The road through the forest stretches out seemingly into infinity. Each step takes you closer to the end and simultaneously further from home. 

Perhaps this is the beautiful contradiction of running; it's liberating and debilitating all at once. You run TOWARDS but you also run AWAY. 

From what? Fear? Regret? Perhaps also the fleeting transience of it all; a sense that a day will come, sooner than you think, when you finally run out of road? 

****

The sun streams through the tops of trees, each shaft creating a pool of light where it makes contact with the ground. At one point along the way, from a small makeshift hut in a clearing, there is always the smell of burning wood; and I'm instantly transported to another time and place: A very specific place from my childhood, where a grandmother busies herself around a wood burning stove. 

Amazing how just a smell can drag out specific scenes from long-forgotten vaults full of uncomplicated memories.

 ****

Perhaps it all starts as a search for a story. But sometimes the search itself becomes a story. Maybe it is always the greatest story of all; the quest for meaning. The greatest reward lies in the struggle to understand. 

**** 

Regardless of the route, the mind always encounters people, places and sounds it loves. It's no different for me; even though music streams through my headphones, the real soundtrack consists of other more familiar sounds: a son's innocent laughter, a wife's gentle encouragement, a mother's comforting voice. 

These are the sounds I live for, the ones I will always return to. Long after the sun sets for the final time and the stars are swallowed up by the sky. 

**** 

"What's the matter?", the voice asks. "I can't find a story", I say. "Ah, you've come to the right place. Every tree and blade of grass here has a story; it's just a matter of listening." 

The birds sing their evening songs as the sun drops like a stone. My body longs for my bed, and my heart longs for home. But even when the body sleeps; the mind stays awake and tells itself stories. 

***

"How about this one", the voice says, as we stop by a tree lying on it's side, its stump sticking out of the ground in the shape of a cross. It's as if the tree's last act before it died was to mark its own grave. 

The shadows lengthen as dusk approaches, and in the distance a couple of deer dance in the long grass. 

"Or maybe this one?", says the voice as we look at a flower with a dozen colours, peeking out of a rock. 

**** 

My feet keep pace with the beat of my heart. Or maybe it's other way around. Or maybe both my feet and my heart are both just in step with the gentle rhythm of the universe. Is this what it feels like to feel truly alive? 

Everything in sync. The natural order of things. 

There might be a simpler explanation for why I feel the way I feel. It's the predictability. The knowledge that despite all the choas and uncertainty of life on this beautiful, broken planet, all I need to do is take one step at a time and I can keep moving forward. One step at a time. 

**** 

I reach the end of my journey for now. It is time to head home. 

"I'll be back soon", I say. "I will bring my son and show him this tree, and those deer, and that flower. I'll remind him that marvels lurk in every nook and cranny. I'll teach him to never lose his sense of wonder; that look in his eyes when he points at a plane leaving trails in the sky and calls it a rocket." 

"Ok. I'll be right here, waiting", says the forest, softly.

#FirstMarathon Teaser

So yesterday was the 21st of June which as you all know is the longest day of the year. What you may not know is that it was also exactly four months to October 21st. What a nonsense bit of trivia, you must be thinking. But wait! 21st October is no ordinary day, it is the day of the Amsterdam Marathon. And this year, for the first time, lining up alongside hundreds of far fitter, well-prepared and generally more sensible people will be yours truly* 

Which is why I thought I would mark the longest day of the year by telling you about what is likely to be longest day of my life. 

I'd like to open by saying that training for this heroic / foolhardy mission began the day I was born, but of course this idea is so laughable that I cannot even comple… 
Basically I have 16 weeks. 
And Monday of the coming week will be Day 1 of the First-Time Finisher Plan that I have downloaded, printed, read first page of, started sweating, and then then set aside. 

But in between I have also done some solid online research, investigated a range of quality running shoes to replace my current pair, and acquired a shiny new activity tracker (more on this later). It of course remains to be seen what will be finished with this Finisher plan- the race or me? 

People say ‘if at first you don’t succeed, maybe sky-diving isn’t for you’ and they could quite easily replace sky-diving with ‘marathon running’ and it would still ring true. 

