​Ah, the art of tapering, a dance between restraint and anticipation. 

Tapering may be essential but always it's a challenging phase. It's like trying to hold back from a delicious pizza right in front of me! 
But I am living it as a joyful struggle, a countdown to race day where each Kilometer I skip now feels like holding back a powerful wave I can enjoy in a week time.

I am itching to unleash, but the magic lies in the restraint. 
A blend of excitement and self-discipline, a crescendo to race day.

​I used to restrain myself from expressing my opinions, thoughts, and emotions due to the fear of judgment, misunderstanding, or mockery. 
In reality, this restraint provided no true protection and offered no benefits. In my early twenties I discovered the confidence to embrace my authentic self, to stand by my beliefs. I spoke up, changed my circle of friends, relocated to a different country, and constructed a life aligned with my own perception of what is right for me.

Like everyone, the journey wasn't a smooth ride, and I learned a great deal along the way, humbly absorbing the lessons from various life experiences, both positive and challenging, that shaped my personality.

Reflecting on the past, it's now evident that it was only when I stood up and spoke my truth that I was truly heard, and only when I embarked on my own path that I experienced genuine movement.

These days, I don't worry as much about other people's opinions, and it's liberating. 
What's even more liberating is my newfound ability and confidence in being vulnerable with others. Surprisingly, I've discovered more acceptance than judgment in response.

Who would have thought that what terrified me the most growing up - letting people know how I truly feel and what I genuinely think — could evolve into a source of greater closeness? 

​Today, I came to the realization of why running holds a profound significance in my life. It presents a daily opportunity for personal growth. 
It manifests in various ways, through introspection, moments of pure presence, or the physical challenge of pushing my limits. In the act of running, I practice mindfulness, perspective, and engage in the simple yet profound act of sharing - layers that I sometimes fail to fully acknowledge.

This is very powerful for me. As I navigate and process the emotions of recent events, once again, I discover solace in the rhythm of my feet. 

​Have you looked up at the sky recently, Luca? It's perfect. Nothing needs to change. What requires a shift is your expectation of being something different, just as it is for your own self.

​I am a firm believer in coincidences, or as Richard Bach aptly put it, in the notion that "Everyone, every moment in your life, is there because you attracted it to yourself."

A couple of weeks ago, I lent one of my favorite books, "The Boy Who Runs," to a friend. That morning, for no particular reason, I shared with her the once-in-a-lifetime experience of running across Uganda with the book's protagonist, Julius Achon, as part of a fundraiser for The Love Mercy Foundation. It remains one of my fondest memories, right at the intersection of what makes me feel the most alive: running in extraordinary places to support causes I deeply believe in.

Today, my friend mentioned that she had finished (and loved!) the book. It just so happened that I returned home from our training session to discover that it's the fourth anniversary of that glorious experience in Uganda. So, I took a moment to reflect on those few days in Uganda, the incredible country, the meaningful work that Love Mercy does for Uganda, and the remarkable people I had the privilege of meeting, especially Julius.

I deeply admire you, my friend. 

check out https://vimeo.com/395307254 if you get the chance!