What the bug??

Long long time ago, there was a bug. It was called Bugsy. Others used to call it Bugger. That is because it used to bug. Like writers are those who write, bloggers are those who blog, carpenters are those who, err, carpent?, Buggers are those who bug.

Anyways, Bugsy, or Bugger as it was lovingly called had two stooges. Bugsee and Bugyou. Whenever Bugsee would come, Bugsy would play the bugle and shout “Bugz aila, Bugz aila!”. We never understood why. Bugger that it was. Bugyou was well, as the name suggests bugged everyone. Maybe we should call it Bugger too!

So, Bugsy wanted to have a team of bugs, who apart from doing other meaningless things like scrounge around, scavenge for food, run here and there without getting caught, would also bug. Bugsee and Bugyou were asked to lug the bugs around in their quest for bugginess. Most of the bugs knew what kind of bugginess they need to bring to the team. They were well-trained bugs. All the bugs wanted different kind of bugs on the team – some flies, some insects, some winged ones and some crawlers. This was, so that different kinds of food could be attacked. But Bugsy and its two stooges wanted same kind of food from the same place. Bugsy knew nothing of how to scavenge for food and what all kinds of food were available.

Very soon the food dried up. Bugs started overturning and falling on their backs. Soon, Flit and Baygon spray started choking them. It was suffocating. It was painful. It was basically, bugging.

But the bug stopped with Bugsy. Even Bugsee and Bugyou would pass the bug to Bugsy. Bugsy never understood anything of what the team of bugs should be doing. But yet it had the ABS. The Anti-Bug Stopper.

And so all the bugs remained as bugs. Bloody bugging bell!

That day the bugs realized one very important thing about the world of bugginess and the 2 kinds of bugs that exist.

One  bug that understands what it does not manage.

And the other bug that does not understand what it manages.

And there is a third bug too. The inexplicable bug. The one that runs through idle brains and produces posts such as this one.

…and there is no Baygon spray for this.

Sorry bugger..

P.S. : Some of you buggers might feel that this post is a premeditated, carefully thought out direct result of the previous one where Google apparently did not have any answer to my question of “What do I do now”.

Yes. You are right.

What I think about…

..when I am running.

I have actually always wondered about this. Am sure you have too. Especially if you have been into running, jogging, long-distance endurance runs, ultra-marathons, the works.

But I do not think about this when I run. Because then I would know what I think about when I run. And then I would not need to write a blog post about it. You know what I am talking about? No? Think about it.

Since time immemorial – err, last year i.e, when I started running, post a long one, I always tried to recollect all that I would be thinking during the run – was it about work? Or the girl I saw in the office? Or the dog that would look at me amusingly early in the morning whenever I came out for a run wearing my balaclava?

That never happened though, because post the run, I would be either:

  • Grimacing at sore thigh muscles, OR
  • Trying to look all cool about it especially because I would have the Hyderabad Runners T-shirt all drenched in sweat OR
  • Looking frantically for a glass of water OR
  • Looking around to see if there is a nice chick checking me out, so I can check-mate her (notice the play again? ha!). Look of gloating pride on face.

But there has always been one aspect of my runs that has overshadowed everything else. Even my runs. And that is the concept of Recovery. Having tried my hands (legs, actually) at training plans and all that, I literally arm-twisted my legs into doing something that, well, they should not have been doing at this point in time. But once they realized what they were being subjected to, it led to a host of issues – stress fracture, shin pains, ear and tooth infections, flu and fever, laziness. Phew!

Actually you can ignore the last few issues. They do not have anything to do with running. But lets face it – am sure you have realized that I do exaggerate a little on my blog posts. 

So, back to Recovery. During my runs, I would always think about recoveries. How to include recovery runs post tempo or intervals. Or after some long-ish runs, when and how I should run for recovery. How long I should take for recovery. What I need for recovery. Why I need recovery. Recovery, Recovery, Recovery!

That is all what I was thinking about. I was getting mad. It was like Chinese torture. They wanted something out of me and I would have told them everything. Only, I did not know what!!

And then it happened. Whenever I would hear the word Recovery in my head, I would also hear the word Kolaveri. Strange no? Well, stranger things have happened in this world. Like Himesh Reshammiya. And nasal singing. And sex on the beach. Oh, I mean naming a drink so. What? Noooo! Not literally?! 

Ok. Back. Now that is when I realized something profound. Especially when I was running and it hit me smack in the middle of my eyes, like a silver bullet screaming out of the thinness of the air, melting the morning silence into a smoldering, smoking line!

“When something gets stuck in the head, it gets stuck in the head”.

Upon checking later, I realized it was an insect that had got stuck inside the balaclava I was wearing. But lets ignore that for now, pliss. The philosophical underpinnings of what had stuck is what is more important you see.

