Ego on the run


Ego on the fly.

Summer I seem to run and live from race to race. Last 6 weeks contained 5 races all finished with something to be proud of if I could ever be proud. Unfortunately 4 out of the 5 was podium standing in the end but no satisfaction time-wise. The last one I was ok with my running-time, and that is just fine.

I go racing, it’s something to prep for couple of days earlier and a recovery a day after; I can make a week going and keep my mind being busy with this rather than other things while doing it. Some kind of a satisfaction to pretend I have an important task to do. 

But in reality it’s just an activity to blur out some heavy issues called life. Ego-game of a kind, although I don’t do it to please by congratulating myself after a succesfully finished race. I focus on the preparation the actual run and the post race melancholy all in combination, just to start over by the middle of the week with another challenge. New kind of calendar for me.

But in fact I should finally able ego to be ruined and rebuild from scratch. It’s been two years I was torn and totally bruised in real life, and yes that stamped my ego and my personality big time. It’s something inside of me that changed and my self-confidence just dissapeared, I thought I was finally accepted as I am, but in fact, and the hard truth is that I was accepted and appreciated actually up until the point when I finally believed I was loved as I am. But I wasn’t, it was only the ego of others. Running helped to heal, but ego got misguided and I seem to never find the way eversince nor could I make decent relationships with people ever since, I thought I gave myself, biz I only wished. The everydays are different, basically because I dare not to open up anymore as intense as I usually did. Self-confidence-less I believe people are not interested because I’m not interesting anyways. 

Lot of people I meet try to say otherwise. They like me for reasons I can’t see and believe in me and I rather go from race to race on weekends instead of actually sitting down and behave and believe I still can hive to others.  Both contain thinking time anyways and I prefer to do it while running. 

I like races. Small family day type races as well, no crowd and you actually can run on your own if you wish. That’s my purest state of form to enjoy myself. While suffering. Kind of ruining and building the ego on the go. And I think while I don’t have to think. That’s is really up to the runner, in this case me. It’s a combination of joy and struggle, when I get lost in thoughts rather than being present in the run is when getting the flow, and that perfectly works with little races where the time does not matter, only the run itself. Though, I don’t think I ever went no-racing on a race except when paced J at midnight half where I get the cheer from a stranger I so wanted to het to know closer auuw, but than again it’s a constant thinking cheering and pushing the other; pacing is about the other. So while I run and usually push I prefer to get lost against the flow, but these could be only moments before realizing I either lost pace or in pace or even too fast. 

But I guess I just prefer to jump from thought to thought; in real life too. That is why I probably cannot be able to ruin and dress down my already ruined ego to rebuild it, because I lose creativity by jumping to another subject.

I had a big conversation yesterday with someone I don’t really know. I sometimes can open up to real strangers who actually have the vibe and athmosphere to do so. Telling him and he telling me about rather discreet topics are fun. And sometimes get a good advise. You come from different lifestlye, the only common is the love for the run and a new perspective can heal the soul actually, momentarely. He said a coelho without the monumental drums or well chosen words. 

Whatever belongs to you will belong for the rest of your life, even if you seem to lose it or get distanced for a while. Something like that. And also said that what I think and believe is what I express to the outside with no words. Nothing new, but I needed this reminder. Ego can go a fvck itself. If I can lose contact with it in a race I should be able to do it on a lifelong marathon as well. Keeping the sprints and the controll which is needed for and to the red carpet in my oval office, and rather make my life as a long long run. Sometimes, like nowadays I hit the marathon wall, but that is something to overcome on the long run. With so much love on my heart I should be able to do it, no matter who pushed me off the track two years ago, maybe it was me, for sure it was me for letting myself to be pushed anyways. 

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Off running

Possibly the most beautiful shoes off and on running.

I managed to unpack some summer shoes -not pictured- after the move almost a year ago. Those nude gucci ballerinas so simple so soft, still it bruises my feet the first time I every year. But off running time.

