Some of the runners from Ladakh with the trophies the team won at the Goa River Marathon (Photo: Shyam G Menon)

It was Christmas day.

Not far from Mumbai’s CST railway terminus, traders selling woollen garments did brisk business. They have a temperamental December to thank. According to newspapers, on December 23, 2015, Mumbai recorded its second lowest temperature since December 1949; 11.6 degrees Celsius. The faint chill saw residents bring out their shawls and jackets.

“ Early mornings and evenings in Mumbai are now pleasant to run,’’ Skalzang Lhundup said. We were in a nearby apartment, where a team of young runners from Ladakh, in the city to train and get ready for the 2016 Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon (SCMM), stayed. Skalzang was their manager. The whole team comprised seven civilian runners and 11 personnel of the Indian Army’s Ladakh Scouts regiment. The army runners were camped in Pune, where the military has its facilities, including training facilities for athletes. They were expected in Mumbai by early January.

On December 6^th, when the civilian component of the team left Leh for Delhi en route to the marathons of the plains, Ladakh’s winter temperature was already sub-zero, nudging minus ten at its lows. Peak winter was yet to come. Following the September 2015 edition of the annual Ladakh Marathon, the civilians in the team – the 18 member contingent includes category toppers from the Ladakh Marathon and the Khardung La Challenge ultra marathon held alongside it – hadn’t had much time to train for SCMM or any other events in the plains. Two things intervened. First, winter break was approaching with school exams ahead of that. Some of the young runners still tackling their twelfth standard can’t overlook exams. Second, as winter took hold, training outdoors became a challenge. While the army runners have their own training regimen, from among the civilians, only the very determined may have managed to squeeze in a few practice runs outdoors, Skalzang said.

Every year since the 2013 Ladakh Marathon, its organizer Rimo Expeditions, has brought the winners of each edition to Mumbai to attempt the SCMM. The Mumbai marathon is India’s biggest and the richest in terms of prize money. On the previous two occasions, the team stayed at Bandra in suburban Mumbai. “ Our current location near CST is more practical,’’ Skalzang said. Early morning, the team walks to Nariman Point in South Mumbai, where the NCPA end of Marine Drive’s promenade is a popular assembling point for runners. In Mumbai the Ladakh team trains with Savio D’Souza, who is among the city’s well known coaches. He was in Leh earlier this year to train promising local runners ahead of the last Ladakh Marathon. Typically Ladakh’s team of runners travels to Mumbai, participates in the SCMM and returns to Ladakh. The 2015 trip is the first time the team has travelled out from Ladakh for what may hopefully be a brief season of running a few marathons in the plains; not just SCMM. If all goes well, they plan to be running in the plains, warm compared to Ladakh, till end-February, Skalzang said.

The team has already finished competing at its first event of the season.

On December 6^th, the group had flown from Leh to Delhi and proceeded immediately by train to Mumbai and then onward to Goa for the annual Goa River Marathon (GRM). Arriving from high altitude to a sea level-location with not much training done to boot, they spent a couple of days running on Goa’s beaches. The heat and humidity of a December by the sea, was tough to cope with. “ Especially the humidity,’’ Skalzang said. On December 13, four days after they reached Goa, the race took place. The Ladakhi runners ended up with six podium finishes. The podium finishers in their respective categories were Jigmet Dolma (women full marathon / open / age: 18 plus, second, 3:59:02), Tsetan Dolkar (women full marathon / open / age: 18 plus, third, 4:05:42), Sonam Chuskit (women full marathon / Indian participant category / age: 18 plus, first, 5:01:10), Stanzin Norbu (men full marathon /  Indian participant category / age: 18 plus, second, 3:12:20 ), Tsering Dolkar (women half marathon / Indian participant category / age: 18 plus, second, 1:52:15) and Diskit Dolma (women half marathon / Indian participant category / age: 18 plus, third, 1:52:17). Stanzin Norbu is from Ladakh Scouts.

Skalzang said the youngsters in the team had instructions not to ignore their studies; a couple of them had exams to give on return to Leh. Amid training for the SCMM, the morning and evening practice runs and managing their temporary accommodation in the apartment (it is self supported life; the youngsters cook their food themselves), they find time for studies. They hailed from villages, near and far from Leh; villages like Igoo, Lamayuru, Saspol, Nether in Changthang, Lingshed, Pishu in Zanskar and Tamachik. A bigger event with many more participants, the competition at SCMM will be tougher than at GRM. Both Jigmet Dolma and Tsetan Dolkar said that they have slowly got used to Mumbai’s weather. According to Skalzang, Savio is exploring other events the runners can be at after SCMM, before they return home to Ladakh.