I saw everything clearly. That the sun had started rising was just incidental. The dog stopped looking at me as I smiled at it, with a condescending look. And the beads of sweat that were rhyming with every forefoot strike I was taking, started playing the tune in my head….“Oh this Recovery Recovery Recovery di”.

And that was it! All the pain and angst of having this stuck to my head suddenly disappeared. I knew what I had to do. I realized what the Chinese wanted from me. Finally, I was relieved of the curse of Recovery as I started humming the song.

Presenting to you, for the very first time! From the unimaginative stables of the Whatitees Guides!

The “Oh This Recovery Di” song, sung to the tune of “Why this Kolaveri Di”! That was obvious, no?

Run, Sing and Enzoi!

Yo runners
I am sing song
Run song…
Tempo song …
Oh this recovery recovery recovery di..
Oh this recovery recovery recovery di..
Rhythm correct
Oh this recovery recovery recovery di..
Maintain please
Oh this recovery.. aa di.
Aa.. distance la finishu lineu
line-u colour-u white
White-u background night night-u
Night-u coloru black-u
Haan.. Oh this recovery recovery recovery di
Oh this recovery recovery recovery di

Running shoes-u pad-u pad-u
pad-u type-u gel-u
gel-u ees on only heel-u
My shin-u hurt-u
Haan..Oh this recovery recovery recovery di
Oh this recovery recovery recovery di

Maama, water edhuthuko,
Appdiye kaiyla banana edhuthuko,
Pa pa pa ppaan, pa pa pa ppaan, pa pa pa ppaan pa pa ppan
Sariya vaasi (@%#…….)
Super runner ready..
Ready.. one..e.. two.o.. three.. four.

Hun… um
Whah, wat a change over mama
Ok mama, now pace change-u
Kaila garmin
-Only english-a
Hand-u la watch-u
watch la pace-u
Eyes-u full-aa tear-u
Empty life-u
slow-u run-u
Life-u reverse gear-u
Aa..tempo tempo
Oh my tempo
You showed me speed-u
Run-u run-u, holy run-u,
I want u here now-u
Godu I m sleeping now-u
Shin is happy how-u
This-u song for runner peoples-u
We dont have choice-u..e…
Oh this recovery recovery recovery di (Aahaan.. aa…)
Oh this recovery recovery recovery di (hun tan ha meyyah)
Han Oh this recovery recovery recovery di
Oh this recovery recovery recovery di.

Pink bell bottoms at 5 AM!

I woke up thrice before even the alarm went off at 4:30 in the morning. 1:30, 3:30 and the at 4:30.

The first time I woke up, I remember I was dreaming a sequence where I had kept my bike out on the road and I, clad in only my biking shorts and a 6-pack (of course! Hmpf!) was spraying soap water all over it in slow-mo, a la John Abraham. I also had dark shades, but I am yet to figure out why I was wearing it at 3 AM in the morning in the dark. Also, why I was spraying soap water at 3 AM in the morning. Hmm. Am sure Sigmund Freud must be stirring in his grave right now trying to explain this.

Anyways, while I was spraying soap water (in slow mo, mind it!), I saw an apparition in the distance which looked like a female walking towards me in a shy yet assured manner. And she was smiling! I tentatively looked behind to check if she was smiling at me or the gate watchman who was sleeping. She was looking at me! And as she walked towards me, I thought I heard the tinkling of her ear rings. And her rhythmic gait added to the beauty of the entire situation. I think I was in love.

I suddenly saw I was standing atop a huge drum in a beach, seated on my Schwinn Sporterra with lots of colors being thrown around and lots of beautiful women dressed in traditional sarees dancing around the drum. I myself had shed the biking shorts and was dressed in pink bell bottoms and a jazzy blue suit over it with an even jazzier red and green shirt underneath it! Ah! I was loving it. I felt like superman in a 50s movie!As I saw around, I saw the entire beach filled with drums and everywhere there were other men seated on the cycle with women dancing around them! Oh no, wait! They were actually more of me! My goodness! I could not believe it!

But strangely there was no loud music or drums or anything of that sort. All I could hear was a constant tinkling sound and the women dancing to that. I looked around and in pure NTR style, I started to tell the female who was by then dancing around me to “put aan some moosic, I say and then dhance baby, dhance!”.

Everything fell quiet suddenly and I found I was standing in front of my table looking at my cell phone which was ringing at that time. And I heard my mother calling my name from inside and asking me to stop the alarm. I stopped it and quietness fell. I looked around the dark room. No spray, no cycle, no female and certainly no 6-packs. Damn.

I freshened up, checked my RSVP for the BFB meetup, confirmed the location, collected my accessories for the bike, got into my biking shorts and stepped out into the dark 5 AM morning. As I checked my bike, I looked around out of the corner of my eye hoping to see you-know-who. In resignation, I rested my hand on my little tummy, which was not even remotely related to anything resembling a 6-pack.

