10 years of crescendo
I started running (again) around age 22-23. Very casually, no plan, no real goal. A few kilometers here and there, just to move a bit.
And then, little by little, things escalated.
5K. 10K. Half marathon. Marathon. Trail runs. Faster times. Training plans. Intervals. Long Sunday runs. By the end, I was running 5-6 times a week, 70 to 90 kilometers. Up at 5:30 AM so it wouldn’t eat into family time, massaging my legs almost every night before bed.
The kids, when they didn’t see me in the house in the morning, had a reflex: “Where’s Dad? Out running?”
When most of the time, I was just in another room 😅
Balance, sort of
I’d found a rhythm that worked. Early to bed, well-oiled routine, and up before dawn while everyone was still asleep.
Some stretches were harder than others, obviously. Winter especially. Getting up at 5:30 to run in the dark, in the cold and rain — a lot less glamorous than spring or summer with the sunrise. Work pressure also played a big part in motivation and energy levels.
But overall, it held together. On the surface, at least.
The first sub-40
My first 10K under 40 minutes — I cried.
For someone who trains alone, no coach, with a career and a family, it was huge. Not a world-class time, but my time. My personal victory. For an amateur runner, it’s a kind of barrier.
I kept improving after that, all the way to a solid 35’17 in February 2021. PR. Pride.
The marathons
4 attempted. 4 “failed.”
Well, failed… All finished, but all way off my targets. Hitting the wall at 30K, nutrition issues, stomach cramps… Every time, at least 30 minutes slower than my goal.
December 2022: the challenge
In December 2022, following a colleague’s idea, I set myself a challenge: run as many kilometers as the day’s number.
1km on the 1st. 2km on the 2nd. 3km on the 3rd. And so on.
For the first 10-12 days, I did a bit more than planned (running just 1 or 2km felt pointless). After that, I stuck to the script.
I stopped on the 27th, after running that day’s 27 kilometers.
Total for the month: 418 kilometers.
Why did I stop? My legs were seriously feeling it. Two nights in a row with barely any sleep. Daily logistics getting more and more complicated. And above all, wanting to actually spend some time with my kids during the Christmas holidays rather than keep stacking up kilometers.
Zero regrets. A great month, a great experience.
The stop
A few months later, our third child was on the way.
I knew the nights would be short for a while. I wanted to play it safe — physically and mentally. No desire to push my limits when my body and mind were about to be put through the wringer by a newborn.
And then there was that interval session. One too many, clearly. My stomach took a real beating — pain I’d been dragging around for a while and couldn’t seem to fix. I came home that day and said stop.
Not gradually. Not “let’s see.” Stop.
A year without running
It felt good.
Genuinely, honestly, it felt good.
It gave me the distance I needed to see that my approach had been bordering on compulsive toward the end. Always more kilometers, always more training sessions… Something wasn’t healthy anymore.
With a tiny baby at home and sleep completely wrecked for the first few months, I wouldn’t have had the time or energy to run anyway. But even without that, I think I needed the break.
To breathe. To find myself in other ways.
The comeback
Pure enjoyment. A day when I had some time, a nice spot, the urge to move. All pleasure, zero pressure.
That became my new approach. No more training plans, no more time goals. Sometimes flat roads, sometimes small trails in the mountains. Sometimes I push the pace a bit, sometimes I just jog along.
Twice a week, mostly during lunch breaks. I try to stick to it, but I don’t beat myself up if a week doesn’t work out.
I’m not ruling out signing up for a small race for fun. But for the fun of taking part, not for a target time.
If you’d told me 5 years ago I’d be running “only” twice a week and be perfectly fine with it, I wouldn’t have believed you. I probably would’ve found it a bit sad, even.
Running still gives me what it’s always given me: decompression, enjoyment, a moment that’s just mine. Just… differently dosed.
And maybe that’s actually better this way 🏃♂️