The Nation wants to know!

Time to introduce another of Biscuit’s friend(?). He is of the same breed as Snowy of Tintin fame and as white and cute as him, but, the trouble is he swears (read barks!) as badly as a drunk Captain Haddock. He gets aggravated by Biscuit’s total nonchalance at his hard hitting performance. It is as if the silence on the neighbour’s at our surgical effort! There is a new addition to the canine club with a Rottweiler pup (same colour as Biscuit’s bête-noire Tiggy!) who is tied to his master’s car while the master goes for his clubbing in the Railway club. He is very adorable and Biscuit is warming up to him and their symphony of tail wagging a treat to watch. As they say everybody is adorable when young, the difference between a donkey and horse is known when they grow up. No offence to Rottweilers (I am    partial to Labradors!).

Some improvement on the charkha spinning front. I have been able to source cotton locally from Srivilliputtur within the jurisdiction of Southern Railway reducing the carbon footprints of my spinning activity. All was not as smooth as it sounds, there was a real scare that I could have been out of cotton on the Gandhi jayanti day. Thanks to my friend who chipped in with her grandfather’s stock to avoid a major embarrassment! Time now to locate a local weaver!

The humid and muggy weather has been testing the runners’ patience and die-hardiness. While there is a temptation to bunk the run, but, the thought of guilt for the rest of the day for a few sweat soaked hours in the bed gets me to the door at the appointed hour. I have had two bunks during the period since I went to press last. While one was a party which could not be avoided the other was my mobile alarm malfunction!

I have been trying to analyse what gets people on the road to engage with me. If our favourite anchor was to get over the overkill on the surgical strikes and really ask what the ‘Nation wants to know’, it should be, Why does Hubli passenger run daily? The permanent resident of the bus shelter outside the church opposite Isaphani center has taken to showing his anger as I pass him. Since he is vocally challenged, it is difficult to guess his cause for anger. I am getting a feeling that he thinks I am mocking his attire by running past him bare-chested! There is definitely a fine line between empathy and mockery!

My left knee has been giving a little trouble, but, it gets better by the time I reach the Gemini flyover (about 2 Km into the run). I am reminded of the joke Rajesh Khanna made in the movie Anand about Asit Sen’s complaint of shifting pain. My Piriformis syndrome (pain in the bu$# to put it bluntly!) seems to be moving downward. The old man who crosses me on his cycle near Mylapore with knee caps on both his knees seems to be warning me too!

The crowd waiting for the bus near the shelter opposite City-center was having an audience poll on my itinerary with each person speaking from the point where they have seen me. I was tempted to stop and give a self declaration and clinch the issue. Their shyness in talking to me does not stop them from pulling each other’s leg asking them to catch me if they can!

I have had occasion to mention earlier about the boy (his name is Michael!) who skates with a smile on his face. I finally gave in to the temptation and stopped and shook his hand and told him to continue enjoying his game and congratulated his mother for letting him enjoy it. I also stopped another mother who pushes her daughter (could not have been more than 10 years old!) too much with the result that the poor girl skates with a sad face. Now the result is the girl skates with a smile on her face and the mother has a glum face when she crosses me.

I got a pleasant surprise when the shop owner of the apparel shop (one of the rare occasions when I accompanied my wife for her shopping) commented that he has seen me somewhere. I told him ‘I run’. He immediately flashed a smile of recognition and said he could not recognize me with my shirt on! Coming from him it was not so much an embarrassment as similar comments by the fairer sex have caused me when I am with my wife/daughter! No, I did not ask for a discount!

Today a gentleman standing near his parked car stopped me and after effusive praise for my regularity and dedication told that he comes to drop his kid to the school and sees me every day. He is a citizen warden and for one understood why I run opposite to the flow of traffic. He is an optician and wanted to present me a cooling glass at least! So do not be surprised if you find the Hubli passenger running with coolers on! 

What’s in a name?

However weighty the issues on hand, the customary invocation to Biscuit in the beginning cannot be suspended! The previous Saturday edition of Metro Plus accompanying the Hindu newspaper made our day when a long article on Biscuit’s brethren being employed in offices with fancy designation as CFO (It is Chief Fun Officer and not Chief Finance Officer!). Biscuit appeared sad thinking about the missed opportunities, but, the commercial world’s loss is our gain. He is like the humble housewife whose contribution is often underestimated as compared to the working women. Biscuit has a full day helping all the inmates live a full life while challenging squirrels and engaging in shouting matches with his quadruped neighbours in the block.

