Running away from your problems might not always be the solution for some people. But consider me one of the exceptions. In my case, running was the solution.
The Athlete Who Lost His Way
I’ve always thought of myself as a sportsman. With dreams of enrolling in the army, I was a part of the school cricket team, the Volleyball State team in engineering college, and my personal favourite, the National Cadet Corps (NCC). But as adulthood came around and family and financial pressures began mounting, playing volleyball on Sundays with my friends was all that I could manage to keep going.
By 22, I was married, and four years later, I was a father. I was determined to give my daughter a much better life than I had. And with that goal in mind, I hustled—maybe a bit too hard. I was traveling 20 days a month, and even when I was in the city, I was at the office till 9 pm, followed by long work calls at home. Yes, I was achieving new heights in my career every day, but my late 30s and early 40s were the most miserable years of my life. My 20-something-year-old marriage was crumbling in the most horrific way, and no amount of therapy or second chances was changing it. And that’s when the panic attacks started.
The Breaking Point
It felt like a heart attack. The pulsations were so intense that I thought I wouldn’t survive it. My pulse was normal, but I couldn’t breathe. Other than a little sweat, there were no symptoms that could explain everything that felt very real in my head. Losing my partner—who was supposed to hold the fort when I was away—made me deeply anxious about my young daughter and aging parents.
But things only got worse from there. Within six months, my mother and my ex-wife passed away. Unexpected deaths instill a scary question in your mind: who’s next? I developed an intense fear of death—what would happen to the rest of my family if something happened to me? My panic attacks became more frequent and much worse.
The Relentless Search for Answers
Convinced I had a cardiac disorder, I began calling my family doctor daily, complaining about new symptoms. And when I wouldn’t believe his diagnosis, I started getting medical tests like they were candy. From about a dozen stress tests to blood tests to 2D echocardiograms, every result was the same—my heart was healthy, athletic even. But my mind wasn’t convinced. My doctor eventually advised me to seek psychiatric help. That’s where life took a turn.
A Prescription for Movement
For my first appointment with the late Dr Patkar, I carried a file full of reports and tests, hoping he would find something my other doctors had missed. After skimming through the reports and consulting my family doctor, he diagnosed me with cardioneurosis—a condition where anxiety manifests as perceived heart problems. This explanation felt like a light at the end of this depressing tunnel.
I was prescribed anti-anxiety and anti-depression medication to manage the severity of my panic attacks, but the pills made me extremely drowsy. To counteract this, Dr Patkar advised me to increase my physical activity. He also suggested that whenever I felt a panic attack coming on, I should do something to raise my heart rate—so I could convince my mind that my heart was okay.
I remember one particular incident at a conference when I felt an attack coming. Following my doctor's advice, I stepped outside and began running around the venue—in my suit and formal shoes. It felt ridiculous, but it worked. After enough movement, the panic attack subsided, and a victorious sense of reassurance settled in. My heart was strong. Sometimes, if I felt an attack coming in the middle of the night, I would clump up and down the stairs of my 16-floor high-rise.
A Newfound Obsession
Eventually, running became my sanctuary. My evening runs became non-negotiable. I would plug in my earphones, play happy music or calming chants, and just run. The healthier choices I made—eating well, diversifying my workouts—the fewer panic attacks I had. After three years on medication, I decided I no longer wanted to rely on it. Dr Patkar wasn’t thrilled, but I was determined.
Instead, I doubled down on fitness. I would work at a park near my house carrying weights in my car. One day, a stranger named Ashok approached me with friendly advice on training. Soon enough, we were working out together, and he became both a friend and a coach. He encouraged me to explore long-distance running.
Breaking Limits
At first, the idea of running a marathon terrified me. I was socially awkward, and the thought of running among crowds sparked the same palpitations I had worked so hard to control. But as my endurance improved, my mindset shifted. I was running 3-4 kilometers multiple times a week, lifting weights, and doing CrossFit. My outlook on life changed. Even when Ashok moved away, I kept pushing myself.
Last year, I turned 55. With 15 years of discipline and consistency, I was in better shape than most of my friends—physically and may be, mentally. An older friend from my running group convinced me to face my fears and run a marathon. With some hesitation, I signed up for a 10-kilometer race.
The Marathon That Changed Everything
With a new target set, I trained rigorously. I researched diet and training techniques, consulted doctors and physiologists, and even watched YouTube videos—it felt like I had put my years of cardio-neurosis to use!
Consistency wasn’t easy, but for me, there was too much at stake to be anything but disciplined. While training, when I arrived at the 7-kilometer mark for the first time, I was cursing myself—what have I gotten myself into? But when my watch indicated I had crossed 10 kilometers, an overwhelming sense of triumph washed over me… how grossly had I underestimated my body, my heart and my resilience!
In March last year, I completed my first-ever marathon, finishing the 10 kilometers in 1 hour and 10 minutes. I ranked 49th. Surprisingly, I wasn’t even thinking about the crowd—I was just running, free from fear.
A Passion Born from Survival Instincts
Since then, I’ve run at least four marathons a month, no matter where I am. My workouts and diet now focus on making me faster, breaking my own records, one marathon at a time. The first time I placed in the top three finishers in my age group, I received a medal and a certificate.
I’ve won many professional awards in my career, but this medal—after decades since my school and college days—felt like it meant something. It reconnected me with the kid who once dreamed of joining the army and wearing medals on his chest.
A few days before this article went to print, I ran my third marathon of 2025—a 10-kilometer run in 56 minutes, my personal best yet, securing second place in my age category. I wasn’t looking for passion. When this began, I was searching for a way to survive. Who knew that in the process of trying not to die, I would discover a whole new way to live?
— As Told to Vrutika Shah.
