​There is a runner in everyone, just that some of them have not discovered it yet. This cliché may not be true for everyone, but the idea persists that most people get into running as part of a sudden burst of inspiration. Having stumbled onto the idea, they fully embrace the delusion based upon a fantasy fueled by countless slow-mo videos of athletes in motion with Eye of the Tiger playing in the background. This fantasy culminates into signing up for an event comfortably in the distant future upon the completion of which the said individual will bring home a piece of metal proudly displayed as a reminder of glorious achievement.
Cut to the present – and this fantasy is abruptly interrupted by the mundane daily anxieties of running. Too cold, too warm, too dry, too humid, rain or snow, extra layer – should it be warm or water proof? Fuel belt, phone holder, choice of music? And then constantly dealing with aches and pains, chafing and stretching. Why then, do so many people run?
For me it started with a little bit of the above delusion based upon a training effort with the team 13 years previously. This was only a vague memory at this point, which may have been a good thing as I started my first training run on a damp, cool day in early May. Running around the Charles river provided a great backdrop to the initial runs with plenty of opportunity to take a break and stare into the distance as traffic rolled on. Re-acquainting with team regulars was like finding an old shirt, the familiar but a little different, fits but not the same way as before. And then there are the new runners – some of them absolute beginners to running, just as I was in 2004. All hustle and bustle, arms flailing and minds whirring with questions for the coach. 
Spring turns into summer and the runs become more challenging. It’s time to learn about hydration, a cup of electrolytes fluid can provide so much relief. The runner’s high when it arrives, is fleeting and can be elusive but the memory lingers long after. Stretching is now an ally, no longer viewed with suspicion but a partner to keep injury at bay. Shoes, fuel belts and running apparel is constantly on the runners’ minds as the promised date looms. 
And the race day briefing it is hard to believe that training is almost complete. The camaraderie with fellow runners formed over months of arduous running days has endured has helped get through all concerns. As we prepare for race day, it is also time to remind ourselves about the great cause that is TeamAIDAsha – this being the 14th year that has now helped raise funds to benefit people who need it the most. Sangharsh, seva, nirmaan and the belief in providing education are lofty - and seemingly distant – goals, but the will and commitment of all runners over so many years combined with the dedicated team that has willed this effort into reality has been an inspirational and worthy effort. In our own small way if we can part of this great struggle, it is an entirely transformational experience. 
To end, I bring myself to the earlier question of why do we run? Like all truisms the answer is probably a basic truth buried in oversimplification: it depends upon the individual. Or rather, if ever one does find out why they run they have probably stopped asking that question.

Stroy from Sayali Marathe, as told to Rajeev Soneja

I first spoke heard about  Team AID Asha from Ajit Sabnis at an event for Marathi Mandal and the idea of training and running a half marathon sounded very attractive to me. Despite having no background in any sports, let alone having run before I realized that approaching middle age, this was my best chance to achieve this goal. Attending the opening session appealed to me since Team AID Asha is very welcoming to all 1st time runners.

However I did have to overcome some issues before I could begin. The team group runs are on Saturday and that is usually a working day for my job working for a bank. This presented a significant hurdle since that meant I had to complete all the long runs by myself.  However, everyone at Team AID Asha, beginning with Coach Jonathan & team coordinator Biju was extremely supportive in encouraging me to start training. Any queries I had about training were addressed by communicating regularly over the phone.   

About the author: Nikhil Krishnaswamy is a scientist and artificial intelligence researcher at Brandeis University.  He uses distance running as a way of mixing travel, exercise, and death metal, and is now one of those people who gets cranky when he doesn’t work out.

Editor's note: TeamAIDAsha training program is targeted towards runners with zero or very little running experience. Nikhil already had some experience before joining. That helped him set and achieve a higher goal compared to most of the first-time marathoners. 

​In seventh grade PE—which is infamous the world over as a wretched hive of overbearing gym teachers and puke-inducing endurance circuits—we had to run a mile.  One lap of four around the standard track, starting to fall behind the fastest kids into the rest of the pack, and my thirteen-year-old brain decided it was done, so I tripped myself, skinned up my knees, and got to sit out the rest of class.  Chalk one up for cunning over brawn, perhaps, but it just goes to show that who you are at thirteen is a very poor predictor of who you’ll be when you’re thirty.  At the time, running was for other people—athletic people, stronger people, and dare I say it, as the only Indian kid in my class, not-Indian people.  We are, by and large, not a people reknowned for our athletic prowess in anything but cricket, but if you’re going to let stereotypes dictate your life you’ve already lost.

