A goodbye that still moves me

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025, wherein 10 posts are published in 15 days. This is the eighth one. The prompt: What’s the hardest goodbye you’ve ever said, and what did it teach you?)

I was in the seventh grade at Sainik School, Kazhakootam, Kerala, when I crossed paths with our Headmaster, Major Prakash Singh. 

After I greeted him, he looked me up and down and said in his deep, commanding voice, “Boys of your age shouldn’t be walking lazily like this. You should be running. Don’t you go for a run every day?”

I wanted to reply, “Only if we have to during morning PT (physical training),” but I hesitated.

Before I could say anything, he added, “Run every day, morning and evening, okay? Only then will you become healthy and smart.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, unsure why he said that. Perhaps it was because I was lean and didn’t exactly look ‘smart’ in the conventional sense.

But his words stuck. From the very next day, I began running — every morning when PT didn’t include it, and every evening when there were no games. Gradually, it became a habit. Even on Sundays, holidays, and vacations, I would run for 30 to 45 minutes.

FROM SPRINT TO STRIDE

I eventually made it to the school athletics team. Initially, my stride suited the 100 and 200 metres. But in the 11th grade, our PT instructor, R.G. Pillai Sir, observed that my gait was better suited for long-distance events. So I shifted to the 1000, 2000, and 5000 metres, and cross-country races too.

Those were golden days. I loved running. The sense of accomplishment after a run was unmatched. What I cherished most were the beads of sweat dripping from the tip of my nose and earlobes!

Running taught me patience, endurance, and resilience. It also taught me humility: that I wouldn’t always win, and that there were others better than me. And that was okay.

LIFE'S CHANGING PACE

As I entered the working world, priorities shifted. Running became less about competition and more about staying fit. But the habit stayed with me; until three years ago, when I developed swelling and pain in my left knee. I couldn’t bend it or climb stairs. The diagnosis: wear and tear, Grade 1. (Grade 4, I was told, could be excruciating.)

I underwent physiotherapy and Ayurvedic treatment. The pain and swelling subsided. I was back to normal.

After I retired in April this year, I had more time and I slowly resumed running; though not with the same intensity or duration as before. But a couple of months ago, the pain returned. The swelling was back. I stopped running and returned to the Ayurvedic physician.

There’s been significant improvement since. I can bend my knee again, though climbing stairs still puts some stress on it.

A GOODBYE I DIDN'T WANT TO SAY

And then came the verdict: avoid running.

That was a shock. If I had been told, “Stop running until the knee heals,” it would’ve been easier to accept. But this felt final. Even if my knee recovers, running again might risk further damage.

It’s a goodbye I didn’t want to say. But I’m slowly reconciling with this new, inevitable reality: even if the mind is willing, the body may not be. Once, I pushed limits and raised the bar. Now, I respect boundaries, and if needed, I lower the bar, with grace.

WHAT RUNNING LEAVES BEHIND

This transition has taught me that time brings change, whether we’re ready or not. I’ve learnt to listen to my body, to accept its signals, and to explore alternatives like brisk walking.

Yet, the energy that running gave me hasn’t left. It’s no longer in my legs, it’s in my mind. And that’s what keeps me going. 

I may not be running anymore, but my ability to find strength, joy, and movement in life is something age can't take away.

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