I hate being vulnerable, fragile, and sensitive. I hate being up and than down, though running the hills the same way gives me the best euphoria witnessed for a long time.
I probably misunderstand, misinterpret and miss a lot in life, although I tend to be right on point usually. I’m spoiled by life and feel totally misfortuned at the same time.
One minute being over the moon just for the next to feel so misguided by my own thoughts of feelings.
I cry when I see someone lovable, like the little kids and bigger teenagers waving and cheering in this remote village where money must be always close to none, with houses having no roofs nor proper walls when running across in it during Ultrakek race just two days ago. I immediately started thinking on how to help them more than giving a high five and my best smile possible, while struggling on the asphalt with my trail shoes probably costing more than what they live on for a month. This is no BS, this is serious life, sensitive topic. I also thought of the Veteran immediately, who would probably give even bigger smile and more enormous highfives to these kiddos and their parents.
I cry when at lining up for the start, all trailrunners take off their hats at 6am remembering their friend gone to heaven’s trail just some days ago, who I think ‘ve never met, but the situation just touches me then and there. This is life. And I’m lost in feelings once again. He was loved, the air gives the certain impression, and therefore he must have been one lucky man.
I scream on the other hand when I realize, I’m no special, nor even a chapter in a book of life. I know it is BS, but I somehow I believed I could be. Feelings are no facts – motto of my life I should finally be aware of.
I don’t scream, rather laugh when I realize my tiny socks don’t save my ankle from all the nature running on trail, in fact resulting in bleeding legs up til my knees. Probably a BS that I learned my lesson. Dressing inproperly and unprepared on the other hand is no BS and should be taken with care.
Feeling an outsider of the running world does not exists anymore, I feel one of them, though I also know this might if not for sure be a BS. However, not taking myself a dead serious addict of running makes it less important. But I’m and addict, and I don’t mind. Addict in terms of no run brings side effects in my body, but no addict in terms of thoughts occupied with shoes and times to compare, knowing the ones I should know, running plans in any given days with punctuality, etc. Run if makes me happy, and it does mostly which I’m attached to not the chrono. Running beautiful places I look around, running into poor villages makes me think, running along with Oszi I guess a possible ultratrail veteran giving me a smile makes me enjoying the moment feeling special and accepted, though not one of them.
I would love to hug all these people, some slap on the face after; so much emotions a running gives me. And real life. No BS.
I created a story of Oszi’s life while running, and this made me cry too. i tend to make up stories of people and their life, not BS but imaginery and perhaps might be BS. Because how would I know, without knowing the other, or at least talk to them. I base my anecdotes in my head on how they dress, how their facial wrinkles are placed, and how they smile or look serious or mad or whatever. Dressing gives no justice nor facts anyways, and someone catching my eyes just because the way their attire looks should immediately taken as biased; another lesson I should finally learn. No car brands, no labels on the clothes should lead me to consequences on charateriatics of a person. Mean souls are mean souls, selfish are selfish, facts, no BS.
Times fly by on the trail when the view is immaculate and my thoughts are occupied with concentration simoultaneously with making up stories of people passing by or I pass. Same as while drinking a coffee in a café observing human beings passing by, but with and added extra: the view and concentration on the focus shifted to the constant awareness of the terrain.
I’m creating another story, off the track and off the trail, I need to, I think BS taken over the brain lately feeling the being of special, but I’m not even one of them nor anyone in the environment I thought I feel comfortable and appreciated. I cry I scream and most of all I am a blond. Ordinary as I could be. I wish I could scream to fvck off, but I’m too shy of my own feelings and absolutely fvcked up. I wish I could get back my running high and calmness when off running too. No BS…and no willingness to be social and hug all runners because they are worth it.
Wish to be lonely and enjoy my longdistance lonelyness instead. But this might be a BS considering my own character. Though I like to be alone when I enjoy being alone. Crazy me.