The worst bit about running very long distances beyond the marathon mark is the prior knowledge that the run will be self inflicted pain like no other. It's a bit like knowing that you are willingly going to put your hand in a fire, and that you will burn, and that afterwards it will hurt for a long time.

I had hardly slept all night. When I did sleep I was awoken by the skies rumbling or by rainwater dripping through the roof. As the alarm went the heavens simultaneously opened up. Starting a 70km run in a rainstorm was never in the deal! Rahul and I exchanged grumbles and decided to delay the agony for a further 15 minutes, then 30 minutes and finally 45 minutes just as the rain began to abate. Everyone was tired and weary.

We had a 10km drive to the starting point. In my mind I was going through the motions of trying to get focused for what would undoubtedly be 10 hours on the road in torturous conditions. Thankfully Des, Sudeep and Stevie had committed to sharing the distance and time with me from the support vehicle, and Rahul had oiled his trusty bicycle to be with me on the road. I wouldn't be doing this alone and I was grateful. We knew that the road was a busy 'A' road which meant that we would have to be extra careful of buses and lorries.

"Leaving the familiar and entering the unknown"
For the first time our journey took us to the southern boundary of Kerala and beyond to the neighbouring state, Tamil Nadu. The language changed dramatically leaving us stranded for street side conversation. Our Malayalam was defunct within miles of exiting Kerala. Tamil Nadu had a different feel from the Kerala we had come to appreciate so much. Hours passed by with shared tales and stories between the cyclist and runner. My legs hurt comparatively quickly and my mind ached to sit down and pack it all in. Des and Stevie kept telling me how far I had gone, and it was never as much as I had hoped. The sun burned down, then the clouds gathered and sheets of rain fell. We were soaking and
shivering and still I had another 45kms to do.

"Heels on Fire - linking development learning, writing, photography and running"
Once again I wondered at how running can be linked to development learning? Were we too ambitious in trying to do too much? Had anyone really learned anything new that they could carry forward in their own lives and professions? Had the run really acted as a conduit to challenge people’s pre-conceptions?

Dez's prior knowledge of Kerala and his innate talent for photography had made a massive difference. His images on the website were 'real' and 'true'. Rahul's writing had gone from strength to strength and had encapsulated so much of what we had learned. Our editing team behind the scenes had made so much of our hastily written observations. Heels on Fire had made linkages between many people and projects. The website is now veritable wealth of information, which reflects a hard month of work, let alone a hard month of running, travel and work. Many different people had gained much from this odd but decidedly innovative under-taking. Heels on Fire is certainly now known to many people in Kerala, and to quite a few more around the world. The discussion forum had been hard work for the Heels on Fire team. As amateur writers we had opened ourselves up to all types of feedback. At times we were taken aback by comments, at other times we were excited and enthused by insights and suggestions. One constant was the photography and filming, which always managed to ground the team to the roots of the objectives of Heels on Fire – meeting and speaking with those people at the roadside of the run, those who are most often unheard.

"Never Enough Time!"
Time was always a pressure and a strain. The run coincided with not only extreme heat and the pending monsoon season, but also with pending work commitments for so many of the HoF brains working behind the five of us in Kerala. It’s been exhausting for us all, but if I can just make it through the next 30kms I knew it would seal a small victory in a world of scepticism and frustration.

My job was clearly written at the outset, I had to run 600kms in less than a month, all that had to be done now was to take the pain, grit my teeth and keep running. Rahul whispered words of encouragement and we continued in silence.

"Reaching the End"
With 15kms to go the mood changed. Rahul gave the bike to Stevie and started running. Even Des and Sudeep got into the groove and jogged a little. Spirits were lifting. Bekal Fort on the 1st of May seemed like a lifetime away. Images of people and places stirred through my mind. And so we eked out the last kilometres, each of us quietly re-living the
adventure of the last month. I looked around me at the others and felt a wave of pride at how people who previously knew nothing of each other, from different continents and backgrounds had bonded together, confronted any number of challenges, had shared laughs, emotions and had learned so much.

The last big push was almost finished. I had surpassed the distance covered by my 4.5-year-old nemesis, Budhia from Orissa (65kms). The last 10kms almost became a pleasure as we counted 590km, 591kms, 592kms. The run had been undeniably difficult: I had drunk nearly 200 half litre bottles of orange and lemon flavoured Gatorade; approximately 150 litres of water; used one and a half kilos of electrolyte mix; eaten a kilo of 'Gu' running gel; eaten at least 15kgs of finger bananas; burned tens of thousands of calories; lost a mere 5kgs of weight (a testament to the joys of Kerala cuisine); run one pair of brand new New Balance 857 shoes into the ground; and seen a months worth of sunrise and sunsets.

"Kanyakumari - one month and 600kms later"
We ran into the fabled town of Kanyakumari with our heads held high. I felt an immense sense of relief. A huge sign screamed out to us saying, "Welcome to Kanyakumari". Running a further kilometre on we reached the summit of the brow of a hill where I saw the ocean that I had long waited for through the day. This sight was followed shortly thereafter with the marble marvel, the enormous memorial of Swami Vivekananda on a rock island some 400 metres off shore.

Swami Vivekananda (also affectionately known as the 'Wandering Monk') was Hindu philosopher. Having travelled around India, he is said to have meditated on the rock in 1892 before setting off around the world as a religious crusader.

So there we were amidst a throng of pilgrims and tourists. I stood quietly, deep in my own thoughts looking out to the memorial that marked our arrival at the confluence of three oceans –the Bay of Bengal, the Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean. The light wasn't great
for photography and we had arrived just a little too late to catch the last boat to the island, but that didn't matter. It was a sweet moment and certainly one to savour.

In reaching the Southern most tip of the Indian peninsula 'Heels on Fire' had somehow navigated its way through a world of challenges and obstacles to successfully record a snapshot of the stories and lives of the people along the roadside of Kerala. For me personally I believe that Heels on Fire set out to link running with the camera lens and the computer screen. As one friend wrote, 'it would offer a chance to see how other people in another part of the world simply get on with their lives'. I hope the adventure has at some time struck a cord with you, creating a connection, which you will remember.

It had been a long day and a tough but thoroughly enjoyable month.
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Postscript – HoF is now off to Kochi to link up with the Heart Care Foundation to have a short 'Run for Life' fun run.