It takes something special nay foolhardy to join issues with the Bard of Avon, but, if you substitute Rose with ‘Pain in the B#$$’and the alternative name is as exotic as Piriformis syndrome, I think it is fair game. I felt like Kakaji in movie Anand, gloating over his ‘Lymphosercoma of the intestine’! I am speaking of unspeakable and unbearable pain in my glutes about two weeks back which had immobilized me and more importantly kept me from my running for a full three days. Thanks to a chance conversation with my Doctor brother, I got a name (a fancy one at that!) to bandy around which can be fashionably discussed even in mixed company. I have found this that sooner you can give a name to your medical condition and immediately you start feeling better, I guess it is because you move from the uncertainty to an area where others have gone before!

Dr. Google tells me that this condition afflicts people who sit on their backs and/or who run long distances. I think my job is the cause and my wife believes it is my daily dose of running. I have made a concession to walk around a bit during my office hours between files and meetings and a few stretches before the run. Thankfully, I am back to my normal quota of runs.

Weather gods have been kind to the running community these past few weeks and my recuperation has been greatly aided by it. I am normally quite chirpy during my runs and I only get chirpier if the rain gods oblige. It was on one such day that while running with Sameer, the swimming coach to youngsters near Anna square, I engaged in small talk with a person speaking animatedly near a water puddle and with hilarious consequences. When I answered his repeated query as to ‘How one could survive without the Sun’ with an assurance that the Sun would come out assuming he was worried about the puddle splashing people. He got agitated and asked if I voted for the rising Sun? He castigated me by saying that if one does not vote for the rising Sun then how could it come. Only then it sunk into my thick skull that I have been had by a hard core political analyst and supporter of the opposition party of TN. I got away by promising him that I would consider voting for the rising sun next time around!

The loop around the Island ground forms Km 19-23 of my run and should technically have me tired, but, with enthusiastic greetings from the Army men all through it is the most enjoyable. Now, this part of the run has got even better with the young kids practicing skating and their parents starting to acknowledge me with greetings as they whiz past me multiple times. One young boy really stands out as he seems to enjoy his sport and even greets me as he crosses me on my way back on the Radhakrishnan Salai when he is relaxing on the pillion of the scooter!

Many incidents worthy of adorning this blog happened in the last few weeks of the run, but, newer encounters get overwritten on the older ones. Two days back when I was refuelling myself at the water point near Saravana café, an athletic looking man rushed to me and said that he is from Rajapalayam (a town known for its breed of dogs!). He said he has come for an event (It was Arignar Anna’s birthday!) and I thought would it be my introduction to the political class. He said that he has read about me in a Tamil magazine in a saloon while waiting for his turn and that led to his reading the book ‘Born to Run’. He stated that he has graduated to barefoot running and has inspired a set of youngsters in his town to take up long distance running. Talk of the power of the media! While I was about to ask him about his name and job, a scooter bumped into a parked car and fell down with the young rider thrown on the ground. We rushed to help him. The boy had a bout of fits and we helped him endure the episode politely turning down the people coming forward to give him a metal object. I quietly slipped away to complete my run feeling good about a chance to help a kid ( inwardly feeling sad that my repeated requests to them to wear helmets and not drive rashly goes unheeded!) and having met an admirer!

While on the topic of rash driving, the scene on the Cathedral road was gory today morning with lots of smashed auto rickshaws. This is the place where many of these are parked and drivers sleep in their parked vehicles. I had thought that it was another rash two wheeler riders doing, but, it transpires it was a drunk racing car driver who killed one of the drivers and smashed a few autos.

Independence Day run

When I started a little earlier this I-Day, it was with uncertainty of route and the time for which I would be allowed to run. That the nation is obsessed with India’s performance or the perceived lack of it at the Olympics is well known from the traffic on the social media on the topic. I knew Sunday night was crucial for India’s darling Dipa Karmakar and I had not seen it as it was well beyond my bedtime. A bunch of youngsters whom I crossed in my run commented that this old man should have been sent to Olympics and that I would have been able to get a medal! I did not know whether to take it as a compliment or their frustration at India’s unproductive foray in terms of silverware at the Rio! Knowing how much of effort it takes both mental and physical even in small running events back home, I can only say that we Indians are impatient and make and discard hero(ine)es at the drop of a hat. It is like studying before the final exams, but, success in sports as in other disciplines of life is a slow and steady Ultra and not a Usain Bolt dash!

