My First Marathon

I am running my first Marathon tomorrow, March 9, 2014. I will join 24,999 other runners and walkers at Dodger Stadium for the 29th Annual Los Angeles Marathon. I’m excited, nervous, and extremely unsure of whether I will make it to the finish line. After all, I am no Phidippides. 

He ran the first Marathon from the town by the same name to the city of Athens in 490 BC. He was carrying a message from the battlefield where the Greeks had defeated the Persians. “Nike (victory)!” he is said to have famously shouted at the end of a 24.85 mile run. Then he lay down and died. 

Phidippides was a soldier, probably not more than 20 years old, and ran like the wind because, of course, no one could send a text back then. “Hey, we won! Break out the champagne, LOL!” He ran like his life depended on it and alas, it did.

I am old enough, at 45, to be Phidippides' mother! As many of my friends have seen fit to inform me over the last six weeks there is absolutely no reason for me to be running the modern equivalent of his race, 26.2 miles, and worrying about fueling, hydration, long runs, hills, chafed arms, sore muscles, horrendous blisters and blood in my urine. No reason at all. Until very recently I have never even been tempted. Marathons are for other people. Times, PRS (personal records), speed intervals mean nothing to me. I just run because I like it. 

Let me backtrack a bit. As a child I tried to escape exercise. I would rather have read about the history of marathons than contemplate running one. And yet, when I had to run for Phys Ed class, I was quite fast. I could have been a sprinter. But I was not. I was a couch explorer, traveling to new worlds and living other people’s lives until I was about 21 and decided to start exercising, first taking a step aerobics class, then swimming laps every morning with my husband before we diverged to our separate work days. 

I discovered chi gung and cardio kick boxing when I was 28. Chi gung was dance like and the way it grounded me to the earth gave me an energy I could feel coursing through my body, unlike my native yoga which left me cold. 

I still kick box once a week but when I was about 38, I discovered an exercise I could do on my own, with very little equipment and no gym membership required. I started running short distances on the tread mill and I can still remember the morning I completed ONE mile. That was exciting. 

Of course, being a journalist, I try not to approach anything sketchily informed. So I borrowed books on running from the library and my friend Alexis, who had competed in several triathlons, gave me a book which I read and took to heart. Danny Dreyer's Chi Running appealed to me and has enabled me to run injury free for years. 

Still, the longest distance I attempted was a 5-K run in honor of my friend Stacy's mother-in-law who died of pancreatic cancer. I do the pancreatic cancer run every year (see pic below), sometimes running a 5-K, sometimes a 10. 

Then the year I was going to turn 40, 2008, I thought that a half marathon might be a good challenge. I still thought marathons were too much so 13.2 miles was a good distance to progress from a 10-K. I trained with a team for four months and ran the Surf City down in Huntington Beach early that February.

It rained from 2 am and I was a squelching cold mess right from the start line! I was amused when the wind and rain lashed at me, as I ran along the shore, that the elite runners were passing me on their way to the marathon finish line and I was only halfway through the half! Still, at the end of it all, with Sanjiv, my friend Irene, and Keya to cheer me on, I felt like I had accomplished something. And I felt that if I could run in that weather, I could run in anything!

And then I went back to my regular runs, two-three miles, with an occasional longer run thrown in. But this January thinking about my cousin, Pramodan who was diagnosed with ALS and could no longer walk, let alone run, I decided to run for him. So I signed up for the LA Marathon. 

I have questioned my decision endlessly, especially when I look at a course map and it strikes me that I will be running past all the parts of town I usually must drive to reach: downtown LA where I take Keya to dance class; Hollywood where her school is; Beverly Hills where some of my clients live; and Santa Monica which is as far west as one can go in LA County and somewhere I try to avoid going because it is so far to drive. 

My friend, Anita, a world class swimmer, said to me, "Training is a full time job." I get it but I haven't been able to treat it as such this time around. What I have done is my best to eat well, read my Runner's World magazine, run some hills even though I abhor them, and be regular about my exercise. 

I smiled when my daughter naively asked me if I would medal. The only medal I will get is the satisfaction of having met a challenge. With that, I am content. 

I get to run through my beautiful city and admire the skies, the weather, the energy, the happiness everywhere. And knowing that people I love are cheering me on, with notes and phone calls from all over the world (from my parents and Sanjiv to Sameera, Libby, Carrie and Aimee and my whole Facebook community), offers of acupuncture (Stacy) and playlists (Vanessa), the belief that I can do it (too many dear ones to list by name), and an actual presence at the finish line (Keya & Irene again along with Julien, Manon & Dean), I feel like I have the best training team ever. Thank you all! Whether I run 24.85 like Phidippides or 26.2 like modern runners, whether I decide to stop off and get coffee in WeHo or run to the finish line on Ocean Ave, I am happy to be alive and in this race. 

