The Silk Route Ultra Trail - 2025

 SRUT Narkanda - A Race I Won Beyond the Podium

Why SRUT?

I signed up for the Silk Route Ultra Trail (SRUT) not for a podium or a medal.

I signed up to test myself — to see how far my training, consistency, and nutrition could take me when the terrain turned tough.

Earlier that year, I’d committed to a more structured way of showing up — not just on the trail, but in the kitchen, in recovery, in how I fuelled and trained. I had been putting in the work quietly for months, and SRUT felt like the perfect place to bring it all together.

Yes, I had done high-altitude before, but SRUT was on a different scale.

Snow, long climbs, unpredictable weather… and long hours of solitude.

I didn’t sign up for glory. I signed up for proof — that what I was doing mattered, that I was on the right path, and that I could carry my body and mind through something bigger.

“When you train in silence, the trail becomes your report card.”

And so I went — not to conquer the mountains, but to meet the version of me I’d been building all along.

Pre-Race Prep

The prep for SRUT didn’t begin in Manali — it started much earlier, back home.

In that final month before the race, I was gently but consistently pushing myself. Two sessions a day — a run and a strength workout — became my rhythm. But it wasn’t about overtraining. It was about showing up with purpose, fuelling my body well, and finding that line between effort and ease.

I focused on eating to support performance, not just recovery. I wanted to feel light but energized, strong without strain. And I managed that — with clean, consistent meals and a sharp awareness of what my body needed day-to-day.

By the time I reached Manali, I wasn’t chasing peak fitness — I was nurturing what I’d already built.

That trip became more than just altitude prep.

It was where I slowed down internally. I kept things simple — short hikes, walks, a few light runs — and learned to respect rest.

Not as something to “earn,” but something my body deserved.

“You don’t prepare for the trail by punishing yourself.

You prepare by respecting the journey before it begins.”

There was no pressure, no noise in my head. Just a quiet confidence.

By the time I left for Narkanda, I knew I was ready — not just physically, but in rhythm with myself.

Race Day

We reached Narkanda on the 10th April, hoping for a bit of acclimatization before race day. Sitting at 2700m, the air was already crisp, the cold biting, and the sun only played a brief cameo.

But nature had its own plan — and clarity wasn’t part of it.

Race morning began at 3 AM (12th Apr) to the sound of heavy rain.

It didn’t feel like it was going to stop. By the time we lined up for the 13K start at 5:45 AM, it was still pouring, with icy winds cutting through our layers.

My fingers went numb before I even started running. And in that moment, I wasn’t sure how I was going to hold up.

The trail itself was raw and beautiful — steep climbs right from the start, foggy mountain views slipping through the mist like secrets.

But the terrain didn’t let up. The altitude made every breath count, and even after “the climb,” the course kept throwing smaller mountains at us — one after another.

Somewhere early into the run, my period started.

It was just one more thing to deal with. But oddly enough, I didn’t panic.

Because something in me had changed. From the girl who once dreaded Period cramps to someone now climbing through rain, altitude, and cold at over 3000m — I saw that shift, and I trusted it.

There were no photos, no trail selfies. My fingers were too numb to unzip anything.

When my shoelace came undone on a downhill stretch, it took nearly 3 minutes to tie it — just because my hands refused to work.

And yet, I kept moving. Slowly. Deliberately.

The final 1 km — an exposed incline with winds hitting from both sides — felt brutal. Legs screaming, breath sharp, body unraveling.

But something deeper — maybe quieter — was carrying me forward.

And then I crossed the finish line.

“I didn’t feel destroyed. I felt proud.

Not just of what I’d done that day — but of everything that led me there.”

It wasn’t until later that I found out I’d finished as the 3rd female (18+ category).

Nearly 14K with 755m of elevation gain, climbing from 2711m to almost 3200m — and I had made it to the podium.

 

But honestly, the rank was secondary.

What stayed with me was the quiet strength I’d built — over months of showing up, over years of learning to listen to my body, even through pain, periods, and uncertainty.

SRUT wasn’t just a race I ran — it was a race I grew through.

Lessons from the Mountains

SRUT didn’t just leave me with a medal or a podium photo — it left me with perspective.

One of the biggest lessons the mountains gave me was this: you don’t have to be loud to be strong.

I didn’t run the fastest, I didn’t feel my best the whole way, and yet — I ran steady, I made smart choices, and I listened closely to my body the entire time.

I realized how much I’ve grown — not just as a runner, but as someone who’s learned to honour effort without expectation.

To fuel, rest, train, and recover with respect — not guilt, not punishment.

Periods, pain, cold, altitude — they didn’t stop me.

Because I wasn’t trying to "push through" anymore. I was trying to move with everything that came my way — and that mindset shift made all the difference.

“The trail doesn’t ask you to be perfect.

It asks you to be present.”

SRUT reminded me that preparation works — when it’s done with care. That strength isn’t just built in the gym, but in the quiet choices we make every day.

And more than anything, it reminded me why I fell in love with trail running in the first place — for the solitude, the honesty, the slowness that makes you feel alive.

Closing Thoughts

I didn’t go to Narkanda chasing a podium.

I went to chase stillness, strength, and a sense of self I’d quietly been building for months.

SRUT tested all of it — my patience, my preparation, and my ability to move through discomfort without losing balance.

And somewhere along the snowy trail, soaked to the bone and cold beyond words, I realized — this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

Not just on the podium.

But in the space between effort and ease, between movement and mindfulness.

I walked away from SRUT not with sore legs or exhaustion — but with deep pride.

For showing up. For staying present.

And for finishing something that was never about finishing fast.

“Some races change your time.

This one changed my truth.”

#SRUTNarkanda2025 #PodiumFinish #trailrunning