One for the soul

  
There are races make no sense to attend for various reasons. Why willing to show up for a quick half marathon on the other side of the world really?

Rolling eyes I got when confessed I did enter and got accepted to run Women’s Half Marathon in San Francisco, between two marathon majors a month apart from each other. Everyone’s dream to attend anyways, but travelling from Europe for this quicky seemed no sense to a lot around me. Adding the fact of having been sick, and cramps still remanied even a day before the race, I could not miss is. Restless says some. Typical Aries others replied. Noone really understood. But I wanted to go, and even if only for a brief 3 and a half days I keenly were awaiting.

And I was right all the way. Filling myself up with the best possible me-time for sometime, it well worth it. Not to mention the Tiffany necklace shining at me after crossing the finishline. That’s pretty materialistic, but also a great memorable to remind myself of the feelings attached to this short encounter in a worse day. Like today. Only two days after my race; maybe I am restless afterall.

But I also proved I was right !!!

  
13th and 131th overall. Because afterall, men also participated with women.

That makes me proud, top of cake on all emotions I’m full of after the race, the city, my being on my own for three days.

But it was also a weekend of celebration, not only the amercian way, feeling superowoman, and superwomen just fly. And don’t cry and just powerwomen, and we kick ass and so on. Not a feminist at all, still felt the extraordinary power of us being there, together. Though we still checked each other’s outfits, cellulites, make up and so on. But we also loved each other, as the slogan on the road said: we are stronger as we. 

But it wasn’t all about the slogans and marketing tricks and the american anthem that made me smile with watery eyes all time. It was something that was flowing through my vein, the moment that will always be mine, and noone can take it from me.

The moment lasted for almost four days in full power, and although I’m back in hometown, I can still feed on it. Lucky, one lucky biatch I feel. Moment which contained early morning strolls and smoking front of the hotel and viber with M totally like home about how I feel but this time we were an ocean apart. Than later I would wander around, walking on the rainbow pavement of Castro district, or all the way down to the bay on Market street. Muzeums were fulfilling yet far away too, de Young and co worth the walk. No rush, looking around and up ans down, simply to enjoy. Meeting some girls from different continents for coffee and my homie now staying in LA stayed with me for a short two days, we hang out casually like we were home. Except we ate at a restaurant where the waiter whispered to my ear: she must be hungarian, she has this typical accent. Did not recognized mine. We brunched at Fishermans Whalf grabbed a drink on Pier 39 and we also ran 13.1 miles with ups and downs and one mofo hill I will always remember. Though we missed the cable-car, what a jammer. Had fun.

But what was inside building up in me was something totally different. This time of year I usually went to see my sister in Oslo, she worked so I had time on my own during the day, and over the week spent in Norway I always filled myself up with so much good vibes kept me going through the shitty wintertime after. Something similar I gained from this trip as well, though I’m already back to stress – work/human behaviors/big questions of life. 

Coming home was me being happy and ready to rock. But routines are routines and round 129 began again, and I’m just so fed up, and as well angry finally. Fvcking angry feeling so much annoyance it makes me calm and happy actually. I make bo sense, I know, and everyone knows too. 

Never say finally – motto of my year but perhaps this is something to begin with. 

Next week new adventures, and familytime finally too! Yeah! Girls rock afterall

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