For now, however, my plan is to document the training process by doing one post a week for the 16 weeks, and then depending on the outcome I will either compile them into a Collected Series of ‘How to Boss your First Marathon’ or ‘How to Love Yourself Despite Abject Failure.’ I hope you will join me for the ride. 

*Note: ticket has not yet been purchased. But now that both readers of this blog know this is happening, surely I cannot back out. It’s a prestige issue.

Finding the pace

Exactly one week ago, most of my Sunday morning was spent running around Richmond for my first ever half-marathon. Why did I do this? Well, why not? After the twin 10k runs last year, 21k/13.1 miles seemed the next logical step (even though it was in fact hundreds of very painful steps). Besides, autumn is the perfect time of year for some otam (Sorry, silly Malayalam joke). 

The experience was actually rather enjoyable, and despite the morning-after being every bit as painful as I had expected, overall the signs were encouraging enough for me to entertain the hitherto ridiculous possibility of doing the full 42 km at some point in the not-too-distant future. 

One thing I did learn, and want to share, was the importance of pacing yourself. Since I hadn't done anywhere near a 21k run in training, I didn't really have a time-target. The only goals were to finish without stopping, and not keep my wife waiting too long at the finish line. Happily, I managed both, but not without the invaluable (and inadvertent) help of two gentlemen I came across along the way. 

After the first 2 or 3 k, the challenge was to try and keep a steady pace for the remainder of the run, while saving just enough in the tank for a little surge at the end. Because I wasn't really into the split-times or anything else remotely technical, I figured the best option was to find someone running a good pace and stick with them. The first few candidates I zeroed in on were either too fast or too slow (but mostly too fast) and I eventually ended up behind two runners running in tandem. 

My guess is that both these men were between 55 and 60, and each had a half-marathon finisher t-shirt on, so had done this at least once before. (One of the tees actually proclaimed '13.1 is my lucky number' which, personally, I thought was just showing off) Most importantly, they were going at what seemed like a steady, reasonable pace, and so I settled in just behind them and tagged along for the next 12-13 k. 

With about 5k to go, I thought I would try and pull ahead because, I naively thought, surely I could do better than a couple of 60 year olds. Pfft. Let this be a warning to you all: Pride comes before a Wall. In running terms, the Wall is the point at which near-total depletion of glycogen stores in the liver and muscles occurs, causing sudden fatigue and loss of energy. (I call it the Wailing Wall) 

I promptly slowed up, repositioned myself just behind them for the remainder of the run, and all went well until the last mile, when the two of them basically took off with the quiet confidence of runners who had been there, done this, and were wearing the t-shirts. 

So for the last mile, it fell to me to drag myself towards the finish, which I did, albeit in more jellyfish fashion than human. (13.1 was definitely not my lucky number, but then neither was 12, 11, 10, 9...) 

Still, I guess I made it in one piece and for this some thanks are in order. So- even though you don't have a clue who I am, and will most likely never read this, thank you, kind sirs. I couldn't have done it without you. I guess in a half-marathon, just as in life, who you're running with is just as important as what you're running for. 

Onwards/

Flight of the Concorde

Over the past few weeks, with the days gradually getting colder and shorter, it has been proving more difficult than usual to haul my creaking body outdoors to keep up with my running. Despite constant reminders of the ultimate goal, the prospect of stepping out first thing on a wet morning has been enough to test even my strongest resolve. 

It was while I was in the midst of this autumnal languor, sliding dangerously down the slope towards complete decrepitude, that I first saw it. I had been always been aware of its presence, and even caught fleeting glimpses of it from out of the car window while driving to the airport, but I had never really seen it, or stopped for long enough to fully take it in. So, when I finally saw it (or is it her?) properly the other day, I was filled with a sense of awe and admiration. There it was, seemingly glowing in what was left of the late afternoon sun- a Concorde. 

Most people know the story of Concorde; the world's first aircraft to transport passengers at supersonic speeds. Only 20 of these planes were manufactured, and for 27 years they flew proudly across the skies before being retired from service in 2003. My own memories of Concorde stretch back to when I was about three years old, when I mainly scurried into the house in a somewhat panic-stricken fashion every time one of these magnificent machines flew by on its way to touch-down in Heathrow. The classic, unmistakeable curves and the full-blooded roar of the engines are still lodged somewhere in the cracks and crevices of the mind. 

