Random hits on the keyboard

By the time I completed my 30 km of Manjushree Trail Running, I was super exhausted. My body battery, according to Garmin Connect, was negative. Yes, it went below zero. Don't worry—I was still alive (barely). That day, I ran for 6 hours and 45 minutes. It was, without a doubt, the hardest run I have ever done. Somewhere along the way, I realized I was an absolute idiot for signing up. As one of my friends pointed out, "You have to pay to participate, and on top of that, you have to run ? That’s just silly." With this experience, I feel morally obligated to warn everyone about the horrors of trail running and why you should never —I repeat, never—attempt it. 1. Running Is Already a Bad Idea—Trail Running Is Worse Running on a plain road is tough enough, but trail running? That’s a whole new level of suffering. The terrain was so brutal that regular road running now feels like a luxury. The worst part? I want to do it again. It’s addictive. And addiction is bad. You don’...

Inspired by a quote from the famous philosopher René Descartes “Cogito, ergo sum” (“I think, therefore I am”), I grounded my thoughts to find – I don’t know what – something meaningful. I wonder if this has to do with the middle-age crisis? Or something else. I have been writing a few blogs - not realizing that many of them are on running, By no means, can I be categorised as a runner. I started running recently, about two years ago. Slowly, I started to feel something that I had not felt earlier. Running has connected me to my body, mind and many more. It has a profound effect on me. I run for fun now.  Running has changed my viewpoint on pain and pleasure. It has given me confidence and of course good health. Every run is a challenge to be a bit better. I start to eat good food. I am becoming selective about what I eat. I try to attend running events in my town. Surprisingly enough, I have been challenging myself on other aspects - for example my reading habit. These days, I tend...

  It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.  The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. 

This weekend, I attended a Table Topic competition at my Toast Masters Club. The table topic is an impromptu speech - for two minutes. The topics are only announced to the speaker on the podium.  As I was waiting for my turn, I was nervous - okay super nervous. My mind was racing through thousands of possible topics: Women's Day, world peace, climate change, my favourite food, my last embarrassing moment, my greatest achievement and many more.  There were six contestants in another room so we did not hear the topic and speech. The first speaker was called, and the remaining five of us started to express our fear of speech. The second, third and fourth and I was the fifth. When I was called, my heart thundered like a rock band drum solo. I suppressed my fear and got to the stage.  The host announced: " Ashok Maharjan, it's okay to make mistakes, It's okay to make mistakes, Ashok Maharjan. " I began: "Contest Chair, fellow Toast Masters and guests, we all learn...