(Read Part 1 here: My experience: Part 1 )
My feet were throbbing with tiredness as well as the blisters. We went past the Hanging Gardens and turned turned right towards Babulnath Temple. Another 200 mts and I would be on Marine Drive; but the blisters on both feet were pinching me inside the shoes.
You realise the vastness of the drive and it's circularity. When you enter this road, suddenly, you are in the sun, thus far protected by tall buildings. By the time you cross Churney Road station, the sun is directly hitting you in the eye and then you are in the shade again. A little before the New Yorker and Ideal Cafe junction, a mist-tent was set up. This is a pretty neat thing, wherein, even as you run you can go through a tunnel of slow spray of a mist, bringing you instant relief albeit temporary.
3 more km to go! These are the longest miles of the half marathon. At this time, you are mustering every ounce of will to move on. The hamstrings are beginning to talk, the feet are crying for respite, the random sweat bead getting into the eye burns like acid and your head is throbbing. But the crowds takeover. Several cheering squads on all sides representing Radio Stations, The Navy, some charities etc, I pass by even as I look to my right ino the sky to spot a low flying helicopter, probably, carrying media crew.
Beyond the Inter-Continental Marine hotel, the density of spectators build up. And by the time you turn at Pizza By The Bay (erstwhile Jazz By The Bay) crowds takeover. By this time the Dream Runners are flooding the other side of the road, followed by charities and sponsors' volunteers. We hear the loud siren like that of a police van, but really a media bus leading some of the full marathoners. The winners must be already past the finish line, I calculate.
By this time, the milestone markers are cleverly designed to say the distance that is remaining to be covered, rather than the insofar markers which displayed the distance covered. This does play big on the mind, favourably so. You are trying to muster up the last few bars of energy left in you and give it the final push. I hear someone complain there are no water stations in the last two KMs. Fair enough, my mind was elsewhere but the point is valid.
Entering the last turn, the last 600 meters toward Azad Maidan, you eyes are set on the distant clock over the finish line. OK, I can see a digital dance happening on the display. It's definitely broken. I break into a sprint, just so that I can feel I ran with gusto across the finish line. I can feel myself making a big effort, but the output was not as big as expected. Clearly, the energy is waning.
I slow down as I cross the finish line and feel a slight tug in my left hamstring. About time I started slow stretches, I think. My second Half Marathon has just come to an end.
