A series of mistakes

Inertia. The only thing momentum is afraid of. It could stop things from moving at all or keep them moving without stopping. This is a series of events that happened when inertia got out of hand in my life.

I was down in the dumps. Things were messed up, mostly in my head. I hadn’t done anything useful. My last run was a disaster, hurt my knee rather the ITB. I was hobbling around for two weeks after that. No cycling because I couldn’t even get down a small flight of stairs without flinching. Senior citizen employee. Things at work were getting peppered with silly mistakes here and there. That could have been avoided by just a little application. It was hurting us. And I couldn’t help it, because I was running on empty. I couldn’t move out of my bed.

I went into shutdown. Officially. So the tank can refill, I hoped. First mistake, not taking an action. The action being making a move. I planned to go to Goa I’ve never visited. That part still remains true. I planned to go to Varkala. I planned to go to Coorg. I planned to go to Mysore. Getting affected being even the slightest touches cancelled out all the intent I could muster. Instead watching and reading about Trump kept the mind lulled. I stopped watching any specific TV series a year or so back. And movies, only in theatres. That was the rule, but I hadn’t the motive to move out of bed. Basically, I was imprisoned by my own devices.

Last minute action. I knew how the week was going to end. That I was confident about. I felt the urge to see the beach. The waves, the breeze and a sunrise. I caught a bus. I booked a BnB near the beach. The plan was to reach by 9 PM, have dinner with a friend, reach the room by 11 PM, have a good night, and see the sunrise in the morning. The knee was still bad, acting up on its own accord.

Here is how the plan played out. The bus rumbled and rolled on its way. Stopping wherever for however long. It covered 350kms in 10 hours. So you can imagine the shock waves that the bus generated as it sailed on the highway. 9PM reach, which was a 9 hour estimate was wrong. Got down somewhere close, or so Google Maps told me. Tried to get an Ola. Recently I got a call from Ola customer feedback. The person asked me which type of Ola did I like to book, micro, mini, share or prime. My reply?—?“Whoever agrees to pick me up”. That is the state of Ola cabs. I was standing on the road for an hour being rejected by 5 drivers. At the time where any human interaction drained me of energy I didn’t have, this was hell. So naturally I exploded at the next guy who said no, because I had Ola Money. And he gave me a piece of his mind, “You had a choice you made it. I too have a choice to make, and I am making it. You shouldn’t complain.” Made sense when I calmed down.

One good guy who couldn’t say no picked me up, dropped me at the ramen place I wanted to go. He was nice enough to let me know his thoughts on how to avoid the problems of Ola. For another day. My friend was waiting for me patiently and when I reached the Japanese man at the counter said they were closing in 15 minutes. I said we would eat real fast with a smile and he smiled back, so we were set. The mistake here, I let my friend order, the miso soup was separate from the noodles. Well at least, I made it before they closed.

Next the trip to BnB. It was about midnight. I had a location pin from Airbnb and a watchman’s number. We were lost. This time I took an Ola Prime, you know the one with the decent drivers. He was kind to patiently find the place without too much help. I got down where the house number matched with Airbnb. Now waiting at a locked gate for 15 minutes at midnight. I called a few times on the numbers I had on my phone. Someone picked up. He called someone else. Finally, a voice came from the other gate, there he was, the hero of the hour. He let me in. The room was beautiful and well kept. Cozy. Next mistake?—?didn’t carry my bottle, so no water to drink. He asked me if he could get me a bottle from a shop. I thanked him but declined it, it was too late. Besides I had a sip or two left somewhere. At some point of time, I got into the bed, and I slept. I was dead except for breathing.

I woke up at 9 AM. Sunrise munrise. That was some amazing sleep. Now the details of my weekend rushed in. I had to catch a bus at 8PM in Bangalore. Which meant, I had to leave city in an hour, estimating based on the ride the previous night. I went near the beach, didn’t see it, just smelled it and got into the next ride. Effectively I spent less than 12 hours, didn’t see the sunrise or the beach and spent most of the time trying to get an Ola cab.

As the bus moved, the driver removed his foot from the accelerator every time he saw a downhill. I was sitting on the front seat. I could see what he was doing, it was driving me nuts. Why would you do that. The road is empty. Not road, it’s a highway. With 8 lanes and all. I had invited a friend to travel and see the beauties of Hyderabad for the weekend and by some grace, I made it a few minutes before my next bus was scheduled to arrive.

Hyderabad. Cool under the trees, furnace outside. Got him settled at the bnb, albeit with a rat. I went home. Then I realized I had to collect “my” bib across the city. Got on a bus. Co-ordinated with my friend to meet at the bus stop and get on my bus. Yup, all went well except the bus didn’t stop at the bus “stop”! Got down half-way, walked half-way, met half-way. Now a series of share-autos. Four in all, from Jubilee to Hi-tech, Hi-tech to Hitex, Hitex to Gate. The sun was unrelenting. So much so, I forgot my knee’s call for attention.

