Shout out

Somehow I’m running a 107k race in 10 days. And somehow I haven’t shouted about it. And because I haven’t, now I feel like no one cares. While in reality it doesn’t matter. As this will be the loneliest and most introvert race ever. Also the longest one. Ever. I really don’t need to hear…

I’m Back

Back in the Alps. I made sure I packed all my running gear just like I packed all my doubts. My running doubts. My post stress fracture doubts. All the confidence doubts. Quite a heavy bag to carry. Come 5pm and here I am, struggling up some uphill yet again. But this time I’m not…

Whatever it takes

So you don’t believe in yourself. You’ve lost the faith. You don’t know if you can. You don’t know if you’re capable. You don’t know if you want to. And once you actually said it out loud, it made you really sad all of a sudden. Another race landed in the same old bin of…

The Fine Line. The Finish Line.

It’s been seven weeks since I was diagnosed with stress fracture. Two weeks since I got rid of the robotic boot. And one week since I started missing running. And here I was. Back in Bergamo. Exactly one year later after Gran Trail Orobie. And again on the start line. Wondering what I’m actually doing…

Looking for the Stars

And then all my optimism fainted and I allowed myself to be miserable for once. To be sorry for myself. To be heartbroken. To feel like crying. To be angry. Spent last weekend cheering on everyone running Cortina, Lavaredo, Skyrace, Mont Blanc Cross and Marathon. Tracking everyone with fingers crossed for them following their progress….

I don’t need your sympathy. I need your smile.

All the questions. And no answers. It’s been a week. And I’m tired. Not that much because I can’t run. But I’m tired of all the questions. How long will I have the boot? How long until I can run? I appreciate you care. I do. But please stop. Please stop asking. It makes me…

Bones can fracture. Hearts can’t be broken.

It was the night before Annecy Maxi Race when I spent my evening sitting in the bath, crying and feeling sorry for myself. I knew I had stress fracture. Even when it wasn’t bruised. Even when it wasn’t swollen. Even when I could run with it. Even when my physio and orthopedic surgeon both said…