Four hours a day commuting across Delhi. A corporate life slowly eroding his sense of self. A body that no longer felt like his own.
Years later: standing in the dark at the base of the Himalayas, headlamp on, about to run 72 kilometres over one of the highest motorable passes in the world.
This is the story of what happened in between. Not a clean transformation, but a real one - the starts and stops, the years of drifting, the races run half-prepared. Illness, grief, fatherhood, and the mornings when the only reason to keep going was that stopping felt like surrender.
This is not a guide to running faster. It ends twenty-one minutes short of a time he spent a year chasing, and with the decision to go back to the start line anyway.The road is always there. You just have to step onto it.