That time of the year again, walking the city midnight in sleeveless LBD, unique. Rays shine  through during the day. Warmth. Solo runs. Sweaty ones.

Morning I wake up with no alarm going off for the first birds’ singing. Unique. Cleared mind of a kind that’s really something I cannot deal with, it’s not the clearness, rather the emptyness that hits. 

Sometimes it’s a go go for a run, fresh air still, but already feeling the power of the sun. That is something powerful, not me. If I raced with the sun how much it would kick my ass with my PB dreams. That’s how little I am. 

Kipchoge is little too, but something bigger like the sun. Naaah, nothing to compare.

Runs are runs, days are days, summerdays are more extra with strawberries nowadays kindly awaiting for the watermelon season. Let me introduce myself: my name is watermelon lady.



Please don’t read this.

World of filters. World of filtered runs. World of filtered world.

Symbols with meanings and feelings that is for real and taken off – nothing like a snapchat mask. 

It took a whole lot of thinking but less need of courage to write this out. I am sorry. 

I am sorry. But don’t forgive me. 

There’s been a lot going on with daydreaming and running for dreams just to stay promt on visual expressing of the meaning. Symbols dumped. Surreality to face the truth not. We all wish to go for better, more, happier merrier. Faster, stronger we get along the way.


But what if we are already strong amd fast and should be happy if accepting it. Look no further, enjoy the moment. 

BS with the big words and the so true answers to universe big questions. 

Socially active in the running scene, and it makes me feel biasing myself on a daily basis. Too much to talk myself out on a regular that I don’t run good nor fast. I was at the right place at the right moment, but was it actually right? I mean did it give anything to my life other than temporary proudness of a kind that I could be finally outstanding in something. Outstanding in this case means I was recognized and looked out by a seriously minority called followers compare to big world of filters. But it gave confidence at one point willing to appreciate the presence and acknowledgable status. It was important to keep my small audience entertained, but soon it became a responsibilty and surreality began. 

It isn’t me. I love to go low key. Gotta be alone, that’s my way. In order to smile and be happy around people I need my me time. Quality. 

Never really listened to the warnings. Hashed it away, I do it for my own fun. It wasn’t for fun, became a lifestyle, my daily dose of feeling worth.

To feel worth. 

Since PB-s only came when inspired by someone else, and it really came extraordinary at one point, or some happy sparkles I got from the recognition of seriously nothing – hint surreal world- it became a norm. Don’t get me wrong I don’t feel like having fans, or actually having fans, I seriously took every single person closer or further to my heart, and some became important part of my life and I’m grateful for that. But! On the road itself I kinda lost my identity. In a way. I was always social, i was always kinda strange to everyone at first, cause in fact I’m pretty closed up, though I don’t show this in the surface, but it is hard to go closer to me. So this whole IG style2run thing helped a bit to open up. And vame along the envy too, which I heard back, rumors I laughed off but deep in me it got stuck, and not that I wanted to please everyone, but hate and envy made me upset. I’m no special. Or at least I wanna keep that to one, special.

I do party a lot, but it takes a whole lot of stress to actually go to party. Once make it out the door I’m fine, but I prefer being cosy at home. Cuddling up, drinking tea while watching a movie, etc. I’m kind of a cat looking like a playful dog trying to get as much of smiles from passerby-s. I’m my own oximoron.

Same with running. Once I get going I’m fine. But it’s about style2life now.

I only now, but some around me got fed up with this, and now I understand. It’s nothing I can promise not to post or go offline for a month, but I seriously need a break, to revisit myself somehow. To have my runs to run, to have my life to live. Getting the reminder already quite enough time from who really matters, finally I understand.

It might be accepting some more even, like facing reality to get to the point that there is no fun chasing PB dreams I’m so far of. Metaphorically and realistically too. 

I finally feel pretty and ok in my body or with my body. Kinda weird cause otherwise I feel like shit, and I wanna show my pretty my body my skin, but it seems no chance. Oximoron me once again. 

Writing it out helps as much as running or crying it out, followup might come. My vibe and mood changes histerically, but I wish to go from restless to a coffee-break. Metaphorical once again.

Over and out. Life awaits, and I’ve been missing on that one big time for a while now. And I’m sorry I actually didn’t recognize this earlier. Style2love. Love to love.

Did you actually read it?

My pov

It’s still not a race story, not even sure I’ll have one in the traditional terms including fueling who we met along the way and the other blabla I often read from others.

