Beginning and Beginning Again

Let’s talk about beginnings. You know—the first day you lace up your brand-new running shoes, stand at the edge of your street like you’re about to conquer Everest, and mutter, “This is it. My fitness journey begins today.” I too stood at the Ch-0 circle hoping to conquer the Gandhinagar bypass road.

Cut to 10 minutes later, I was in the middle of what seemed like a literal Everest—you know that first elevation that comes before Sarita Udyan! I was wheezing like a broken accordion, cursing the moment I decided to start running, rethinking every life decision since birth, and Googling “Can you pull a hamstring from walking?” I just wanted that elevation to end and the road to flatten again!!

But I did it. I began and finished my first run slash walk slash crawl of 3km. That first step was magical… terrifying… and mostly very sweaty. There was hesitation, fear, and a nagging suspicion that maybe my bed was missing me. Somehow, I powered through the mental tornado of “What if I suck at this?”, “What if my heart bursts midway!?”, “Is it too late to become a professional chess player instead?”

But then days, weeks and months later something beautiful happened—I started to gain momentum. I found my rhythm, I had developed a discipline. My shoes weren’t just accessories anymore—they were part of my identity. I posted sweaty selfies, started tracking my runs on Strava, and even considered running a half-marathon! People started calling me Runner Prakhar! They used to tell me, “Now you don’t need a vehicle to go anywhere. It’s only 15km, you can run there!”

Just when it seemed that things were hunky dory, life decided to simply just happen. I fell sick. A “quick break” turned into “I’ll start Monday,” which turned into “I’ll start from the first of next month. Promise.” Then to make things worse, on the eve of first, one of my friends decided to pop out thirty years ago. That poor “first of next month” never saw the light of day. I swear, you should ask my weighing scale! My running shoes—that had become a part of my identity—were biting dust!

I said enough was enough. It was time. Enter: the dreaded second beginning.

See, beginning is hard. But beginning again? That’s a whole different beast. Now you’re not just fighting laziness—you’re fighting memory. “I used to run 10K so easily, and now merely one flight of stairs make me question my lung capacity.”

The mind plays cruel games. You remember your old pace, your progress, your toned calves—and then you try to recreate it on Day 1 of your comeback and end up questioning if simply rolling downhill counts as cardio.

You now find yourself regretting all the sweet treats and cheat meals you rewarded yourself with just because you’re a runner, or you’re anyway going to begin again “tomorrow,” you’ll compensate.

But here’s what I realised after beginning and beginning again numerous times: the restart always sucks.

There’s no hack, no shortcut, no motivational quote that makes getting back after a break feel any less like dragging an elephant behind you. But each time you do begin again, you’re not starting from scratch—you’re starting from experience.

You know your patterns. You know your fake excuses. You know the voice in your head that says, “Let’s skip today, it feels too hot and humid!” But you also know how good the post-workout glow feels, and you definitely know how smug you’ll feel once you’re done.

I’m not talking about only running here. It could be a musical instrument you once picked up, or a course you began to develop a competency, or maybe even a habit you decided to inculcate in yourself.

Whether you’re beginning for the first time or the fiftieth, remember this: The start will be wobbly. The motivation will lie to you. Your muscles will revolt. Your mind will rebel. On the journey, there will be detours, there will be breakdowns, there will be missed turns. But showing up—even when it’s awkward, even when it’s slow, even when it seems futile—is the victory. Remember your why. Remember why you started. Remember where you want to go.

My why is pretty simple—I want to give my kids that freedom and peace of mind that comes with not having to take care of old and aging parents, and I want to be able to happily play with my grandkids! In this journey of beginning and beginning again, if you fall, which you will, remember these wise words by an iconic woman:

"Pick yourself up and dust yourself off, and back in the saddle

You're on the front line, everyone's watching

You know it's serious, we're getting closer,

this isn't overThe pressure's on, you feel it

But you got it all, believe it

When you fall get up, oh-oh

And if you fall get up, eh-eh"