No Crowd to Cheer You On

There I was, standing on the edge of a hill, gazing at the horizon, while my sweat consumed me and the wind touched my skin. I was exhausted after sprinting my way up a long, steep hill. I could barely stand. It felt like stones were cemented in my legs, refusing me to continue. But the moment I stopped and gazed out from afar, I felt exhilarated after having pushed my body past its limit.

It was at the age of 20 that I made a decision that changed my life completely. One day, I picked up my bike, which I hadn't used in a long time, and went out for a ride. And as I was riding my bike, on a warm summer evening, a thought crossed my mind: "I should probably go out for a run tomorrow." And so I did. Out of the blue, I started running. No experience. No YouTube videos on how to start or what running technique to focus on. I didn't even have proper running shoes. The first run was short but intense. And without much thought, I ran again the next day, and the following day. After running three days straight, I could feel the soreness in my legs. I took a day off. But it was hard to sit still after experiencing a rush of adrenaline. I wanted more of it, so I ran for three days straight again and then took another break.

That became my pattern for some time. I couldn't get enough of it. No one told me that running could be so addictive. But then I hit a wall. A sudden realization struck me: I didn't have a specific goal. Most people run to get into shape or just to stay healthy. Others include running as part of their training preparation for things like marathons. For me though, I had no goal. I had no clue what I was aiming for. All I knew was the exhilarating feeling I got after an intense run.

Looking back now, my runs were very unstructured and aimless. I didn't run any specific distance. Most times, I went out whenever I felt like it. Back then, when I still lived with my family, I could just head out whenever. But I had two fixed routes—a long one and a shorter one—depending on my mood that day.

After getting married, moving to a new town, and starting my bachelor studies, my running routine got disrupted. It took time to adjust to a new place. And with COVID-19, things didn't get better. I became lazy. My eating habits were unhealthy (takeaways were my thing), and I kept gaining weight. My health and overall well-being suffered. The exhilaration I once felt became a tale of the ancient past.

In the summer of 2022, I became a father for the first time to a healthy daughter. A sense of gratitude struck me, along with a new responsibility I looked forward to. I knew I had to change—I couldn't stay the same. I decided to take running seriously again. But towards the end of 2022, an unexpected turn of events happened.

As I was trying to regain momentum in running, I was struck with a rare autoimmune disease that affected my hearing, vision, and balance. My life was put on hold. For the next ten months, I wasn't able to run. I was devastated, but knew I had to take it slow.

It was on September 13, 2023, that I went for my first run after the longest break of my life. I remember it vividly. I felt unsure. Afraid. "What if I fall out on the road?", I thought. Whenever I walked, I often went sideways. Clunky and unsteady. But I knew I couldn't stay the same forever, so I battled those thoughts. I persisted. I wanted to see where my limits were. It felt amazing, almost to the point of tearing up.

Fast forward to August 2025, as I write this essay, I've been reflecting on what running has taught me over the years. I didn't run to get into shape or to live a healthier lifestyle, although those things happened naturally. I ran to see where my limits were. While on a run, you often put your body under stress that most people won't bother with. And I noticed something. The more consistent I was with running, the better I was at handling chaotic moments in my life. Like the eye of a tornado, calm on the inside.

In short, running helps me build mental fortitude. If I ran less in a week, or if my runs were sloppy, I knew I needed to push myself harder.

For years, my runs had no goal. That changed in late spring 2025 when I realized that aimless running wasn't taking me to the next level. Especially now, as a father of two girls with more responsibilities. So I set a goal. I signed up for a running event in mid-September. My aim is to run 5k in 25 minutes. Whether I hit or not doesn't matter—it gives me something to work toward.

Since then, I've been consistent. I feel more energized throughout the day. The lack of exercise had drained me before. I don't run less than 5k anymore—that's my bare minimum. And the benefits are clear as day. Besides the mental boost, I kept losing weight. I started at 76 kg in April, and now in August, I'm down to about 69kg.

So, would I recommend anyone to start running? Yes, absolutely. Running helps with weight loss, improves mood, strengthens your body, and gives you more energy.

And I've recommended running to people I know. But only a few would take the invite. And here's the thing with running: it has to suck in the beginning. When I started running again in April, it was hard. I felt heavy. But as I got slimmer, it began to feel amazing.

To hit that "runner's high", you would have to go through a lot of "runner's low."

No matter the weather, whether it was cold, windy, or pouring with rain, I was out there. I often questioned why I would do it to myself. But afterwards, I always felt alive.

Running is a mental battle with no crowd to cheer you on. It's not trendy or flashy. Most people quit when the season changes. And how many times have you seen running selfies compared to gym selfies?

I'll leave you with this—if you do decide to run, ask yourself why. If your reason isn't strong enough, you'll find that it's not worth the struggle and suffering. But if it is, you'll find that your limits aren't where you thought they were.