Bonum Cursum

Savickis life journey

ostatnie wpisy

  • A chilly morning run, run fest 2025 in my municipality

     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.

  • There was a race: The Bydgoszcz Decamarathon

    The Bydgoszcz Decamarathon wasn’t just an event it became a part of my own running journey something deeply in my training routine. I often trained there especially during the summer months when the weather was perfect and the canal route offered a serene yet challenging environment for long runs. It wasn’t just about preparing for races it was about the connection I developed with that place. The Bydgoszcz Canal became a second home and with each step I took along its path I felt a growing emotional attachment to the surroundings. The beautiful views the quiet moments along the water and the steady rhythm of my footsteps created a bond with the location that went beyond just training. Running the Decamarathon was like coming 4,2k circle. The very route where I had logged countless training miles became the race course that tested my limits. It was a place where I could push myself and reflect where the familiarity of the terrain gave me a sense of peace amidst the physical and mental challenges of running two marathons in one weekend.

    Over those five months as I joined the event and trained around the course I began to associate those stretches of road with hard work determination and achievement. It wasn’t just a race to me it was a place filled with memories of long quiet runs intense training sessions and moments of self-discovery. The Bydgoszcz Decamarathon truly became more than just a competition it was a testament to my connection with the city its people and the landscape I had come to know so well. The event combined with all the training I did along the canal formed an emotional bond that I’ll never forget. Even when the race was over and the marathon days turned into memories the significance of that place continued to live on in my heart. The energy the camaraderie and the sense of belonging made it a defining part of my running journey. PS: I remember perfectly well that the races were held from November to March which meant that the weather was always a surprise sometimes sunny sometimes snow and quite often a mix of rain and wind that made you wonder if you were running a marathon or auditioning for a survival show. The race formula was pretty relaxed so you could even bring your own nutrition and leave it on a little table at the start of the loop. It was a funny sight every few kilometers you’d pass by this improvised buffet where bottles of isotonic drinks stood next to thermoses of tea bananas mixed with chocolate bars and sometimes even a slice of someone’s homemade cake. It looked less like a professional marathon and more like a family picnic only with 42 kilometers in between each snack.

  • Double race weekend

    This weekend was full of running, and I managed to fit in more than I originally planned. On both Saturday and Sunday, I went for a double run, pushing myself through the crisp autumn mornings. It felt good to be out there, with the cool air in my lungs and the quiet streets almost entirely to myself.

    I also visited my wonderful mother over the weekend. I had planned the visit in advance, but I had also realized that there was a race happening nearby. I couldn’t resist the temptation. I thought I could sneak out for just an hour, run a quick 10k, and be back before anyone noticed. I imagined the perfect plan: slip out quietly, enjoy the run, maybe push myself a little harder, and return with a small sense of victory.

    Of course, as always, my “sneak” didn’t go as secretly as I thought. By the time I returned, everyone already knew I had gone out for a run. But honestly, it didn’t bother me at all.

    Sometimes, weekends are about quiet reflection or relaxation, but this one reminded me that a little bit of spontaneity — even if it doesn’t go exactly as planned — can make life feel brighter. Running, family, a small secret mission that wasn’t really secret at all — all of it came together into a weekend I’ll remember fondly.

    P.S. A little while ago, I ran a double race weekend, doing a marathon on both Saturday and Sunday. It was tough but unforgettable. I still miss those days and the feeling of running like that.

    Fall in my hometown.

  • There was a race: The Transborder Run as Shared Passion Across Borders

    Once upon a time, there was a unique race that connected two worlds — Polish and German. It was the Transborder Run, an event that gathered runners from both sides of the border, offering a rare opportunity to run a 12-kilometer route through two countries. The race crossed through Poland and Germany, with the most iconic feature being the bridge that linked the two nations. It was a run filled with joy, trust, and an incredible atmosphere of shared purpose and camaraderie.

    I had the privilege of participating in this event several times, and the memories of those runs are still vivid. We started from Poland one year, and from Germany the next, with the bridge marking the boundary between the two countries. The Germans always welcomed us with warmth, and we reciprocated with the same spirit, inviting them to join us for the run on the Polish side. It was like meeting old friends, even though we hadn’t seen each other since the previous year.

    There was something magical about running through two countries. Every step taken on Polish soil, followed by the transition across the bridge to German ground, carried with it a sense of unity and togetherness. The course, though not particularly long, was full of excitement, and the opportunity to run alongside international participants was something truly special. Though this event has since disappeared from the calendar, replaced by some form of a Polish-German race, the spirit of the Transborder Run still lives on in the hearts of those who once took part.

    Today, one could say that the „Transborder Run” still exists in some form, but in reality, while its continuation is theoretical, it is no longer the same. The specific atmosphere that once defined this race, the energy exchange and joy experienced on both sides of the border, is no longer there.

    PS: I remember one time when I missed the bus that was supposed to take us to the start in Germany. It was pretty stressful, but I decided not to wait and drove there myself. As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who was late! On the way back, I had to get off the bus 6 kilometers before my car, so I added a few kilometers on foot and then returned to the car. Thankfully, I wasn’t alone — a friend of mine, who had also missed the bus, joined me, so I gave him a lift. It was one of those funny moments that, despite the chaos, only enrich the memories of such races.

  • Autumn memories from the Teacher’s Day Run

    Today we celebrated the Teacher’s Day run, which takes place every year on October 14th. The morning was cool but bright, the kind of air that carries both the chill of approaching winter and the soft warmth of autumn light. We gathered in the town park, one of the most beautiful spots around, where the trees were already turning shades of gold, copper, and red. Fallen leaves covered the paths like a soft carpet, and as we ran, they rustled under our feet, mixing the rhythm of our breath with the quiet whisper of the season.

    After the run, we stayed for a while, just walking slowly and talking. The whole park looked like a painting, calm ponds reflecting the trees, families strolling, and that peaceful joy that only early autumn can bring. There was something nostalgic in the air, and I couldn’t help thinking about the years that have passed since school and how much those days still mean to me.

    P.S. I still remember all my teachers so clearly, even though I finished my studies more than 15 years ago. Each of them left a small mark on who I became. And of course, I remember our winter adventures back in college.