I wanted this Ultrabalaton experience to go as smooth as possible in terms of me focusing on the joy of the run, and play no necessary parts as a soulmate or a powerwoman or anything like that, just be there and experience. My last three attempts on previous UBs I had to be so strong in the mind game, had to hold up so I lift the others, put my needs behind etc. 

I was willing to have my ego down and give the controll out of my hand while focusing on the team as well. Feel the flow, and study my feelings, though I knew at one point I would need to prioritize in favor of the team rather my needs. It’s a team work anyways. We hardly knew each other, in fact the third blonde we met on the scene. That was already something out of comfortzone, but it was such an easy going meeting, I was releived. When met we walked towards the race tent in almost indentifying outfits and hair when all of a sudden two bold guys passed us, immediately without saying a word we started laughing about the double twin effect, trying to make a photo of all 4 of us from behind.

We introduced ourselves to each other with this big laugh and I started to ease into the situation, it could be fun afterall. Not as planned but option B might be as good I thought. 

We met up with the third girl arriving from Vienna and the team finally were together. I still had some uneasiness in me, we were sitting and eating pasta to fuel with running peeps, but could not feel comfortable, kinda outsider. Heading home and after sleep, 2 hours before the start I woke up ok and anxiously calm and ready to rock.

Until I realized the wind. Until it hit me, that it wasn’t a breeze nor it will go away soon. In fact forecast warned about the storm coming after. I prayed for the storm so the wind would stop. Inside of me. Not that I showed confidence on the outside, I can’t do it really, but I kept my worries unspoken, showing an anxious face and that seemed normal to everyone having the same feelings shown on all runners. 

I had the first leg, about 28k, and I didn’t let the wind taking my mind over, though it pushed my body everywhere along the way. Hot and windy. And when it was over I was already cold. That made me worried, whether I would have enough clothes. Had my goodluck tights I planned not to wear just bring on as a charm had to be put on already in the morning and other than that only a tights for the night, where I wasn’t counting on the rain. Nor the cold. 2nd leg, a half marathon I knew I hate, ran it already 2 times, it’s beautiful and really just mesmerizing view but on the carway with limited trees to shade or keep the wind away. I still enjoyed it, and yes I’ve met some runners bikers cheer squads on the way, and I loved it, got into to the flow so much I forgot about pace. And that was somehow the vibe I was wishing for – more precisely with no wind – the joy of running. And than it hit me to run faster stronger etc, we were on a race darlin’ and I’m part of a team. Back to struggle. 

Between legs I tried to rest, but it was too intense in the car our support team -godblessthem- were on their on world to do it the best, and navigating and talking sometimes made it impossible to focus on myself, out of the car was too windy, too cold too much. That sometimes felt out of comfortzone more than the running itself. I planned to take it easy between my runs waiting and cheering on the others, lay on the grass and enjoy the moment. This was out of the question. We all were getting tired, having melt downs already and the wind just made it impossible to be alone in the nature for even couple of minutes to get my mind back to push mode. Willingness reduced and my third leg was coming soon a relatively short 16 turned 18k.

Sunset beautiful, I even got a half ice cream scoop while shielding in a bar’s terrace waiting on my turn. That I knew when was getting really dark, and I hoped for the wind go gentler on me. Not that my words were listened. Funny guy ran 4k with me out of my 18, and it somehow felt ok, felt a bit that I’m slowing down but chrono was constant on pace, so I was relefied I had done that too. 

Car-resting was the only option by than, the wind started to come in gusts as well 60-80km/h. We got a warning from the orgainizers about the arriving storm. I knew it would start at my last leg. But the wind was already unbearable, it pushed me to the ground as soon as getting out of the car. The substitute girl was still going strong, my other mate started to lose total interest in everything and that made me go low a bit too. I was not willing to take over any of her legs and it gave me a big bunch of guilt. I felt really bad for not being a teamplayer but I just had enough of this BS as well. And I still had another 17-18k as well. 

Which went almost smooth even though it was ice and major rainstorm making me soaked by running only 10 meters. Only 17,9 k to go. I actually enjoyed it. Supporter man came along with me. I told him around 1k that I won’t be talking amd apologized promising I would the next day. We went silent mode figthing with the weather elements, and once again I got into the flow. In horizontal ice rain. 

And enjoyed to finish and cried a bit. It wasn ‘t because Mini brought into the pouring monsoon my only dry jacket so I would not get cold making it obvious that there is seriously no more clothes to dry myself with and don’t shiver of the cold for another two hours until we make it to the finishline.