As I looked at it now, silent but still just as majestic, I was reminded of what is possible when ambition and hard work intersect. This was a plane that many thought would never get off the ground, yet today it stands proud as testament to human endeavour; a reminder that greatness is always within reach if you strive hard enough to get there. 

Most other days, I might have just cast an admiring glance at it and kept going; but that day, for the first time it became a symbol of something much bigger. With winter just around the corner, I'll take all the inspiration I can get.

Since this is one of the last posts I will be putting up before both my second fund-raising run and my birthday, I thought I would take the opportunity to get this important message in. 

If by any chance you were going to get me a gift this year (even those of you planning to buy me hand cream- you know who you are), can I suggest that you direct a cash equivalent here instead: http://www.justgiving.com/user/47235534 
Anything at all will be very much appreciated and will make my 21st birthday even more special than usual. 

Of course, if you have already donated, there is no compulsion to donate again and you will still be invited to my happy birthday party on the 14th when we can all get together and travel back to the year 1994 when I last had one. What I will say is that it will be lots of fun; I was way cute back then. 

In other news, I am fairly certain my calf muscles are going to gather up some of the other nearby muscles and give me another surprise gift of excruciating post-run pain for my birthday (they think this is funny for some reason) But! little do they know that this time I will be better prepared and fully intend to foil their evil little plans, with a little help from my new friend Deep Heat. (You may meet him at the party, he smells a bit funny but has a great personality) 

Like George Bush Jr once said and I quote: There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on, umm..shame on you. Fool me, umm.. you can't fool me again. 

2 days until raceday! Wish me luck. Thanking you and good night.

Greetings, people. For the benefit of all you fellow runners out there, I thought I'd take a few minutes out of my World Cup-watching schedule to share some things I learned from my first 10k run last month. If you are signed up to do a run in the next few months, I hope you will take a few minutes out of your World Cup-watching schedule to read them. 

While these aren't intended to be 'pro tips', and are therefore unlikely to have any significant impact on your overall performance, the hope is that they will help make your first run a more enjoyable experience. I am also hoping that by putting these in writing a month before my next run, I will be more likely to bear them in mind myself. If you are someone who has never tried running before, maybe this will even encourage you to give it a try. 

For more practical advice, you are strongly urged to read articles and blogs by people who actually know what they are talking about. Also, always consult your race pack. 

So, here they are, in no particular order: 

You may struggle to get to sleep the night before your first run, but force yourself to do so. All the preparation that's gone beforehand will come to nothing if you're not well rested. 

At the start line, with just a few minutes to go before the run begins, most people find themselves being swept up by a strange sense of euphoria and sudden feelings of meaning and purpose. As a result, many are happy to have a chat or at least wish you good luck for the challenge you are about to collectively undertake. Some, however, will be staring very intently either at their shoes or far into the distance. These people are either trying to get themselves into their 'zone' by mapping out every inch of the track as part of their latest assault on their Personal Best, or they are wondering what they did with their house keys. Either way, it's best not to talk to them. 

Along the route, you may notice paramedic/ first-aid staff with their arms outstretched and with some sort of white substance on their palm. You may think it is some sort of refreshing gel, but it is in fact paraffin to prevent chafing. If you would like to amuse yourself buy attempting to grab some of this while running past, by all means do so. Be aware, though, that rubbing this all over your arms and body will make you resemble an otter in the middle of an oil slick. On the plus side, you may not need to use any sort of cream on your body for weeks after the race. Seriously, you can moisturise rhinoceroses with that stuff. 

Do not, under any circumstances, give in to the temptation to spit while running. 

Smile and wave at, or at the very least acknowledge with a nod of the head, people who cheer specifically for you. The only time you are exempt from doing this if you are in the leading pack of runners and on track for a new world record, and even then it's a little bit rude. 

When you start to show the first visible signs of fatigue (involuntarily clutching at your sides, shoulders dropping, knees buckling) fellow runners may come up from behind and yell something motivational at you. This is normal. Try not to panic. 