I could not remove the small Khadi flag (table top variety) from its heave brass base and settled for a laminated lapel flag for tucked in my shorts as my passport of nationalism/patriotism if challenged by guardians of law. I reached Gandhi statue unchallenged! I found on the way that the Muncipal sweepers were the only other conscientious workers out on the road and celebrating the National holiday by working harder!

I was greeted by Mr. Srinivasan (the loud clap greeter!) and so far so good. I saw a few tea vendors (these are like the druid Getafixes who get the city on their feet with their magic potion) near Lighthouse. I asked them how their business was going. They shared their sad tale that the business with the policemen is without payment and the regular clientele of beggars have been sanitized by these so called security men. Is it not sad that well paid safari clad security men are free riders and the beggars are good paying customers!

Just as I was saying my greetings to the Gandhi statue (he was bowed down with a huge garland of flowers, which he eschewed in his lifetime and only allowed khadi garlands!), I was stopped by a grey safari clad officiando. I got angry when he said I cannot run on the pavement. Mr. Srinivasan and another unnamed walker came to my rescue, but, we had no answer to the smiling security man who quoted the ‘orders from the top’. I told him disgust to cover the Gandhi statue as he definitely would not like people’s freedom to be snatched to celebrate our freedom for which he fought so hard! I settled for running on the inner road even if it was not so barefoot friendly.

The usual topic of discussion when I crossed walkers was the place upto which we are allowed by the police. The consensus was that the coast was clear till the start of the Napier bridge. The usual pavement dwellers had receded to the sands on the beach and they must have bid farewell to their day’s earnings.

I reached the police post at the start of the Napier bridge and found an important looking safari suit clad individual (there were more than ’50 shades of grey’ on that day in that stretch between Gandhi statue and Labour statue!) sitting on a plastic chair with a few hangers on. I found most of the people deployed unsure of what to do. They were randomly picking on people to appear busy. People who were not smartly dressed (including your’s truly!) were easy game. He addressed me as Swamiji and asked me the usual questions about my age, distance and why barefoot etc. I did not like his condescending tone of inquiry and was tempted to throw my rank at him, but, I think my self control is improving and I resisted revealing my Joint Secretary to GoI bit! Despite sustained interrogation, I was only allowed to take the Sivananda road and refused entrance to the Napier bridge.

I did the three cornered loop from Sivananda road, Mount road and Flag staff road upto War memorial and back twice (making it 12K!) with the one K stretch on flag staff road repeated to make it 14K to avoid going back to Beach road except for the return lap. The graying traffic policeman at the intersection of Mount road and Flag staff road was losing his temper at a young couple on a bike and I intervened to ask the policeman to take it easy if he wanted to finish his shift upto 10.30 AM without bursting a blood vessel. I was happy to leave behind a smiling policeman!

In my return loop I found that better sense had prevailed and walkers were being allowed on the pavement and I reached Gandhi statue at 6:40 AM. My beggar friend with both his arms amputated from the elbow downward (who had trusted me to count his notes and keep them in his pocket earlier!) sitting all a-smile in crisp whites, clearly in a celebratory mood!

On my return trip, a traffic policeman took the cake by asking for a flag and I being of the Daan-Veera-Karna lineage could not say No and gave him the clip on flag, cautioning him not to throw plastic waste and that I would ask for it the next year when I meet him on the morning run! Is it not irony that the policemen who have been threatening my freedom to run gets away with my national flag!

Looking at such large scale deployment of police force it appears to me that instead of instilling national pride it could end up scaring people to remain indoors on such occasions. It could be a good idea to oversee celebration of national festivals with public monies by people of repute and standing (say Gopalkrishna Gandhi and the like as far as Chennai etc.!) and standing so that it does not become an exercise in self serving for the people’s representatives and the armed forces/police.

That the article about weaving on charkha gone on to the national edition on the Independence day after its appearance in the Chennai edition the previous day, I have been basking in a torrent of congratulatory messages from across the country. I am truly feeling like a celebrity. It surely pays to be a copy (even if a poor one!) of a person of Gandhiji’s standing!

