Running Madness India

Day 1, Mammalapuram-Running on the beach in front of 19 lbs of explosive barking, snarling teeth, scabby skin and mange infested canine. The squatting man I pass yells and tosses sand towards the devil dog. Devil dog runs away yelping as if bashed by a glowing firebrand. OK, so I didn't need to scamper quite so far into the surf to escape that particular pooch...but with the sweat, the surf, sand, and shit to dodge down the beach I'm jumpy. The first run of India had me sweating and panting like I'd run a marathon in the Sahara, not 60 minutes at dawn on the beach in the "cool" morning. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger... right?

Day 2, Mammalapuram-Past the shore temple scrambling over rocks and beach between swells and I am free to run South from town on the "clean" beach. Lots of people walking and talking. Women in multi-colored saris. Men in white skirts (lungis) walk hand in hand and stare as I pass. One Indian man runs toward me, he warms up and completes beautiful round-about kicks and punches Karate Kid style on a dune above the beach. Next...a raven picks out the eyeball from a sea turtle washed up on thetide-line... a bit further another pair of Indian men come striding toward me shaking fingers at me and patting their heads. I stop and they pat their heads some more. The white skirts and coffee colored skin are striking. I try to figure out what they're saying to me.. the beach ahead is empty, a large dune a quarter mile away and nothing but scrub brush 50 yards from the beach. Though I can't tell why, they're sure I should go the other way. Maybe there are people praying at the beach ahead? Maybe... The run back to town is into the wind and cooler. The whole package an easier effort than day 1.

Day 3, Pondicherry-The first India town run starts late as M and I were up late swatting mosquitoes in the screen-less non-ac room. I'm on the road by 9:00 along with all the traffic Pondi has to offer. The streets are clogged with scooters, tuk-tuks, a few cars, and lots of pedestrians. Women in Saris, rail thin beggars, chai wallas, bicycle rickshaws going slow to find business, impatient honking cabs, honking bikes, cows, vegetable carts, kids, whew. Crossing the streets I repeat my mantra...look right then left then right. Usually there's also a lunge backward in there to save my life on a couple of close calls when I dodged right and the bike/scooter/rickshaw barreling down on me dodged left...yikes. After ten minutes the "French" flavor ofPondi gives way to smaller concrete houses with thatch roofing. No more motors on the street here, only an endless stream of pedestrians. More kids, more dogs, more cows. Vibrant colored mandalas made fresh each morning of colorful rice powder adorn the pavement in front of each house. The surf pounds the rocks behind the houses. Around another corner the road turns to red dirt wet from the surf. The houses are all thatch now. The only concrete is in half built (or half destroyed?) structures,pre-tsunami or post? Who knows, but no one's working on them for sure.

Around the next corner colorful open canoe style fishing boats block the route. Long tailed propellers stick back behind the stern attached to what look like aVW engine on board. I haven't seen a single one ply the water, they seem better at causing me detours. Heading away from the beach I pass acemetery ; identifiable by open land and a few concrete boxes and monuments without signs of life. Looks deserted, but there is an open grave....two boy standing in a one meter deep trench in the red dirt below the sand. Half a dozen men stare as I pass.

Day 12: Munaar, Kerala. Heading off to find M...we started a 12 K hike together, split up when I ran back to rent a Royal Enfield Motorcycle, and planned to meet up at the midway viewpoint . We haven't seen each other since. I've got the money and the room key, she's got the maps and my running clothes. That was about 6 hours ago. I shouldn't worry, we're in a mountain town with friendly locals, beautiful tea plantations, and perfect weather, but I still do. I leave the key and a note with the inn keeper, then head off jogging in my travel clothes. My plan is to run the opposite direction on the loop hike and run into M. The first 8k are along the busiest highway of the valley. Trucks,buses, tuk-tuks and motorcycles are constantly zooming by, honking of course. The road is dusty and I feel the 5000 ft elevation.

After clearing town the road wraps around the side of the valley...surreal green of the tea plants contrast beautifully with the gray black granite boulders scattered across the valley sides. I pick up the pace and stride out as the road enters a little decline.

BANG. something pops in my calf and I stumble. What? A smooth road, 40 minutes into the run, slightly down hill and the wheel falls off? It can't be. I'm not sure I'm excited about being over thirty!

I limp through the rest of the run, down, down down, to the waterfall, up, up, up through the tea plantation on the other side. As I crest the slope to the viewpoint I hunt for M. The Indian day trippers stare at me like I've got a carrot growing from my forehead. I am sweaty, dirty and foreign. "From where are you?" they wobbly ask. I'm not sure if they want a planet, country, or starting point from the run. No sign of M, so on down the hill I limp. At 90 minutes I make it back to the guesthouse where M greets me at the door. The reunion was sweet. Though we were both a bit worse for the wear it was nothing a bucket bath and somechana masala couldn't fix.

Day 14-20 The calf is healing slowly and keeping me off the streets. In Thrissur it almost a blessing. There is no jogger's scene. The crowds and traffic are inescapable. No country roads for miles. The park in the center of town is an expanse of sun-baked red dirt pocked with trash pits and no shade. Time to focus on volunteering and look forward to our return to the trails of the Western Ghats with refreshed legs.