ABBF at the Tata Mumbai Marathon – The Medal I Did Not Earn
Every time I look at my running medals draped on the hanger, my attention gets drawn to that one medal I haven’t earned.
It is not because I ran and failed that I have not earned it.
I got it because over 200 people ran that day.
It is a testament to what opportunity, mindset change, and enablement can mean to a person with a disability. It tells me how life-changing one run can be for someone nearer to the modest end of the lifestyle spectrum.
The day stands out clearly as if it was only a moment ago that I got involved in India’s premier marathon — the Tata Mumbai Marathon. We were planning ABBF’s entry in the marathon as the Inclusion Partner. A hundred CXOs would vie to become able-bodied allies for visually impaired runners in the open 10K category.
On day one of this project, it seemed overwhelming. It required massive mobilization to get all the loose parts together — commitment from individuals and institutions, race registrations, orientation practice runs for everyone, coordination with the organizers Procam, and finally, the actual 10K race itself. In the end, it was not at all about the run.
Through the four months of preparation, I reconnected with old friends from the CXO and the disabled community and made new ones. Life circumstances had changed for all of us.
Among my disabled friends, some had taken new or odd jobs, moved cities, or enrolled in new educational courses to find meaningful employment. Some had simply gone home or stayed put in hostels. Each one had a unique set of challenges — being a chaperone for his blind sisters as their equally blind but only brother, lack of regular transport from their village, lack of funds to buy shoes, and no viable employment in sight. It all seemed insurmountable almost.
The 10K run was the opportunity ABBF gave Corporate India — to hear or be forced to hear about a typical day in the life of persons with disabilities (PwD). It was a chance for them to learn how to communicate with, help or guide a PwD. What do they do for leisure, what are their life goals, and how do they solve problems? Spending time together gave the bosses much-needed insight into the talent and competencies available to be tapped.
Hardly anyone of us sets aside time to chat with folks from the lower strata of society. The help we employ — maids, drivers, watchmen — all from modest backgrounds. They are all invisible, always on the periphery. It is the same for persons with disability from similar strata of society.
This run changed everything. It gave the PwD community a chance to hear and be heard, to be seen with an influential ally, to be mentored by India’s top bosses, and to have one foot in the door where one never existed. One end of the social spectrum met the other on equal footing. There is no better forum to advocate the inclusion of PwDs in the workforce.
My friends in the disabled community love to chat up about their experiences at the run. They post videos, share write-ups, and embed audio messages about what it meant to them.
When the dust settled that day, I looked around the tent that hosted us on Azad Maidan for the last time. After four months of being at it, I felt the day slipping away.
I kept one medal from the extras to have a tactile reminder. It is the medal I did not earn. I got to hold it because over 200 people decided that running with us at TMM 2023 was the best way to show that inclusion truly elevates all.
Image credit: Miguel A Amutio on Unsplash
