The Run I Never Planned

It started like everyone else

I didn’t really start running because I wanted to become a runner.

Like most people, I started running because I wanted to lose some weight.

I would go out to a park near my home and run whenever I could. Nothing serious. No training plan. No running shoes chosen for a particular purpose. No idea about pace, distance, recovery or anything else.

I just ran.

My brother knew that I had started running.

At the time, I had no idea that one random weekend with him was going to change my life.

“Chal, mere saath marathon kar le”

My brother was planning a trip to Nainital with one of his friends. They were going there for the Nainital Trail Marathon.

Everything was normal until, just two days before the marathon, his friend had to cancel the plan.

Now my brother was going alone.

And then he asked me:

“Chal, mere saath marathon kar le.”

I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into.

He told me it was a 10 km run and said, basically, “Kar lena, maze-maze mein.”

And somehow, I agreed.

Looking back now, the funniest part is that my first-ever proper running event was a trail marathon.

And even funnier?

It is still my first and last trail marathon.

At that time, I didn’t even realize how unusual that was.

My first run wasn’t even official

There was another funny thing about that race.

My brother hadn’t even registered me.

He simply told me to come along and run.

So technically, my first running event was unofficial.

I had no registration in my name.

No official timing.

No race record.

And, of course, no medal.

But I did the run.

I ran the entire 10 km just like everyone else and finished it.

Today, when I think about it, it makes me laugh.

The run that started my running journey doesn’t officially exist anywhere.

Except in my memory.

The medal I didn’t have

After finishing the run, I remember taking pictures of other people’s medals.

I was standing there, happy that I had completed my first run, but I didn’t have anything to take home.

That’s when my brother said something I still remember.

He told me:

“Mera medal tum rakh lena.”

He thought I had probably refused to register because I didn’t want to spend money on the marathon.

But I refused again.

I told him, “Nahi, ye aapka medal hai.”

And I didn’t take it.

At that moment, I didn’t understand why that little moment would stay with me.

But it did.

Because somewhere inside, for the first time, I felt that I wanted a medal of my own.

With my name on it.

Sometimes you don’t realize the importance of a moment until much later.

And then running became a part of my life

That small thought — I want my own medal — stayed somewhere in my mind.

I wanted to run an official race.

I wanted a registration with my name on it.

I wanted to finish a race and have a medal that actually belonged to me.

And then I don’t know exactly when it happened, but running slowly became more than just a way to lose weight.

It became a sport.

Then a habit.

And eventually, a part of my life.

After that came proper races, longer distances, better training, more knowledge, more pain, more lessons — and eventually my first official half marathon.

But everything started here.

On a random trip to Nainital.

With a last-minute decision.

With no registration.

And without even knowing that I was starting something that would stay with me for years.

What if his friend had gone?

Sometimes I think about that day and wonder how different things could have been.

What if my brother’s friend hadn’t cancelled?

What if my brother had gone to Nainital with him?

What if he had never asked me to come?

Maybe I would have continued running around the park just to lose weight.

Maybe I would have stopped after a few months.

Maybe running would never have become a part of my life.

I’ll never know.

But one thing I do know:

A cancelled plan changed my life.

That accidental trip to Nainital gave me my first taste of racing.

And that missing medal gave me the desire to earn one with my own name on it.

From there, running entered my life.

And it never really left.