I realized I’ve been wearing sneakers year around, to work with tuxedo pants, to dinners with lbd-s, to basically anywhere. Pretty comfy and I guess I’m just getting older – I tell myself it’s a style though- to care to go high heels all evenings, not to mentions day light workable stilletos. No way. I’m a runner. 

Sandals are ok, though I’m still a runner, toes can go insanely unatractive after a marathon. Not to mention runtans, which makes the whole feet totally white from the sockline down. Style. Yiha. I’m fine with sneakers and kicks. Whites mainly, and a pink one in mind still I’ve (we) found in Berlin. Also, my daughter just told me after a barefeet day running around the beach, her towa start to look like mine. It wasn’t a compliment.

But I was off to a fashion party, which basically rules out a nude gucci ballerina anyways, it’s either ss17 which is bright as a parrot or rather go barefoot. I went angiejolie style and gave no fvck to ss17 or even further trends. Being no trend but rather trendsetter. 

I was shocked. Not of the crowd and the nightlife I’m so out of lately, but shocked of myself being distanced so much of these people lately. I used to hang out with them, day and night, we knew all Vogue’s edition page by page on memory, recalling years and even months mentioning just an editorial with this and that model. I casually sip on my champagne and wonder whether I’d missed the milleuo at all. Surprise to see some old time friends, we hug or pretend to hug while observing each other’s outfit guessing or knowing the labels already just by the fabric we touched while hugging. I move from the bar to the side, cheerfully waving to the marketing director of Nike, well I knew she was part of the fashions crowd of the city anyways. I see or more precisely hear the Gourmet guy, he talks and talks as usual, well, we generally meet in shorts and tanktops when runchat the trail, I move even more to the side to inspecting mode. Champagne just doesn’t do the work, no-chatter me mood. Peeps come and go, social butterflies, we talk a bit about bra vs no bra, and how you can tell who is from the art side of fashion- no bra obviously- or the business side -bra, fortunately no silicon strings in sight anymore. We talk running shoes, though from the aesthetic side of it. I missed couple of years of hanging out with them on the daily basis and I can tell; I have a run early in the morning and seriously I’m tired and wonder my scar caused by the non-sneaker will I be able to wear my flyknit racers the next day. It suddenly hits how my lifestyle changed and changes on the spot, and I realize I’m not even tipsy from the champagne nor that I want to drink any more of it.

Is it the day or have I actually stopped being spontan along the road to prepping for races instead of just say yes to a night to dance away on the fly? Probably both. I still could go menace any given night – see halfmarathon/hangover relay just a week ago – for the rhytm and the good sound, but sometimes I just turn old and boring and wish for a bed. Actually when I was an active social butterfly and owned the night I also wished for a bed usually.

I kill my legs the rest of the week but no dancing involved and soon I happen to be at the start-line of a halfmarathon at 4:30 am Sunday early. The course I know by heart, running the almost same on Ultrabalaton I wish for a windless chill summer morning, still hot but the sun not yet burns. It turns out superwindy chilly and me being utterly sick from the fritto di mare I ate for lunch for saturday casually feel like a square beton in my stomach. Gotta be smarter with fueling I keep saying myself. We start almost on time and this lady just rushes away from everyone in no second. I already give up on pushing it way too much to handle the mind – food, wind, WIND and flashbacks from the ultrabalaton from the fast guys’ biker encouraging me to never give up on elevation, the cheers I got running against the wind, etc. After 3km all I see in the front is the motorcycle showing me (!!!) the way. He goes away, later waits on me, and I wonder what’s better, being 5 meters behind him smelling the gasoline and him talking how good I run while I actually struggle and curse loudly about the wind, the elevation, the smell and the actual being there at 5am, what was I thinking running a half marathon with tired legs and no sleep. I also feel enormously lonely and calm on the road, it’s beautiful really, the view of nature and little towns along our way, no cars, way too early for any earlybirds even, it’s only me, wonder on how someone, like bro usually see this, runners in front have this privilege only, mainly men, except on women races. I also wonder where the men are actually? I don’t run that fast at all, especially uphill, dare not to look back but I hear no footsteps either. I can’t possibly win this race in absolute category, though never was interested in places rather the chrono. This is a small little race and I love it, but there should be some fast men around. At 17k the course slightly starts to go down, and that is when the first steps I finally hear from the back and soon passing me. I kinda feel I go fast, easy downhill something like a well deserved price for the ups, I check my watch, under 4min pace, feel it in my legs, the guy and two more easily come front of me still. They are fast I think and wonder what did they do on the uphill part and why haven’t they passed me earlier. The girl who junped out of start is nowhere found, we have our breakfast omlette all eaten when she hits finishline. I congratulate myself on my tactical not to chase her in the beginning. 

