Been many many days again since I came here to write something. I ran the Berlin Marathon yesterday in 05:00:53. It is mind boggling to me that I can run for 5 hours straight. Humans are insane and marathons are extremely beautiful representations to bring out the best in people. It is people of all ages, all races, all genders signing up to run the same distance. There is no competition. Or there could be. But mostly there isn’t. Everyone is trying to do their best to get the same distance clocked. It is beautiful. Beautiful to see the struggle and sometimes lack thereof.

But marathons are not just about the runners. It is also about everyone else. Everyone else on the side of the course. Infants, kids, moms, dads, husbands, wives, grandparents, some in strollers, some in wheelchairs, the lovers, the ones who became lovers, the volunteers, and the people trying to cross the road where the marathoners are pacing for their life. It is a city’s true display of character and beauty in how it shows up for a marathon. And Berlin showed up very well. Surprisingly well.

While it is surprising to me that I can run for 5 hours straight. It is also baffling to me that I have previously run the same distance in 50 minutes lesser time, I ran London Marathon in 04:09:21. This marathon was definitely harder than the last one I trained for and ran. Well, for one, I barely had put in any training for this one. It was at best 4 long runs and some smaller runs sprinkled here and there without any real discipline.

And the expectations were set accordingly. I did not expect a cakewalk when I started yesterday. In fact, far from it. I knew that it wouldn’t be pretty. And it wasn’t. But I tried to have fun. As much fun I could have - I sang, danced, smiled, cheered back for the people cheering in the crowds, highfived and lifted other runners on the course, and finally gave it my all to spurt towards the finish line to glory. I also did not have any or many goals this time apart from feeling good and not caring about the number.

But I did keep an eye on the clock throughout the the race and was unintentionally keeping close to the 4:45 pacers, who were one too many. Every time I would see them, I would get optimistic. Can I do this in under 04:45? Maybe. As soon as I would build a lil bit of confidence, I would see the pacer and the flag drift away along with their little bus of people. Some of the pacers even had a speaker and a pump up playlist to make their bus, a party bus. It was a vibe, innit.

So, I didn’t care about a time. Mostly did not. But when it came to the last few KMs and finishing, I tried very hard to shave those extra 53 seconds I finally ended up accumulating and finish under 04:59:59. Those 53 seconds are courtesy, thanks to 3 pee breaks, 2 of which I had to take to course diversion and find a spot in nature to answer the nature’s call. This year’s Berlin Marathon was the hottest it has ever been, something like 8°C hotter than the average. My body that is used to Golden Gate Park in San Francisco wasn’t prepared for this heat and it drained me. I had to pour water on my body every 30 minutes and hydrate like it was a full-time job for those 5 hours.

So as a result, I had to stop 10+ time for water, bananas, electrolytes, gel mix and refilling my bottle. Unlike my last marathon where water stops weren’t stops but rather it was a grab and go, all while running, this one was different. Each stop was a stop, halt, drink, eat, walk a little. It only feels good until you start realizing how much everything hurts. And in a true ambitious avoidant fashion, I would ignore the pain, put on a smile, and again start the tap dance of one foot in front of the other.

I will talk about everything but talk about how I was feeling, what I was thinking while running. You see, it’s hard. The thoughts are not in isolation. It is five hours of optical imagery delivered to the brain, thousands of runners crossed paths with on the same pilgrimage, music on the course, in my case, music also in my ears and the musings of a mind and body in pain, excitement, fear, love, gratefulness and a lot more.

I started extremely cautious, especially knowing that my shins and legs hurt a lot for the first 5-10k of a run. Like clockwork. And I was cautiously optimistic in my head too. I kept thinking about death. I know it is weird. I kept thinking about it all throughout the morning of the marathon. The thing is, the year I ran the London marathon in 2022, a fellow runner had died on the course due to a cardiac arrest. There are of course, many ways to die but a positively optimistic and life altering sport like the marathon - it is not a way anyone is supposed to go. So, I kept thinking about the guy who died the morning of the race, as I was getting ready. And I keep thinking to myself, “Do not die.” Or as the tech bros say it “Never kill yourself.”