(The author, Shyam G Menon, is a freelance journalist based in Mumbai. Runners’ timings at the 2015 Goa River Marathon have been taken from the event’s official website. For more on the Ladakh Marathon and Ladakh’s running team please see, https://shyamgopan.wordpress.com/2015/08/07/ladakhs-running-team/)

Samar highlining in Badami (Photo: courtesy Samar Farooqui)

Samar Farooqui was the last speaker at a recent conclave of experiential educators on the outskirts of Mumbai.

He had a Power Point presentation.

That soon slid to forgotten backdrop as Samar’s demeanour, moulded by slackline, took over.

Like the line – at times still, at times swaying and bouncing to provide momentum for a gymnastic trick – his talk was honest and focused, yet delightfully spontaneous.

Samar’s talk was capped at conclave’s end by a demonstration of his craft.

A day after the conclave, I called him up for an appointment to meet.

It was a chat on the move, beginning at Stadium Restaurant in Mumbai’s Churchgate and concluding on a segment of Marine Drive marked by two trees with a story to tell.

Born 1990 in Mumbai and brought up in the city, Samar grew up with affinity for sports and the outdoors. Staying at Haji Ali, as a child he used to go for morning jogs at the nearby Race Course. By the time he was in the sixth standard, he became the youngest participant in a 3000m race that year at his school. He was also active in cricket and football. His mother, a teacher who was active in the National Cadet Corps (NCC), introduced him to outdoor camps. When he was in the eleventh grade, Samar got to work at a camp run by a city-based outdoor company. “ It was the first time I got paid for such work. It wasn’t something I expected. It just happened. But it made me think, going ahead why not this for livelihood?’’ Samar said. He kept working for the company – Outbound Adventures, managed by Andre Morris. Through Andre, he met Jehan Driver and worked for Jehan’s company, Quest Adventures. Somewhere in the middle of all this, he finished his twelfth and joined college to graduate in mass media (BMM). He did not come across as very attached to classrooms and college; it wasn’t uncommon for Samar to bunk classes and take off on a hike or climb.

Samar slacklining in Rameshwaram (Photo: courtesy Samar Farooqui)

At Quest Adventures, Samar’s responsibilities included guiding inbound tourists on their exploration of India. In February 2010, his clients were two ladies from New Zealand. Ahead of this trip and as part of preparations, Jehan and Samar visited AVI Industries, the shop retailing outdoor gear in Matunga. There they were shown a slackline. Not knowing the sport at all, they still bought it for the core idea appeared very simple – a length of suitably designed webbing (unlike a rope, webbing is flat), which can be appropriately tightened and tuned to required tension between two points, usually two trees. Critically, the webbing used is dynamic, in other words – it stretches like an elastic band, providing the person on top the ability to generate adequate momentum for performing tricks. Once installed, you balance on the slackline, walk on it as in a tight rope act; you also do tricks on it as you get better. For safety, depending on the height and what he is doing, the slackliner stays attached to the line with a leash, one end of which is tied into his harness. If he falls at height, he does not get detached from the line. At Kashid beach, about 130 km from Mumbai, Samar, Jehan and the clients from New Zealand tried out the line. Samar was hooked. But it would be sometime before he devoted himself to the sport.  Although he had enrolled to study media management in college, a new idea gnawed at Samar.

Internet searches for alternatives in education had introduced him to adventure tourism studies in New Zealand. It was tough convincing his parents, who were justifiably concerned of Samar’s atypical choices. A close cousin worked on them; they soon came around. Funds were a problem but his family helped. In July 2010, he reached Queenstown in New Zealand’s South Island via Auckland. The flight from Mumbai transplanted Samar within hours from South Asia’s monsoon humidity to South Island’s cold. It was his first trip overseas. He presented himself at Queenstown Resort College for the 18 month-diploma course.

Samar skydiving in New Zealand (Photo: courtesy Samar Farooqui)

NZone Skydiving, one of the biggest operators in skydiving in New Zealand, had its office in Queenstown. Samar was enamoured by sky diving. Although the first six months at the college were devoted to theory, he started visiting NZone and connecting with them. “ I was ready to do anything to be around skydiving,’’ Samar said. In the second tranche of six months, his college directed him to a bungee jumping facility for internship. But he was set on skydiving and luckily, his passion and persistence from the preceding six months paid off – he secured an internship at NZone. But he had to settle for a compromise. The drop zone is where all skydiving action is. Samar secured the interview for work at the drop zone without his college involved in the frame. Result – he was placed on the shop floor, not at the drop zone he yearned to be at. Still, Samar benefited from the experience. One thing he learnt was the Kiwi style of presenting adventure to clients; you don’t conceal danger, you state it. “ That way the customer learns to be at peace with reality,’’ Samar said.

