Skip to main content

Why I Run

Looking back, I can pinpoint the exact day when I decide to run. I was 18 at that time, a cadet with the National Cadet Corps. Selections were starting to get underway for the annual Republic Day Camp scheduled for the following January. We were to be put through a series of rigorous camps where we would be tested on various abilities and only the chosen few would make it to the state contingent and be part of the prestigious camp in Delhi. I had signed up to one of the early camps and was awaiting instructions when my Senior Under Officer picked me out of the line-up. 'You', she said, 'looking the way you do, you are never going very far. You're too short, too dark-skinned and frankly, it would be a miracle if you can complete the 3 km cross-country distance'.

Pictured here with my 74-year old running friend at a recent half-marathon
It wasn't so much the fact that she had questioned my ability to run that irked me. But it came as a complete shock that she had dismissed my chances at selection because of how I looked. Until then I was under the impression that so long as you could run the required distance in a certain time and were reasonably good at keeping in step with the others while marching, you had a fair shot at being picked. But this, my height and my skin-colour and the expanse of my waist, this I could do nothing about (okay, I could shed a few inches off the waist but the rest?).

It must have been that afternoon that I made up my mind to work bloody hard at the one thing that I could do better. And that was improve my running abilities. I was running 5-6 times a week, usually early in the morning. In that time, I must have been leered and jeered and harassed a number of times. But I kept at it. My timing wasn't spectacular but I could comfortably run the distance and I regularly finished among the top 10 girls in our unit. Soon it became apparent to me that my selection for the main camp was imminent. However the camp in Delhi was a huge disappoint and there was only more and more discrimination. But that's another story.

Over the years, I've continued to run. Sometimes just around the block, other times longer. Moving to another country made me want to test my abilities further. After all, here I could run where I pleased and when I wished and not worry about being harassed. I wanted to take advantage of this sense of freedom and before long I had signed up for a marathon and much to my surprise, completed the 26.2 mile course with little discomfort. These days I run regularly, occasionally taking part in races.

 In all the time that I have been running, there have been few occasions when I've thought about how it was making me lose weight. Whatever weight I've lost has been purely incidental. I do not set out to run thinking of the extra pounds I need to shed. I run because of how it makes me feel. Me, the most unlikely of runners, now being able to cover 18 miles on a Sunday morning. That is the reason I run. The buzz that comes from achieving your targets, to thumb your nose at nay-sayers from long ago and above all, to prove to yourself that it's not about how you look or how much you weigh that really matters. But what you can do with yourself. Now, that's worth lacing up for.

(Note inspired by this article in yesterday's Guardian) 

Comments

Sachita said…
"..You're too short, too dark-skinned " - what has being dark has to do with runnin? or she meant that they wouldn't select some one dark for the parade????? ... even today there isn't consciousness among people about this sort of discrimination
Anonymous said…
That's really very sad Ammani. Not being selected based on your looks? I don't want to be judgemental, but I'm guessing this under officer or whatever she's called must be a fair skinned Northie?

Kudos to you for running the 26 mile marathon! Seriously, that's something not many can even think of doing!
Kookaburra said…
So real. The only dancexercise I took here has been the only happy socializing we ever did and we miss it just for that! There was companionship and joy even though we didnt talk much to each other, other than giggling looking at each other's eyes. I used to sweat out all my loneliness, desperation and frustration and became super strong that I can push more weight than average men! :))) ... and the muscles I added then will never melt I suppose!
Endorphins and exercise are a sure couple.
So glad to see you writing even once in a blue moon. :)
Deepa said…
ah :) nice to read. as i have said before u inspire :) I run because i read ur blog
ammani said…
Thank you all for your kind words.

@ Anon, I guess her judgements were borne out of ignorance more than anything else.
Aravind said…
Good for you. P.S. Write more often
யாரோ said…
Healthy Runny Shoed & odorous :P
devanai said…
Hi Ammani.I don't exactly remember when I read your blog first - may be in 2008. But till date I've spent several joyous hours reading and re-reading your posts that I almost know some of them by heart. :)
Kate Martins said…
I also run with my friends, in the park around the lake. This is very healthy and helps me regain my fit after the winter.
neha said…
Hey Ammani. I need to run something by you, if possible can you drop me a line at flyingsuitcase[at]gmail[dot]com. Thanks! Neha
Priya said…
Abhi, you've been my hero for running the full marathon after your son was born. And continuing to run all these years. I'm glad that the selector tried to dismiss you - it made you try harder. :-) All the best!