Constantly try to envision the finish line as being just 20-30 metres away. This way, the crushing disappointment you feel when you realise that it is not in fact 20-30 metres away will hopefully be countered by the fact that you are now 20-30 metres closer to the actual finish. Repeat this throughout the run. Your brain will hate you for mercilessly messing with it, but your body will be grateful in the end. 

Pouring water down your head is good. Drinking some of it before pouring it down your head is even better. 

Finally, for the last tip (this may be the most obvious, but might be the most important): Whether you are running for charity or just for fun, enjoy every step of the run. It is likely that while you are running, all manner of thoughts will waft in and out of your mind. Reflect on them; allow the miracle of your existence to wash over you like the cool breeze blowing across your face. Relish the feeling of euphoria when you catch your first glimpse of the finish line, bearing in mind that while the line signals the end of the race, it is also the point at which real life resumes. That is where you must resolve to re-focus your energy, so that in the final reckoning you can say, like the Apostle Paul, 'I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.' 

That, regardless of the size of your finisher's medal, is the greatest prize of all.

Godspeed.

10 (yikes!) days to go...

Why, hello there. It's been a while, hasn't it? I'd like to explain the silence by saying I've been training like a beast, completely cut off from all technology and other distractions of modern life, all in preparation for this most physically demanding challenge of my adult life. But, of course this would be mostly (ok, fine, completely) untrue. 

In reality, I have been so busy recovering from a flu whilst simultaneously tweeting about the Indian elections that I haven't even noticed that we are already half-way through May. (yikes!)  And so, for a quick update: 

The offical London 10k race-pack has now arrived in the post, just as my six-pack has disappeared. (All that post-Lent meat has not helped; it swiftly took up residence around my waist- seemingly on a long-term contract.) 

Just when I thought things couldn't worse, the situation took an ominous turn when I came across this line in aforementioned race-pack: 

'Please remember that is very foolish to run if you have had any sort of virus or fever in the past four weeks...' 

So now I must weigh up my desire to complete this epic run against my equally strong desire to keep living. (I realise this is slightly dramatic on my part- but this side of me should come as no surprise to anyone who has read more than one post on this blog) 

Having taken the wise counsel of my family on board, we have now decided that I will do a trial run in the next day or two, and if I have not started frothing at the mouth after a few minutes, I will gradually build it up towards 10k until raceday- 25th May. (yikes!) 

In the meantime, if you haven't yet donated to one of the two very worthy causes I will be representing, please would you take a few minutes to do so now. Come on now, we're talking life-and-death stuff here. And not just my own. Link to donate is here.

Thank you so much if you already have donated. See you all on the other side.

Life lessons from an Ostrich

I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I'm guessing most people would agree that the ostrich isn't the best looking creature around. They are the planet's largest birds, but do not fly. Graceful and languid are not words you would normally associate with them. They also have three stomachs (pretty weird) and their brains are supposedly the same size as their eye-ball, which means if there was a MENSA club in the animal kingdom, there's not much chance of too many ostriches being registered members. 

For all these reasons, it would be understandable if all an ostrich did was mope around, lay a gigantic egg or two, and generally feel sorry for itself.  

But! Organise a 100 mts in the outback, and our ostrich friend will most likely decimate the competition. On its day, not only can it outrun pretty much every other land animal apart from the cheetah, it is also the fastest creature on two legs. (Wikipedia says this, so it must be true).

Recently, when languidly flicking through channels, I chanced upon a nature programme. Watching the ostrich at full tilt was a sight to behold. In fact, you could almost see a smile on its face as it blazed across the field, a bit like the Road Runner in the cartoons I remember watching as a kid. 

Here was this awkward, not very good-looking, small-brained bird, doing the thing it loved, and loving it. It was so inspiring that I nearly went out for a run that very instant. (I didn't, because I still had some banana chips to finish).

The point is, if you have found your passion, the thing you do best, then do it more and do it even better. If you haven't found it yet, don't do that other thing ostriches do and keep your head buried in the sand. Seek it out, that thing you love, and your life will never be the same. 

The world is waiting; what are you waiting for?