The last six months of his course were spent in reviews back in the classroom. Two days after he gave his exams, Samar was hired as Site Operations Manager by Magic Memories. He was located at Agrodome in Rotorua, North Island, which offered visitors an experience of farming in New Zealand. His job revolved around photos that tourists could take back with them. The job also saw him posted at the Waitomo Glowworm Caves, roughly 140km from Rotorua. He used his time on North Island to further his interest in skydiving. He dived with Taupo Tandem Skydiving, located about 82km from Rotorua and 150km from Waitomo. “ Different skydiving schools have different training methods. The deal at Taupo was that after 25 jumps you got an ` A’ licence. The first jump is a tandem jump, the ones thereafter are solo. I did about eight jumps, so I didn’t get a licence,’’ Samar said.

Samar Farooqui (Photo: Shyam G Menon)

After Waitomo, his next major stop with Magic Memories was Milford Sound in South Island, about 290km away from Queenstown. But before Milford Sound, Samar paid a short visit to India; on this trip, he did some groundwork for popularizing slacklining. Milford Sound was an opportunity to reconnect with rock climbing. While studying in Queenstown, Samar’s close friends had been college mates Anton Westberg and Gustav Holmquist and a friend he met through them, Banjamin Lagermalm – all from Sweden, all rock climbers. It wasn’t uncommon for the quartet to bunk college and steal off on climbs. When Samar moved to Milford Sound, Anton and Gustav were also there working. In their company, Samar did his first multi-pitch rock climbs at Milford Sound. His stint with Magic Memories paid well. “ I did really well at this job, right after college this was good bragging rights,’’ Samar said. The money was useful; that’s how he had funded his skydives on North Island. The downside of his photography-job was that over time it became routine. “ I enjoyed sales and the idea of selling ice to Eskimos. But after a point in time I felt burnt out and tired of the paradigm,’’ Samar said. He didn’t feel good about that. The hope was – somehow this would all lead to more skydiving and hopefully, a job therein.  Sadly that proved tough.

Samar highlining in Nashik (Photo: courtesy Samar Farooqui)

Following his stint with Magic Memories, Samar returned to Queenstown. He approached NZone and other skydiving companies. But it was the off season, job openings were limited. He was not only seeking work in skydiving, he wanted to be at the drop zone. That was a tall order. According to Samar, his final phase at Magic Memories and the futile search for vacancies in skydiving soon thereafter, was a trying period. Pleasant distraction was his constant companion – his slacklining kit. His skills on the line fetched positive comments. To recap, after that taste of slacklining on Kashid beach, Samar had continued practising. Slowly his skills developed. When he arrived in Queenstown for studies, the season was drifting toward winter; not the ideal time for slacklining outdoors. In the summer of 2011, he ran into some people slacklining on the beach. They became another community to hang out with, besides the rock climber friends from college. Free time, stolen time – it went into these pursuits. By the time he hit that post Magic Memories phase, he was a decent slackliner. To keep himself afloat, he worked at a call centre, did construction work and even worked as a bouncer. Samar calls this phase one of “ self discovery.’’ It was also a stage when he had more time on his hands. Samar started pursuing an intense slacklining routine. “ My favourite thing to do still is – plug in some music and go slacklining. I enjoy it, it channelizes my excess energy,’’ he said. Further, off late the airiness of the slackline has become a fine intermediate to two activities that fascinate Samar – skydiving and base jumping.

Queenstown was generally supportive of the small slacklining community Samar belonged to. As people realized that these youngsters were focused on growing their skills and lived a life around it, a social niche evolved. Samar and his friends began organizing meet ups for slackliners from elsewhere in New Zealand. At Samar’s initiative, the team set up slacklining for the American Express Queenstown Festival; they were covered on TV, they slacklined to collect funds for charity – a set of possibilities suddenly showed up. Then Samar got injured; a bad ankle-twist acquired while attempting a back-flip and trying to put a cap on at the same time. He was out of the sport for four weeks. It was May 2013. He decided he should head back to India and take his chances in life; grow awareness about slacklining and somehow figure out a way to earn a living from it. In July, he returned to Mumbai.

Samar slacklining in Pune (Photo: courtesy Samar Farooqui)

