Race goal achieved – but it’s not what you think!

As I write, I am winding down from the Vedanta Delhi Half Marathon this morning.

Surprisingly, I’m not as dog tired as I expected to be, after waking up at 3am for a 5am start, so that’s nice.

Nor am I aching as much as I have been for the past 2 weeks, when niggles and more niggles and yet more niggles had me trotting to the physio.

Guess the race adrenalin worked its magic.

Today’s race was well organised, and I think the new concept of runners setting off in waves, 6 minutes apart, was definitely a good one. Well, it was a new concept for me, at least. Meant the road wasn’t as jam-packed as it can sometimes be.

I was driven to the race, but saw free rickshaws at the Jor Bagh metro station, to ferry runners to the venue, which is a great idea.

What is definitely needed is a similar system to deliver runners back to wherever their cars are, because after running 21.197km, the extra 2/3km I had to do today, to find the driver in the noisy, honking mêlée, were not exactly what I needed.

Otherwise, it all went swimmingly.

However, I do have one criticism and one criticism only and I’m not sure what the race organisers can do about it, and it is the state of the porta-loos on the route.

Not enough.

Not enough for women.

AND CAN MEN DAMN WELL STOP USING THE LADIES’ LOOS?!!!

What the actual hell.

You have twice as many loos as us, many of you pee on the roadside in any case – least said the better – and yet you STILL feel entitled enough to use our loos.

I only used the porta-potties once – near the Lodhi Gardens, so very soon after the start of the race, and both the womens’ were being used by men, and mine – after I’d shouted at the couldn’t-have-given-a-damn bloke who sauntered out – mine was indescribably filthy. 20 minutes into a race and virtually unusable.

Given that it is NOT the organisers’ job to teach men how to behave, might I suggest putting a woman on guard duty at each toilet station, to protect our interests?

Rant over, so let’s move on to happier topics.

I ran my slowest HM ever (other than Ladakh, which is at altitude) so I can’t honestly say that I covered myself in glory on this, the 10th anniversary of my first Delhi Half Marathon, but but but – I had a blast and loved EVERY second of it.

Last year I ran a wee bit faster but was pole-axed with cramps during and especially after the run, actually howling out loud with pain – here’s the link – and since I’ve had major foot and ankle niggles these past few weeks and suffer from cramps, I was seriously panicking about today.

But voilà!

No cramps!

Yet, weirdly, I ran about a minute slower – so how does that work?

Actually, I know exactly how it works – I didn’t need the loo last year, whereas today I must’ve wasted a precious 3/4 minutes waiting for those damned men to come out of our loos… (Yes, you’re right, that’s quite enough about the loos for today!)

I went into today with my A goal not being a specific time (I’m too out of shape to have done that) but – as I said here in my previous blog post – to finish smiling and not in pain.

And I did.

There have been years when I felt like throwing up in those final metres – sorry for all the icky details today – but nothing like that this morning. I think I was smiling as I crossed the finish line (the official photos will tell) but I can honestly say, hand on heart, that I enjoyed the whole race.

I promptly burst into tears as I finished, but that’s par for the course. Didn’t have time to sob too much because a man I didn’t know insisted on having photos taken with me, telling me he’d struggled to keep up with me. Sweet fella!

My most special moment of the race – apart from fan-girling as the AMAZING Eilish McColgan ran past me at light speed and reacted to my shouted “GO GO GO!!” with a thumbs up – so, yes, my most special moment was when I was running up Kartavya Path on the return.

The sun was still red, and hanging low over India Gate.

Bon Jovi’s “It’s my life” was playing on my HM playlist.

And I started happy weeping, thinking about how I’m 71. How I’ve recovered from breast cancer (touch wood). And that I can run.

The tears started at:

“It’s my life
It’s now or never
I ain’t gonna live forever
I just want to live while I’m alive”

DAMN STRAIGHT I want to live while I’m alive, and if it means getting up at 3am to run through the streets of Delhi, surrounded by nice people who fist-bumped me and cheered and chivvied me along – well, yes, it is indeed my life.

The tears didn’t last long.

I simply had an overwhelming feeling of profound gratitude for being able to run, albeit slowly, and for having defeated cancer (touch wood again).

Having indulged my soppy side, I trotted happily on.

PS: I’ve just found out – via a message from a kind running acquaintance – that I got silver in my age category.

This is one of the very few advantages of being an old lady, by the way.

My A Goal achieved and how!