The Prettiest Marathon

That’s the tagline they use for the Sohra Cherrapunji Run in Meghalaya, the prettiest marathon. And that’s what got me excited. After covering the beautiful and virgin stretches of Mussoorie and Dehradun in the respective Half Marathons, one would wonder, can it get more beautiful than this? May be it can. After all, abode of the clouds would surely be worth a visit. And it was Monsoon season for god’s sake.

So there we were, enroute Shillong from Guwahati. And my my, what a beautiful drive that is. The greenery of Assam and the undulating terrain of Meghalaya come together to create a picturesque landscape. And with that you see subtle hints of culture change. Most of the outlets and motels run by women. They stand beside them looking o’so beautiful in their traditional dresses. Most of them selling the local pineapples which would surely be the sweetest one you had ever tasted.

As you move further up, the weather gets even better. You feel as if the God of Rain has descended upon us and the clouds are loitering around the place embracing the roads and the houses. The starting point for the half marathon was mid-way between Shillong and Sohra but since my friend Nipon who happens to be SDM, Cherrapunji was also participating, I decided to go all the way to Sohra for the night halt. The road from Shillong to Sohra is surely the prettiest drive you will ever experience and especially in this monsoon. The road goes through these ultra green hillocks with rains and fog playing hide and seek. The way is full of numerous waterfalls of all shapes and sizes. But as fate would have it, we were stuck in Shillong itself for several hours as there was some accident ahead on the way to Sohra.

It was dark already. It was raining like hell. And we came to know that there is thick fog on the way to Sohra. The driver seemed a bit hesitant. But then we moved on anyway. Slowly and cautiously. The rains were so strong that the visibility was not more than 10 m. As we moved, little temporary waterfalls emerged alongside the road. There was only one sound we could hear then. The sound of the downpour.  Through that 42 Km stretch we crawled at the constant speed of 15 Kmph. The professional marathoners would have beaten our car had they started alongside us.

By far, that was the scariest drive ever. Of course, if I may have the liberty of calling it a drive in the first place. I do not remember experiencing the fear of “rains” ever in my lifetime. We always loved them, admired them and even wanted them to last longer. But not fear, this was a novel emotion when it came to rains. I wanted the rain to stop. I wanted to listen to that silence once again. I wanted to smell that after-rain fragrance coming from the moist terrain. But as I am not the God of Rain, I just plugged in my earphones and listened to “The Rains of Castamere”. And it never ever before sounded so surreal.

When we reached the Circuit House at Sohra, it was still raining. I told Nipon that it has been raining cats and dogs all the way along. He smiled and corrected me, “Yes, this is quite a drizzle”. After a wonderful dinner, we tried to get some sleep before the run. But the sound of the rains was getting even more intense. The circuit house was from the British times and even had a fireplace in most of the rooms. Sounds so fancy no, but with that comes a concern that would this antique peace survive in that voracious windy rains of Cherrapunji. Well, it has survived, for centuries, and may be it will last another night.

When I woke up at 0400 hrs, it was still raining. No signs of weakness, still going strong. How the hell are we going to run 21 Kms in such rains. Or maybe we won’t have to, perhaps we would be swimming instead.  Not just to complete the run but to save our lives. At 0500 hours we left circuit house to reach the starting point which was this beautiful little bridge mid-way between Sohra and Shillong. The fog was still there, perhaps a little less dense. I was surprised to see the numbers participating in the half marathon.  Madness contagion, was it?

There was no big tent to hold that many numbers but nobody really cared now. Everyone started warming up in that rain, if at all you can call it a warm up. But the rising energy levels, the euphoria and the excitement got the better of us. It was run time finally. Who cares about the damn rains, who cares about the damn fog, who cares about the cold winds. Actually I did care a little though. Anyway, continuing the tempo, there is a 21 km beautiful road ahead calling for us, and we are gonna conquer it. Get, set, and go.

Initially all of us were wearing that pretentious piece of raincoat they had provided but we all knew it would not last long. The rains were so strong that soon water reached every possible place it could reach and then there was no point of that polythene wrapped around you. And I took it off embracing the rains for the first time. And it felt so so good. The fear was gone. I wanted more of it. I wanted it to last. The fog had started to diminish gradually but the rains persisted. At some points, where the wind was strong, they almost felt like water cannon shots. As if we were some kind of mob. Now we could see the green hillocks more clearly. The little lush green grasslands that surrounded the road on either side. The small lakes proudly showcasing the rain waters. Scotland of the east they had said, god, they are right!

Yes yes, the prettiest marathon. I will give you that. But also the most badly organized one. At the starting point they messed up the timing clocks and the race had to be restarted. At water junctions, they could have placed dustbins as well so that we don’t ruin the landscape while we enjoy our run. At the finish point, they were charging for refreshments. Then why take 1000 bucks for registration. They decided to give finishers medal to all at the same time which is a foolish idea. You cannot manage this big a crowd at that small a place. This marathon has a potential of becoming the most sought after in  the whole world, if of course managed professionally. Imagine the tourism boost it would give to Meghalaya.

But let’s not end on that bad note. For me, it was truly a humbling experience. The fitness levels of people in this region are mind blowing. For all the age groups. Let’s raise a toast, for the people of North-East, for the prettiest run and of course, to the joy of running!