38th Gap Year ParticipantPark Yong-jun
A total of eight months on a gap year
Completed a desert marathon for Nepal after resigning
Hello. I'm Park Yong-jun, 'the young man who ran the desert for Nepal.' I was an ordinary public institution employee, but in the summer of 2015 I quit my job and have been on a gap year for about eight months. During the gap year I planned and ran a social fundraising project called #I'M GOING TO NEPAL, and to raise donations to support victims of the Nepal earthquake I completed the Atacama Crossing desert marathon in Chile.
'The adventure of resigning on the eve of turning thirty'
I had been a 'model student' since childhood. I studied hard, entered a respectable university, and spent my days building what people call good 'credentials.' As a result, I was accepted by the company I wanted even before graduating. I felt happy to be doing the work I wanted, and I worked extremely hard at my job.
However, reality was harsh. Despite my 'effort,' I was deeply disappointed by showy work practices, inefficient procedures, empty formalities, and the expectation of long working hours typical of Korean workplaces. Days of staying until midnight doing tasks I couldn't understand the purpose of kept repeating. I had worked hard and tried my best, but I wasn't happy. Confusion and melancholy about life. Countless worries, as many as my overtime hours.Because it was a job I had worked hard to get, quitting was a huge risk for me. Then, in the summer of my third year, I gathered courage. I decided to put a short pause in my life and try to imagine a different future.
In fact, when I quit I hadn't decided what I would do. I was so exhausted and had lost much confidence, so I had no concrete plan.I simply wanted to take on a remarkable challenge before entering my thirties—one I wouldn't regret for the rest of my life.
'A young man who loved Nepal decides to run for Nepal'
Do you remember the magnitude 7.8 earthquake that struck Nepal last April? In 2010 I served as an overseas volunteer in Nepal for ten months. I arrived in Nepal full of excitement and fear. There I worked at a school under the name 'Vijay,' teaching students and running educational programs for an orphanage. Therefore, the earthquake was a truly heartbreaking tragedy for me, as I had come to consider Nepal my second home.
About a month after I quit, while wondering what I could do for Nepal, a 'desert marathon' caught my eye. I read online that the 'Atacama Crossing' would be held in October 2015 in Chile's Atacama Desert. It's an ultramarathon where competitors must complete 250 km in the desert without external support. In fact, it had been one of the challenges I had dreamed of for a long time. At that moment a thought suddenly came to me.'I'll take on an extreme desert marathon for Nepal, raise funds by asking people to sponsor my completion, and donate the proceeds to earthquake relief!' That was the moment the 'young man running the desert for Nepal' was born.
“The Birth of the Crowdfunding Project #I’M GOING TO NEPAL”
At the end of July 2015, a small idea gradually developed as I discussed it with capable friends. I formed a team with former colleagues who had expertise in planning, content, and promotion, and we talked about how to connect my personal desert marathon challenge with fundraising for Nepal earthquake relief. Raising funds for Nepal was important, but even before that, deciding for what purpose and where to donate the money was a difficult issue. To find a suitable recipient and partner, I used my skills before resigning to write a proposal, repeatedly revised it with colleagues' feedback, and sent it to domestic social enterprises and NGOs that might be interested in the project.
And shortly after, “Beautiful Coffee Fair Trade,” which operates a fair-trade coffee business in Nepal, joined our cause and the <#I’M GOING TO NEPAL> project began."Beautiful Coffee" agreed to manage the fundraising using its own infrastructure, and I decided to donate the collected donations to earthquake-affected coffee farming households in Shindupalchok, a coffee-producing region in Nepal. I particularly liked that by offering Nepali fair-trade coffee as a supporter reward, it wouldn't be just a donation but would also introduce supporters to Nepali coffee, making the assistance more sustainable. The staff handling operations also understood my story and the values I wanted to promote. Soon after, the Facebook page (www.facebook.com/imgoing2nepal)was launched and promotion began. 
In addition, many people who had long been interested in Nepal promoted the project without any compensation. My close Nepali friend Sujan Shakya, who became well-known from shows like Non-Summit and Where Is My Friend's Home?, joined and greatly assisted from planning to completion. Sean Hepburn, son of actress Audrey Hepburn and chairman of the Audrey Hepburn Foundation; popular comedian Lee Guk-joo; musical actor Kim Ho-young, an ambassador for Beautiful Coffee; and singer Jo Jung-min all personally supported the project.
