Why the Mumbai Marathon is special to me

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My tryst with the Mumbai Marathon began in 2005, a few months after I first came to the City of Dreams. Since then I've done the half marathon four times and each of these runs have been special. As a sports journo, I've had the opportunity to meet world-class African runners, disabled Indian athletes and spunky octogenarians who've made the Mumbai Marathon their annual mission.

The thought of running 42.195 km in the sapping heat of Mumbai has been a, well, distant dream. But then this is the City of Dreams. I went the distance on Sunday and crossed the finish line in 5 hrs 45 minutes. World class? No. But good enough to get me a medal that had the words 'I finished' proudly inscribed.

But what is it that gets ordinary, irresolute people like me to attempt things that seem out of reach, if not impossible? Why do thousands of amateur runners flock to Mumbai every January to put every joint to test? I've scratched my head for hours on end, wondering what's special about this one event. It's not Anil Ambani. Not Gul Panag. Not Milind Soman. Not Rahul Bose. The answer lies in a very, very cliched cliche: 'The spirit of Mumbai'.

When your bones first begin to hurt, you have a Parsi woman on Marine Drive saying, "Run, Mumbai, run". When your lungs can't take it anymore, the lovely girls on Peddar Road offer you biscuits, water and loads of encouragement. When you're down and out at Worli, you have the slum kids waving their hands for a high-five. When the body is crying for help, a little child offers you juice and fruits. On your way back, the Gujju aunties on Marine Drive yell like their husbands did on Dalal Street many years ago!

And it's not just the citizens of Mumbai who make it special. Even the canines have that famed can-do-will-do spirit. My friends, for instance, had a stray accompany them from the Bandra-World Sea Link to the finish line, a good 12 km away.

Coming back to my run, I began disastrously. The legs started cramping before the first mile could end. At first, I was too embarrassed to stop. Later, I was too inspired to stop. As I went past the halfway mark, I realised I was way faster than I was during training. But there was one hitch: I hadn't run more than 21 km before! What pulled me through was that cliched cliche.

Before I end, I must acknowledge the wife and friends who turned up at different spots along the way. Also those in charge of the restrooms on Marine Drive. Thank you for all the free-pees during training! I'll clear the dues soon.