After an Epilepsy Diagnosis at 19, This National Sprinter Came Back & Broke Her Personal Best

The track feels predictable to Devaki Dhar.

The grip of spikes on rubber.
The steady tension of the starting blocks.
The straight, measurable distance to the finish line.

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For the Delhi-based national sprinter, this order brings comfort. On the track, effort follows rules. Outcomes feel earned. Control feels possible.

That sense of control disappeared a year ago.

At 19, while competing at the national level, Devaki was diagnosed with epilepsy. For someone whose life revolved around precision and discipline, the diagnosis felt like a breakdown of a system she had trusted for years.

“I didn’t panic,” she says. “Everything just froze.”

A runner shaped by persistence, not early promise

Devaki’s relationship with sprinting never came easily.

Her first race, a 100-metre dash at a school sports day, ended with her finishing sixth out of seven. “That was definitely not a future sprinter moment,” she says, laughing. “But something about running stayed with me.”

That something kept pulling her back. She joined an academy. She showed up again the next day, and the day after that. Years passed this way. Eight or nine of them.

Slowly, the track became more than routine. “It’s my life,” she says. “It’s how I understand myself.”

Earlier in her career, Devaki competed in both the 100 metres and the 200 metres. Over the last few years, however, she has focused exclusively on the 100 metres. In the upcoming season, her primary events will be the 60 metres and the 100 metres, with the 60 m set to be her season opener.

Outside sport, Devaki describes herself as driven, stubborn, and curious. She enjoys travelling, discovering new places, and good coffee. Movement shaped her days, on and off the track, until late 2024, when her body began sending unfamiliar signals.

The day a word changed everything

Devaki last competed in November 2024. Around that time, she began experiencing a persistent sense of unease she could not explain.

Medical appointments followed. During one visit, her mother was called into the doctor’s room alone, while Devaki was asked to wait outside.

“That’s when I realised something was really off,” she says.

When she was called back in, the doctor placed a report on the table and turned it slightly towards her.

One word stood out. Epilepsy.

Devaki remembers staring at it longer than she needed to. “I had heard the word before, but I didn’t understand it,” she says. “I just associated it with something scary.”

Her first question came instinctively, almost before she had time to think.

“My first question to the doctor after being diagnosed was, ‘Can I run?’” she recalls. “She didn’t say much. She just signalled, ‘Not anytime soon.’ In that moment, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more heartbroken.”

She walked out of the room knowing nothing had technically ended, and yet everything felt suddenly uncertain.

When the body stops feeling familiar

Epilepsy is a neurological condition caused by sudden bursts of electrical activity in the brain, leading to recurrent seizures. Experiences vary widely. It is not contagious. It is not a mental illness. It does not reflect intelligence or ability.

It does, however, demand structure.

Triggers can include lack of sleep, stress, missed medication, and physical exhaustion. For an athlete, these sit close to daily training demands.

For Devaki, the shift was quick. “One day my body felt completely normal,” she says. “The next day, I was taking two medications a day and dealing with side effects I hadn’t even heard about.”

Sleep disappeared. Appetite followed. Eating became an effort. “I lost six kilograms,” she says. “As a sprinter, that’s a huge disadvantage. You lose muscle. You lose strength.”

Some days, even her reflection felt unfamiliar. “There were days I didn’t recognise my body,” she says.

What followed was a long pause from competitive sport. By April 2025, Devaki had stopped all physical activity completely and had lost significant weight. That same month, she began working with a nutritionist and a strength and conditioning coach in Delhi, restarting movement from a very basic level. Between April and June, her focus was limited to light strength work, with no track training at all.

Training had stopped. Competition had faded. Her athletic identity felt suspended.

Starting again, without rushing the body

In June 2025, Devaki relocated to Bengaluru to train under Bindu Rani Gowda, a former national sprinter and head coach at Baladhama Sports Academy. “The first thing she told me was, ‘Ma’am, I just want to start running,’” Bindu recalls. “That passion stood out immediately.”

For the first time since her diagnosis, Devaki returned to the track. Training had to be redesigned from the ground up. Sessions were scheduled later in the day to protect sleep. Training loads were reduced. Recovery was prioritised.

“She takes medication during training,” Bindu says. “She’ll take a tablet, rest for ten minutes, and then get back to the repetitions.”

Gradually, adaptation became part of the routine rather than an interruption. “I don’t see the medication as something holding me back anymore,” Devaki says. “It’s what allows me to train safely.”

Bindu never treated her as fragile. “She was always willing to work,” the coach says.

Fuel, timing, and learning to eat again

As training returned, nutrition became central to sustaining it. Sports nutritionist Suhasini Viswanathan, who has over 14 years of experience, began working closely with Devaki.

“With the medication, there are a lot of nutrient reductions that happen,” Suhasini explains.

The plan focused on replenishing vitamins like B6 and calcium, while avoiding nutrients that could interfere with medication.

The first challenge was appetite. “She had almost no appetite,” Suhasini says.

The approach focused on the gut–brain axis. Prebiotic and probiotic-rich foods were introduced to improve gut microbiome diversity, which also influences mental well-being.

“After about the first three weeks, she began to feel better,” Suhasini says. “That feeling of ‘I’m okay’ matters a lot.”

Hydration followed a precise routine. Meals were timed with intention.

“Our primary goal was to fuel her within 20 to 30 minutes after training,” Suhasini adds. “That stability matters for recovery and neurological balance.”

Learning to live with epilepsy

Physical rebuilding was only part of the work. The mental adjustments ran deeper. “Epilepsy brought a lot of fear, panic, anxiety, and a kind of trauma I didn’t know how to name,” Devaki says.

Being told she could not be left alone unsettled her sense of independence. “It made me believe I’d never truly be independent,” she says.

Training now comes with boundaries. “There are limits I never wanted to believe in,” she admits. “But I’ve learned to respect them.”

After about 25 days of track training in Bengaluru, Devaki lined up for her first competitive race since her diagnosis. The event was the Delhi State Athletics Meet in July 2025, held as trials for the national championships.

She won a silver medal.

It was not about speed or times. It was about returning.

Two months later, in September 2025, Devaki competed again at another Delhi State Athletics Meet, this one serving as trials for the All India Inter-State National Athletics Championships. This time, she ran her personal best, a mark she had not touched in eight years. She has chosen not to share the exact timings publicly.

“That moment reminded me how far I had come,” she says. “It showed me that nothing can stop you, as long as you take care of your body and listen to it.”

But she knew that one race could not undo everything. “All that fear came back,” she says of recent episodes while alone in Bengaluru. “Progress is not about fear disappearing. It’s about not letting it stop you.”

What she is running towards now

Today, Devaki’s goals are clear. She is preparing for the inaugural Indoor Nationals in March 2026, a pathway to the Asian Indoor Championships and, eventually, the Asian Games in 2026.

Her journey has also sharpened her view of a larger gap in Indian sport. “The biggest gap is awareness,” she says. “There’s very little understanding of epilepsy, especially in sports spaces.”

Bindu agrees. “We should not make their road back harder,” the coach says. “Understanding makes a difference.”

Progress now carries a different meaning for Devaki. It lives in routine, in discipline, and in learning how to manage a complex condition with confidence.

She credits her parents, her doctor, coaches who met her where she was, and friends who stayed present.

Her message to others facing invisible battles is simple.“You don’t need all the answers,” she says. “Some days all you’ll have is a small amount of faith in yourself. That is enough.”

“Epilepsy might ask more of you,” she adds. “More patience. More awareness. More discipline. But it does not take away your ability to dream, work hard, or succeed.”