“Beginning Hellish Training to Complete My First Desert Marathon”
With the project progressing thanks to the help of many people, I began full-fledged marathon and fitness training. I had actually been running for quite a long time and, even while working, I squeezed in exercise to manage stress. However, because I had never run the enormous distance of 250 km in my life, I decided to make a thorough plan and prepare carefully.
First, I ran at least 10–20 km almost every day. When running became too boring or difficult, I rode a bicycle or did strength training at the gym. Since the marathon would be on desert terrain rather than paved roads and would involve climbing hills, I deliberately ran on rough gravel paths and hiked mountains. I exercised three times a day—morning, noon, and evening—and running outdoors for two hours in the hot, humid August weather was really tough.
But my heart felt the most at ease. Thinking that every second of my practice and every step I took was for Nepal made me smile even when I was gasping for breath. Not only was it a personal dream, but the thought that I could help my second home, Nepal, made the hardship feel effortless.As I sweated day by day for a clear goal, the positive life energy that I had long lost to work stress...was reignited.In that way, I ran at least 300 km over the course of August.
“As a Working Gapper, I Paid the Desert Marathon Entry Fee Entirely Out of Pocket”
Participating in a desert marathon costs quite a lot. The race entry fee of around 4 million won and a round-trip ticket to South America costing about 2 million won are basic expenses. Buying the various pieces of equipment required by the organizers can cost over 1 million won, and you also have to consider local living expenses in Chile, one of the most expensive countries in South America. Since I regularly run and hike, I didn't need to buy all the equipment, andI also used mileage points to get a cheaper plane ticket, but it still seemed like a considerable expense.
Because of this, I did consider crowdfunding for myself. But I'm not a financially struggling college student, and over two years of working I had saved a fair amount by being frugal. Moreover, since the project originally began as a challenge to fulfill my personal dream, I felt it would not be appropriate to fundraise for the entry fee as well. So I covered all the costs required for the challenge myself.
“The 250 km 'Atacama Crossing' Challenge Run Together with Nepal”
In early October, after completing all the preparations, I arrived in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, the race venue. After equipment checks and orientation there, we took a prepared bus into the Atacama Desert for the race that would start the next morning, and that night I experienced the desert night for the first time. I remember standing by the campfire that night while everyone else had gone into their tents for the first race, thinking about the time from resigning my job to arriving in this South American desert. I was a bit surprised, though—I had expected it, but the desert night was as cold as a Korean winter.
The next morning, with a trembling heart, I stood at the starting line set up in the middle of the Atacama Desert. The 'Atacama Crossing,' one of the representative desert marathons alongside the Gobi and Sahara, is a grueling race in which you must carry all the supplies needed to survive in your backpack and run 250 km over six nights and seven days. The Atacama, in particular, is famous as one of the driest deserts on Earth, where it almost never rains.
“An Extreme Race That Was a Battle with Myself”
When the starting signal sounded, about 160 runners of various nationalities shouted and ran into the desert. I too looked at the #I'M GOING TO NEPAL patch on my chest and proudly started the race. The desert marathon is a stage race: you run a set distance each day, which is roughly a full marathon (around 40 km) almost every day.
But the 'desert' marathon I actually experienced was on a completely different level from a normal marathon. The problem was the backpack. Running with a heavy pack full of food and equipment quickly exhausted me. Moreover, because of extra snacks I had greedily brought and heavier gear than others, my backpack was 3–4 kg heavier than other runners', and after three hours of the race both my shoulders had stiffened like stones. The first race took me over eight hours to finish — it was a shock.
On the second day we crossed an icy-cold stream, passed through a red canyon resembling Mars, and ran down a huge sand dune as if flying. Although my bag remained heavy, my body adapted and my race pace quickened. On the relatively short third day I even felt the urge to move up in the rankings, pushed myself a bit, and was able to finish quickly in 65th place out of 158. As I ate the food I had brought, my backpack gradually got lighter, and with finishes of 88th, 75th and then improving by about ten positions each time, I began to relax a little and even enjoyed racing.
"The fourth race, shaken by my desire for a higher ranking"
However, my presumptuous desire for a better rank brought trouble. I set a goal of finishing within the top 60 in the fourth race and went out too fast from the start. Although I reached the first 10 km segment roughly in the 50s as expected, I became exhausted too quickly afterward and could no longer run. My mind was anxious but my legs wouldn't move. I felt really awful.
On the fourth day the course was mostly salt flats where salt crystals had hardened like rock and stuck up in bumps. It is a notorious section known among past participants as the 'Devil's Claw' because it is hard to pass and you can sprain your foot with the slightest carelessness. But in my impatience I severely twisted my ankle there. I even did so three times in the same way. Moreover, the sunlight was so intense that around midday I walked for nearly four to five hours across the same sun-baked salt flat with no shade and began to feel dizzy and nauseous from mild heatstroke.
