Aetiology vs Teleology at Goa 70.3, 2026
Pondi put in a massive dig on the first Bambolim climb. Usually Iād have been tempted to go with him. That morning I was praying for a puncture. I had no clue how I was going to finish the bike, forget running a half marathon after it. A puncture would have saved me the trouble of explaining why Iād stopped.
Before we left for Goa, my good friend and role model Murali Ramakrishnan reminded me to read my race report from last year. Iād been in pretty good shape in 2025. Things had gone well till T2, when a weird bout of nausea spoilt the run. What Murali found harder to believe was something Iād admitted to him afterwards. In the months leading up to that race, Iād been almost afraid of winning. He couldnāt believe such a thing existed.
As luck would have it, my wife pointed me to a bag while I was packing for Goa this year. I was welcome to use it if I emptied it myself. Inside was a book sheād read called The Courage to Be Disliked. Iād joked that she didnāt need the book. My wife has always been a straight shooter, however uncomfortable that might be for the person at the receiving end. The bag was too small. I kept the book.
I havenāt finished it yet, but one bit stayed with me. I could spend a fair amount of time looking back and asking why something had happened. Thatās aetiology. Adler got me thinking about a different question. What am I trying to do now, and how is that affecting what I do next? Thatās teleology. Seemed like a good book to have along for race week.
Contents
Race week
A few sea swims with Dr Vignan and the Hyderabad gang did wonders for my confidence. The Bike Affair and WeSnap had a big stall at the expo. Iāve spent whole days at the Hyderabad Marathon expo, turned up to race on dead legs and cursed myself. This time I tried to do only what I was needed for. My glutes were still complaining by Friday evening, though I did sleep like an infant after the team dinner.
Saturdayās bike racking took two attempts. Iād brought my T1 and T2 bags as instructed. Apparently they wanted the stuff that went in them as well. Pondi kindly took me back to get it. Then I found a loose top cap. Sailendra and Sampath were there from the expo in five minutes to check the headset. All good. My saddle kept slipping off the rack, so I tied the bike in place with the transition bags and went home.
Race morning
I was rooming with a monk called Karthik, who was measuring and rechecking the oats for race morning. Weād even tried the breakfast a few days earlier to make sure our stomachs could take it. My contribution was to ask him to make one more portion. On Sunday morning it was the black tea that made me puke. Luckily it came straight back up and I could get on with the overnight oats and Goan poee.
At transition I checked with a volunteer and racked the bike by the handlebars. Then came the bit I dread every year. Most people worry about the water and the jellyfish. For me, a visit to a portable toilet on a full stomach is the scarier proposition. This year there were guys cleaning the toilets and spraying air freshener. Such a freaking difficult job, and there they were looking after all of us. Huge respect to them.
On the way down to the water, Rohit caught me having my gel early. āDude, youāre a freaking coach!ā Couldnāt I wait till 15 minutes before the start? He had a point. But thatās my birth defect. Canāt stop eating.
The swim
Inderjeet sir knows the water at Goa. His advice was to stick to the middle and make good use of the first straight of the M-shaped course. Much of the rest would be against the tide. For once I executed my plan. It was crowded and I took one knock to the head that meant readjusting my goggles. Otherwise it felt like a reasonably smooth swim. I expected to see around 45 minutes on my watch. It said 49. Tribhuvan hadnāt seen the others come out yet. Knowing how well some of them had been swimming, that cheered me up a bit.
What bothered me more was how empty I felt running across the sand. I put the spike in heart rate down to getting upright after the swim. Then I lost another minute or two getting the bike off the rack. My front hydration system was in the way. Next time I rack by the handlebars, Iāll try taking the damn thing off once before I walk away.
The bike
I had a gel, got going and waited for my legs to come round. I think I took the next gel early as well. No joy. The odd thing, looking at the file afterwards, is that Iād planned to average 180 watts and I actually averaged 178 for the first half-hour. If youād shown me just that number, Iād have said I was doing fine. On the bike I was wondering how on earth Iād managed to blow up after 49 minutes of swimming.
Pondi came past and we went back and forth a bit. Just before Bambolim I was overtaking a group at about 35 to 40 kmph on the aero bars when a rider moved across my line. I went further right and both wheels slotted into a gap between two concrete slabs. I have a matching set of rods in my clavicles and was quite keen to preserve the symmetry. Somehow the wheels popped out. I got a few choice Punjabi words from the rider whoād put me there. I had no energy or inclination to return the favour.
Then came Pondiās dig on the climb. I let him go, the puncture I was praying for never came, and I kept chugging along, having my gels as planned. By T2 my average for the bike was down to about 144 watts. A friend was there urging me on as I headed out to run.
The run
The first few steps were awkward. By then Iād got used to feeling drained, and the ice at the next aid station seemed a good enough reason to keep going. Looking around, I could see the suffering on the faces of some very good athletes. I got a few struggling runners going again. Getting someone else to run a bit became one of my goals for the day. It also meant I had to keep running, having just persuaded somebody else it was a good idea.
My other goal was to run the hills. That meant getting up Dona Paula on all three loops. Walking might well have saved me time overall, but by the third loop that hill was the last thread my ego was hanging by. I just wanted to get to the top still running. Wasnāt easy. Was mostly stupid. But it kept the run damn challenging and it was immensely satisfying to get up there the third time.
6:29, and did Mr Adler get a look-in?
I finished in 6:29. My WR (worst record), and mentally my hardest Goa yet. I was ashamed of the time. What bothered me more was the thought that Iād probably come to Goa without doing enough training. As a coach Iād want to see an athleteās training before saying that to them. Funny how little evidence I needed to say it to myself.
So did Mr Adler get a look-in? I think he did on the run. I still had no clue why my legs felt empty, but I could get another athlete running and I could have a go at Dona Paula once more. Next time a race goes south on me, I hope I remember to ask a little earlier, what would I still be pleased to have done today? I have a fairly good answer for this one, even if Iām still sore about the 6:29.
As for why I came out of the water feeling spent, that deserves a separate blog. I was carrying four or five kilos more than Iād have liked, Iād slept poorly during the week and I know how my glutes felt after the expo. Iād like to put my training and race data next to what I remember before deciding what Iād change for next time.
Goa remains unconquered!
Before Goa: BMF 47.5 Race Recap: A Dress Rehearsal Before Goa.
