This morning, I ran without trying to drown out my own thoughts. I ran without music dictating my pace, I found myself settling into a natural rhythm, listening to the steady well not really steady of course… I was panting to be exact! — of my own breath and the soft thuds of my feet meeting the ground. It felt… different. Not empty, not lonely—just present. 

Running, for me, is meditative. Each step is a reminder to be in the moment, to embrace both the struggle and the rhythm. It’s hard not to compare my pace, my distance, my endurance with others, but I always remind myself that running is about competing with myself. Every time I tie my shoes and step outside, it’s already a small victory. Finishing the run? That’s just proof of another winning day. I like this kind of success. 

I used to rely on music to push me forward—Eminem, Pussycat Dolls, J-Lo, Alan Walker—my running anthem was always ready, lasting more than two hours, just enough to carry me through the toughest runs. But today, I ran without it, and surprisingly, I didn’t need it as much as I thought I would. 

As I reached the tenth kilometer, I slowed down, catching my breath. And I felt lighter. Not just because I had run a long distance, but because I had finally learned to run without running away from myself.

Cheers,

Karin Sabrina