Azadi

Had I gone on Air yesterday, the heading would have been “Amma, Amman and Mother India”! That time of the year when the serial light cutouts of celestial boon giver overlooks the ubiquitous smiling visages of our very own Amma posters, The roads are taken over by the security to welcome Mother India.

Time was when few sensitive locations like the Lal chowk in Srinagar or the Idgah Maidan in Hubli were turned into a fortress to assert our Independence, today even the so called peaceful part of the country’s seat of power, Fort St. George was turned into a fortress with security personnel swarming all over. I was a little early for my run. I decided to get over the war-zone like War memorial (I doubt if the shining flag atop it is of mandated Khadi!) by doing the 4K stretch from Napier to RBI and back and the loop around Island ground in the first loop itself.

One overzealous security personnel tried stopping me. I told him that I am a regular runner and they have nothing to fear me and neither am I scared or impressed with their show of strength. I politely asked him for how many days are they planning to suspend our freedom to celebrate OUR Independence? He sheepishly retracted that he was just doing his duty and I backed off and gave him my 32W smile (well give or take a few accounted for by my dentist!). The lady guarding the regular security post outside Fort St. George smilingly asked me if would never take a break. I told her I may opt to suspend my run and walk on Marina doing a Kanhaiya encore with a tri-colour for claiming my Azadi to run every day (I may still manage a run on altered route!). I asked her give me a security clearance with her superiors by vouching for my regularity. Almost every regular walker whom I met beyond War memorial stopped to discuss the route we could take tomorrow!

A person struck a familiar note and asked me if i am not going home when i was re-starting towards Gandhi statue for the last time today. I told him i am! He said Did i not live near Parrys? After getting the Hubli Passenger's route, he grabbed my right hand and lifted it above my head much like a referee does while awarding the wrestling bout to the winner, proclaiming to the plainclothes security guard (their grey safari and walkie give them up!) that i was a star running so far at my age and that too barefoot.

Now for an interesting encounter on the run today. A bike with three riders stopped near me with the guy sitting third behind a girl on the pillion greeted me with a vanakkam. I did not recognize him, but, he seemed to be an earlier recipient of my Gyan. I asked why he was riding without a helmet much like a Maths teacher asking for an assignment to be turned in. He cheekily replied that he had no money and asked if I would pay for one. Now that was getting personal, ask even any beggar on the Marina, this Gandhian is okay for verbal gyan, but you slip in the commercial tone and he withdraws. I asked him cheekily if he is wearing his undergarments. He did not get the connection. I told him the following story about cricket, “ It took more than hundred years after men started wearing crotch guard in cricket for the helmets to make their appearance”, we men are slow learners and it takes us time to realize head was as important if not more than the family jewels! The girl sniggered much to the chagrin of the boy and I knew I had drawn blood! I gave him a smiling salute and went on with my run.

Wish me for getting my usual quota of run tomorrow, Jai Hind!

Kitna Deti Hai?

We irreverent Indians are not impressed by atmospherics and believe in quickly getting to the heart of the matter. I am reminded of one of the advertisements where when explained the displacement and size of a Dreamliner, a person is shown asking ‘Kitna Deti Hai’. Every time I have demonstrated by spinning wheel to an interested person the initial question invariably has been, how much yarn I can spin in one day and how long it takes to get enough material for my shirt?

This time before the Times of India reporter came knocking, I was prepared. The raw pressed cotton comes in bundles of one hundred grams each. Each bundle approximately translates to over one thousand meters of yarn, at my present level of proficiency of spinning. The yarn is removed from spindle in bundles of five hundred meters each and one hundred such bundles in turn becomes about ten to twelve meters of cloth. I am able to spin about two hundred and fifty to three hundred meters along with my morning green tea hydration session of between an hour or two. About six months of laboring at the spinning wheel gets me enough cloth for about ten shirts! See it requires no Ramanujam maths!

