On February 8, 2025, I achieved something I once thought was beyond my limits—I completed my first full marathon at the Dhaka International Marathon. It was a day filled with excitement, struggle, pain, and ultimately, an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
The Beginning: A Surge of Excitement
Before the race began, I was filled with anticipation. The thrill of the moment, the crowd, and the energy in the air made my heart race even before I took my first step. Up until this point, I had only completed a half marathon once, so stepping up to the full 42.2 kilometers was both exhilarating and daunting.
As the marathon started, I was in high spirits, enjoying the rhythm of my strides, soaking in the experience, and feeling a deep connection to the road ahead. The first few kilometers felt effortless, as if I were floating through the city.
The Struggle Begins
However, after crossing the 17-kilometer mark, the excitement began to fade, and reality set in. My legs started aching, and fatigue crept in. By the time I reached 21 kilometers, I contemplated stopping. I told myself that a half marathon was still an achievement. But then, a thought struck me—if I quit now, wouldn’t I be running away from my own challenge? Wouldn’t I carry this regret forever?
At that moment, my coach and friend encouraged me, saying, “At least complete 30 kilometers—it will help you prepare for your next marathon.” His words pushed me to continue. Despite my exhaustion, I restarted, determined to push my limits.
The Lonely Road to 30K
Starting the second half felt like stepping into the unknown. My pace slowed down significantly, and soon, I found myself alone. Most of my competitors had already crossed 30 kilometers, while I was still struggling through my second lap. But I kept going.
At 26 kilometers, my legs felt heavy, but I managed to push forward. By 32 kilometers, my body screamed for rest. Every step felt like dragging a boulder. I sat down for a moment, staring at the road ahead, questioning whether I had anything left to give.
The Turning Point
Just then, a voice called out from behind me, “Are you okay, young boy?” It felt surreal, almost as if an angel was speaking to me. I turned and saw an army officer, part of the event’s medical team.
He offered me water and sprayed my legs with pain relief. Then he looked at me and said, “You know, as a soldier, quitting is never an option—even when facing bullets. And this is just a marathon. Do you really want to quit?”
His words struck deep. I sat in silence for 30-40 seconds, absorbing what he had just said. Then, without saying a word, I stood up and started walking again.
The Final Push: A Battle With Myself
With just 4 kilometers left, I was in agony. Every step was a battle, but my mind kept replaying the image of a soldier in a warzone—wounded, yet still fighting for others. If they could push through unimaginable pain, surely I could endure a few more kilometers.
As I neared the last kilometer, my coach/friend appeared, running alongside me. He had been checking in on me throughout the race, making sure I was okay. His presence in that final stretch gave me the last bit of strength I needed.
Crossing the finish line was an indescribable moment. The pain, exhaustion, and struggle all faded into a powerful realization—I had done it. I was part of the 1% of people who complete a full marathon.
The Aftermath: Pain and Pride
For the next two days, I could barely walk properly. My entire body ached, but deep down, I felt stronger than ever. The marathon taught me more than just endurance—it showed me the power of resilience, mindset, and the will to push beyond limits.
This was more than just a race. It was a test of willpower, a journey through pain, and ultimately, a personal victory that I will carry with me forever.