First day of training

In other news, training for Fundraising2014 (more details here) officially kicked off this morning. Let’s be clear, if I was doing this ten years ago, at the peak of my physical prowess, and I was going to tweet about the experience, I would have said something like #TrainIntheRain or #BornToRun or maybe even #PainIsYourFriend. 

Today, however, if was inclined to tweet, it would just be #%*!* and even that would only be half the word because I would have passed out while I was still typing. 

Many people, and I suppose writers are some of the main culprits, often live in a parallel universe consisting of romanticised versions of the real thing. Sometimes they do this as a defence, and sometimes just for their own amusement. Either way, the question is not whether reality will eventually bite, but where it will bite, and how much it will hurt. 

And so late last evening, I pictured myself waking up this morning with the first light, gliding through the park with a gentle breeze at my back, and the sound of birdsong in my ears. The fact of the matter was there was no sun, no breeze and, after roughly ten minutes, I could not figure out whether it was mucus or saliva that had covered half of my face. 

So, after returning home (and lying down for a few hours until my breathing returned to normal) I have got straight down to work. Firstly, I have discarded the romantic version of the race itself- one in which I pictured myself in an epic one-on-one battle with reigning Olympic champion Mo Farah for first place, eventually pipping him by mere millimetres with a stunning lunge for the finish line at the last possible second. 

Next, I have come up with a running plan. As of today, there are exactly 13 weeks until the first run so this is what I have resolved to do: 
Weeks 1-5     = 2 runs a week 
Weeks 5-10   = 3 runs a week 
Weeks 10-13 = 4 runs a week 

This will give me a total of (I think) 35 runs before raceday which sounds about right. I figure if the running distance remains the same but I increase the frequency, it should have the same effect as increasing the distance because otherwise I would have to measure my distances with some new-fangled piece of technology which I would prefer to do without. 

Of course, it is possible that some proper runner has just stumbled on this blog and is rolling on the floor laughing at my hopelessly inadequate running plan, before composing himself and posting this link on some running forum so that everyone can have a good laugh before climbing Everest on their lunch breaks, but hey-ho. I will just have to do what I can. 

And yes, this plan will only take me as far as the first run which is just half the job done. The second run is almost exactly 7 weeks after the first, so unless this particular regime spectacularly backfires for May, I will follow the same pattern for July. Then, and only then, will I rest. That's all for now, folks. Stay posted. 

#PleaseDonate.

Fundraising 2014 kicks off today!

Dear friends, 

Many of you gave so generously to my 2013 'Movember' fundraiser (which you can read more about here), in aid of prostate cancer. Along with the many kind donations, it was (somewhat justifiably) pointed out to me that growing a moustache for a month, despite the many challenges it presented to me personally, did not require much physical effort on my part. 

So, for 2014, I thought I would change this by attempting to do two 10 km runs, in aid of two different charities. While not a massive distance per se, I am well aware there will be many obstacles along the way, chief among them being my chronic lack of both motivation and fitness. Even so, I am determined to see these through- both for the sake of the charities involved, and the two remarkable women who have inspired me throughout my life. 

As some of you may know, my paternal grandmother (86 years old) recently underwent treatment for cancer and is now recuperating. So my first run on 25th May will be in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support, a charity that does a lot of important work improving lives of cancer patients in the UK. 
You can find out more about them and make a donation at this link: http://www.justgiving.com/ajayjacob

My maternal grandmother (96 years old and currently in poor health) has suffered from glaucoma and it has been passed on to my mother who will need to use eye-drops for the rest of her life. My second run on 13th July will be in aid of the International Glaucoma Association (IGA), a charity that provides crucial support for patients as well as funding research into a cure. 
You can find out more about them and make a donation at this link: http://www.justgiving.com/ajayjacob1

Even though the runs are still a few months away, I hope you will take a few moments to: 
1) Make a donation to one or both of these great causes. Even a small amount will make a huge difference. 
2) Forward this to any friends and colleagues who might consider donating. 

Thank you so much for doing either one or both of the above. You can follow my progress on either the individual JustGiving links above or on this blog here; I will post updates as often as I can. 

Very many thanks again for your support.