But I cried of relief that I actually ran my part and a bit more and although I seriously had the feeling to just leave the whole race I ran it. I finally could sit in the car, and thought I did my part, and I ran as planned. Immediately after I realized the guilt factor in m e but this was eased over a phone conversation that I should be ok with this rather than go low again. 

The next part was rainy and stormy as well, but fortunately the questionable last leg which I was not willing to take over went rainfree, and this might gave power to our last 6 km. Passing the finishline I smiled as per the pictures but I was not satisfied in terms of overwhelming joy and happiness. A bit of emptyness and big amount of annoyance for the wind. Wanted to sleep finally.

Got a bit upset that Coach was not there to greet us, but I understood he needed some sleep as well. He might could cheer me up a bit.

Got our pics taken and interview given but I was so rushing, I wanted warm and dry clothes, a glass of wine and a blanket to hide under. And the next morning, 2hrs later I woke up to a sunny but still windy weather, a happy phonecall and the day of the award ceremony.

And I still wasn’t satisfied with my performance.

The only thing I’m really proud about as of now is that I seriously was afraid the wind will affect me much more, but I’d survived. Struggles, but won the mindgame on this one. But only on the wind part.

To be cont.

The win

No it’s not from Coachella. 

Sometimes I wonder. Wonder about how life would’ve turned out if I was keep running the track at 18, and wouldn’t quit my runner’s life chosing to be a teenager instead. If I went and took the scholarship I was given to either UH where I spent my afternoons with Carl Lewis and my bestie April – who actually made it to Atlanta as a softball player even though she and also his brother and my bf at the time were just awesome at kicking ass on track- as a junior at high school in Houston or UCLA where I was also given a chance and a massive scholarship. But instead I wanted if anywhere but to New York University with a hope of majoring in film but there was no option for a runner nor my parents could or would pay for it. And so I quit running for no reason other than I didn’t feel like giving a tiny bit of fvck anymore and any of my power to become a pro.

I wonder how today would be if I was to become an athlete by profession, in Hungary. Minority ran at that time, and though the crew was awesome I gave up on pushing limits rather I went to party with them. I was fast and strong by birth, talent so I was called but did never was willing to stand out by striving for a result or any fame. That’s me. Run for fun is something different, I cared none for any hard work. Stamp it as a teenage phrase but obviously I’m like that. Except some cases, I work and push hard, but I guess regularly I’m fine achieving goals within my comfortzone.

Some years later here I am, with mixed thoughts running a lot and pretending to be a coach for some. I do my best, I love my ‘kiddos’ but what do they know! I’m not a coach, nor a runner.

But here I am once again, running a 220km ultrarace with two other girls, we are a trio, and in the end we win. I supposed to be happy and proud. I can’t write about my feelings just yet, I’m overwhelmed with so many thoughts. How I felt not prepapered and in fact I wasn’t. And there was the wind. This time it was really a wind that everyone felt. Was killer. I was neither prepares for that nor the rain in the middle of the night. There were meltdowns among our team as well. And I couldn’t really help out cause I was tired as well, was not willing. I hate myself for that. I was happy to talk over the phone telling how we were progressing and asked how they were, this gave me some power. I got in a verbal fight few times after. And cried and felt bad, and really low. I was told really bad things and I told awful things. I ran a lot and I ran relatively fast. We all ran fast. Did I give my 110 percent? I’m not sure yet, but I feel I didn’t. I smiled and cried and felt worn out a lot. I still need to digest.

But we won. And we did really good as I hear back.

We won and I have mixed feelings.

Expect the unexpected

It’s that time of the year again. Ultrabalaton.

I’ve done it 3 times, not a biggie, since it’s on for 10 years now. Omg, since 2007. 

And it’s basically was never done by me alone so doesn’t count as an ultra anyways. Salute to the individuals trying and finishing the race of 220km around Europe’s biggest race alone. Wow. Hats down and hands up. And farewell cheers to newcomers this year especially the ultratrailboy, considering it’s asphalt, I totally look forward having a cheer on him, or as he says please gently tap my back when passing. He will do good, he will be thought along the way to be a hero!

So, I’ve done it 3 times. Once as a 10 peeps group of Nike team, considering my breakthrough to running community and my so called presence in Budapest running scene. So called markstone no1 of my runlife. Next year we went with the bff-to-be M supported by the ultratrail boy – he still hates this name if his- and was a huge succes coming in 5th at the boy division but who cares cause we ducking ran 110km each, we thought we were like moddafukkers, that was and is something to be proud AF. Next year we repeated out of memory, coming in fourth, still happy, but kinda routine. I thought, he thought it was enougj for numerous reasons, there is no such thing as running something so unordinary the second or more times. It becomes a routine and come all the responsibilities and pb willings before the proudness. 

