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Join de urbirun newsletterIt’s the first time. You kind of feel out of place. Uncomfortable. Anxious. You regret signing up. You are scared.
Afraid of not being worthy of it. Fear of not knowing. Fear of being disrespectful to any rite or custom.
You’re embarrassed to be seen. Despite the anonymity of the colored crowd. Everyone knows. You’re convinced of it. Everyone knows you’re a rookie. You feel ridiculous. Especially as you were not even fucking able to pin it straight. It’s not your place. You have never proved anything. You are only following the move. You hear laughter, veterans’stories. You are not worthy to be there. And yet, shy, you fit in the pack. Rather in the back. You would not want to disturb. 5 minutes to start. 30 seconds. 10 seconds.
You’re going forward. You’re running. You recognize the sensation. The rhythm. The pace. The steps. Their choreography. The music of your breath. You forgot your bib. All its weight flew away with your stride. From time to time, an anonymous reminds it to you. Someone applauds your first name. Someone smiles at you. You smile. You’re no longer embarrassed. You are there. That’s all. You are running, you are breathing. You know the pain. You know the pleasure. You know. And you learn. You learn the finish line that arrives too fast. Depsite a few moments ago you cursed it for being so far away.
The finish. The start.
When is the next bib?