Still, I endured thinking of the project and Nepal. It wasn't until nearly 5 p.m. that I reached the finish line, and I lay in the shade for a long time as soon as I arrived. I later learned that by that day nearly 20 competitors had already dropped out of the race.
"The hellish Long Day, the moment I wanted to give up"
The fifth day was the long-awaited Long Day. It was the biggest challenge of the desert marathon: 74 km in one day, twice the usual race distance. I remember it as the hardest day. My condition, including my left ankle, was far from good after the struggles of the fourth day. On top of that, the running shoes I had bought for the race were acting up — they had worn out excessively in just a few days. Then, about an hour after the race began, part of the sole of one shoe suddenly tore off — an absurd thing to happen. In hindsight, that shows how brutal the 'Devil's Claw' section was. Without the sole, my feet were unbalanced and my already-twisted ankle took more strain, and my morale plummeted.
I walked and walked until I thought I couldn't possibly continue, so I stopped the race and hid in the shade of a tree where other participants couldn't see me and cried in anguish. My whole body hurt and I was so exhausted I wanted to give everything up. I was overwhelmed with doubt — why had I come all the way to distant South America and paid millions of won in entry fees to suffer like this? I sobbed there for about thirty minutes. After crying, I felt a little better.
Looking at the <#I'M GOING TO NEPAL> slogan and the Nepal flag on my chest, I remembered Nepal in 2010 and the Nepali people who made the 24-year-old me both cry and laugh. They showed unconditional kindness and love to naive me who had come only to give. They were always kind, honest, and dignified—wonderful people. I recalled their simple faces and warm smiles as they called me 'B.J.' without any prejudice. I had to keep going for Nepal. To do that, I had to somehow fix my running shoes.I found a flat stone, put it inside the shoe, and began to limp along. Then, as if the heavens were helping me, I found a detached sole that someone had dropped while walking. (Other runners had similar problems.) Fortunately, I placed that sole against the bottom of my running shoe and wrapped it tightly with tape given by another runner, which let me restore some balance.
That was around midnight. The road ahead seemed endless. I kept walking over the white salt desert, through dunes where my feet sank deep, and across plains blasted by fierce winds. When night fell the weather cooled so much that my breath was visible. All the more I kept moving without stopping toward the finish. I endured like that without giving up for a full 17 hours until 1 a.m. the next day.
Because the final race the next day was only 10 km, once the Long Day was over, the race was practically finished.However, I was so exhausted that I crossed the finish line like a zombie without saying a word and collapsed as soon as I entered the tent.
"Completing the desert marathon, one of the best moments of my life"
On the seventh day, October 10, I ran the final 10 km with a relaxed smile, having forgotten the pain of the Long Day and feeling that it was all over. I ran without ever stopping. In the end I succeeded in finishing, placing 73rd out of 158. As I crossed the finish line, I proudly waved the <#I'M GOING TO NEPAL> banner, stained with sweat and dust from the week. I was proud of myself for running the desert with Nepal and not giving up until the end. It was a moment when I understood what it feels like to have my heart swell.
"Returning to Nepal five years after finishing the desert marathon"
After finishing the desert marathon and returning home, I suffered from post-marathon aftereffects and fatigue for more than a week. Even so, together with my Nepali sister Susan I participated in the fundraising event [Your Cup of Coffee for Nepal] organized by 'Beautiful Coffee' to raise funds for Nepal. After two months of fundraising, about 10 million won was raised. The entire fund was delivered to earthquake-affected farmers in Sindhupalchok through our sponsor partner 'Beautiful Coffee'.
And in mid-December, with the support of Beautiful Coffee, I was able to visit Nepal again — a place I had dreamed of returning to. It had been five years since I left after my volunteer work in 2010. On this trip, organized with Beautiful Coffee's Korea head office and Beautiful Coffee Nepal, I visited in person the Sindhupalchok earthquake-affected area supported by my project and met the residents directly. We climbed the mountain in a jeep over rough unpaved roads that twisted and turned, and each village was a fairly exhausting journey of a two-to three-hour round trip. Six months after the earthquake and the landslides, the scars of destruction seemed to have healed somewhat, but seeing collapsed houses and walls and the relief tents from various international aid organizations that some residents were still using made my heart ache.