I was asked to go as a women team this year. Being a liberal and genderfree acceptionally, I didn’t really care but in the other hand I was ok with the thought to realistically finally race on the UB and not feel the undergrading to not be counted as a real perosnality but to put into a category where I might slow down my partner by being a women. Not that it occured, but in fact I will race a week after the UB with bro and another guy as a men team once again and  I will definitely slow them as they are fast, faster and fastest btw. Same with our summer challenge with Bro around another lake, the two of us in brother/sisterhoosld tiszato ultra. But that is another story, another enjoyment factor. 

So. Ultrabalaton, we trained for as a road to trio, 3 girls, loads a pressure cause it’s not only completing but competing in fact in a category I really belong to by birth. And more than competing with myself, though that is big chunk of the game as well. So I agreed and keenly awaited the race to finally occur.

There were differences in preparations but I took it as a girls’ thing. We decided to have gears customized. We decided to have some uniqueness in us. Lipstick perhaps, braids or something. We are women afterall. Whatever that means.

So we had our shirts and a week to go to go girlpower. And suddenlz everything just seem to fall apart…

Expect the unexpected.

Was in the calm state of mind in terms of the race. In fact that was the only certain thing in my life, going smoothly awaiting for the day. 

2 weeks prior I was finally told there is no option to bring a bike along with us even though I was seriously requesting a biker supporter for my night leg part as I ‘m scared around the neighborhood even daytime known for its notoriusly partiing partylife. Been there done that and was lightly sexually harrassed there before, was no biggie, but with almost 100k in my legs with no actual sleeping for over 20hrs I was tired enough to react normally. Anyways, bike was out. Optionally I’d managed to get a hand on a foldable one which definitely could fit in the van we were getting supported by for the race. Bike was back in the game.

Calmness remained.

For another 2 days or so, when my fellow voltwomen lady started to raise the red flag about her pain in the knee.

Another 2 days and several doctors later the verdict became obvious, that she is injured and although has no constant pain in her leg, when in hard work the pain could – and that’s a yes or no- come back and could cause major problem. 

Obviously we should stop at that point, normally, this on a regular basis means, she stand up and tells the rest of us teammates the issue and find a solution by finding a substitute. But she turned maniac she was willing to run, and getting anxious about jeopardizing the teamresult. We stayed calm with the other girl, keenly awaiting to have her decision made, but also got anxious how out race will go. The third girl never ran more than 40k at once, amd although this race divided by legs she still would need to run 70k total this time. I in the other hand am a senior in terms of having run this race as duo, so I had experience. But no training this season, and even though 86k is significantly less than last year’s 120, my logged miles in the winter suggested I’m not prepared for this one either. Kamikaze is my mantra for the race.

2 days went by with agonizing calling possible candidates 4 days before the race whether they would join us and run 80-ish km-s with us. Gotta tell, not easy to find anyone having the time and the legs to do this, but we still found some crazy ladies junping on the idea.

The only problem was, that injured Mini still had not and in fact has not made up her mind. So we put the ladies on hold running out of time in reality. Totally understanding Mini’s point of view, she amd perhaps us would rather do this together. But we were running out of time. Constant phone conversations and chats turning me into a psychologist once again, by wednesday night I realized this is BS.

We are jeopardizing our team by going too emotional on this. Thos thought didn’t come easy but life made it clear by that time. 

Our driver and in this case our van seemed going away as well. Driver got sick, but he would not lend the van.

This was the point I considered to look for hidden cameras around myself, seriously this started to become a well scripted realoty show for me. 

And I bursted out. We need to be as team and stop whining. We are volt we are women and we will race. If it’s a duo than a duo but we gotta do it.

By this morning, 2 days prior the race we found a supergirl being pur third leg. We still don’t know whether we willbe supported by a van or a renault clio. Still don’t know about the bike, but I rather give up on that, and have no idea if the van won’t come where would we be sleeping beforethe start line.

I believe that so many q-s will be answered and the race will be awesome, but this tapering is not my favorite. Especially cause this year all my race preps seem so out of comfortzone and hectic that I start to think 2017 is about not be able to taper for any race of mine.

I’d love to be anxious excited about the run itself finally, but I guess I won’t have time for it anyways. Plans change by the hour, and probably the best would be to be already feel nervous at the start line.

Two days to go.


Pic from Nanna

There is something extraordinary which makes me histerically cry and smile out loud. Nike did it again. And it is not an ad, and it’s not something because I’m too loyal really.