It is stupid I know. But it is a good reminder, to listen to the body and do what feels right. Intrusive thoughts like this for me are almost always paired with “Mummy kya kahegi?,” or what will my mom say? what will she think of me if I die.

So I started cautiously optimistic. I also knew that post 32k in this race, the entire course looks no different than a zombie land or a living graveyard. Given I had run the distance before, even if it was 3 years ago, I clearly remembered a ton of runners, especially the elite-looking, slender, fit and in top-notch physical shape, struggling to get their bodies to respond, sitting on the side of the road. Some of them using their open fist and knuckles to hit their calves. It is not a pretty sight.

I had decided at the start of this run that I would treat the 1st leg of the race till 32k and the next 10k with grace, giving it the utmost importance.

That was my “racing” strategy. It was barely a racing strategy but more like a Sunday morning long run strategy. And given the abysmal training I had clocked, I was happy to have “survival” as my strategy. And thankfully, I did survive.

At the start line of the race, I also started to think how much I have changed from 3 years ago. My body is not exactly that of a runner anymore. It is not exactly slender and lean like it was when I ran the London Marathon in 2022. I have bulked up and I have also put on weight too. I look like someone who hits the gym. I look like someone who lifts or has lifted in the past. And looking at the other runners all around me, I felt like I do not belong. But in a good way!

It also led to some overconfidence post 10k where I was feeling okay and the flat course was showing its beauty. I thought to myself, “I could be stronger than the runners and faster than the lifters”, or let me push and PR here. It was foolish, now that I look back on that thought. But thank god, this thought was short lived.

On this run, like most long runs I thought a lot and remembered my parents and family, sobbed a little. The music was doing its thing you know. I feel incredibly privileged and grateful to have parents who are kind, supportive, and who provided me with a continued routine oriented childhood that made me most of who I am today. It is because of them and their upbringing that I am able to take on challenges like the marathons and beyond in life.

I also thought of love, love I feel, love I felt, love lost and love that I am hopeful for, from people, pets, places I love. Love is a beautiful drug. I don’t know if it is a drug but it is beautiful. And I am grateful for all of it.

Anyway, this meatsack that is my body and this mind that is mostly beautiful kept saying “Keep on going on” and had fun along the way to finish this marathon.

Fun was had. Keep on going on.

Love,

Divyansh Saini

Berlin. 22nd September 2025.

Smart people would say, “Focus on what is not changing.” So what does not change? Well, you pick: any time horizon. Some things will change. Some things will not. Because give long enough, and everything will change.

So how long should my timeline of measuring change be? But before that, why measure? Can I not just let change be? Let change change.

Maybe. But I have agency. Agency is what makes me human. The agency is me and I have this agency. Not everyone does. But I do. It feels good. It feels that I am in control. And in control of changing my mind. Changing my mind to change.

So I need to use this agency. Use this agency to influence my control. Influence my control over changes. Changes on a certain timeline. Timeline that I decide because I have agency.

It is not an easy answer. My life is fun and it would be great to continue living a great life. An enriching one. One that brings me joy. Joy that compounds and grows relentlessly. Perhaps it would be nice to have control over change in my lifetime. But shoot, I will grow old. I will meet new people, bond with them, create them, nurture them, adopt them, laugh with them, cry with them, bury them, teach them, and learn from them. I haven’t accounted for them. What about them? It would be good to have control over change. Change across all our lifetimes, all our lifespans. Wouldn’t it?

Life would be everything. Joy.

I will do things with these people. Visit places. Monuments, cities, palaces, parks, beaches. Do things. Run, swim, cycle, surf, eat, picnic. Make memories. Of those places, doing those things.

Wait a minute. Life would be everything, I said. I did not count all of this in everything. Scratch that. Life, including the people, places, things, and those memories will be everything. Actually, life would be everything if I can continue to live joyfully with people I love, doing things I enjoy in places I want to be, making memories.

Wow. Life would be everything. Life will be a lot. I want to change a lot. Change is a lot. Change is everything.

Do I want to change a lot?

I think so. I don’t know. I would like to. Life is moving fast, life is trying to be everything.

I woke up one day in an empty white room.

