind. I was trying to conserve all my energy and breath to finish the last mile before I started throwing up or cramping up too badly.
“10,”, I said, “and I am on my last mile”.
“I am doing 11. This is home stretch for me too. Can I run with you? I am completely drained out. I need some company”.
“Sure. I am not in a great shape either. But I wanted to finish strong”, said I foolishly.
I said “foolishly”, because the gentleman asked “Well, then let’s do it.”
“Do what?”, I asked
“Finish strong. What is your pace?”
“I will be happy with 9:30 right now”.
“I am 8:40. Let’s pace each other”.
Sometimes, having somebody running with you is a great boon. I am not a talker at all during runs but company often forces me to not slack off. Something like that happened. I was so near to dropping off. But his energy level rubbed off on me. Both of us picked up speed. I just needed to stay at 9 min. But I realized that I would be pushed to do 8:40. Funny thing… I was taking the longer strides and he was about half a step behind me. I am not sure I knew what I was doing but I just knew that he and I were going to finish strong. That had given me a second wind. My body was trying to adapt quickly. Sometimes I missed a step and sometimes I came too close to somebody as I passed them. But both of us just kept pushing our bodies. Half a mile later, he gave a loud grunt out and said we are definitely doing faster than 8:40. I glanced at my watch. We were screaming at 8:15. That is an unthinkable pace for me on the 10th mile. Half a mile to go.
All I remember was a minute or two later, he looked up and declared – “We are almost there. Let’s give everything we have”. That is when he started pacing harder. And I was like “Dude, I have given everything I had. And more…”. But I wanted to finish with him. By now, I was half a step behind him. And he kept pushing us harder and harder. One quick glance at the watch – we were doing sub-8s now. 7:55 to be precise. I was too confused to even worry about throwing up after I finished.
50 yards to go. A small hill in front of us. And we would be home!! He started peeling away with every step. He came up with the inhuman strength in the end and just charged up the slope. I tried my best – but I still came about three seconds after him.
Looked at my watch – that was a ten mile at 8:50 pace with the last mile coming in at an astounding 8:05. (astounding for me, again)
Both of us collapsed under a shaded portion of the trail head and all I could hear was my heart pounding away to glory and me panting as if a steam engine was coming thru. Checked the Fitbit – my heart was beating at 192 – over three times my resting heart rate!
After about four or five minutes, we got up.
“I am Tim, by the way. Thank you for that. I had lost all will to run that last mile. You pushed me hard.”
“I pushed you?? And yes, I was losing all mental strength before I saw you. Also, I am called Roy or Raj. The full name is Rajib Roy”.
We hung around for some time. Got to know more about Tim. He is an ex-Marine and told me about a few of the adventures he had as a Marine. Tim is from outside Chicago area and now lives in Georgia.
Towards the end, I asked him what was the biggest lesson he had learnt from his days in the Marines. He thought for a while and said “Probably the difference between pain and suffering”.
“I know what you mean”, I said.
I had a flashback to ten years back when many runners would tell me – I was a novice in running – something that I have never forgotten. And I have found that statement to be true in the larger context of life too.
In life, as in long distance running – Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.
I did not have any energy left to go to the car to get my iPhone to take our picture. Instead, we promised to run together again!
Wrapping up a hectic week with some winding down with Abida Parveen. There are very few singers I have heard that can scale as many octaves as she can….
Here she sings…
Yaar Ko Humne Ja-ba-ja Dekha
Kahin Zahir Kahin Chupa Dekha
Kahin Momkin Hoa Kahin Wajib
Kahin Fani Kahin Baqa Dekha
Going by somebody else’s translation (as always improvements welcome)…
I saw my beloved in all I saw,
At times revealed, hidden at times.
At times a possibility, at times an imperative,
At times ephemeral, at times eternal…
Also, I am not very sure of the poet but it probably was Hazrat Shah Niaz.
