T13 2026: Plans Were Made. Reality Laughed.

Some races are about winning.

Some are about surviving.

And some are about realizing that the random cyclist you decided to follow isn’t even in the race.

Welcome to Thurahalli 13, or simply T13.

For those who don’t know, T13 is an annual street race organized by Velokofi in Bangalore. This was the fourth edition, and somehow, every year they manage to make the same 13-kilometer loop feel like a brand-new adventure.

Last year was my first T13. I somehow scraped through and shared third place in my category by the smallest of margins. It was one of those days where everything somehow worked.

Naturally, that meant I entered this year’s race with confidence.

The Loop That Has Everything

I had been visiting the T13 loop almost once every month just to understand it better.

It’s only 13 kilometers, but don’t let that fool you.

This loop is like a buffet of suffering.

There are short, punchy climbs that make your legs question every life choice. There are long rolling slopes where your heart quietly negotiates with your lungs. There are bits of gravel to keep you honest, flat roads to tempt you into going too hard, and then there are the real obstacles — traffic, parked vehicles, road furniture, speed breakers, and the occasional human unpredictability that comes with racing on open roads.

In short, it’s got everything a proper road race should have.

Preparing the Warrior

A couple of days before the race, I gave my faithful bike, Sangili Sithan, the royal treatment.

The bike got a proper wash. The chain got a fresh coat of wax. I removed the tube liner and every unnecessary accessory that wasn’t going to help me go faster.

If it didn’t make the bike lighter or faster, it stayed at home.

The bike was ready.

The rider… well, the rider was trying.

I made sure to get enough rest and mentally prepare myself. I also reminded myself of something important.

I’m not twenty anymore.

I’m not a professional racer.

I’m not an ultra-endurance machine that can ride forever fueled by gels and stubbornness.

I’m just an average cyclist who enjoys pushing himself and, more importantly, knows where his limits are.

Or at least I thought I did.

Race Morning

The alarm went off early.

A cup of tea got me started, followed by a surprisingly satisfying cup of vegetable noodles that I had prepared the previous night.

Yes, noodles before a bike race.

Don’t judge.

The start point was about 10 kilometers from home, which made for a perfect warm-up ride. By the time I reached the venue, familiar faces were everywhere. Friends, fellow riders, and the usual pre-race conversations filled the air.

After registering and collecting my race tag, I reviewed my brilliant race strategy one last time.

• First two loops: Ride easy.
• Third loop: Increase the pace.
• Fourth loop: Go all out.

It was a beautiful plan.

Unfortunately, it remained a plan.

The Part Where I Ignored Myself

The race started.

Within moments, I completely abandoned my carefully crafted strategy and began sprinting.

Apparently, my legs had not attended the planning meeting.

My thinking was simple.

Gain as much time as possible before the suffering begins.

It sounded logical.

For about five minutes.

This year’s route had changed slightly. Instead of the familiar rhythm, it now featured nearly five kilometers of continuous gradual climbing followed by five kilometers of descending.

That single change transformed the entire race.

Still, I was feeling reasonably good during the first two loops. The bike felt fast. My legs were cooperating. Life was good.

Then came Loop Three.

The Great Detour

At one junction, I saw another cyclist ahead and instinctively followed him.

He looked confident.

He rode like he knew exactly where he was going.

There was only one small problem.

He wasn’t racing.

I happily followed this complete stranger for nearly 500 meters before my brain finally asked an important question.

“Wait… why is nobody else here?”

I turned around, found the correct route, and got back into the race.

Five hundred meters doesn’t sound like much.

It feels much longer when you’re racing.

By then, my head was already busy replaying my mistake instead of focusing on the road ahead.

As if that wasn’t enough, during the descent later in the same loop, I hit a speed breaker and my chain decided it wanted a break too.

It jumped off.

So there I was — standing beside the road, fixing my chain while precious seconds disappeared into history.

Sangili Sithan had chosen the worst possible moment to ask for attention.

From Racing to Riding

At that point, I knew the race I had imagined was over.

The timing was gone.

The podium was gone.

The frustration slowly faded, and something unexpected replaced it.

Acceptance.

The fourth loop became less about racing and more about simply enjoying the ride. I stopped chasing numbers and started appreciating the experience.

Sometimes finishing well is its own victory.

As I finished the race, back at home my daughter woke up and realized she forgot to wish me and sent a message wishing me, which I saw after I was done with the race. Still I was nice to see and she also sent a voice note saying, its ok Dad, I love u. There you, my own Trophy, shining like a star high above my head!

The Best Part of the Day

Back at the venue, Velokofi had organized a fantastic post-race gathering.

Hot South Indian breakfast.

Fresh coffee.

Happy cyclists discussing where they gained time, where they lost time, and how everyone was definitely faster “if not for that one thing.”

There was even a physiotherapy camp for recovery.

Meanwhile, I quietly found a corner and went through my own stretching routine.

Watching the winners receive their awards was genuinely inspiring. The volunteers were incredible throughout the event, and the organizers once again showed why T13 has become one of Bangalore’s most loved cycling races.

Until Next Year

I rode back home slowly, letting the ride become my cooldown instead of rushing back.

No podium this year.

No personal heroics.

Just another memorable race with plenty of stories to tell.

Looking back, I don’t remember my average speed or my lap times as much as I remember following the wrong cyclist, fixing my chain on the roadside, laughing at my own race plan, and enjoying the company of fellow cyclists. Girish Udappa, my race time pacer, ATR, my trusted riding companion, Jeff and Muthu, my love team Kolar boys, CJ, my most beloved cycling buddy, Heyram, the little captain wonder, Sardar our Anchetty hero, Ashwini the lady super star, Sangeetha — the super passionate rider, Linith and Radha who clicked all these amazing photos, Geetha — The lady pogacar of NWCG, Ganesh — my super man inspiration, Adi, Sharath, Eashwar — the Yellow team, JP, Mohan and all the other great cycling fam who were there to witness the spirit of T13.

Maybe that’s what keeps bringing us back.

The medals fade.

The timing sheets get forgotten.

But the stories stay.

Here’s to T13, to Sangili Sithan, to the volunteers who made the day possible, and to meeting everyone again for the fifth edition next year.

This year didn’t go according to plan.

Thankfully, the best rides rarely do.