No prizes for guessing where I was. And no, I am not surprised when you look shocked to see me in such active environs.

I was just supposed to go there and fetch a friend visiting from Mumbai. But when I walked in…yes, I actually walked from the far away car park to the expo…I saw a whole new world.

People of different shapes and sizes. Of different ages. Different professions. All walking around with a halo. A halo of anticipation, a halo of excitement.

Each one of them had the Marathon Bug. Some were recent victims of the disease. Yet others were many time survivors, itching for the next edition.

Some had fancy gear, and some were more simply attired. But there was a spring in every step, a bounce in every footfall.

The first alien I spotted was my friend Renu Singh, along with Srini and their kid. Renu had this flag stuck on to her back which proclaimed that she was the 2.30 bus. I thought there were buses leaving at fixed times and she was one of the leaders.

Imagine my surprise when she explained to me that she was a pacer and that in the actual race, people wanting to run at her pace would follow her lead and strategy.

Suddenly the 1.45 bus looked formidable.

Then my friend Vaniitha who I had gone to fetch introduced me to a friend who had done 40 Marathons already. And to a bunch of people from her old office who she had initiated into this sport as part of the corporate social responsibility program that she mentored.

Her wards have gone around the world and even taken part in the famous Tour de France after six months preparation in France, courtesy of a company sponsorship.

At the gate I met Sumalata, the FICCI Secretary who, with her gang of ladies, was taking a break from wedding planning and floral arrangements, and running for the fun of it. Amazing, I thought. Just as Harini walked up to me and said hello.

This Event Manager friend who had just walked the ramp for charity, was now all set to run for fun.

My friend from Bombay told me that this was one of the best organized Marathon pre-events she had seen. And as a Hyderabadi, I felt proud.

What kind of madness is this? What kind of passion, insanity. That makes you run, not for glory, but for the self.

Is it a madness I can come to terms with? I looked down at my feet (Sorry, that’s a lie. My stomach does not allow me that privilege) and told myself that if there was an addiction I was ready for, it was this…

it was this…

it was this.