Running is often seen as a simple activity—one foot in front of the other, a steady rhythm, and a finish line ahead. But sometimes, a run becomes more than just a physical effort.
It becomes a lesson in patience, unpredictability, and the small joys that make an experience memorable.
The event I joined was advertised as a 5K, but the track ended up being around 4.25K. A minor difference, but it reminded me how things don’t always go exactly as planned.
That theme continued when the run, scheduled to begin at 7 AM, didn’t start until 7:40. The delay wasn’t surprising—runs in Kathmandu often stretch the meaning of ‘on time’—but waiting with other runners, sharing a few laughs, and watching Zumba sessions fill the gap made it part of the experience rather than a frustration.
When we finally started, the first few strides felt exhilarating, the way running often does. Some people sprinted ahead, others settled into their own pace.
I found myself somewhere in between, adjusting to the rhythm of my breath and the flow of the crowd. The track wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. The point wasn’t perfection—it was movement.
What stood out most wasn’t the run itself but the atmosphere it created. The way strangers encouraged each other, the nods of acknowledgment between runners, the unspoken agreement that we were all in this together.
A race isn’t really about winning or even finishing—it’s about sharing a collective moment, however brief.
Crossing the finish line didn’t feel like a grand victory, but it didn’t need to. The joy was in the process—in pushing forward, in adapting, in embracing the imperfections of the experience.
It was a reminder that sometimes, the best moments are the ones that don’t go exactly as planned.