I cannot run to save my skin. Blame it on my physique or on the fact that I have had no reason to run, ever. Few fast paced steps will leave me panting and I really cannot imagine how I managed to play hockey in school. Ah well, I was the goal keeper, but still. I don't think I ever participated in the school sports day ever. I preferred to be in the school band. I prefer a casual stroll any day, but what do you do when you have no choice but to run?
While in college, one of the most anticipated event every year is always the Heber-Martin Marathon. For the uninitiated, Heber = men's hall and Martin = women's hall. How much fun would it be to run along with the women and how terrible would it be if any man finished after any of the women. As always, only freshers take part in the race. The whole distance covered around the campus might be close to 1.5km. Now the women don't start the race with us. They wait in front of their hall, which is 500 metres away from the finish line, and they join in once the boys have crossed their hall. From that point, it is a race to the finish and every mans dignity lies in balance. My turn to run as a fresher came in 1997.
We were woken up early that morning by the seniors and were made to line up. Surprisingly, most of us were well dressed in our best t-shirts and shorts and really clean shoes, though it was just a race. We were briefed on the route and rules to be followed. We were warned of the terrible consequences that awaited us if any woman managed to finish ahead of any of us. "YES SIR", was our pumped up reply. "On your marks, set, GO". And we were off. Oh well, at least most of them.
The first few steps were important and I gave it all I had. After a few meters, the route turns left, away from the prying eyes of the mighty seniors. The moment they were out of sight, I stopped running. As far as I was concerned, my race was over. I thought that some of the chubbier and unhealthy ones might stop running, but I was wrong. The extent that some people will go to, to impress women. In a few seconds, the rest of the pack disappeared from my view. All except one. It was a dopehead, who was probably annoyed that he was awakened from his trance, and was probably still in his trance like state to even be bothered about the race.
With no one else in sight, the two of us decided to take a stroll. He told me that he knew a hidden path, through the forest that would bisect all twists and turns and take me directly to the turning near the finish line. Since we were inside the forest and covered by the thick greens, no one would spot us. Our plan was to wait near the finish line, hidden safely in the bushes and to wait for the runners to arrive. We would jump in and join the crowd and finish the race like everyone else. We ditched the main path and went into the forest. He led me through the dimly lit path. Well, it was hardly a path. We were just finding our way through the mess. Since we had a lot of time, we casually stopped along the way and admired a few flowers and plants. He even told me that it was a good place to grow some pot. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had a small harvest somewhere there.
We reached the main path, where we are supposed to hide and jump in with the rest of them. We crouched down and waited. And waited, and waited. Where were these people? After many agonizing minutes, we figured that something was not right. We came out of hiding and cautiously made our way towards our hall. To our horror, the prize distribution ceremony was going on. The race had been over eons ago and now we are in solid trouble. The pot head was least bit bothered. This is where it helps to be a little crooked.
Now it was my turn to lead him. We quietly took the road that leads to the back of the hall. We slipped in through the kitchen and on our way to the front, we stopped by at the bathroom and I took and mug of water from the tank and poured it over my head. I made sure that enough of it fell on my t-shirt to give it the sweaty look. Oh yes, now we really looked like we had been running overnight. We walked towards the entrance where the winners were being announced. The boys were busy looking at the women, and we quietly slipped in with the other boys in sweaty t-shirts, like we always belonged there.
After the women left, the seniors called three freshers who unfortunately finished behind the women. They were given a sound thrashing and made to jump into the piss pond as punishment. Well, that's whats happens when you try to do stuff to impress women. You end up floating in a pond full of piss. As for me, well, I won no race and I impressed no woman. Forget impress, I never even saw one, but I felt that I had won. I couldn't help but laugh when one mighty senior came up to me later and said, "Good job. Well run."
While in college, one of the most anticipated event every year is always the Heber-Martin Marathon. For the uninitiated, Heber = men's hall and Martin = women's hall. How much fun would it be to run along with the women and how terrible would it be if any man finished after any of the women. As always, only freshers take part in the race. The whole distance covered around the campus might be close to 1.5km. Now the women don't start the race with us. They wait in front of their hall, which is 500 metres away from the finish line, and they join in once the boys have crossed their hall. From that point, it is a race to the finish and every mans dignity lies in balance. My turn to run as a fresher came in 1997.
We were woken up early that morning by the seniors and were made to line up. Surprisingly, most of us were well dressed in our best t-shirts and shorts and really clean shoes, though it was just a race. We were briefed on the route and rules to be followed. We were warned of the terrible consequences that awaited us if any woman managed to finish ahead of any of us. "YES SIR", was our pumped up reply. "On your marks, set, GO". And we were off. Oh well, at least most of them.
The first few steps were important and I gave it all I had. After a few meters, the route turns left, away from the prying eyes of the mighty seniors. The moment they were out of sight, I stopped running. As far as I was concerned, my race was over. I thought that some of the chubbier and unhealthy ones might stop running, but I was wrong. The extent that some people will go to, to impress women. In a few seconds, the rest of the pack disappeared from my view. All except one. It was a dopehead, who was probably annoyed that he was awakened from his trance, and was probably still in his trance like state to even be bothered about the race.
With no one else in sight, the two of us decided to take a stroll. He told me that he knew a hidden path, through the forest that would bisect all twists and turns and take me directly to the turning near the finish line. Since we were inside the forest and covered by the thick greens, no one would spot us. Our plan was to wait near the finish line, hidden safely in the bushes and to wait for the runners to arrive. We would jump in and join the crowd and finish the race like everyone else. We ditched the main path and went into the forest. He led me through the dimly lit path. Well, it was hardly a path. We were just finding our way through the mess. Since we had a lot of time, we casually stopped along the way and admired a few flowers and plants. He even told me that it was a good place to grow some pot. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had a small harvest somewhere there.
We reached the main path, where we are supposed to hide and jump in with the rest of them. We crouched down and waited. And waited, and waited. Where were these people? After many agonizing minutes, we figured that something was not right. We came out of hiding and cautiously made our way towards our hall. To our horror, the prize distribution ceremony was going on. The race had been over eons ago and now we are in solid trouble. The pot head was least bit bothered. This is where it helps to be a little crooked.
Now it was my turn to lead him. We quietly took the road that leads to the back of the hall. We slipped in through the kitchen and on our way to the front, we stopped by at the bathroom and I took and mug of water from the tank and poured it over my head. I made sure that enough of it fell on my t-shirt to give it the sweaty look. Oh yes, now we really looked like we had been running overnight. We walked towards the entrance where the winners were being announced. The boys were busy looking at the women, and we quietly slipped in with the other boys in sweaty t-shirts, like we always belonged there.
After the women left, the seniors called three freshers who unfortunately finished behind the women. They were given a sound thrashing and made to jump into the piss pond as punishment. Well, that's whats happens when you try to do stuff to impress women. You end up floating in a pond full of piss. As for me, well, I won no race and I impressed no woman. Forget impress, I never even saw one, but I felt that I had won. I couldn't help but laugh when one mighty senior came up to me later and said, "Good job. Well run."
Beautiful! Brought back memories.
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