Pramodan died in early February at age 45. I am running tomorrow because I still can, because my legs work and because life is short to waste.

Here's to Pramodan, to Toni, and to everyone who has met a challenge head on. 

More after tomorrow….. I plan to keep mental notes!

The Meal of a Lifetime

This post is in honor of my cousin, Pramodan Marathe who was born the same year as me and has the same smiling eyes as his father, my uncle Padmakar.

Brothers & Cousins

L to R, back row: Sudhakar (my father) with my brother, Sameer; Shrikant with Mukund; Padmakar with Sudarshan

Middle row: Pramodan

L to R, front row: Ashwini, me, Madhuri, Niranjan

I cooked the most meaningful meal of my career as a chef on November 21, 2013. Sometimes it takes time and distance to have a realization of this magnitude, to look back on an event and swallow and digest its significance. But this time, there was instant gratification. Since 2007 I have cooked for clients who are mostly people like me, foodies who want to explore interesting and delicious food. My catering business has led to all kinds of adventures. 

I’ve cooked in kitchens that have been featured in architectural magazines and I’ve cooked under unusual or tough circumstances, even building an impromptu kitchen where none existed. Living in Los Angeles, I’ve cooked for my fair share of celebrities too: Tim Olyphant, Judge Alex Kuzinski, Martha de Laurentiis. This spring, even Steven Page, lead singer of The Bare Naked Ladies came to dinner at my house, documenting an Un-Curry pop up for his new show, The Illegal Eater. 

Toni moved me like no other has. 

The Saturday before the job, I had received email from a man asking about Un-Curry’s catering services. Gary wrote that his girlfriend, Toni was turning 61 on Wednesday and had requested Indian food for a small dinner party. Toni has ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis) or what is known in the USA as Lou Gehrig’s Disease after the legendary baseball player who suffered from it. In the rest of the world the disorder is known as MND (Motor Neuron Disorder). 

Toni had just had surgery to put in a feeding tube and she would not be able to eat solid food for much longer. Gary wanted to make her birthday dinner a meal she would always remember. I responded right away, saying I would love to cook for her. I was moved by the request and it hit closer to home than I would have liked. “Let’s talk tomorrow,” I suggested to Gary. 

Sure enough he called on Sunday and had the speaker on so Toni could hear me. I heard her trying to call out hello. “Hi Toni,” I replied, “I’m happy to meet you.” Gary gave me a list of dishes she wanted at her birthday dinner. He also asked if I could come in a little early that day and teach him how to cook some of them so he could make them again on his own. “I looked up several Indian caterers but I liked your story best,” he said. “I didn’t even bother calling anyone else after that. Just you.”

Gary and Toni’s menu was full of Indian restaurant favorites, read North Indian dishes like tandoori chicken and paneer (farmers’ cheese); saag paneer (braised, spiced spinach with farmer’s cheese), choley (stewed chickpeas), naan (tandoor-baked bread), pulao (spiced rice), sautéed potatoes, dal (spiced lentils) and cucumber raita, the very dishes I don’t usually cook because Indian restaurants make them well enough and because my goal at Un-Curry is to introduce Southern Californians to the regional richness that is India: food from places that are usually not represented in Indian restaurants anywhere. 

In initial conversations with prospective clients, I usually suggest some of my specialties. They are likely not to have heard about them before: tomato-coconut soup; carrot slaw with mustard seed and curry leaves; pomegranate lamb; coconut-jaggery custard, but my clients have never been disappointed. I also create menus tailored to their tastes and the occasion. If they are of Indian extraction or traveling to India, I offer menu suggestions based on their region of origin or travel destination. This time, however, I was silent, simply noting down what Gary requested. “Sure, I can make everything you want,” I said. This was not a time for debate, this was not a party to be fretted over by client and caterer. I just needed to make what Toni was familiar with and what she was craving. “I want to give you a meal you will enjoy and remember,” I told Gary. “And may I bake Toni a cake?” 

We emailed back and forth a few times over the next two days to discuss time, locations, address, etc. We agreed that I should prepare most of the food at my kitchen and bring the ingredients for potatoes, pulao and raita to Gary and Toni’s home for a brief lesson. In one email, I wrote that I was honored to cook for Toni and that the job was particularly poignant because I was grappling with the latest news I had received about one of my cousins. Pramodan is just a few months older than me and was diagnosed with MND exactly one year ago. In the space of 12 months he has lost all mobility in his arms and legs and he can no longer speak. No one seems to know how long he will live like this. All that I know for sure is that there is no cure for this disease. My parents visited Pramodan recently and though his physical state was extremely painful for them to witness, they were staggered by his cheerful outlook on life and the constant and loving care his uncomplaining wife gave him. 