Wind would not stop and my daughter lines up to start as well. She looks anxious and I feel she is worried. Her first ever race, and in fact I’m so anxious excited for her as well. 800m-s course she starts with the tongue sticking out of her bright smiled mouth, she runs ok, breathing heavily after a while. She feels like stopping so I keep cheering next to her when she all of a sudden changes rhythm and starts flying. We do that couple of times before the finish -intervalls or what –  and I’m so proud, she did it. I love how kids just do it, even more so, they just fly when they want. Powers hidden come front and swoosh they just run. 

Podium time comes after and I almost cry how the kids are so openchested proud accepting their win. All kids receive a goodie bag, and seeing my girl tightly holding her paperbag full of haribo and cookies I smile. She is just awesome, and the organizers are the most special kind of supporters. It was such a fun race and a good morning.

Riding back to our accomodation I tell my daughter that we go for a breakfast. She looks at me surprised: lunch you mean? Or is it still morning? It’s only 9am I tell her she looks puzzled and we burst out of laugh. Done a halfM and a kids race by 9 and we still have the rest of the day. Let’s go back to sleep I try, but NOT. 

Off running. In my ballerinas – if I had it with me, sneakers on instead. Day contains some swimming and biking for the daughter and I explain what is triathlon to her.

Weekend is over.

Summer


Summer. So much I was waiting for and there it is here and now. It’s summer dress and splitwise shorts time already but I just seem to keep waiting on the summer.

However it might have had arrived yesterday. Early enough to not already sweating by the warm up I ran after a sleepless night to the merting point of the session. I couldn’t sleep perhaps because it is already one of those summernights when the air just stops at 24 degrees and it’s just not cold enough to go to sleep. Instead flashbacking those supercild winter nights when was paralized under my sheets being so freezed. It wasn’t good but it was really good. I finally found myself asleep at 4, only to wake up to the alarm I accidentally set an hour before it was necessary. That gave me the chance to take the warmup really slow, I knew I won’t have to rush to make it on point.

It was a progress speed workout planned. For the others. I told already I would only run the 3k with them and just do my own thing instead of the following 2 and 1 k.

Chosing the fast track of the island’s running routes another flashback came from almost a year ago, the last time I ran the road -exclusively reserved for public transportation buses and pro-s, and well, we did run there as well so to avoid the passing and slaloming the casual runners on the running path- , it was another progress run with coach 3x2k increasing speed and I just hated it, so much I kept screaming and whining all the way while he pushed me through the struggle encouraging me while running easily about 3 meters front of me. 

We started. Way too fast just to realize that is why I stopped running with these guys, they go alfa machos when it comes to intervalls. I let them go -they starting at 3:30, me at 3:50, way too fast still-, but around 1 k they hit their wall and I caught up with them.

Wow, I still enjoyed at 2k, in fact I felt some power coming into my body. Seriously surprised, I passed coach at 2,5 and finished easy, no heavy breathing, thighs still not burned. Really? I thought I should just do the rest. I mean 2k is challenging, and in fact faster, but after that only a 1k left. I decided to go 2k at a relatively fast pace but don’t think of the progress, that just makes me anxious.

