At an age when most people soothe their soles and massage sagging egos, Fauja Singh was lacing up his trainers for another bout with himself, for he was his own rival of his age on the asphalt track. The tentative strolls in the courtyard were not for him. He preferred the top variant – the marathon, all 26.2 miles of it.
This remarkable specimen of health and determination was a man of contradictions. Until the very end of his extraordinary life, cut short at 114, Singh remained a human paradox: delicate in frame, yet indefatigable in spirit; quiet of demeanour with a thundering legacy. He did not need a stopwatch to run. Time stopped to meet his pace.
Fauja Singh was the youngest of four children.Gallari (talkative), as he was called, was born in Beas village in Jalandhar in 1911. Fragile as a newborn, his parents were worried when he wobbled trying to walk even at five. In the end, it was his legs that would carry him to global fame on their shoulders.
He had an uneventful life, the lone high point being his move to the UK in 1993, after his wife and a son passed away in Punjab. Bent with age and sorrow, he was on the brink of exhaustion. He said to himself, Hello, why am I wallowing in self-pity?
His salvation came in the form of running. He left his grief behind as he pumped his muscles, pounding his feet on the paved streets. At 89, he ran his first marathon. Longevity, for him, was a matter of academic interest.
The world began to notice him. First with amusement, then awe and finally, adoration. He kept himself fit. People loved him for his joie de vivre, his friendly face with the mouth always creasing into a smile and, yes, the twinkle in his eyes. He ran nine full marathons, including six London Marathons, and several half marathons, his last official engagement at the age of 101. He ran in the UK and abroad, in London, Hong Kong, New York, and Toronto, remaining fit and agile as he grew older, a living testament to human potential.
He turned 100 in 2011 and how! He took part in the Toronto Waterfront Marathon, completing it in 8 hours, 11 minutes, and 6 seconds. No human ever came close to running that long at that age. It was a Guinness World Record, but was mired in controversy because he couldn’t produce a birth certificate.
The world watched this frail but bouncing marathoner as he carried the Olympic torch for the London Games in 2012.
Records mattered a whit for Fauja Singh as long as he could run. Nutritionists and dieticians followed his routine, meaning to prise the secret of his enduring health. A strict vegetarian, his meals were simple yet nourishing. Dal and roti, lukewarm water and warm milk at night and, of course, his favourites – long gourds, apple gourds and mangoes. It was all in the mind, he would say.
His name was a brand. Global sports brands embraced him. He featured in the 2004 Adidas campaign, Impossible Is Nothing (Muhammad Ali and David Beckham were among others). The British Queen honoured him. Khushwant Singh wrote his biography, “Turbaned Tornado: The oldest marathon runner Fauja Singh”. He will enter the celluloid world when the biopic on him is made. More than fame, what made Fauja Singh happy was seeing senior citizens across the globe take to physical exercise, even running, and emulate him.
He was as generous off the track as he was competitive on it. Fauja Singh supported charities. He enjoyed contributing to the welfare of children, providing relief from man-made disasters, and, of course, participating in Sikh humanitarian efforts. He ran for a variety of causes.
And as the world got accustomed to greeting him on his birthdays, he was suddenly gone. He might have regretted the way he had to go,
fatally flipped by a speeding car near home. He would have preferred ending his journey on running track with his trainers on.