​Fast-forward fifteen years, and this fairly quick but easily tired kid hasn’t run at all in about a decade and avoids breaking a sweat if he can, and is now a slightly chubby, pretty lazy young adult in grad school with a desk job and a two-hour round trip commute which doesn’t leave much time for anything else.  But I wanted to shed about thirty pounds and had a vague sense buzzing around the back of my head that, well, you never see an out-of-shape runner.  However, this was also the winter that Boston got hit with a foot of fresh snow every weekend so going outside wasn’t really an option, until one Saturday in mid-April when you could finally see the sidewalk, and I decided I needed to get out of the house or I’d lose my mind.  I ran-walked about four miles up the road in jeans and felt like I was dying every step of the way.  But when I finally got home an hour later, it was with a feeling of accomplishment, power, and capability that was entirely new and completely intoxicating.  When you never really consider that your body and mind might be capable of a feat of endurance, it’s a highly pleasant surprise when you discover that it is, in fact, able to do those things that you always envied in the other kids.  That feeling lasts much longer than the pain.  Something clicked and I decided this was a thing I should stick with—and maybe just plan and pace myself better next time.

I started with miles, and then over the summer worked up to three, four, and five miles at a time.  I used a training program I found in the RunKeeper app to keep me accountable (because I’m one of those people who doesn’t want to disappoint his phone), which introduced the concepts of intervals and fartleks.  I traveled out to British Columbia to visit my mom and ran up and down small mountains.  Every step felt like murder but I could feel each run getting better and just a little bit faster than the last time, and came to relish the hurts-so-good the pain at the end.  By the end of the summer I was running 5Ks and setting personal records and by the end of the year I was able to go eleven miles nonstop.

The following year, I’d quit my job, was in grad school full time, and my wife and I attended a South Asian festival one weekend.  We randomly came across a Team AIDAsha booth (and by this point I’m one of those obnoxious runners who never passes up an opportunity to talk about running).  I’d said at the time that I had no desire to run a marathon, but I was on the verge of running my first half, and “no desire” shortly became “well, maybe just once.”  However, having done fairly well at a half without much rigorous training, at the thought of doing that twice back to back, it was obvious I’d need a little more motivation and structure.  I’d never considered training with a group before, but decided the following spring I’d go check it out and see if it was for me.

What a difference a group makes.  Not only can you find some people to pace you but you can collectively bask in accomplishment or wallow in misery.  Plus you’re no longer the only weirdo who constantly talks about running.  The psychological fortitude to complete a marathon is the same fortitude that gets you up at 7 am to run in the rain, and the group gets you at 7 am to run in the rain (because people are going to notice if you don’t show up).  Group training turned out to the boost needed to get over the hump of tackling that idealized racing distance: the marathon.  All they needed in return was fundraising.

I hate fundraising.  At least I thought I did.  Like marathon training, it was something I’d never really done before, aside from guilting my parents into buying wrapping paper or fruit baskets for school.  And doing it with the group made it seem easy—after all, everyone else was doing it so we could commiserate about the fundraising pain just like the running pain.  The experienced fundraisers had their prescribed steps to follow but left a lot of room to try new things.  What I did was buy a GoPro camera, and since I was traveling a lot that summer, I made videos of the long runs I did in various places around the world to keep my friends and family updated on my training.  It was actually a lot of fun, plotting running routes on three different continents and making videos, even choosing background songs.  I can still watch the videos and look back and think, with some level of amazement, how I actually enjoyed the training.  There are those moments, like running past the Eiffel Tower at dawn on the first day of autumn, that are truly unforgettable.  And that, plus spreading the word among family and work colleagues got the money raised, and even got me a thank you card at Christmas from Asha Boston.

By race day in October, I’d just squeaked above the fundraising goal.  On race day, I completed the distance in a time I was very pleased with, for a first marathon.  I doubt my thirteen-year-old self would believe it’s possible.

I say “first” marathon, and maybe marathoning makes you crazy, because the next one’s just a couple months away, as of this writing, which requires training through the New England winter, snow and wind and all.  And I’m fundraising for that one too (it’s going a little bit slower; maybe I tapped out my friends and family on the last one).  And the guy who’d gone from “self-injure to get out of running” to “never run if I can avoid it” to “not doing a marathon” to “maybe just one” is now considering what it would take to set a PR in Berlin and qualify for Boston and run 26.2 on every continent.*

(*Yes, including Antarctica—after doing an 18 mile training run in 3 foot drifts and a -18°F windchill, the Antarctic Ice Marathon doesn’t seem entirely out of reach.  See?  Crazy.  I’m thinking about an ultra.  Maybe just one.)