Mumbai’s Marine Drive, right next to the Arabian Sea, has always been a popular spot for people to catch the sea breeze, relax, cosy up, walk, jog, maybe just sit and wonder what one is doing in Mumbai, where one is in life. Samar liked to slackline at Marine Drive. On the promenade, opposite the small junction where the road from Wankhede Stadium meets the main road, are two trees. As was his routine, Samar set up a slackline between these two trees and commenced practising. While he was on the line he heard a noise across the road; something like a collision. Noticing that two motorcyclists had hit each other, he got off the line and went to help. It was a minor collision, the bikers said they were alright and went their separate ways. But as Samar was getting back to his slackline on the promenade, a policeman accosted him and said he was the source of what went wrong. Had slackliner not been there for distraction, the bikers wouldn’t have hit each other. Taken aback by the argument, Samar pointed out that although he had nothing to do with what happened across the road he had got off the line and offered assistance to the bikers. The policeman asked if Samar had taken permission to put up the slackline; the trees, he highlighted, were public property owned by the municipal corporation. Samar had no such permission. He had assumed that the simple sport he was pursuing was simple enough for others to accept it in an equally simple fashion. The regulars of Marine Drive, used to seeing Samar on his slackline, supported him in the argument. But the argument was fast devolving into a clash of perspectives. The slackline was removed. Samar was arrested and taken to the local police station. The cops busied themselves framing appropriate charges. At the same time, some policemen who had seen him slacklining before on the promenade complemented him on his skills. Eventually, when the matter moved to Court, Samar discovered that the charges against him included obstructing pedestrian movement and blocking sunlight. He was let off with a fine. By then however, Samar’s predicament had reached the media. The incident was reported and Mumbai slacklining, riding Samar’s arrest for blocking sunlight, found itself in the spotlight. Soon, Samar was back on Marine Drive, slacklining. The police, he said, have a better understanding of his craft now. They realize that he means nobody any harm; they let him be. There is however a sting in the tail he needs to be wary of. He was let off with a fine and the condition that the fine would double if he repeated the offense. Do you give up slacklining or stop popularizing it because of that? Samar has decided to take his chances.

Pooja Mehra (Photo: courtesy Samar Farooqui)

Pooja Mehra is a forty year old mother of two children who runs a cafe – the Cafe Bella Vita at Celebration Sports Club in Andheri. She has a background in sports; she played badminton for many years and is a trekker and distance runner. Two years ago she was running on Marine Drive when she came across Samar and his slackline. After seeing him on the line, she asked if she could try it. The experience hooked her curiosity. She looked up the Internet for more information on slacklining. Homework done, she called up Samar and asked if he would teach her to slackline. Since there was much distance between where they stayed, they set about looking for a place to set up a line at a mutually convenient location. Eventually they found a good spot on a footpath in Juhu. Pooja’s first lessons in slacklining happened there. Then they shifted to a spot on Juhu beach, adequately away from the eyes of crowds (that can cast pressure on someone learning something new). Pooja learnt to walk the line, turn on it and sit on it. “ I fell many times. But you pick yourself up and work hard to improve. It is not an easy sport,’’ she said. Overall, she took about 15 classes from Samar. Then with Samar’s help, she acquired a slacklining kit so that she can keep practising. The kit is portable; you can carry it around, take it wherever you go. But finding a place with good anchor spots for the webbing and enough safety should you fall is tough in Mumbai. Adding to the problem is low awareness of the sport. On the other hand, there are many places away from the city which are good for slacklining. Pooja carries the kit with her on family holidays. She sets up the line. Her children have tried slacklining and she said it is a nice way for the family to bond.

Samar at the highline festival in Poland (Photo: courtesy Samar Farooqui)

In July 2013, when Samar returned to India, there was a small slacklining community already existing in the country. The main two points for the faithful to gather were Slacktivism in Delhi and Slack.in, which hosted members from Bengaluru (Bangalore) and Pune. The whole community at that time must have been around 300 people-strong in India, of which about 10 per cent, Samar estimates, would have been active slackliners. Samar started Slacklife India in Mumbai. From a Facebook page it has since evolved into a company called Slacklife Inc. Along with that Samar has become a professional slackliner, someone whose income comes from practising and promoting the sport. Samar has appeared on Indian television, in such programmes as ` India’s Got Talent,’ ` I Can Do That’ and ` MTV HE Ticket.’ It helped promote the sport. Wikipedia’s page on slacklining mentions the sport’s many styles or categories.  For now, the styles relevant to India include the basic slack lining format; trick lining, mid lining and high lining. Trick lining involves the execution of tricks on a line while mid lining and high lining involve slack lining at various heights with room for tricks there too. Mid lining and high lining, because they need height, may be set up across buildings, structures, rock faces etc. As the sport grows, new lines are being set up. These are essentially places where a good line can be; a physical line materializes only when you actually put one up for your use. You have to have an eye for a possible line to put one up. Some of the high lines around Mumbai-Pune-Nashik are a line across a quarry in Pune (it was pioneered in September 2014 and that first line was called Jugad Line because it was improvised [jugad means: makeshift] for want of adequately long webbing and therefore sketchy. Samar emphasizes that such joined lines should be avoided), Mid Line Crisis in Taminighat and Life and Exposure in Nashik. One of Samar’s highpoints since returning to Mumbai was participating at the Urban Highline Festival in Lublin, Poland. At this event, he was the only slackliner the organizers had ever seen from India.

