Sh*t happens

Berlin got my wings back or so I thought. Soul turned to its true self and I saluted but body thought otherwise. Pretending I was only whining did not lead to from believing to really happening.

Seriously why is it so awfully complicated the human body which plays the game of challenging to keep up with the goals. When the mind finally sets back to happy-mode, why a never-happened-before cycle of sickness begins starting with the cold turned coughing for weeks turning to a pre-marathon anxiety diagnosed vomit/diarheea and now this something that leads me to run struggling even at 6:20 per km. 

It is only a week before San Francisco and 3 weeks prior to NYC marathon, both I was so ready to take.

I cannot run, but even if I could trick my body with my willing mind I would still hold back, I cannot just can’t run the U.S. races so I rather not jeopardize. 

Resting mode on, instagram for some motivational photos of others on. Me running is off. Listening to my crew talking about training highs and lows I try to take part from the distance at least. 

And counting the seconds until my return.


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