The bibs were received, the air conditioning reduced the effects of the heat. Now for the ride back and onward to exploring what Hyderabad had to offer. We picked an Uber. I was tired of Ola, the expectations and the rejections. At that point, asking random girls out for a date had a higher percentage of working out. Mr.Uber came and picked us up. Next came a mistake?—?there are many routes to reach Paradise from Hitex. Like through Jubilee Hills, or Mehdipatnam or Kukatpally/Bowenpally. But nope, the map had chosen the scenic route filled with speed breakers, pot holes and in some places it felt we weren’t in Hyderabad anymore. The almight map had chosen the slowest possible route I had ever taken from Kondapur to Paradise.

After a quick lunch, we got rejected by a handful of autos. Nothing unusual, felt par for the week I was having. Another good guy auto, took a u-turn even, to take us to Charminar. That was probably the last good guy for the day. The Charminar was/is beautiful. There was/is so much contrast. This part of the city was/is untouched. Untouched by time or people. Except for the random “I love you, X?—?Y” scribbles, i.e. It was well worth the rejections. The Mecca Masjid in the evening is a place to sit and discuss worldly matters on which you are of no consequence and yet fills you up with the sense of fulfillment.

The next auto guy charged 200 Rs for a 7km ride. I didn’t flinch. The Birla Mandir it was. It was an arduous queue for dropping of the mobile phones. I have no clue why it makes sense to do that.

The next auto guy charged 90 Rs for 2km ride. I was his bakra for the day I suppose. That event jarred me so much that we got on a boat in Hussain Sagar. The boat to go to the Buddha statue. But all it did was go around the statue slowly, with a dance troupe trying to dance in front of us. Then I realized I had chosen the wrong boat to get on. Damn the auto guy I thought.

We gave up on the idea and planned to head back. The Times Cafe was chosen for dinner as it was convenient. As I entered, the concierge without even looking up, said we close hookahs by 10 PM. “Well OK, it is just 9:15 PM and I want food”. No food was served till 10 PM. Summed up the day pretty well. Well at least I had 10 slices of good pizza.

As the bill was being paid, a slight drizzle started out. I tried to hurry, but I wasn’t. It poured. I got into an auto. The auto walah and I started discussing the 90Rs/km auto ride. He made his point, “You can be as good as you want, but it’s not worth a thing if the other guy isn’t”. That’s the harsh line of thought reality had burnt into him. My point being that’s exactly why you need to do whatever you can even if you don’t want. At some point, it will change, like the water flowing over a rock, the rock will give in.

At that note, I went to sleep, knowing well that my knee is not doing great and India’s toughest city marathon beginning in a few hours. I didn’t think too much on it. To avoid the cab hassle, I found a way out. I chose Meru! The cab came 10 minutes before the pickup, albeit a bit costly. He dropped me off at the starting point.

Now the atmosphere took over my senses, the light fog, the after rain weather, the radiance of dawn. The awesomeness. There were doubts in the back of my head. Of the horrors of the last run. The 4 hours of dragging my right knee along to the finish. Hoping it didn’t happen again. Then it began, I set myself a target, 5 minutes shy of my previous best. I knew I was pushing it to exaggeration. But I ran. I ran more than I should have, snaking around the path. Especially on the numerous climbs, the flyovers. Just to keep my ITB stretched throughout the race.

During the race, the negativity crept in. The knee started hurting more than it actually was. The climbs seemed far steeper than they were. The sun hotter. Then something clicked, I stopped thinking, it didn’t matter. “I will finish”, and “it will be the best effort I can muster now”. I paced myself, grabbed drinks only when I absolutely needed to hydrate. I started enjoying the run again. I got knived by a volunteer cutting bananas, rather I shoved my hand the plate s/he was cutting into. I met some runners from my previous runs. A hello here, a “c’mon” there. Running along some people, telling people to not give up, being told not to give up. The best part was on the Gachibowli flyover where a lot of school children were standing with their hands out. The smiles, the cheering and the *clap* my hand made against theirs. That was worth all the pain. It felt like every hand I made contact with recharged me. I was sprinting through the last 2 kms. The “c’mon”s were paying off now, runners who were stopping, kept moving hearing those words. And the rush. No care in the world and a jump to finish line. “Woo!” Stopped my time. Read it out, 2:20. “Woohoo!” Exactly as planned, even though I doubted at every single mile. The sense of exhilaration was overpowering I couldn’t help smile despite the exhaustion. My right knee was nowhere to be heard of. There was harmony. There was a relaxed sense of contentment. My tank was filling up. And the rest is history. Well at least for now.

P.S: Cafe Bahar is The Biriyani to have in Hyderabad. Not Paradise, never. It even converts non-believers to believe in it’s power, trust me.

This post was initially featured at https://medium.com/@aravindbaskaran/a-series-of-mistakes-ec81445fe650#.f7ixwfc0r. Link above