CROSS COUNTRY CHRONICLES: We Ran, We Sweated, and We Endured

As per our routine, we had cross-country every Saturday, in which we had to run 2.5 km to the turnaround point and then back again, making it a 5 km endurance test.

Let me get to the brass tacks. The journey from our school ground to the 2.5 km turnaround point can be classified into three legs.

As soon as the whistle blew, signaling the start of the cross-country run, the stopwatch began ticking simultaneously.

Initially, as we crossed the boundaries of our school ground, we entered the first leg—the Mangrove Forest. No, they weren't actual mangroves. It was simply a mango garden on both sides of the road. We could have called it a mango garden or a mango forest, but the name Mangrove Forest was a legacy that had been carried forward since the time we first started running cross-country. This stretch was around 200–250 metres long (approximately).

Then, taking a left along the same path, came the second leg of our journey—a mud road (kaccha road). It was the shortest section, covering just about 100–150 metres.

Finally came the third leg of our cross-country run—the real deal. After taking a right from the mud road, the asphalt road began, stretching endlessly until our 2.5 km turnaround checkpoint without a single diversion.

To make it through cross-country with flying colours, you only had to fulfill one condition—you had to return from the turnaround point back to the school ground within a time limit of 30 to 35 minutes, depending entirely on our PT Master's mood that day.

Otherwise, you were placed in a very special category—Late-Comers.

Back then, being labelled a late-comer was nothing short of an insult. Sometimes, their names were even noted down so they could receive some "extra care" in the form of additional training to ensure they finished within the time limit in future cross-country runs.

Doing well in cross-country, in turn, established you as a worthy participant for the annual Cross-Country Competition.

...Wait.

(Loud whistle sound.)

Let me stop you right there because, if I continue, we have an entire story waiting about its rules, strategies, and unforgettable moments.

So, on behalf of our ever-shrinking attention spans, I hereby declare the Cross-Country Competition a topic for another article someday.

For now, just remember one thing—the more cadets from a house who ran well, the greater the chances of that house winning the coveted Cross-Country Trophy for the year. It was one of the most prestigious trophies and carried significant points in the race for the coveted Cock House Trophy.

And then, right on schedule, Saturday arrived every single week.

Guys, you should have seen the drama that unfolded every Saturday morning.

Many cadets despised Saturday mornings with every fibre of their being. They would drag themselves to the ground with half-open, sleepy eyes, already mourning the 5 km that awaited them.

True, it was an exhausting activity that completely drained us.

But behind our backs, it was silently building something much greater—our mental stamina.

For me, however, cross-country was the happiest part of the week because I unofficially took up the role of a pseudo trainer for many of my friends.

My ideology was simple.

You could run alone, improve your endurance, and finish comfortably.

But what was the point if you left your struggling friends behind?

Personally, I never found any joy in running alone.

So every week, I picked one friend who usually ended up as a late-comer and stayed beside him throughout the run—constantly motivating him, sharing little energy-saving tips, distracting him with conversations, or simply refusing to let him give up.

One way or another, I somehow managed to get him back to the ground within the time limit.

Looking back now, I realise how busy life has become.

Many of us don't even find time to go for a simple jog anymore.

No one is really to blame.

Life just happens.

But perhaps it's time we pulled up our socks, got moving again, and gave our bodies the care they deserve.

Because, if I'm being honest...

I'd relive those Saturday mornings all over again.