You May Also Like

Guest blog by Chinna Ammani

Here’s an interesting write-up by Chinna Ammani on stereotypical portrayals in Indian adverts. The opinion expressed is strong and the language uncompromising. Read at your own peril!-a

The Aiyaiyo Syndrome

These days I do what is called as a shooting supervision. When ads are filmed (with lip sync) in Tamizh, my job is to teach models their lines and rehearse with them. Most of them are from Mumbai and are non-Tamilians. So when they have to do a line in Tamil, for example "Adanaaladan Dettol ubayogikaren" (And that's why I use Dettol) , they invariably say "Aadanaladaanu naanu Detttaalu ubayogikkareanu" (Something hideous). Their exaggerated delivery of our supposed accent is all thanks to Hindi actor Mehmood. My blood pressure rises and I yell "DO NOT DO A MEHMOOD HERE. WE DO NOT SPEAK LIKE THAT".

Though their voice is dubbed later with a Tamil voice-over, I ensure that they pronounce it the non-Mehmood way. Mehmood has done this major damage to us So…

Bio-data

Married for 31 years, 2 months and 17 days
Six cups coffee a day, brewed everyday of marriage
Three meals a day,
At least two dishes cooked, each meal-time
One snack for every Sunday
Big basket of clothes ironed every Tuesday
Average 18 items of clothing washed per day
Three children
1 miscarriage
One mother-in-law suffered
900 sq metre of floor space mopped, once a day
One caesarean endured
3 chicken poxes, 2 measles, 2 fractures, 8 diarrhoeas, depression, conjunctivitis every summer, 1 tonsilitis and countless common colds and flues
1 job held for 29 years
6 hours slept every night
Sex tolerated every 2nd week
Religious rituals everyone of them, carried out
Not one of them, believed in
Lived 52 years and some
Died exhausted

Overheard, “At least she had the satisfaction of having lived for her family”


http://jikku.blogspot.com/2005/02/quick-tale-3.html#c111042815438237631

The Saturday Poem

Found this in yesterday's paper. Again, I wish I'd written it.

-a

Now and Then

"Now that I'm fifty-seven",
My mother used to say,
"Why should I waste a minute?
Why should I waste a day

Doing the things I ought to
Simply because I should?
Now that I'm fifty-seven
I'm done with that for good."

But now and then I'd catch her
Trapped in some thankless chore
Just as she might have been at
Fifty-three or fifty-four

And I would say to her
(And I have to bite my tongue)
That if you mean to learn a skill
It's well worth starting young

And so, to make sure I'm in time
For fifty, I've begun
To do exactly as I please
Now that I'm thirty-one.

-Sophie Hannah

Lost in Post

To a little boy

It cannot be easy being you. A follow-up act to your more devilishly charming, flamboyant older brother. Before you were born, I was convinced that no child could ever take the special place your brother had come to occupy in my life. I used to argue with your father you would always be a second-born. A runner-up. A bridesmaid (or a best-man, as you turned out to be). That you could never be the prized, cherished, celebrated apple of my eye that my firstborn child was. But how easily you tore down my flimsy little conviction. The minute I saw you, I knew I was gone. What was worse, I succumbed willingly.

My fears that you would be overshadowed by your brother have proven unfounded. Over the past year, you have come into your own as a person. Your brother demands and challenges our love and attention. You, on the other hand, are much more accepting of our distractions with him. It is almost as if you understand that he is used to being the star of the show for much of his…

I ask, you write

Okay, here's the idea. I ask you a question and you write a short story explaining it. Let me give you an example.

What happened when young Padmavathi was drawing water from the well to wash her clothes, early one Margazhi morning?

Annon's story

One morning when Padmavathi was drawing water from the well, she found Pettai Rowdy # 1 Govindarajulu inside the bucket! She dropped it at once and Govindarajulu went down and down and hit the bottom of the well with a Nung sound. His upper and lower teeth fused together and since then he has been fed intravenously. Pettai Rowdy # 2, Ragothaman Iyengar, who suggested this to Govindarajulu, now rules the roost.

After marrying Padmavathi, he is inviting all of you to a water drawing ceremony at the new well they dug in their house.

Jai Ragothaman Iyengar! Jai Padmavathi! Come one, Come all!

-

Here's a question for you.

What happened that made young Meenakshi change her mind about the parrot green saree she had originally chosen and go for a …