No walls. No box. Just endlessly white. It feels like a lot of screens will pop up. One by one, then all at once. I would be in the dark knight, waiting for the voice of Morgan Freeman. But only if I was dressed better in a batsuit instead of these white clothes. In a white room. Not a room. A concept. Endlessly white.

I don’t know about life. I don’t know about change. Change is everything?

I am changing. Everything is silent. Pin-drop silent. I only hear my breath. One. Two. One. Two. I don’t know what I am counting. But I am counting. I am breathing. I am changing.

Somewhere out there is a world. A world where life is everything. Change is everything. I am not there. But I know what it is like.

A day is 24 hours. Month is a fixed set of days. Well, not exactly. But still it does not change. At least not a lot. The sun rises. Most days, most parts of the world. The seasons change. Rivers flow. Wind blows. Life happens.

I am breathing. Out there, people I love are breathing. Birds are chirping. Trees whistling. Change is happening.

But everything else is changing too. Other things I notice. Sometimes it is changing fast. These people I love talk faster than ever. Read more than ever. Watch more. Eat more. Drink more. Work more. Workout more. Run more. Run 4 minutes a mile. Run even faster than that. They are fitter. Healthier. Safer. Smarter. Yes. They are smarter.

They are more intelligent. They are changing more. They are changing their mind. So fast. And everything is how they want. Because they have agency. They can influence change. Suddenly, the world around them is only the world around them. It is theirs. For them. It revolves for them. They have changed their mind.

Suddenly, the world has revolved around them and has shifted from being a place where a day is 24 hours. Suddenly, this world is no longer habitable.

Suddenly, I woke up.

I was wrong. They have changed their mind. They have changed their mind to be intelligent. More intelligent than anyone before.

They did not change everything. A day is still twenty four hours. They used their agency. They realized. Not they, I realized. I realized, life is everything. Life is what life gives me. Life is what I make of it. Change is everything. Life is everything I make of the change. I don’t create change to make life.

I was wrong. Well, I was no Batman. Maybe a cool outfit would have done the trick. But I am grateful. I like change. Agency. Life. People. Memories. Places. Days. Weeks. Breathing. Running. Seasons. Sun. I like.

I like change.

The music was great. It was not about architecture. There were books about shoes. About shoes from that brand in Oregon. Yes, Nike. That.

So, I was at a store. In a city. A city like no other. Because no city is exactly like another city. But I mean, this city was a good one. Not like other cities. But other cities can be good too. So this city was San Francisco. Yes. There is one. In California. So the store. Yes, the bookstore was in San Francisco. In North Beach. It was lovely. Some people seemed regular. Some, like me, just happened to walk into it. Attracted. Attracted by the vibes of the bookstore. Well, it was a different kind of bookstore. A specialized one. You see, books on architecture. Different. Specialized.

I spent about thirty minutes there. Walking. Absorbing covers by the second. Feeling the fonts. Yes, because there were books on typography. I did not wake up thinking of going to a bookstore. Also, this was a special one, one about architecture. I learnt a lot. Like that shoe maker based out of Oregon. Their styles keep changing. A book with hard cover, big binding had all about the styles that keep changing. The book was heavy. It was big. It felt good to hold. The font was great. But this was not a book on typography. Heavy books are great books. Great books are about great things. This shoe maker must be great.

There were maps. And prints. And prints of maps. Maps of places. Places where people collect on this topic of architecture and talk. Posters of places too. Places on posters too. There was a tiny corner with those maps on display. And posters. And prints. All. I spent a few minutes seeing through the vintage paper behind the glass frames. Some prints were old. Old prints preserved over centuries. Must be important.

San Francisco has beautiful architecture. Architecture of houses. Very good painted ladies. And more than just ladies. Fine custom painting. I saw a house in my neighbourhood. Undergoing construction. And the board read “Fine Custom Painting”. It said more. It said, “Helping San Francisco to Remain the Most Beautiful City in the World.” San Francisco is beautiful. The bookstore was in San Francisco. It must be beautiful.

The bookstore taught me a lot. Like, about San Francisco. That shoemaker from Oregon. Typography, yes, Typography. Maps. Prints. Posters. Music. Paint. Architecture. The music. The music was not about architecture.

I did not wake up thinking of going to a bookstore. I was at a bookstore.