While externally, spinning can be evaluated in terms of meters of cloth generated, at a deeper level it is relaxing and meditative. Taking the analogy to running, while a run can be physically seen in terms of distance, speed or time spent, but, the internal transformation it brings to one is to be experienced and cannot be described. I will belabor this point further; when I was working in the Ministry, in my frustration at the Sisyphusian task of moving files up and down, I had ranted on one of the chat sites. One of my seniors had sent me the following story on my personal email id;

“God once asked a person to push a wall, the person after dutifully doing it for a few months cursed God that it was useless as the wall had not moved an inch. The punchline is God seemed to have appeared and asked the person to his arms and back muscles and the strength he had gained”. The fault sometimes is we are too narrow in defining our goals, be it speed or distance!

Now, a small episode from Biscuit’s friends’ lesson in stretching to lighten the atmosphere. Before the Last Sunday of Month (LSoM) run of Marina Runners when a trainer was leading his wards through stretching session, a stray doggie couple came to the center and did a synchronized and graceful perfect doggie stretch as if to ask what is so great about it, much to the amusement of the wards and embarrassment of the trainer. Biscuit on his part restricts himself to walking in measured steps unexcited by the provocations of his brethren in the colony (even the belligerent Tiggy!).

Having missed the 36 hour stadium run last week, the decision now was to whether or not to attend the 12 hour Independence Day run at Mumbai. The office situation decided the issue. I will have to miss the trip. While it hurts to be deprived of the cheers of the friendly Mumbai runner community and the famed @Pranav hospitality, I thought about the saving grace in the missing of the run during my morning constitutional 32K today! Twelve hour run on Monday would have involved missing my daily run from Saturday to Tuesday (four days at 32K would be a healthy 128Kms). I could have at best put in at best a 100Km in the 12 hour run on Monday. So even by ‘Kitna Deti Hai’logic, Lalithaji, Hometown mein Daudne mein hi samajhdari hai!

Old dog cannot be taught new tricks?

Few days into the ninth year of Biscuit, my wife excitedly told me after I came back from my run in the morning that Biscuit fetched the newspaper. This is earthshaking news considering that Biscuit has had no interest in fetching games and has always fiercely guarded with his life, and sharp canines, whatever he has grabbed in his mouth during earlier fetch trainings! Is he trying to disprove the old adage or the very premise that he is getting old! My daughter set the record straight by concluding that he must have grabbed the paper in his mouth and when confronted by my angry wife he must have just dropped it sheepishly! For his part he has not shown any other signs of growing up and thank God for that.

Though I have stopped counting the number of days I have run at a stretch, but, I must be fluffing up with pride every day when I line up for my run in the morning. Today, sadly, the little voice in my head won and I went back to sleep after my charkha spinning session in the morning. Must be the accumulated sleep deficit catching up!

This is that time of the year when national flags come out and policemen are out in numbers to guard our ‘Aazadi’! While the usual guardians of law and traffic policemen on my running route have got used to my ways, the reinforcements out during the I-day for, of, and by the police are not in tune with my naked display! A young policeman addressed me with his crooked finger (and some choice epithets in local lingo, which were offensive in tone and thankfully I did not get the purport!), and asked me not to run in the middle of the road. The naked power of the uniform exuding from him got my goat and all my pretense of Gandhian ways went out of the window and I confronted him. The senior official initially supported his subordinate and then saw my point and advised his junior to shut up. I was shaking from inside and jittery for some part of the run thereafter. I could empathise with the stone pelting youth who must be revolting against accumulated ire of facing the lording over by the uniformed in the valley and elsewhere. Is it not ironical that the very force which is sent for protecting the people of a place becomes hated by the same very people?

While on the theme of freedom, I must discuss the misuse of the freedom exercised by youngsters drunk on their brand of intoxicant and sleep deprived, who meet me on the roads during my morning run. Recently, I took the liberty of advising a few to not drink and drive and to wear helmets, if not for the safety of the old man like me who could be hit by them then at least with due regard to the anguish they would cause to their near and dear in case of any accident. From the sheepish smiles I get from them and the slowing down when they cross me I think the message is going in slowly and surely. The hefty increase in fines for such violations like, underage driving, driving without licence/helmet recently promulgated if applied strictly would surely make roads safer for all the users!

Two long runs, the first, the 36 hour stadium run this weekend in Bangalore and next week the 12 hour I-day run have me drooling. The first looks doomed as I am required to be in Chennai during this Sunday. As for the freedom run on the 15th August, I am still debating if repeat of the event done two years back is worth the travel? The Kirti college Vada-pavs, the speciality which Pranav Mehta feeds the participants and all the love and affection of Mumbai runners and crowds is making it tough for me to back out. Fingers and toes crossed!