I introduced myself and our project with a prepared speech in Nepali and expressed my gratitude for their hospitality. As is common in rural villages, people were shy at first, but we had several conversations, though not very deep. Especially the older residents, who didn’t fully understand that I was running to raise sponsorship funds, took turns holding my hand to show their gratitude. In their strong but kind eyes, I could feel heartfelt thanks, and that made me truly happy.
We walked around the villages and I was able to see the vegetable plots supported by the project funds. For mountain villagers enduring a harsh winter, vegetables like potatoes, radishes, and cauliflower will be substantial sources of food. The care you all contributed had already begun to bear fruit in the form of snowy white cauliflowers, becoming a great support for Nepalese farmers who are persevering despite earthquake damage. I felt proud seeing how enthusiastically they showed us the plots and I was grateful. Although it wasn’t as much as what I had received, I was very happy that I could use my talents for the Nepal I love and that our project was able to help them even a little.
"Changes before and after taking a gap year"
When I was in school I was a positive person with big dreams. I believed in my abilities and potential. Because of that, I thought hard work would bring happiness, and I tried my best. But in the job I entered through that effort, I gradually became a smaller version of myself. The job I had dreamed of — I believed without doubt that if I entered and worked hard I would be happy, but the reality was not so, and I felt a deep sense of frustration. Seeing myself at a computer from morning until midnight doing work I had no conviction about felt like a machine whose off switch was broken. In fact, many young people in Korea experience similar frustration within the set social expectations and life trajectories. But when you hit the wall of reality, and because of future plans and others' expectations, it’s hard to consider other alternatives. I too suffered for about a year with those kinds of worries before quitting my job.
At thirty, with job hunting getting harder and feeling sorry toward my loving family and girlfriend... the unseen future after resigning was truly frightening. Still, what’s wrong is wrong. I didn’t overthink things when I decided to end a meaningless work life and quit. I didn’t want to be unhappy any longer and I just wanted to find the self I was losing before it was too late.
So I chose a gap year and ran a desert marathon for Nepal. I successfully raised a considerable amount of funds and was able to give small but meaningful help to Nepalese people hurt by the earthquake. With a small idea turned into a project with colleagues, completing a 250 km extreme desert marathon and donating it to my second home Nepal — ‘Park Yongjun, the young man who ran the desert for Nepal.’ Now I have confidence in myself.Although my bank balance is low, I believe it was enough just to have regained the ‘self’ and 'self-respect' I had lost in the chase for competition, credentials, and a life without evenings. I don’t regret the roughly one-year gap on my resume at all.
"A word to Korean youth planning a gap year"
I support everyone planning a gap year for whatever reason. However, I hope you consider and decide the method seriously. What you do during a gap year can vary by person, so I don’t think it matters what you choose. But if you do it with a casual ‘I’ll just try this out’ attitude, I think it will be worse than merely doing something to build your resume.
You should have a clear sense of purpose and plan: why you need a gap year, why you must do this during your gap year, and what you hope to achieve through it. And if you decide to do it, do your best while you’re doing it.I’m not telling you to blindly ‘try harder.’ For example, if your ultimate goal is to take time to relax and plan your future, then do your best at ‘taking that time to relax’ according to your plan. Whatever you plan, have a goal and let your gap year be used to achieve that goal.(If possible, it would be even better if it could also have a positive effect on society and the public good. Of course, that is by no means necessary.)
I am by no means a great person. (Objectively, I am currently unemployed.) And in fact, I’m a very realistic person. I’m still worrying about how to make a living right now. That’s why I don’t want to give presumptuous advice like, ‘What you’re doing now is meaningless—quit and find your true dream.’ Deciding to take a gap year should rely thoroughly on your own judgment and decision, and you must take responsibility for it. I think advising someone to ‘quit school and work right now and travel the world’ is truly irresponsible. I don’t want readers of this piece to think, ‘Wow, this is cool—I should try a desert marathon too.’ If you do it because others are doing it and you feel you have to do something without painful self-reflection and long consideration, nothing will change even after the gap year ends.
While running the desert marathon, what you rely on most are the fellow runners running with you. They are your rivals but also your most reliable supporters. I cheer you on for making such a difficult decision.As someone who is still running the race called ‘reality,’ I will always support you. Thank you.
Watch the 4-month record of 'Park Yongjun, the young man who ran the desert for Nepal' on YouTube
Subscribe to the story 'The Young Man Who Ran the Desert for Nepal,' serialized on Daum Kakao Brunch.
<#I'M GOING TO NEPAL> Official Facebook page of the project |
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