Bonum Cursum

 I woke up early, full of energy—or maybe only half full, like a cup of coffee hastily drunk before heading out. Outside, it looked like autumn, but something told me it was going to be cold. Still, I dressed lightly, thinking that a runner always warms up eventually. Well, that’s true—just not before leaving the house.
 Luckily, I went out a bit earlier, so I had the luxury of making a mistake and fixing it. The moment I stepped outside, the air hit me like a bucket of ice water. It was only five degrees Celsius. I turned back immediately, probably faster than I’d ever turn during a race, and changed into something warmer and less transparent to the wind. Once properly dressed, I felt ready for anything. The starting point was close, so I set off confidently, sure that nothing else could surprise me. Of course, I was wrong.
 When I arrived, I began searching for my favorite spot—the same bench I always stretch near, pretending it’s an essential part of my warm-up rather than an excuse to delay running. In the middle of that ritual, I almost missed the race office registration. Luckily, I made it just in time, number pinned, chip secured, and adrenaline starting to build.
 The race began, and as usual, I had chosen the longest distance of the festival. Why do something easy when you can suffer longer, right? The weather was perfect—for polar bears. It looked like autumn, with colorful leaves and soft mist, but it felt like winter, with the wind cutting right through my enthusiasm. I made it to the finish line, frozen but proud. Looking around, I noticed that most people had wisely chosen shorter distances. Smart move on their part. But as for me, I prefer to learn from my own mistakes—as long as I get a medal and a hot cup of tea at the end.
 P.S. If anyone ever wonders what kind of running I do, they only need to look at the finish-line photos. The expression says it all. And waiting for me at home was the best reward of all—a delicious lunch lovingly prepared by my girls.