I passed coach at 500 asked him if he was ok, but he was not, he said he lost the mind game but I should keep going. While I started to feel the thighs finally and my breathing got heavier too I realized it was probably me why coach gave up. I usually or more precisely never ever beat him on any speed sessions, nor could I keep up with anyone in fact. Because I’m just not willing to. I keep myself to push on races instead of workouts, but I also believe I can’t be faster than them anyways. Though I usually go faster than them on races. I passed another one. Than 2k was over. This one I felt, was harder, but only 1 k to go. 

And that went at 3:50, which isn’t a big deal, just a year ago I ran many 10×1000 in better pace, but that I felt proud of. Especially cause previously I ran a tempo 3 and 2 k which I never ever do, well tried but always managed to give up. 

Coold down my legs were supertired. But I did it. 

What a difference a run makes. 

I’m so glad summer arrived.

And today, with the faster ones we did a recovery type of 10k, some speeded some less speeded. We went at 4:30 average, and I really thought I speeded like hell, amd went menace. Was proud again. 

What difference another run makes. With no flashbacks this time. Or maybe some daydreaming on thw way along. I’m so glad we can go the fast lane finally again on the island, with no hiccups -twisting the ankles due to the asphalt’s fault. 

After an hour I met R, for a slow lap.

That was hard, it was really slow, but my legs probably needed some cool down anyways.

But that run was needed too. Because she is finally back in town! 

What a difference being in the same timezone makes.

Power


Got the vibes? Something to go on with. 

Goals and dreams everywhere to achieve, with not one in sight it is pretty much a nihil.

I told after my first marathon, never ever, later after running a massive -15 minutes PB, a 3:15 I thought I’m ok with that no more chasing the chrono. 3:08 twice just got me closer to breaking3. So unbelievable far. Like the previous milestones I had.

Like everything in life seemed far to achieve, and when it happened it was a huh, ok, done it. What’s next? Like I want a sibling to my daughter, for quite a while now, in the beginning it was like no ducking way, never ever the pain of labor. Or I want to be happy, like happyhappy, like making others happy that makes me happy that goes on and on and on and my daughter would be happy to have a little bro or sis. And I want a sub3 marathon. I’m not sure which one is the hardest to actually accomplish. Easiest at first seems the breaking3, break my own barrier, than of course I stop chasing the time. 

Marathon. Where anything can and would happen. And in the end? It’s just a 42.195 km. But that’s the end. How much time, effort and power you need?

I need. A marathoner needs. Will it make me finally happy in running terms creating the vibe and hype that it would affect my everyday life? And for how long? A week or so? Will I be able to share my happiness with anyone or keep it to myself. But than again, what’s the use of not sharing being happy.

Power. In a marathon anything could happen. Mind-, soul-, body-game can take over the whole, or just part. 

In Sunday I ran my first ever 7k race just under 4min pace, well, only my watch that accounted for it, all apps made it a 4min flat, so close this sub4 technical devices took away the pride by going 4min. I was first happy, wasn’t even sure at start I will manage to take a step. Felt so dizzy, threw up overnight twice, it felt like I go preggo, but it was the mexican food and the glasses of wine probably. Warm up seemed essential, and I ran my part of the halfmarathon relay. I was happy.

At first. Because again, who to share it with, my happiness, second: I was able to run almost as fast as this in Garda for a whole half marathon. Power. 

All I can think of is breaking3 and to share my happiness of actually breaking it.

Why do we create goals and dreams to go on with? Is it me only or everyone is to share the vibes that comes from it. Why take it so serious? Like accounting on based how happy can you make the others? Not by running, by existing by being on the side by being there. By living. I feel horrible I could not make someone happy and therefore a whole. To minimize the frustration: a base of a human being. And why I take it as my own failure? 

Cause I care. I fvcking care unfortunately, it’s beyond and over of my own ego, though my ego is based on having happy ones around me and that’s than an equation on a total selfish, egoish. Wtf.