Bhupesh Patil on For Richie in Badami (Photo: courtesy Samar Farooqui)

Adarsh on For Richie (Photo: courtesy Samar Farooqui)

Bhupesh Patil is a young slackliner from Nashik. In May-June 2015, Bhupesh was at Naneghat where a crew of climbers from Omniterra, a company anchored by Mumbai based-climber Mangesh Takarkhede, was assisting the advertisement shoot of a popular soft drink. Here, Bhupesh met Richard Khear (Richie) from Mumbai, who was into rock climbing. Late August 2015, a tragedy occurred in Miyar Valley, Himachal Pradesh; an area now gaining currency for rock climbs at altitude. Richie who was part of a two person climbing team descending to base camp after a day out on one of the climbing routes on Castle Peak, suffered an accident while abseiling. He plunged a significant distance down and lay badly injured on a rock ledge that was still very high up from the ground. By the time rescue teams reached him, which was almost a week later, Richie was no more. The news rattled Mumbai’s climbing circles for Richie was well known and popular in the small, tightly knit climbing community. Rock climbers and slackliners are a similar lot. While tight rope walking has an old history (including in India), slacklining is relatively young and reportedly owes its origins to rock climbers (Wikipedia claims it was pioneered by a young rock climber in the US). The two sports are all about balance and heights, they share a relation with webbings and ropes and they bond in the realm of focused action or what some may call – mind over matter. Badami in North Karnataka is one of India’s major rock climbing destinations. On a trip here in 2015, slackliners had noticed the potential for a new line. The second time Bhupesh and Samar were in Badami in 2015, they set up this new high line. Bhupesh walked it first and named it ` For Richie,’ in memory of Richard Khear. Samar followed him on the same line.

Illustration: Shyam G Menon

When you sit on Marine Drive facing the sea, you sense horizon and distance in a city that usually denies you both thanks to its numerous buildings and congested, trapped spaces. Depending on what you are, you may or may not have appetite for distance, horizon and the lure of exploration they inspire. I asked Samar what it is like being out on a slackline. He tried to explain; he failed, I failed. The whole thing is about narrowing down existence to life on webbing. If you are asked to explain such moments of nothing in the head, it challenges language. Slacklife and livelihood by slacklining occupies Samar’s time now. That’s what brought him to the experiential educators’ conclave. Experiential education is all about experiencing things and learning, processing the experience. Basic slack lining is an activity anybody can try and quite safely too, for the line is not very high from the ground. Won’t it sit well in the pantheon of activities experiential education leverages? Samar believes it will. Further there is promise in India for slacklining; the country is overwhelmingly young, the right demography for active lifestyle. The path he has chosen is promising; not easy. For now, it is pretty much like the seaward gaze from Marine Drive. There is the distance, the horizon and from self till horizon stretches one long, thin webbing exploring the unknown; life on a line.

(The author, Shyam G Menon, is a freelance journalist based in Mumbai.)  

Satish Gujaran (Photo: Shyam G Menon)

Most people reach Shirdi by road or rail.

Some choose to walk.

Sanjay Shankar Shinde, the founder of the running club Ramesh Nair trained with walked every year to the temple town from Mumbai. It is a distance of close to 250km as per the Internet. Curious, Ramesh, an engineer turned businessman, walked to Shirdi with Sanjay’s group in 2012. He did so again in 2013. Thinking of a repeat in 2015, he shared the idea with Satish Gujaran. The two lived close by in Mulund. They hadn’t met before, till running put them in touch. Satish had been training largely alone and mostly on the city’s Eastern Express Highway. What amazed Ramesh was the mileage he piled on daily and the dedication he showed to running. When Satish heard of Shirdi and the walk on Ramesh’s mind, he suggested: why not run from Mumbai to Shirdi?

July 25, 2015, 6AM; three runners – Ramesh, Satish and Nilesh Doshi – supported by a car stocked with essentials and driven by Sanjay Gawade, a driver whose many outings with runners has made him adept at the task, set off for Shirdi from Mumbai. Nilesh elected to return on the second day. He had some work to attend to; he also felt his body temperature was rising unreasonably. Satish and Ramesh pushed on; the former, a bachelor and experienced ultra marathon runner, the latter, a family man, regular runner of marathons and someone who prefers to run respecting the boundaries of well being. “ I run within my comfort zone,’’ Ramesh said. Satish seemed a runner moulded by exploration and experience. Ramesh reposed faith in systems and research. For both runners, it was their first multi-day run. In his mind, Ramesh had studied the distance to Shirdi and worked out how much he should run daily based on his experience at marathons and the annual Mumbai Ultra, a 12 hour-endurance run. He had it all chalked out. Satish was battling a private worry; the classical Indian worry – leave of absence from office. They had started on a Saturday. He had to report for work Wednesday morning. Will they reach Shirdi before that?

