I canceled this trek four times over a year and a half. The distance, the days, the sheer uncertainty of it all made me question my limits over and over. Autumn in the Himalayas is supposed to be about crisp air, sharp views, and mountains that look like something out of a travel dream. But the mountain, bless its chaotic soul, decided to serve me rain, fog, and mud that clung to my boots like a needy friend. It was the kind of place where lofty expectations go to die, and I ended up thanking it for that. Day one was the drive—four hours …
The Hardest Distance Is Between Your Ears
There’s a moment that arrives in every run when my brain starts whispering. Why are you doing this? You’re not even a runner. You’ll injure yourself again. You’re not capable of this. And every single time, I want to stop. What’s strange is that my body doesn’t even feel tired yet. My legs are strong. My breath is steady. But my mind—oh, it stages a full-blown protest. The kind where logic and fear join hands and stage a dharna in your head. I remember the first time I signed up for a Himalayan trek. I was insecure, unfit, unsure. And …
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Everyone’s Lying About Endurance
What Mountains Actually Taught Me My first mountain climb almost killed me, and that's when I learned everything I thought about getting stronger was wrong. November 27, 2023, I was breathing so hard halfway up a mountain that I thought my lungs might explode. Other people walked past me like they were taking a Sunday stroll. They looked so slow, but they never stopped moving. I kept having to sit on rocks and gasp for air every few minutes. The realization came slowly: I was doing this completely backwards. I thought getting better at …
What the Mountains Taught Me About Being Truly Alive
There’s a point on every tough climb when your body screams, your lungs burn, and your legs threaten mutiny. It’s not the kind of moment that feels triumphant or Instagram-worthy. Usually, it’s ugly, sweaty, and close to the edge of giving up. Yet, oddly enough, that is the moment I feel most alive. Not on the summit or in the stunning views, but right there, lost in the gritty struggle of putting one foot in front of the other. It took me years and several treks to realize that being alive isn’t about skipping pain or chasing …
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When the Bucket List Wasn’t a Place, but a Feeling
I thought I wanted the Valley of Flowers. What I really wanted was to sit on a damp rock outside a crumbling homestay, a dog curled beside me, clouds playing hide and seek with the mountains—and Hari walking up, placing his arm gently on my shoulder, settling next to me like it was the most obvious thing to do. That moment, more than any meadow or misty summit, is what stayed with me. That was the real bucket list—quiet, unexpected, and wildly alive. I first read about the Valley of Flowers while drenched to the bone on the Bhrigu Lake …
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The Mountain Doesn’t Care. That’s the Point.
You can plan your day down to the last detail—wake-up time, pace, weather window, snack breaks—and the mountain will still do what it wants. It took me a few treks to stop taking that personally. In the beginning, I’d get thrown off by the smallest shift—rain an hour early, energy dips that didn’t match my timing, trails that looked nothing like the ones I’d studied. I thought if I just prepared harder, I could predict the experience. Make it neat. Keep it under control. But the mountains aren’t interested in my checklists. They’re not …
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