I started out writing about how some top athletes come back from career threatening injuries even better than they were, almost as if the injury helped them discover a higher potential in themselves which they never knew existed. That's a post for another day.
Goa is possibly the world's best destination, unless of course, you get conned by those bike rentals and end up with a wobbly Pulsar. The stability of the rented bike plays a critical role as you churn down hundreds of miles, trying to find a beach that turns out to be identical to the one you were staying in anyway. The roads are awesome though, so it works if you are one of those 'life is a journey' types. If not there's cheap beer at either side of the drive.
If you are a regular reader of this blog (yes - i mean you two co-authors), you are probably a lazy sort of person who would like to complete a half-marathon in a decent time, with very little training and that too of the mental/psychological/auto-suggestion type. You are cynical about high achievement ('look at those Kenyans going at thrice our pace - losers') and dismissive of very low achievement ('fat slobs taking 5 hours to complete half marathon - fail'). You probably picked up a niggle at one of these events (ok, that was just me) and this Goa River Marathon was the big comeback.
All eyes on me, I jogged gingerly to the start line. And beyond. And that was the secret, jogging gingerly.
To summarise - if you are running after recovering from a niggle, go slow.
No. Slower.
Dude, s-l-o-w. Don't you get it?
So I decided to block everything out and jogged at a constant speed. This is incredibly hard to do if you are competitive, because there are always the sprinter idiots who plan to sprint the first 10 km and then relax. They manage about 500 metres and then walk the rest usually. But it's worrisome to see people take off like that and you are stuck with the chaff of the running world within 2 minutes. Then you meet the Kenyans on their way back to the title at kilometer number 6 (which means they are on km number 15). Ignore.
I think I did some other things right - I ate a hearty breakfast of 8 biscuits, twice, during the run, along with downing electral and water at every opportunity (every 2 km). I changed over to Vibram shoes (how do we monetise this blog incidentally?) from a big-cushion sole. And got done in 2:38. At least the Kenyans hadn't left the venue yet, unlike the last time, when it felt like I was at a different event altogether. They were dancing to a live band at the finish line. Well, it's Goa after all.
Goa is possibly the world's best destination, unless of course, you get conned by those bike rentals and end up with a wobbly Pulsar. The stability of the rented bike plays a critical role as you churn down hundreds of miles, trying to find a beach that turns out to be identical to the one you were staying in anyway. The roads are awesome though, so it works if you are one of those 'life is a journey' types. If not there's cheap beer at either side of the drive.
If you are a regular reader of this blog (yes - i mean you two co-authors), you are probably a lazy sort of person who would like to complete a half-marathon in a decent time, with very little training and that too of the mental/psychological/auto-suggestion type. You are cynical about high achievement ('look at those Kenyans going at thrice our pace - losers') and dismissive of very low achievement ('fat slobs taking 5 hours to complete half marathon - fail'). You probably picked up a niggle at one of these events (ok, that was just me) and this Goa River Marathon was the big comeback.
All eyes on me, I jogged gingerly to the start line. And beyond. And that was the secret, jogging gingerly.
To summarise - if you are running after recovering from a niggle, go slow.
No. Slower.
Dude, s-l-o-w. Don't you get it?
So I decided to block everything out and jogged at a constant speed. This is incredibly hard to do if you are competitive, because there are always the sprinter idiots who plan to sprint the first 10 km and then relax. They manage about 500 metres and then walk the rest usually. But it's worrisome to see people take off like that and you are stuck with the chaff of the running world within 2 minutes. Then you meet the Kenyans on their way back to the title at kilometer number 6 (which means they are on km number 15). Ignore.
I think I did some other things right - I ate a hearty breakfast of 8 biscuits, twice, during the run, along with downing electral and water at every opportunity (every 2 km). I changed over to Vibram shoes (how do we monetise this blog incidentally?) from a big-cushion sole. And got done in 2:38. At least the Kenyans hadn't left the venue yet, unlike the last time, when it felt like I was at a different event altogether. They were dancing to a live band at the finish line. Well, it's Goa after all.
