Jogged awake at 3.15 a.m. with the shrill sound of my alarm, for a moment I wondered what I was doing at this unearthly hour. Then I realized – it was the day of my first half marathon – Tata Mumbai half marathon. Fully clad in my t-shirt and multi pocketed shorts with dates in one pocket, house keys and hydration tablets in another, cash and cards in the third, and I was ready to go, waiting for my partner in crime.
Jumping into an uber, as we moved closer to our destination, we noticed lines of uber vehicles like snakes edging forward in traffic. Disembarking at the barricades, the excitement grew – cops manned the barriers like guards in a prison, a sea of blue mixed with a motley array of color marched with exciting fervour towards flood lights in the distance. Runners in contorted poses of stretching and in various shapes and sizes dotted the road which for a change was filled with two legged mammals (and not four legged monstrosities). The police looked on possibly wondering how ridiculous it was that people paid money to get up and run on Mumbai roads.
Crowds of runners thronged like pilgrims awaiting to get into a holy site making their way to the holding areas, as the race start timing drew to a close. I was in a later wave, this being my first ½ marathon, and my timing being on the slower side. Having never done a 21 km half marathon before, I had waves of fear, anxiety and excitement all hit me at the same time. It seemed like eternity and then we were off into the darkness of the early morning. Loud beeps like a scanning machine went off in quick successions as runners raced across the starting line like cars at a race.
The first turn was up towards the sea link (one of the reasons I was here in the first place). A slight incline but I breathed a sigh of relief as I ran on one of the roads I had run several times in training – and seeing my friend at the starting line I could feel my nervous system settle in. “You’ve trained for this”, “you’ve got this” were my mantra at the beginning.
The Tata Mumbai Marathon 2026 emblazoned onto the girders of the Bandra Worli Sea Link beckoned runners like a lighthouse in the dark. The navy band with its melodious tunes was the first sight greeting me as we approached the sea link – super excited for this leg of the race, I was waiting with bated breath. The sea link beckoned in the distance and already I could see smatterings of runners posing at the sides and interrupting paces to take the obligatory selfie (where else could you take a standing photo on the Bandra Worli sea link). Aid centres lined the side with watchful medic cyclists interspersed between the runners keeping watchful glances on anyone showing signs of distress.
Running towards the right flank of the sea link path, the crash of waves against the pillars, the pattering of soles against the concrete, and the whirrings of a drone positioned to capture the runners, were my companions for the run. Suddenly loud shouts enveloped the quietness – it was the cheering for the elite runners who were running the 42 km stretch and were already catching up to us. Volunteers urged us to “move towards the left” to make way for the champions who were in a race against time for the prize money.
Exiting at the Worli end of the sea link towards Worli sea face, the runners ahead looked like a colony of colored ants in search for their next meal, braving the elements. Incessant beeps alerted us to the timing mats ahead as runners marked their watches for their next kms. Worli sea face road seemed never ending until the u turn at Worli dairy, which was met with water stations, electrolyte stations, and an array of women dancers and energy powering the marathoners onward to the coastal road, and wet roads. Upwards and onwards I ran onto the coastal road met with silence jarred by the loud conversation of one of my fellow runners giving detailed instructions to the person on the other end of the phone about pace and consistency. On the other end of the coastal road, the full marathon runners were in full visibility as they ran with ferocity. A water spray cooling station ahead before the coastal road exit was like an oasis in the desert for beating the high humidity (with not a whiff of a breeze in sight). “Let gravity do its work” was my chant as I ran down the coastal road into the Haji Ali stretch for an electrolyte fueling in preparation for the herculean task of the magnificent Peddar road stretch ahead (every runner’s nemesis).
As I passed Haji Ali looming in the background, the infamous Peddar Road crowd support rallied. Peddar road residents gathered in droves laden with trays of biscuits and oranges, medical pain sprays, high five signs, power up charts neatly prepared saying “touch to power up” with cartoon characters, a tall looming gentlemen shouting “Peddar road main aapka swagat hai”; and loud cheers edging us on were a delight to the senses. The energy was exuberant and I was left smiling the whole way whilst trudging up the Peddar road slopes, my calves crying for a break with fatigue. All signboards pointed to 6 kms to go, and I knew I was in my final stretch, and could now push myself to my limits. Refreshed by the shower spray enroute and refueling with electrolytes and an orange slice, I ran onto the final stretch of Marine Drive (with nike run club, students and residents once again out in droves). As I ran on the other side of the road, the 7 km run participants and the various NGOs were pleading for their causes, and it was a regular fitness party. Summer of ’69 blared from the iconic red bull stall with its giant balloon awning and blue running carpet to welcome runners to the final leg outside Police Gymkhana, as runners turned thereafter towards the Churchgate stretch. It was now 2 kms more to go, and it felt like I was now pushing with every ounce of my being. Tight hips and pelvis, glutes screaming in exhaustion and pulsing calf muscles with the voices in my head were my company for these last 2 kms as I urged myself onward to completing my first ½ marathon. It had been on my bucket list for so long, I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. With a last swig of water, I ran towards the end, my hands drawn out in victory as I crossed the final lines smiling in glory for having completed my 1st half marathon.
Setting early morning alarm clocks, training 4 months with long runs from Vile Parle to Bandra reclamation promenade every Sunday morning, watching the sun rise over the promenade (which made my Sunday mornings), pockets laden with dates, keys and the like every Sunday morning, battling the thoughts in my head, the anxious niggles, the fear of impending injury, twisting my ankle a few days before the run (albeit small twist), and of course, the actual 21k TMM 2026 itself was one of the most spectacular, surreal, amazing experiences of my life, and I would do this all over again a million times over – the anticipation, the excitement, the anxiety and the way my body felt alive.
Chronicles of an overthinker 