Man who turned grief into strength through marathon running like Fauja Singh, says: ‘It became therapy'
Like Fauja Singh, Sandeep Singla found solace in running after losing his child. Their journeys exemplify how running can help some people cope with loss.
Grief has a way of breaking you, or rebuilding you. For 114-year-old Fauja Singh, it was the unbearable pain of losing his son Kuldeep in 1994 that first pushed him to lace up his shoes for marathons at the age of 89. What began as a way to numb the sorrow, eventually turned into a lifelong love for running, one that carried him to marathon finish lines well into his 100s. Years later, in a different corner of the world, Sandeep Singla felt the same hollow ache after losing his 10-month-old daughter. At 38, he too sought solace in running. Though their journeys began in different times, their stories share the same pulse: of turning grief into strength.
Fauja Singh - who earned the epithet Turbaned Tornado as the world's oldest marathon runner - died in in a hit-and-run in his native village Beas in Punjab, India.
“Running showed me kindness and brought me back to life by making me forget all my traumas and sorrows,” he once said in a CNN interview over a decade ago.
When Fauja Singh and Sandeep Singla met
Fauja Singh and Sandeep Singla crossed paths at a London marathon.
"It was on October 3, 2021. I only stopped to cheer him up. That's how I got to know him and his story. I remember telling him about my daughter, and he said, 'Puttar, koi na... mera munda hai upar (Son, don't worry... My son is also with God). He will give her company.' We ran for a mile before I moved ahead, but he definitely left an impression. He was a true Punjabi spirit - so full of life," Sandeep Singla tells HT Lifestyle in a pensive mood.
Their experience is a reminder of how even strangers find strength in sorrow, and how loss tends to unite people.
{{/usCountry}}Their experience is a reminder of how even strangers find strength in sorrow, and how loss tends to unite people.
{{/usCountry}}Qatar-based Sandeep Singla, now 44, works in the energy sector. His own energy stems from being a writer, father, runner, and someone constantly trying to rebuild himself after loss.
{{/usCountry}}Qatar-based Sandeep Singla, now 44, works in the energy sector. His own energy stems from being a writer, father, runner, and someone constantly trying to rebuild himself after loss.
{{/usCountry}}"I lost my ten-month-old daughter, Zarouhi, in 2016. She had a liver condition called Biliary Atresia – a rare and aggressive liver disease that prevents bile from flowing from the liver to the small intestine. She went through multiple surgeries, including a liver transplant for which I was the living donor. However, she couldn’t make it and died in September 2016," shares Singla in an email interview.
“I was running away from pain"
{{/usCountry}}"I lost my ten-month-old daughter, Zarouhi, in 2016. She had a liver condition called Biliary Atresia – a rare and aggressive liver disease that prevents bile from flowing from the liver to the small intestine. She went through multiple surgeries, including a liver transplant for which I was the living donor. However, she couldn’t make it and died in September 2016," shares Singla in an email interview.
“I was running away from pain"
{{/usCountry}}The grief of her passing was devastating for him and his wife Ani, who are now parents to a a 6-year-old and 3-year-old children.
"I went through a series of emotions ranging from guilt to self-questioning and I kept thinking, 'Maybe if I had been healthier... maybe I shouldn’t have been the donor... maybe I killed her'. The donation impaired my own liver function, and the health continued to deteriorate. I slipped into depression – that took a further toll on mental well-being. Everything started to feel meaningless. On the back of Covid, one morning, I laced my shoes and stepped outside. It was not to run, but perhaps to escape. I wanted to get better, so I was sort of running away from pain," he adds.
How was that first run?
“I hated it. It was painful, and I wondered why people run. But I didn’t want to give up. I felt something will shift and perhaps lead me back to life. In time, running started to give that pain, that depression, a shape. It evolved into something bigger than an exercise... it became a therapy for me. I moved from slow, painful jogs to more structured runs – ending in marathons and then ultra-marathons. Now it has become an obsession and a way of life," says Singla, who belongs to India's 'City Beautiful', Chandigarh.
What the marathon medals stand for
His marathon presence has earned him a Six-Star Medal, representing six of the world’s major marathons in New York, Boston, Chicago, Berlin, London, and Tokyo. He also has to his credit a Grand Slam Plus medal, where one runs five, 250-km, self-supported ultramarathons in 5 different deserts - Namibia, Antarctica, Jordan, Mongolia and Chile - over a period of 12 months.
For Singla, the medals represent; firstly, a tribute to his daughter, Zarouhi, who is buried in Singapore, and secondly, to his own resilience around the idea that "even when life breaks you, you can build something beautiful from the pieces".
"I had started this running journey as a broken man, carrying the weight of my daughter’s memory across continents. Now they are no longer about conquering grief, but about learning how to carry it and not be buried by it. I am developing a new relationship with pain, with grief via running," he says.
The impact of grief
Grief, he adds, affects people in different ways. There is no one-size-fits-all concept.
He explains: "We all go through the same 7 stages of grief – shock, guilt, anger, depression, turnaround, reconstruction, and acceptance/hope. But we spend a different amount of time in each stage. When you are running – short or long, you spend a lot of time with yourself. And that time allows you to reflect deeply, and process your thoughts. Slowly, this allows a shift in your grief because it gives you space, something to be thankful for and be distracted about."
Personally, beyond a point, he began to find out that his story resonated with others. People began reaching out to him to share how they coped with grief and how his story gave them strength to cope with their losses. This made his own journey about inspiring others.
How to cope with losing a loved one
What would he say to someone battling grief, illness, or personal loss?
"First, I’d say: I see you. And I know that right now, it feels like life has ended. But it hasn’t. Like love, grief changes over time. It will soften, it will get easier – it will never disappear, and it shouldn’t. Slowly, you will be ready to carry your grief whether it is from loss, illness, or anything else – not as a weight, but as a force driving you."
In Sandeep Singla's case, the force took him to his most recent and hardest adventure: the Mount Everest Base Camp. He carried a small photograph of his late daughter in his pocket and left it at the top.
"This was like a summit in its own way – just to stand there in the shadow of the highest point on Earth, with all that I’ve been through… it reminded me how far I’ve come."
Now he has his eyes set on a new mission in 2026: running 7 marathons in 7 continents in 7 consecutive days.