Satish (left) and Ramesh during the Mumbai-Shirdi run (Photo: courtesy Ramesh Nair)

“ Satish can keep on going. He is a frugal runner whose needs are few. I am not, ’’ Ramesh said. In tune with their experience in distance running and differing styles, a gap opened up between the two. And proportionate to the widening gap on the road, Satish’s worry about Wednesday grew. Ramesh recalled the situation. “ The car was supposed to halt every three kilometres or so. I was running slowly. After I had reached the car and hydrated, Satish would tell the driver to proceed and wait after the next three kilometres. Then I noticed – he was saying three and indicating four with his fingers!’’ Ramesh said laughing. In the end, it all worked out well. Around 2.30PM on Tuesday, July 28, the two runners reached Shirdi. After a quick visit to the Sai Baba temple, they returned to Mumbai. Satish was back at work, Wednesday morning.

Exactly 100 years before from the day the duo reached Shirdi, an event occurred in Europe that would leave its mark on the world of running as well. On July 28, 1914, a month after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo, Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia, officially commencing the First World War. The cascading events that followed sank Europe into one of the bloodiest conflicts of human history. In four years of fighting, more people would die than in the wars of the preceding 100 years. Almost 70 million military personnel were mobilised; of them, over 8 million died. The survivors bore scars in the mind. Happening in the age of empire, the theatre of war exceeded Europe; those fighting and getting killed included many from outside Europe. Among people caught in the tentacles of empire and therefore pushed to fight, were the South Africans. They fought on the side of the Allied forces, in Africa and Europe. The war in Africa, a long distance from the trenches of Europe, was triggered by the German plan to keep the Allied force’s Africa based-military assets engaged in Africa itself.

Vic Clapham was one of the South Africans who saw action and survived. He was born in London on 16 November 1886 and immigrated to the Cape Colony in South Africa with his parents. When the Anglo-Boer war broke out, Vic aged 13, worked in an ambulance team. Later he moved to Natal and worked as an engine driver with the South African Railways. During the First World War, he signed up with the 8^th South African infantry, fighting and marching long distances through the savannah of eastern Africa. The hardships he and his friends endured left a lasting impression. Above all, he remembered their camaraderie. As peace returned in 1918, he sought a memorial to commemorate the South African soldiers who had died; a memorial that highlighted human endurance.

Illustration: Shyam G Menon

Clapham’s home town was Pietermaritzburg. He visualized a foot race from there to Durban. If soldiers could cover vast distances and endure it as they did in the war, Clapham averred, trained athletes should be able to do the same. This in mind, he approached the athletics administration in Natal for support. They declined. Then he approached The League of Comrades of the Great War, a body representing ex-service persons. Initially turned down, Clapham persisted. In 1921, the league yielded. It gave its assent. Clapham founded The Comrades, the world’s oldest ultra marathon race and now it’s biggest. First run on May 24, 1921, the route links Pietermaritzburg in the mountains with Durban on the coast. Forty eight runners enrolled for the inaugural race. Of that, 34 set off; 16 finished. Many of these runners were earlier infantrymen who had fought in Africa. At present, nearly 20,000 people run this ultra marathon every year. They come from different countries. The race alternates every year between uphill and downhill with the former measuring 87km and the latter, 89km. Founded as a war memorial, over time, The Comrades has acquired the reputation of being a fantastic event, remembered for the bonhomie, crowd support and cheering.

Satish never expected his life to get mixed up with The Comrades. He was born at Udipi in southern India on March 27, 1963, pretty close to the May-June period hosting South Africa’s iconic race (throughout its history The Comrades has been run in either May or June). Coincidentally in May 1963, a record was set at The Comrades. South African runner Jackie Mekler, who at five wins overall is tied with three others for the second highest number of wins at The Comrades in the male category, set a new record (5:51:20) in the ` down’ version of the run. With that he became the first runner since 1954 to hold the record for both the `up’ and `down’ versions. In 1960, Mekler had run the `up’ in 5:56:32. Those days there was no ultra marathon in India, likely no awareness about The Comrades. South Africa existed in the shadow of its apartheid policies. For many years, resultant sanctions denied the country participation in international sporting events. Sanctions prevented other countries from touring South Africa. In cricket crazy-India, once in a while the press published a photo or carried an article about South African cricketers. The names of Barry Richards, Mike Procter and Kepler Wessels floated around. Once in a while, the media mentioned Zola Budd, the legendary runner. Else, compared to what South Africa is in sports today, little was known of sports from Africa’s southern tip. Anything South Africa was usually about its politics. The country however featured prominently in Indian awareness. There was an Indian community in South Africa and the names of South African cities and towns had featured in history text books at Indian schools, especially in the context of Mahatma Gandhi and India’s freedom struggle. Pietermaritzburg was where, in June 1893, Gandhiji was forced off a train; an incident that made him determined to fight the racial discrimination against Indians and played a major role in shaping his future thoughts. Today, long after India’s independence and the end of South Africa’s apartheid laden-policies, a statue of Mahatma Gandhi stands on Church Street in Pietermaritzburg.