Power. To overcome the walls in life and marathons. Mantra it over and over. 

Power of sharing. 

60 hours


Just run. 

Because I was told.

Just run.

Because years later I ‘d told myself

Just run.

Because somehow it feels aaaawright to do so.

Was massaged today though my blue bruises from almost 2 weeks ago still remanied visible on my thighs. Masseur must had pressed some triggering point my regular masseur said. Could be I told him and tried to go back to my deep relaxation mode on his table. He was right it was the half marathon on hills which actually was 22,8 km long, and where I ran although I pretended to be invisible. However, just to allow some spoil to my invisibleness I took the goodie of the free massage with my free bib. Kinda like passing on time and not.to.think. I didn’t feel the pain the masseur got me, I was somewhere else all day long, ran my slowest and longest half marathon ever, actually 23 km. I must had ran some slalom in the course for the extra 200m-s.

Bruises remained. And bruises remain. 

And got some more, even more today on the table. First they are brownish kinda funny looking, later goes a bit rainbowish than transparent and even more later dissapear. Til the next session. Physical bruises are like that. 

I run and just run.

Because I feel like it. 

I guess.

I try to look for the form, the style when out, trying my shoulders to go lower and more open. I just run, but I just wanna run nicer and wiser and finer.

Calmed down, or possibly it’s the billion-multiplication-anydreamscancometrue full moon facing me right into my face, right into my pretty face, the face where the pores getting cleaner and cleaner by the days passing, it’s like reverse aging for a week now. I keep repeating face, the word, freedom of a writer. On purpose. Freedom of a run. Freedom of my anger and being hurt slowly dissapearing. As my face gets all the vitamin D and gets a fine tanline around my eyes from the glasses a’ Paris Colette for being a snob but finally it’s not only a nice looking one but also stays on my funny looking nose, and that’s just awesome for the runs. 

I did 7 session in 60 hours. No biggie I thought, it’s only one heavy massive hilly one with Cs and another tempo on the flat with the ever faster guys I try to keep up with – it’s nothing like 7 guys and me running together, it’s no partytime, don’t get jealous, they never look at me like a girl, I feel like a little boy trying to chase (really chase, not nightlife chase) the old guys. And the other five workouts should have been easy-peasy funruns. But what if not. What if after the trail, it’s just a quick 6k at 4:12, but feels great. Only 4 to go. About or less than 12 hrs later chilly morning gets into a intervall, though on a decent pace, still, 5:30 planned and 4:00 is competively faster on any given day. 3 to go. 2 hrs later it’s the ‘little boy vs big guys’ insanity for 12k, just after to sneak back into work, precisely to an empty office with the couch to pass out for about an hour. Thursdays never end it seems, last session it’s all my fault. But I make my team to go fast on 7x 300. They are fun runners so I keep it enjoyable while we sweat what seems a whole ocean out. Desperately in need of a bed, Friday starts early, and for that I need to be super creative, people come for the killer part of tgif and it’s all to blame on me. But Thursday night brings the best ever crewlove. This purple team I keep assisting evenings gave me the shirt with a coach logo in it, and all of a sudden I feel part of their enthuaism, and the seriousness of their fun-nes to run , stangers suddenly feel close humans and all I wanna do is hug each and all of’em but at least give them so much fast-ness to reach their goals. I cry myself to sleep, though I can’t sleep, it’s the prep of the full moon. Cry calms me down but doesn’t makes me sleep. And I have my glasses for the next morning on to hide some puffyness around the eyes as the remains of last night.

Friday mornings always starts as follows: we have our crew wake-up alert as chats with the 3 of us pacers-coaches. We arrive to the meeting point totally but seriously totally not willing to run. Than it just changes on the exact moment we start running. Another crew, another group of humans who respectively look up on us dealing and helping to achieve their dreams-goals-plans. I’m not sure we ever will accomplish but they and us staff definitely wake up by 7. We go superhard superearly. Fartlek 300/100 at 3:30/4:30 for 2 k and burpees and planks randomly just to top our unconcsious morning phrase. We all smile somehow when done, and give each other high fives, best of the mornings. 