Unsolicited advice

This heading stayed on a blank page for almost three weeks now. Is this the notorious writer’s block? I am forcing myself to unclog my mind so do not tell me you were not forewarned!

This being the first dispatch after 7th July, (do not tell me you do not know!), it is Biscuit’s birthday, that must take the headlines. For him it was business as usual, his bitter foe Tiggy showed him no concession and welcomed him with his usual ferocity during his morning walk. Being a holiday for Ramadan, he got a long bath and his favourite fruit Papaya and plenty of hugs from family members. It is not manners to talk of pet’s age when they cross a certain age, but, he has crossed a milestone and his age must come on record! One Dog year is considered equivalent of seven human years, and by that reckoning at his age he is now 56 years old and has crossed my age, how soon the time flies! He is bubbly as ever, but, finds climbing on to the steel trunk (which doubles as his perch!) for wearing his leash a bit cumbersome. Someone (another Labrador parent) had said that they are kids till they cross seven years, but, Biscuit must be the Peter Pan of his breed, refusing to grow up and we are not complaining!

Since my last blog many mukalats (verbal encounters!) have happened on the roads, but, this one should take prime place. I normally do not advise youngsters (barring kids on bikes, after they come to talking terms for not wearing helmets!), but, something in the group of three youngsters, standing behind their car blaring loud music on the Savera flyover, (must of be college going age!) glazed eyes made me stop and talk to them. I addressed them that I want to talk to them, but, one of them brushed me aside and started to get into the car. The other two stopped him (must be my unusual gear!) and asked me to go on. I started off telling them of my smoking addiction and how it is the most difficult one to quit. They asked me to translate a few words in Tamil and listened to me patiently. I told them to give a decent attempt at quitting smoking (told them it took me six failed attempt to quit!). I hope i succeeded in making quitting appear more heroic than smoking! I felt a different kind of high after talking to them, hope they succeed in kicking the habit!

There is some affinity between my passion for running and madness. I remember the lady on the Napier bridge who was enjoying the rain the other day and wildly clapping as I ran past her in the rain. A few days later when I ran past her near Anna square police station, she just took off and tried to outrun me. Not to aggravate her, I let her win and she gave me a slow clap as I crossed her. Another time on the pavement on the Flag staff road a guy with matted hair asked me in sign language as to why I run. I put my finger to my temple to indicate madness and that made him angry (he seemed to indicate that his madness was of a higher degree than the level my passion had reached). Guess I have a lot more to practice!

There is this guy who sleeps under the bus shelter near the church after the petrol bunk on the Uttamar Gandhi salai. He is bare bodied waist up like me and he seems to be comparing abs every day as I cross him. That day he showed in sign language that I should be careful of the oncoming traffic, I felt humbled. Here I was envying abs while discounting the loud mouth I have where he remains a silent wonder, comparisons surely are odious!

Then there is this old man (must be as old as our independence!) who sleeps near Saravana Bhawan café. That day his pet and he were snuggling on the sack. His ribcage prompting me to remember Anupam Kher’s dialogue in movie Saaransh, who famously commented about the wrinkles on his wife Rohini Hattingadi’s face that ‘Tere chehre ki jhurrion me mere jeevan ka Saaransh hai!, meaning the lines on your face are my life’s summary! The old man’s ribcage seemed to say the same of the country’s failed tryst with destiny!

Finally, the army guys (a little older lot today!) when crossing me commented that I should be recruited into the Army. I stopped and told them that I had cleared the NDA exam and could have joined the Army about 30 years back, but, if I would have taken to running like I do now would have been anybody’s guess! I think the Army with all the flak for AFSPA and rubber pellets of Kashmir could do with a Gandhi in their ranks!

Mani has been regular in accompanying me on the morning run as he is preparing for the Javadhu run on 7th August, or meeting point on the base of the Savera flyover towards the Saravana Café side. Apart from the morning runs, I got to run the six hour stadium run hosted by the Nungambakkam Nitros, and I got to run a little more than 50Kms between 2.30 PM and 8.30 PM on Saturday, the 9th of July. It felt like old times, running in the stadium round and round! That the run in the afternoon was in addition to the normal 32K in the morning that day was a double treat. I did have to go on diet the next day due to the binge on Saturday!