Today, the world grieves the loss of Fauja Singh, the indomitable “Turbaned Torpedo”, who was tragically taken away from us on July 14. We have lost a legend, a man who didn’t just run, but one who rewrote the meaning of movement itself. Even writing down his age, 114, feels surreal. Not because he lived that long — but because he lived that well.
I have been greatly inspired by the life of Fauja Singh, especially his running tales. I had the honour of meeting him years ago at the Mumbai marathon. I remember thinking that this was someone who didn’t just defy age, he made it irrelevant. No grand philosophies, no high-tech training gear. Just discipline, simplicity, and a heart that beat with purpose.
Singh’s death is heartbreaking, not only because we have lost a symbol of resilience, but because it was avoidable. He was killed by a person driving recklessly while he was simply crossing a road near his home. His death shines a light on a harsh truth: In India, countless pedestrians, especially the elderly, face daily dangers from unsafe roads, lack of crosswalks, and our couldn’t-care-less attitude about drunken driving and hit-and-runs. Fauja defied limits all his life, only to be failed by a society that couldn’t protect him. His passing must not be in vain — it must become a call to action for safer roads, stricter laws and respect for every person’s life.
Although my own running journey began over two decades ago, Fauja Singh reminded me that sport isn’t about speed or medals — it’s about spirit. He started running marathons at 89. Most people would have given up on their bodies by then. He chose to believe in his. “Running showed me kindness and brought me back to life,” he later shared. What I admired most about Fauja was not his stamina or strength, but his spirit. He began running to cope with grief, after losing his wife and son. Most of us would break under that weight. He chose to move, one step at a time, until that movement became something the world noticed. His journey culminated in the 2011 Toronto Marathon, where he became the first centenarian to finish a full marathon.
His life was more than a testament to physical endurance. It spoke of resilience. It reminded me, and everyone who watched his turban bob along the route, that it is never too late to start exploring anything that you love and to write your own second act. His unwavering discipline — eschewing alcohol, tobacco, and indulgent foods — earned him not just longevity, but vitality.
In the world of fitness, we tend to idolise young achievers bursting with speed and promise, but Fauja taught us to revere the ancient spark in the soul of an elder who, in defying his own mortality, inspired youth worldwide. He even carried the Olympic torch for London 2012.
That’s what running is. Not escape, not exertion — but expression. A meditation. And Fauja showed us how it could heal. Running teaches you everything you need to know — about patience, resilience, joy, and pain. With every mile he ran, Fauja reminded us that age is not a limitation; the mind is.
What’s heartbreaking is how, in India, running becomes an act of bravery. Every runner who ties their shoes and steps out the door — especially women, elders, and those without access to private clubs — is quietly pushing back against fear, neglect, and indifference.
India has the spirit for running. But to truly become a country that welcomes runners, it needs more than marathons. It needs safer streets, respectful public spaces and a cultural shift that sees runners not as obstacles on the road — but as inspiring people who deserve to move freely and safely.
There’s something truly sacred about long-distance running. What makes it special is not just the distance — it’s the journey inward. With every kilometre, you’re not just moving forward — you’re also peeling back layers of fear, doubt, and fatigue. It’s not about outrunning others; it’s about discovering the strength you didn’t know you had.
Would I recommend long distance running? Absolutely. Not just as a sport, but as a way to know yourself, as a way to happiness and contentment.
Fauja Singh is a humbling reminder that we run not to escape life, but to embrace it. He raced the clock itself and, for a while, beat it. He became an icon for generations across the world. I hope we remember him not just for his races, but for the grace with which he lived. For the simplicity of his meals, the discipline of his days, the gratitude in his words. He has passed on to us a legacy not measured in kilometres, but in courage. We must carry forward that torch, by running our own races — towards self belief, discipline, purpose.
The writer is a long-distance runner, actor and model