And for that reason I call the masseur and fall onto his table. My legs are just as numb by friday noon as my head. He gives me some more bruises, and it is all ok.

Friday night it’s silent cheering and thinking and a wish to just hopefully bring a bried smile on the face; and trying to not acknowledge people looking at my bare legs in short skirts. They seem to all notice my rainbow colored bruises on random places of my leg.

It’s been two weeks. Between two massages, and no messages and past and upcoming races. Sunday we rock, with our bruises. Everywhere. 

But.

I just run.

I just run on Sunday as well.

Run goes on

Never admit, but there is no fvcking finishline.

Life and runs go on. Life actually interrupted by the runs that go on and that is how life goes on. 

It’s something weird going on. Firstly, I’m happy that coach is my friend rather than my coach. But than again. How friends were and are we on the friends’ scale anyways. 

Been experimenting changes in my circles around me, I wish sometimes things wouldn’t get so drastic hint hint, but than again, how much I feel hurt I can’t really put into words. It’s a mix of being misunderstood, selfish – all parties, and totally left behind. Deconstructive thought coming from this, amd I just keep wondering WTF?! Is it me? 

I don’t consider myself a good person but in general I’m prety human and generous and being nice. But to feel otherwise, ya know, it’s not fall that matters but how you hit the ground.  Was I pushed to the ground by accident or did I make it happen to be pushed? Cause I didn’t just fall, that is for sure. I feel an ok person, and still believe people geuniely to be trusted. That is whenone of the closest just slaps you with reality. 

Therefore I prefer to run my ways nowadays, not understood I prefer my speed works lonely. Watched by the construction workers all the way, they are everywhere on the island and along the track. This is Budapest. This is how I run. And I sweat like a shower and I kinda like it. Life goes on with these moments I never want it to end, though I cannot wait to finally finish with the sets of 400s. Still I add some more. And I wish to stay. Can I just keep on running and kerp the momentum with it forever?  I don’t go on lactate nor living hell. I speed as I wish and far from proudly presenting… Construction workers still appreciate. And I give no shit. All I’m worried about is to get back and shower and work and do the stuff I’m obliged to do. And face the hard truth called life. Would love amd ice cream, or a movie, or a good talk. Nada.

When I run for an hour or so I don’t care whether I’m worth it or not. I’m not worth otherwise. Logged in the books, put on a shelf, another been there done that part. I stride for happiness of a kind. That, where I’ve been there done that. Lady Speedy keeps telling me how I push with my ankles from the ground, that is something unique. At least someone appreciate the details. I love her being around even if far away nowadays. So I keep doing some repetitions. And accept my boundaries. Miss some early morning runs and coffees, so I speed and fartlek instead. 

I love running in intense heat, there is so much to lose with the sweat along, oh my gosh. I realise how much have changed over my restart phrase of runner’s world of mine. I’m back at the base to run lone wolf, and keep no company only when it’s a must crewrun. I once told bro I’m not good as a coach he still pushed me to try, but it turns out I started to like my pupils of a kind, of all kinds. They keep me busy off work out sessions too. Daily contacts, I really feel special they accepted me. He was again right. Though I wish all the good things would stay in my life combined, but I believe in faith whatever it means, I’m ready to face and rock and roll. 

Everybody run.

I’m not unique for that.

Everybody is unique.

I’m not running for that.
But there is no finishline. And I think I can’t be more upset and anymore about me being me and my road to being the road. I take the road instead with a sorrow smile and big heart because I’m grateful I have that one. And of course my ankles and legs jumping off the ground every step I take. Sometimes I take the bumpy road, often let myself taken away with bad thoughts, but! And there is a but, I smile too when my heart thinks and I think with my heart. Thanks for the great runs. 

Summer


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.