Wait, what?
Let me explain. First, you have to take a guy who has lived in India a while and has become obsessed with running. He gets this pet project and grows it, and soon he turns it into an organized run, and by that he scrapes together a route, calls his friends and colleagues, and leads them throughout the city to parts they would never run on their own. Fast forward a few years to this morning.
4:40am - a rag-tag bunch of runners, some fresh off Cinco de Mayo, assemble at Gate 2 of AES. A desk is set up, and a short, bearded man, donning a neon yellow t-shirt obscured by a Camelbak, sits and unfurls a British flag, which he will later tie to his back. A pile of wristbands in the colors of the Indian flag are strewn about, and one by one, blurry-eyed runners came to collect their bibs. Each had the runner's name, but the number, 1857 was the same. This would prove important later.
5:10am - The bus was loaded and the brave few departed for the start. A long ride meandered first through familiar neighborhoods but soon ventured into parts unknown. The sites (and smells) of Delhi waking up were all the stimulants needed when they arrived at the line.
5:50am - Coronation Park, the site of King George V's declaration as Emperor of India and the shift of the capital from Calcutta to Delhi, was also the start of the run. Numerous locals had come out to see the event kick-off (or perhaps do their own training and just happened to stop and stare at 18 white folk dressed oddly).
The pace was casual to keep the group together, many of whom were not serious runners, but felt the need to expand their minds and bodies on this run. After a few miles, we stopped and listened to the organizer, Jason, regale us with tales of the British occupation of India and the (unsuccessful) attempts in 1857 by the local people to oust the British. We ventured from historic gate to erected pillar and learned more than a lot of facts, dates, and stories of woe, battle, success, and defeat. There was often a poem or lament incorporated.
The run then went to the Red Fort and into the fabled area of Old Delhi. We passed many a sight and experienced more smells and sounds than the human body can reasonably process in a given moment. I had to stop for a while and stare at the body of a man, laying on the sidewalk. His eyes wide open, his tongue hanging out, I feared he was dead. His foot twitched, as in the neuromuscular spasm of a body recently deceased. After about 30 seconds, I saw a shallow rise and fall of the chest. He was alive, although I expected just barely and probably not for long without treatment, which was unlikely to occur. What brought him here? A product of the caste system? A life of malnourishment? Nights of drinking paint thinner or sniffing glue? Disease? One will never know, and it is the sad reality of so many in this place. I hustled back to the group saddened, but grateful for my circumstance.
We made the obligatory stop for Coke and water at an insanely crowded refreshment stand on the corner of a street in Old Delhi, bustling with people, cows, and dogs, as once every 10 seconds a scooter blasted through, horn blaring, and nearly killing one of us in the process. Holding noses, the smell of rancid meat, fecal matter, and cesspools of waterways were too much to handle at times. It was important to try and jump over any standing water (that ain't rain) while not getting run over. We jogged past a minivan, its insides removed to hold.....wait for it....about 30 goat heads. That's attractive.
Animals, people, traffic, pollution and knowledge. We had it all. What started with 18 dwindled to about 10 by the end of the 14 miles, people picking their bailout points by their own accord. A shower left us clean, and a brunch left us full. It was a great morning of running and spending time with people. The Bloody Mary's helped, I guess.
Let me explain. First, you have to take a guy who has lived in India a while and has become obsessed with running. He gets this pet project and grows it, and soon he turns it into an organized run, and by that he scrapes together a route, calls his friends and colleagues, and leads them throughout the city to parts they would never run on their own. Fast forward a few years to this morning.
4:40am - a rag-tag bunch of runners, some fresh off Cinco de Mayo, assemble at Gate 2 of AES. A desk is set up, and a short, bearded man, donning a neon yellow t-shirt obscured by a Camelbak, sits and unfurls a British flag, which he will later tie to his back. A pile of wristbands in the colors of the Indian flag are strewn about, and one by one, blurry-eyed runners came to collect their bibs. Each had the runner's name, but the number, 1857 was the same. This would prove important later.
5:10am - The bus was loaded and the brave few departed for the start. A long ride meandered first through familiar neighborhoods but soon ventured into parts unknown. The sites (and smells) of Delhi waking up were all the stimulants needed when they arrived at the line.
5:50am - Coronation Park, the site of King George V's declaration as Emperor of India and the shift of the capital from Calcutta to Delhi, was also the start of the run. Numerous locals had come out to see the event kick-off (or perhaps do their own training and just happened to stop and stare at 18 white folk dressed oddly).
 |
| Jason introduces the memorial |
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| The starting few |
The pace was casual to keep the group together, many of whom were not serious runners, but felt the need to expand their minds and bodies on this run. After a few miles, we stopped and listened to the organizer, Jason, regale us with tales of the British occupation of India and the (unsuccessful) attempts in 1857 by the local people to oust the British. We ventured from historic gate to erected pillar and learned more than a lot of facts, dates, and stories of woe, battle, success, and defeat. There was often a poem or lament incorporated.
The run then went to the Red Fort and into the fabled area of Old Delhi. We passed many a sight and experienced more smells and sounds than the human body can reasonably process in a given moment. I had to stop for a while and stare at the body of a man, laying on the sidewalk. His eyes wide open, his tongue hanging out, I feared he was dead. His foot twitched, as in the neuromuscular spasm of a body recently deceased. After about 30 seconds, I saw a shallow rise and fall of the chest. He was alive, although I expected just barely and probably not for long without treatment, which was unlikely to occur. What brought him here? A product of the caste system? A life of malnourishment? Nights of drinking paint thinner or sniffing glue? Disease? One will never know, and it is the sad reality of so many in this place. I hustled back to the group saddened, but grateful for my circumstance.
We made the obligatory stop for Coke and water at an insanely crowded refreshment stand on the corner of a street in Old Delhi, bustling with people, cows, and dogs, as once every 10 seconds a scooter blasted through, horn blaring, and nearly killing one of us in the process. Holding noses, the smell of rancid meat, fecal matter, and cesspools of waterways were too much to handle at times. It was important to try and jump over any standing water (that ain't rain) while not getting run over. We jogged past a minivan, its insides removed to hold.....wait for it....about 30 goat heads. That's attractive.
Animals, people, traffic, pollution and knowledge. We had it all. What started with 18 dwindled to about 10 by the end of the 14 miles, people picking their bailout points by their own accord. A shower left us clean, and a brunch left us full. It was a great morning of running and spending time with people. The Bloody Mary's helped, I guess.
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