As I cooked all day Wednesday making sure the food was not too highly spiced, that all the ingredients would be as easy to chew, swallow, and digest as I could make them, and that there was flavor and love in every mouthful, I kept Toni and Pramodan in my heart. Palak paneer, check, choley, check. As I cooked, I wondered if my cousin’s father, my uncle Padmakar had also had undiagnosed ALS/MND and what prior knowledge of this could have done to help him and later, his son. Taking the soft, light, vanilla cake out of the oven, whipping fresh cream with rose essence for the frosting, I despaired over a disease that left your brain healthy while stopping your muscles from moving, trapping you in your own body. 

ALS patients go from being able to walk and run to having no movement whatsoever. There comes a time they cannot lift their arms or legs, scratch an itch, pick up a pen and write, feed themselves, touch their toes or touch a loved one. Finally they cannot swallow or breathe or have a heartbeat. ALS allows them to be spectators as it slowly destroys them. 

Cooking Toni’s birthday dinner moved me because it reinforced many notions I have held for a long time: that life is short and precious, that every moment is meant to be lived to its fullest. Toni taught me that you could do everything right, as she did, eat vegetarian and healthy; be fit, run marathons, even work as a personal trainer at a gym, and still end up with a debilitating disease which imprisoned an active mind, generous heart, and loving spirit inside a body that refused to do its brain’s bidding. 

It was an honor to meet her and see her enjoy my food. When we were leaving, I told her how much it had meant to me to cook for her. “I’m going to give you a kiss now,” I said, bending down to her cheek. She had tears in her eyes.

The day after the dinner party, Gary wrote: 

“Kaumudi,

First Toni was happy last night and happy again tonight tasting the wonderful flavors of the food you prepared. My fav and a great addition to our diet is your Raita…so good. Please reinforce to me that recipe. Our neighbors Marlene and Dr. Bruce were also delighted from what I could tell... Your food and discourse on regional Indian cooking was fascinating.”

Even more wonderful was a note that came from Toni the next day. She typed it on her Tobi:

“Thank you so much again. Gary echoed all thoughts and words i could say. Eating food is getting harder so eating delicious food keeps me motivated to keep eating. Please let your cousin know to reach out to me. Not many people can relate to what we go through having ALS. I want to help any way i can. 

With love and gratitude, toni” 

Two weeks later, Keya’s class started a unit on genetics in science class. Keya came home excited about her next assigned project. “We have to make a medical brochure about a genetic disease. ALS was not on the list the teacher handed out but I asked her if I could choose it because of Toni and your cousin and Stephan (her math tutor who is only 25), and she said yes. Could you please tell Toni about me so I can interview her?”

I connected her with Toni and although they have not yet had a chance to meet, she emailed her the questions she wanted to ask. “Keya, this will be a project for Toni,” I told her, “ a lot of hard work.” And indeed, Toni spent a day using her Tobi computer to write Keya an email about how she had been diagnosed with ALS and how it had made her feel. She sent my daughter a long email typed using her eyes to click on letters and words on her computer screen. It was a labor of love. 

Here is an excerpt from her letter as she wrote it (I have not changed capitalization or punctuation):

Keya

In looking back before my actual diagnosis, i had symptoms that i didn't realize were symptoms. It is said by experts that the disease begins before there are symptoms.

Yes the disease affects me mentaly and psychologicaly. I am often in dispair and feel numb. I am very sad that i have this disease. 

With this disease you need to prepare for the future because as you go through the stages you can do less for your self. 

I would also add to keep busy. I worked for 2 years after my diagnosis. Support groups work for some people but i did not do that. Read up on the latest research and try to get in to a clinical trial. Try to fundraise for the ALS support association's. They have fundraising walks. 

When Keya wrote to thank her, Toni replied: 

Hi keya, it was my pleasure. I am so happy that you chose me and ALS as your Assignment. Many people don't know about the disease so  any way we can raise awareness is wonderful! 

Have a wonderful holiday and i look forward to seeing you :-) love toni 

Last night, Keya finished her assignment. As she was putting it together, we talked about how the disease in its advanced stages affects the lungs and heart. “I hope that does not happen to Toni,” Keya said. “Or Stephan. Or your cousin.”

This morning as I drove Keya to school, my brother called to tell me that Pramodan has been admitted to the hospital. His lungs have collapsed and he has chest pain. Luckily his mother and brothers are with him, as are his wonderful and loving wife and son. 

Things always happen for a reason. 

Although I don’t know if we will meet again on this earth, Pampu, I am glad that we reconnected this month and that I have a better understanding of what you are going through, 10,000 miles away. I am in awe of your strength and courage and I see your dancing eyes and smiling face as they were the last time we met over a decade ago. 

I hope sharing yours and Toni’s story here brings more people an understanding of your fight and your victory over an incomprehensible and powerful foe.

Resources

ALS Association: www.alsa.org

Augie’s Quest:   http://augiesquest.org 

Tobi Computer Information: http://www.tobi-project.org