This gin based drink originated way back in 1916. In fact, in those days, The Last Word was the costliest cocktail money could buy at 35 cents. This drink hit the heights of popularity twice – once in the 1920s – made popular by Frank Fogarty in the bar Detroit Athletic Club and then again by Murray Stenson in the bar Zig Zag Cafe in Seattle in the 2000s.
This drink is made from gin, green chartreuse, maraschino liqueur and fresh lime juice.
The flight from Chicago was to leave at 6:45 pm. I had thirty minutes at hand and I was casually strolling along the sprawling airport just observing people. It was not normal for me to be on the road on a Friday evening and I had switched myself off from work. I had only a backpack with me and I was planning the reach the gate around 6:30 and be one of the last persons to get in.
As I casually shuffled towards my gate, suddenly a gentleman asked me “Are you from Illinois?”. I looked towards him and realized he was one of those folks that you will find at an airport often selling from a kiosk. In Atlanta, I have seen a few of them trying to sell Delta Amex cards. I assumed he was selling American Airlines credit cards. Usually, I would give a polite “Sorry, but I have enough cards” and move on. This time, I stopped and told him “No”. He asked me where I lived and I said Atlanta.
“You are the only person today who is not running to their flight. Everybody is in a hurry to get to their flight on a Friday evening”, he said.
“Yeah, I have a few minutes at hand. Anyways, there is going to be a crowd at the gate”, I said.
We said Bye to each other and I started walking to the gate again.
It was at that point I started getting some pangs of regret. He was a very nice guy, Why did he talk to me? He did not try selling anything to me. What was he selling anyways? I had a lot of questions. Halfway to the gate, I looked back and then looked at the watch. I had no chance of going back and talking to him again.
I guess Lady Luck was with me today. Upon reaching my gate, I noticed that my flight was delayed to 7:02. Seventeen extra minutes. I figured that was a sign. I walked back to the gentleman and his kiosk. He was busy doing something in his kiosk when I walked up to him and said “My flight is delayed. Would you have some time to spare for me?”.
And that is how we struck up a friendship. Found out that Doug is from Chicago and has spent all his life in a southern suburb of Chicago. He is between jobs and is doing this to bridge him through. Before this, he was in graphics printing. Very soft spoken, he came across as a very nice person.
I also realized that he was not selling credit cards. He was actually trying to convert customers to move to NRG – an energy company. I did the math quickly. Once he realized I was from Atlanta, I was not a potential customer for him. (NRG is not there in Atlanta). So, he had remarked about my apparent lack of hurriedness instead of trying to sell me NRG.
I was intrigued how effective was that method of selling that product.
“So, how many customers do you get in a day?”.
“Ten on a good day, two to three on a bad day”. That surprised me quite a bit.
It was at that point we talked about his previous job and how this is a temporary thing for him till he lands on his feet firmly again.
“Why did you come back to talk to me?”, he suddenly asked.
“Oh! I like making new friends. And I thought you were nice to me and I did not get to know you that time”.
“You are a very nice person too. I can see you are not from Chicago”
“Why?”, I asked half amused.
“Chicago people are very rude.”, he said, somewhat surprising me.
“No.”
“Yes, they are rude”.
And then he went on to explain the worst part of his job. “I hate the way people treat my like ####. You will be amazed how people will show me the hand and walk away. I know they are in a hurry. But why treat me like I am below them? I am just trying to do my job”.
I was not sure what to say. “I am sorry to hear that”, is all I could come up with. And a couple of exchanges later, I told him I had better gotten back to my plane. And managed to get a passerby to take a picture of us.
“I hope to meet you down the road again”, I said, as I waved him good bye for the second time.
As I slowly started my walk back to the gate, my mind flashed back to the numerous times I would be irritated by the sight of those credit card hawking folks at Atlanta airport and do everything to avoid eye contact. Even pretend to be on a call.
“I am just trying to do my job”…. those words of Doug kept coming back to haunt me. I realized that out of my fear of having to deal with an uncomfortable situation, how I have fallen terribly short in acknowledging another person as a human being just trying to earn a livelihood. Repeatedly so. How would I have felt if I was in their shoes?
