Running Into the Wind

The small town of Miranpur was famous for two things: its scorching summers and its annual charity marathon. Every year, hundreds of runners came from neighboring towns to race along the dusty roads, raising money for local schools.

Ahsan had always watched from the sidelines. He was a junior accountant at a factory, quiet, shy, and prone to quitting when things got hard. He admired the runners but told himself he wasn’t “built for that.” After all, he’d never run more than a few hundred meters without getting winded.

One day, while scrolling through his phone during lunch, he saw a flyer: “Volunteers Needed for the Miranpur Marathon.” Without thinking much, he signed up. He figured he could hand out water bottles, at least.

On the day of the event, the sun was already hot by 8 a.m. Ahsan handed water to panting runners, amazed at their endurance. But what amazed him more were the people at the back—older runners, some limping, some clearly exhausted, but still moving forward.

After the race, an elderly man in a faded blue cap lingered near the finish line. He’d come in last, but he was smiling. “You thinking of running next year?” the man asked Ahsan.

Ahsan laughed. “Me? No way.”

The man shrugged. “You could. Start small. One kilometer a day. It’s not about speed. It’s about showing up.”

That night, Ahsan couldn’t sleep. He thought about the man’s words. The next morning, he laced up his worn-out sneakers and jogged down the street. He lasted barely five minutes before stopping, gasping for air. But something in him wanted to try again.

Every morning after that, Ahsan went out before work. He started with slow jogs, then mixed walking and running. Some mornings he hated it. Some mornings he loved it. But every time he ran, he felt a little more alive.

After two months, he could run five kilometers without stopping. He began to notice changes beyond running: he was more focused at work, less anxious in meetings, and even started talking to coworkers. His friends noticed he was standing straighter, speaking more confidently.

Six months later, the marathon came around again. This time, Ahsan wasn’t on the sidelines—he was registered as a runner. His goal was simple: finish the race, no matter how long it took.

The morning of the race was unusually windy. As the runners lined up, a gust swept across the starting line, making everyone groan. Ahsan felt a flicker of panic. He had trained for months, but never in this kind of wind.

The race began. The first few kilometers felt good. But as the route curved into open fields, the wind hit like a wall. It pushed against his chest, yanked at his shirt, and turned each step into a battle. Runners began dropping out. Doubts crept in.

“This is impossible,” he thought. “I can’t do this.”

But then he remembered something he had read online: “When the wind pushes against you, it’s making you stronger.” He slowed his pace, leaned forward, and told himself, “One step at a time.”

He began breaking the race into small sections: just make it to the next tree, the next water station, the next bend in the road. The wind roared, but he kept moving.

At the twenty-kilometer mark, his legs felt like lead. He thought of quitting. Then he saw the old man from last year, standing on the sidelines with the same faded blue cap. The man raised a thumb and shouted, “You’ve got this!”

Something ignited in Ahsan. He gritted his teeth and kept going.

When he finally crossed the finish line, he was among the last—but he was grinning so hard his face hurt. Volunteers handed him water and a medal. His chest heaved, but inside he felt a new kind of power, one he’d never known: the strength of not giving up.

That night, sore and sunburned, Ahsan wrote in his journal: “The wind didn’t stop me. It built me.”

From then on, whenever he faced obstacles at work or in life, he remembered the race. Resistance wasn’t a sign to stop. It was a sign he was growing.

Two years later, Ahsan started a local running club to help others discover the same power. People from all walks of life joined—students, shopkeepers, retirees. Some came just to walk, others to train for marathons. But all of them felt the same shift: the transformation that happens when you lean into the wind instead of running from it.

And every time a new member asked Ahsan how he’d started, he would smile and say: “I wasn’t strong when I began. I became strong because I began.”

Key Lessons from Ahsan’s Story:

Resistance Creates Growth

– The things that feel hardest are usually the things building you.

Start Small, Stay Consistent

– One kilometer a day can transform you over time.

Break Challenges Into Smaller Pieces

– Focusing on the next step instead of the entire journey keeps you moving.

Your Past Self Isn’t Your Future Self

– You’re not defined by who you were when you started.

Support and Community Matter

– Encouragement, even from a stranger, can push you through the hardest parts.

Pull-Quote You Can Use Online:

“The wind against you isn’t your enemy. It’s the training you need for the strength you’ll become.”