Satish (centre) with Dereck Mahadoo and his wife Shereen (Photo: courtesy Satish Gujaran)

Far away from South Africa and The Comrades, in India, school for Satish was 3-4km distant from home. Neither the distance to school nor the walking conspired to craft the outline for a future story in running. On the other hand, the youngster was more interested in games than running and athletics. Of his three sisters, two played badminton at the district and state level. The years went by largely nondescript. It was a regular life. Satish attended college in Bengaluru (Bangalore) graduating in commerce. “ There was nothing significant in my life, concerning sports then,’’ he said. The eldest child in the family and thereby expected to work, Satish travelled to Mumbai seeking employment. He did odd jobs for a while. Then, still no runner and given to smoking heavily, he moved to South Africa.

The person, who made this shift possible, was a friend – Dereck Mahadoo. He owned a construction company in South Africa and was looking for a supervisor. In due course, Satish joined Dereck’s company. He stayed with Dereck and his family in Durban, one of the two end points linked by The Comrades route. The new supervisor from Mumbai smoked like a chimney. The boss on the other hand, was a runner. Dereck had already run The Comrades six times. “ One day, he asked me to go along and walk with him while he ran. That became my first attempt at running,’’ Satish said. It was difficult. To start with, he hadn’t run before in his life, definitely not with a view to be runner. To complicate matters, he had spoilt his chances of enjoying a run through becoming a chain smoker. The duo persisted. Helping them was the local environment; South Africa had plenty of running events. There was a race every weekend, including several distances in the link category that helped those newly into running, nudge up their ability to cover distances. The year was 2004. Forty one year-old Satish picked up running pretty fast. Encouraged by the progress, he entered for his first formal half marathon. It ended up a DNF – Did Not Finish. “ By the twelfth or thirteenth kilometre, my knees were in utterly bad shape. An ambulance drove up and a lady said: get in, you have your whole life to run,’’ Satish recalled. That DNF was a lesson. It brought home an immediate war to declare in his journey to distance running – Satish had to confront his habit of smoking. “ It was tough giving that up,’’ he said. Dereck it appears, left an impression on Satish. According to Ramesh, when he was struggling on the uphill at Kasara en route to Shirdi, Satish stepped in to help. He broke down the ascent into smaller goals marked by sign boards along the road. “ From here to there, you walk. Then from there to there, you run. So on. When he broke the challenging section into small portions it helped me greatly. Apparently that is something he learnt from Dereck,’’ Ramesh said. Satish’s stint in South Africa also included some crazy contests, which may explain the reservoir of energy, others say, he digs into. For instance, he won a competition that challenged people not to sleep. He didn’t sleep for a few days.

In 2006, Satish returned to Mumbai. The Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon (SCMM) was by then a couple of years old. The spirit of running was catching on in the city. For two to three years, Satish ran the SCMM; he did no other major runs. On the average, he could run a full marathon in about 3 hours 40 minutes. Then in 2009, he picked up talk in Mumbai’s running circles, of The Comrades. Along with his affection for South Africa and memories of good times had there, the idea of running the famous ultra marathon tempted. But he was still a smoker. Between smoking and lessons from the old DNF, smoking had prevailed. The war was far from over. Satish nevertheless registered for the 2010 Comrades. There was a small group of people going. They heard of each other and met up. To train for The Comrades, they followed training regimens found on the Internet. Training started some time after February 2010. In addition to running in Mumbai, they ran in Lonavala, the popular hill station on the way to Pune. As part of preparations, they did two 56km-runs, a full marathon and one run of 65km. Each was apart by 20 days. Some of the runs commenced early; the 65km-run used to start at 2 or 3AM. A car with driver provided support. Satish’s first Comrades in South Africa, was the ` down’ version from Pietermaritzburg to Durban. Around the 65-70km mark, Satish suffered cramps in his calf muscles. He managed to handle it but the problem kept repeating. Life was forcing a decision on him. It was clearer than ever – you run healthy or you don’t run at all. Back in India, following The Comrades, Satish joined the `Inner Engineering Course’ offered by Isha Foundation. “ There I stopped smoking. By November-December 2010, I was free of the habit,’’ he said.

