Monsoon Runs

I cannot remember the exact day I started running. It was sometime around July 2023. I only remember that it began with a few kilometres. I did not have proper shoes or gear.

Looking back, those first few kilometres changed my life in ways I never imagined.

Three years later, I can confidently say that running has become one of the best habits I have ever built.

Like most runners, I did not begin with ambitious dreams of marathons or ultramarathons. I simply wanted to run a little farther than yesterday. A few kilometres gradually became five. Five became ten. Every run quietly pushed the boundary a little further. By the end of 2023, I had made a plan that by the end of 2024, I would run 15 kilometres without stopping.

To my surprise, I achieved that goal in February. I was almost ten months ahead of my own plan. It was a gentle lesson that we often underestimate what consistent effort can accomplish. Progress is rarely dramatic. It happens one ordinary run at a time until, one day, the impossible becomes routine.

Throughout 2024, I completed several half marathons, both organised races and solo runs. Somewhere along the way, I discovered that I genuinely enjoyed long-distance running. I particularly loved running alone on trails, where the only conversation was between my breathing, my footsteps, and my thoughts.

Then came 2025. That year I completed my first full marathon. Crossing the finish line was satisfying, but what stayed with me was not the medal. It was the realisation that my body was capable of far more than I had ever believed. Every early morning, every tiring training session, every day when I wanted to stay in bed had quietly accumulated into that single moment.

This year, 2026, brought another milestone. I became an ultrarunner. That title still feels slightly unreal. If someone had told the 2023 version of me that I would one day complete an ultramarathon, I would probably have laughed. Yet here I am.

Sometimes friends ask me, "What went wrong, why running?" I always smile. Nothing went wrong. Or perhaps everything did. There wasn't one dramatic reason that made me a runner. It was never a single life-changing event. Instead, countless small things aligned, the desire to stay healthy, the need to clear my mind, curiosity, discipline, and perhaps a little stubbornness. Together, they quietly transformed me into someone who genuinely looks forward to running.

Running has given me far more than fitness. It has taught me patience. It has taught me discipline. It has taught me that motivation is overrated. Motivation gets you out of the door once. Habit brings you back hundreds of times. People often ask what motivates me to run. The honest answer is that I am not always motivated. Some mornings I don't feel like running. Some evenings I am tired after work. Some days the weather is terrible. I run anyway.

And now, it is the middle of the monsoon. The rain falls relentlessly, day after day. The air is heavy with humidity. Shoes become soaked within minutes. I could easily tell myself that today is not a good day to run. But the rain is not an obstacle. It is simply another running condition.

There is something strangely peaceful about running through Kathmandu in the rain. Water drips from my forehead onto my face. My clothes cling to my body. The streets are quieter than usual. The city seems to slow down while I keep moving. During the monsoon, I avoid trails and dirt roads. They become slippery and unpredictable. Instead, I stay on asphalt roads, where every puddle reminds me to pay attention.

The rivers of Kathmandu roar with renewed strength, almost as if they are reclaiming the land that once belonged to them. Roads along the riverbanks disappear beneath muddy water, especially under bridges where flooding is almost expected. This year, however, there has been one noticeable difference. With the eviction of settlements from the riverbanks, we have heard fewer stories of homes submerged by floodwaters and fewer tragic casualties. The rivers still remind us of their power, but perhaps we are learning to respect them a little more.

Meanwhile, my running continues. This week alone, I covered around 50 kilometres. Looking back at my training log, I noticed that from January to the middle of July I have already run more than 1,200 kilometres. That number means more to me. It represents mornings when I chose discipline over comfort. Running has never been about beating other people. It is about becoming slightly better than the person I was yesterday.

I cannot control the weather. I cannot stop the rain. I cannot make Kathmandu's roads less flooded or the humidity disappear. But I can control my pace. I can control whether I lace up my shoes. I can control whether I take the first step. And as long as I can do that, I will keep running.

Rain or shine.