I shook my head, strapped on my helmet and with dreams of one day standing atop a huge drum in pink bell-bottoms I rode on for my Saturday morning ride!

Vital Stats:Total Distance: 19.5 Kms, Cyber Towers –> ORR Entrance –> Gachibowli Stadium –> Left towards Aparna Sarovar –> Back to Hyderabad Central University –> Left towards Botanical Gardens –> Kothaguda Junction.

Total Time taken: 50 Mins (2 breaks of a minute each)

People: HBC Riders, Mukul, Dinesh and myself.

State of mind: Distracted by the pink bell bottoms and the female I saw

State of body: Nice and fresh!

Take aways: Get a cyclocomputer, carry some money and keep a steady pace.

Cykil Maastaru!

Prejenting from the land of Orakil, Googil, Unkul and the Aapil, Soreassu – the Cykill Maastaru!

Everybody pleej do clapping and shout big big words in big big voice! Hello Soreassu, this is your family.

Jacku, Smartu, Lazy, Kissu inka Dumbu! See, this is family ficture.

They are all to be happening your cousins, OK?  no no, not distance. Not own brother-sister also. They are all happening to be somewhere in between. tch, got it no? Like, 19-20? Here and there? Like that.

So, Jacku. cheppu. cheppamma.

Hello, i am Jacku. it is shaart farum for jackassu. sometimes in the naarthlo, they call me jhakaas. I ask, enti undie jhakaas? And they show the “first class” fingering style in their hand and also do winking at me!!?? Ayyyo! I am thinking why they do all that? They do not have father-brother at home?  Anyway, why i am called Jackassu, nobody know. I think it is because i tell everybody I like jack daniels when I am in Hyderabadu. But I only ride an donkey in my native drinking coconut water and toddy. hehe. i think it cool. but sadly, others think it uncool. What assulu! By the by, i am your unkul’s sister’s elder brother’s cujin.

Not with sword, I say, I will kill with eyesight!  Ha ha! By now, with the Balayya dialogue I crack, you might know I hope that i am Smartu – your father’s brother’s elder son’s brother.

I am also deep meaning poet. I will give egjhample:

Better smartassu than a dumbassu (my other cujin!), is what I always say,

let me tell bro, being a smartu is not eejy way,

fishlu will swim and birdulu will fly

but I will be Smartassu till I die!

How it is? 🙂 Ok, i know, i need to change Balayya’s dialogue now.

Babu, Lazzyassu? where you are? tell about yourself no? This Smartu is always talking0 talking! You should talk more to aal peepul, ask koschans about them. Why always sleeping like gunny bag, munching chipsulu and watching only Baba Ramdev’s Yoga on TV? You do shavasana anyways. you don’t change channel also, atleast go out do some pzical activity, you are the warasht fellow, look at soreassu, he is doing cycling to work, thinking of running aalso, so many good good things…

Hi, I am Lazyassu. I am your father’s uncle’s sister’s….ayyo, forget it…you hear my aunthee. It is ok.

… and you do not want to move your bum an inchi, why you are like this i am having no idea at all….

You are right Aaunthee. Lazyassu is really lajee. He does not do any werk also; you do all the hard work, cook nice food, clean house, do laundry, give us aapils to eat, you do so much Aunthee. very nice you are. Oh, soreassu, I am Kissassu. Ayyo Aunthee, wait undie. You will get tired working alone. I will come and do chatting with you so you have timepass and feel fresh afterwards; then, we will have some tea and biskuts. How you make such nice tea aunthee? please teach me aalso no, today….

Why are you called Soreassu, babu? Is it because you have a sore bum? Why you have sore bum? Oh, you are having cykil now? And you are cycling to work aalso? Why? How it will help save money when you already spent so much on the cykil no? Oh, you shout inside car at other people who put horns unnecessary. they are horny people babu. don’t fight aganest them. but why you shout? you also put horn no. anyways, it is because of tummy you buy cykil. I understand now. you want to lose weight, be more active and all. but why? you do not have gf, you do not have wife, you are divorced i know, very sad (or very happy, maybe). so, you want to lose weight because you have bf? ay ay yo. ok, but problems are there even if you have bf, baasu. ask me. tch.

Oh, also you bought some jing-bang with it – helmet, glovesulu, ayyo. Oh, you already start cykil to work? you also do cykil rides in weekend? you go round round for 15-20 kms with some other people? why? it is fun? why you do on weekend when you cykil to work?

oh, that is why you name this blog as http://www.bumsandbrakes.com?

But why you are called Soreassu? Hmm. I do not understand anything, I say.

Oh, by the by I am Dumbassu. Hello!