Satish (far right) with fellow Indian runners at the 2015 edition of The Comrades (Photo: courtesy Satish Gujaran)

Since 2010, Satish hasn’t missed a single edition of The Comrades. Every year he flies to South Africa to run the race. Running in 2011, on the heels of his debut at the 2010 edition, he qualified for an additional medal given to those who do two Comrades back-to-back. By October 2015, he had run and finished the iconic race six times becoming in all likelihood, the runner from Mumbai with the most number of finishes at The Comrades. Satish plans to run The Comrades at least 10 times. “ If you run it 10 times, you will get a green number, a bib number that is permanently yours. It is given by that year’s race winner,’’ he said. Satish explained why he loves The Comrades so much. “ The atmosphere is electrifying. The crowd support is fantastic and runners come from everywhere. The event is well organized. It is like a carnival. The route is challenging, it engages the runner. Finally, Durban has a sizable population of Indians and people of Indian origin. Indian runners get cheered,’’ he said. According to him, completing an ultra marathon like The Comrades is as much about strategy as it is about training. He spoke of veterans who have been running the race for years, taking it slow and keeping their energy in reserve for the course’s strenuous sections. “ Planning is important for good timing at The Comrades. To run slowly, you need courage. It comes only with experience and maturity,’’ Satish said. Over time, his training style also changed. In years gone by, he used to train 5-6 days a week. Now he trains 3-4 days. “ Quality matters more than quantity,’’ he said. Ramesh highlighted one more angle – discipline. Each night during the Mumbai-Shirdi run, while Ramesh took his time to get over the day’s exhaustion, Satish would clean up and finish his chores like clockwork.

Satish (right) with Arun Bhardwaj, India’s best known ultra marathon runner and a pioneer in the genre for the country (Photo: courtesy Satish Gujaran) 

Although he has run The Comrades six times, until the Mumbai-Shirdi run with Ramesh, Satish hadn’t run an ultra marathon in India except the annual Mumbai Ultra and those long training runs for The Comrades. One reason for this was work and the commitments at work, which accompany life as employee. The Indian environment, arguably, has two prominent drawbacks. First, the pressure of high population and rat race is such that appreciation of human existence has narrowed to self worth by position and possessions. In this, sport is easily dismissed as irrelevant unless a person’s position in the sports pecking order is such that he is supremely successful. Life is all about success. Second, growing economies gift busy lifestyles to their citizens. Over the past six decades as various Asian economies gathered momentum, this shift has been documented in their respective populations. In India, the shift has occurred within a matrix already rendered crushing by other factors. The business of survival is too tiring at Indian cities to attempt anything else. “ I don’t think I have exploited my full potential,’’ Satish said, explaining his predicament. He sounded a bit sad. Yet at 52 years of age, he toys with the idea of shifting full time to running. He wonders if he will find supportive sponsors; somebody who would both ensure a certain income for sustenance and back his running. Indian youngsters are beginning to articulate such plans; they are getting support from sponsors eyeing the Indian market qualified by the high dose of young people shaping it. But therein lay another challenge – being middle aged and pursuing one’s dream in an India that is now overwhelmingly young, is no easy task. The old – particularly the old and eccentric as distance runners tend to be – are not a priority for commercial support.

Satish (back row, near centre, in yellow T-shirt) with fellow runners who pitched in to support during the Mumbai-Surat run (Photo: courtesy Satish Gujaran)

Satish however finds a way. In September 2015, a marathon was held in Surat. Satish approached the organizers with an idea – as an expression of support for the event, why not have him run from Mumbai to Surat? They agreed and provided the required infrastructural assistance. Early morning September 10, with a vehicle carrying essentials trailing him and periodically met up en route by fellow runners, Satish set off for Surat. He reached his destination – the event venue – by the end of the third day, having run an estimated 264km. On the day of the event, he polished off his effort by participating in the half marathon. Now he thinks of a Mumbai-Pune run. Also slated for the future, hopefully with the support of the Isha Foundation, is a run from Mumbai to Coimbatore.

It takes a zone of discomfort to make us aware of our capacity for endurance. Limits explored and the self spent, all is peaceful. Imagined differently, you can keep the peace if you remember to engage and exhaust yourself every once in a while, which is what opportunities to run and ultra marathons are all about.  It is about finding peace. “ Running is now a part of me. If I don’t do it, I feel uncomfortable,’’ Satish said.

Update: At the 2015 Vasai-Virar Mayor’s Marathon held in November, Satish finished third in his age category in the full marathon with a timing of 3:49:00.

(The authors, Latha Venkatraman and Shyam G Menon, are independent journalists based in Mumbai. The story of Vic Clapham and the early history of The Comrades have been collated from various sites on the Internet including the ultra marathon’s official website, Wikipedia and http://www.unogwaja.com/ For more on Arun Bhardwaj, please try this link: https://shyamgopan.wordpress.com/2015/06/21/the-connoisseur-of-distances/)