In almost any encounters with a human being – any human being, we are not required to show grace and class. And that is the one good reason why I should be showing both. Every single time.
With very mixed feelings of regret in my own behavior but elated that I now have one more nice friend in my life, I finally walked into the plane. With the hope that I will be a better person next time when I see them.
And if any of you had nothing better to do than make a new friend in Chicago O’Hare airport, swing by near Gate K7 or so and say Hi (and one from me too) to this gentleman in the picture. As he will tell you, his name is Douglas Smith.
This week I had my flight from Terminal B at Atlanta airport. Since it was just an overnight trip, I had only my backpack with me. I walked from Terminal T to Terminal B and noticed a very nice addition in the tunnel between A and B. You might have seen in the past, I had posted pictures of all the African sculptures and the wall paintings that decorates part of the long tunnel.
Now there is a section that will make you feel like you are walking thru a tropical forest. You can see from the picture how the tunnel looks inside as you walk thru it. What you cannot see is the loud sound of tropical forest birds continuously being played. There is a portion where if you look up you see the blue sky with birds flying across and making bird noises (of course all done thru artificial lighting and sound).
Very well done! If only they could sprinkle some water droplets and crank up the humidity, some might be even be tempted to settle there after missing their flight to a tropical destination!!!
Fall is around the corner. Cool nice mornings followed by hot days. Sat down by the river mid way thru the run just to watch the dozens of ducks playing by themselves. They were going around expectantly hoping I would have some food. There were many more on the small island – see the top picture. I was wishing I had some coffee for myself though 🙂
Okay, that was the fourth challenge in as many days days from my FB friends. If I get the general drift, I am being challenged to put up a happy picture of Sharmila and myself (good luck finding it) for ten successive days (haha! lots more good luck finding them) and then everyday I am to challenge another friend to do the same.
I have certainly no issue on what you want to do with your FB timeline – entirely your choice to post and my choice to ignore them. That being said, my first thought was – What??? What kind of a challenge is this? Mind you – this is not a request. This is not a suggestion. This is a CHALLENGE to prove my love and happy marriage!!! How many wives do I have these days?
To what end? How are ten pictures of Sharmila and I – and remember – we have to look happy in all of them which dramatically reduces the sample set in our case – going to make one iota of a difference to anybody? Other than of course, setting the wrong expectations to the poor souls that are contemplating on getting married 🙂
By the way, you are not fooling me one bit about your marriage with those pictures. Put some candid pictures – one where you were fighting, one where you completely embarrassed yourself, one where she sent you to sit in the corner, one where you unexpectedly got a surprise…. you know all those small real life things that actually make a happy marriage. All those seemingly happy moments you self-choose does not define your marriage. Those are meant for a Facebook pyramid scheme. If your marriage is anything like mine, its happiness is not derived from a continuous stream of smiling face photo-ups but unrelenting ups and downs with an underlying trust and belief that the other person will always be there for you. You can’t take a picture of that. You have to feel it.
I have to say, I do enjoy sometimes when you occasionally put those happy pictures of you and your spouse. I feel special that you desired to share a happy moment with me. And certainly feel happy for you. Those are special moments. Let’s keep them special. That specialty goes away in my mind when I realize that you are doing this for a “challenge” and worse, you are trying to make a daily habit of it for some time. And that you intend to encourage such behavior from ten other people!
And maybe you still feel you need to do that. Ok. Your call. But why me?? I and the king of TMI in FB. I am the exemplar of hedonism in FB with every bit of my life posted on Facebook. Have you not been warned at all not to encourage me to post more? Even the carriers are going – dude – throttle back – your data use is overloading those snooping NSA servers 🙂
Ok. Now allow me to finish this post, quit searching our photo databases for ten pictures and instead utilize that time to think of one more reason to pick up a fight with Sharmila 🙂