This is all about the people. The believers. Participants. The lookers and the watchers. And the pacers. In capital letters. PACERS.

They are human too I must guess. And as an evidence of the picture they dance too. They have fun. They can go beyond limits as well and they have fun too. Stressrelease. They did their job. Namelessly and awesomly.

Took the day with work and calming/in fact getting myself into vibes/ the stress with some videos of Kingchoge. Kip kip, I know. Watch him re in Rio, and some track races before he turned 20. His formed changed even more to perfection by saturday I don’t know how that is possible. I kept daydreaming on an elite brain, yes, bro’s mindwork as well, all the controll they take on for a run possibly real life. Awesome discipline and again I cried. I’m so far.

And the next day? They dance the stress and controll away. Wonder how these pacers took the responsibility or the driver of the Tesla. Watching track meets on youtube there were some useless pacers regard of their times really running so far away for Mo for example. But breaking2 ones, even though their names were written but perhaps noone can really recall any, they did have their breaking too. How serious they were and how happy they seem here.

I need a race, I need something to run seriously than let lose. 

I really admire these people and their success of all the hard work put in, and by having a major support behind him, Kipchoge’s calmness in terms of his loved ones believing him. I think it’s something so unique meanwhile so natural. To some. And that is the whole picture breaking down to the basics. Strive for it, so much, his mimics or none mimics, his really lose and calm face gestures, he must had suffered, but his face was so relaxed, almost all the way. Mesmerizing to watch really. 

When I prepped for labor, probably my most intense marathon ever I was told to let my face relaxed, I could not. Wish I could. Wonder how it affected my daughter’s birth.

I try to relax my face while running. And when I feel my face is in the good way, that is when I’m in the flow, vibing through a race, even a run. Face the race, makes sense. That reminds me in some face I could never get out of my head, ever. Real gestures, nothing compared to Eliud’s calmness, different kind of approach, still olympic worthy though. Race and real life wise too.  But Kipchoge has something different. He must be an awesome runner leg-wise, but his mindgame is the most we amateurs could if anything to study and learn and copy. Paste here: breaking3 is my breaking2.

There is no finishline. And simultaneously  I dream on the days support gave me power to calm myself to enjoyment. Remembering the days makes me smile, and I felt some love on today’s solo run. Unique yet it was so natural some days. And I miss it. But there is no finishline. 

Goals still on and my goals my runs. 

One for the run

📷 szasza

May the force on the 4th was awaited but got me tired. Thursdays are a usual 3 a day runs, 2 I coach and run, one I simply run with the fast buddies. This means 5:30 am waking up, and start with the day by dressing to run attire, packing office-wise, and 2 for two more rounds of runs. 

I usually get dead tired and question my ability to actually survive a 3rd round hushing the thought aside, it’s only a social run rather than a serious workout, though those involve either speed plays such as fartleks or intervalls, but on a seriously moderate level for me. Because I kill myself on the morning -2nd -run, going insanely fast compare to comfortzone. Guys pace the pace and themselves, they chit and chat while I try to keep the level of my breathing towards under audio voice of unbearable. I have fun with them, but still it makes me anxious and worried whether I could keep up. In the end it’s all ok, and I never look back in why I questioned my presence on the session. 

It’s good to be around these guys and not think for a minute or an hour. 

Otherwise it’s robotic mode.

Feel so heavy wishing to feel weightless. Need my wings back on. I feel needless. Left behind but perhaps never was carried anyways. I cannot take a hand usually, I must do it on my own, than I whine for being alone to deal with all. Myself. 

The Fast neighbor started to explain to me the other day that I do have a presence of something unique. Stop. I told him, my least femme fatale way, he doesn’t know me, noone really probably, otherwise this would he know better.

On Friday once again I ran 3 a day. Felt like needed a bed asap but then again, friday night live is on, could not make it to sleep on time. History revisited both real and silver screen-wise. Suddenly once and always it hits how much I miss grandma. She was some great ladieness on her own, and I wish I was that strong. Like her. Role model. In all ways. Except she could not cry. And I like to cry it out. 

Saturday I woke up early. Once we decided to watch the breaking2 together, but were never able to break our own barriers. I cry and goosebumps comes when finishline getting closer, I’m livechatting with the moustache trail guy who is there on the scene, and it makes it all so so so close, I feel I’m there I feel the determination and discipline, even feel the muscles so intensely wanting the sub2. What a wake up for a saturday. I keep all frames to my memory to revisit when I will race ever from now on. 

Otherwise I keep up. Robotic.