I’m here to talk about my relationship with running. I don’t usually like writing about myself, but an invitation from Yimis, a friend I instantly connected with, was one I couldn’t pass up.

Few people know this, but I used to smoke a pack of cigarettes a day when I was 20. I started at 17 in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, smoking Comme il Fauts — what I was told were like Marlboro Reds on steroids. I smoked to look tough, being one of the few white kids in my class. Later, I switched to rolled tobacco, thinking it was cheaper and somehow “healthier.”

Even with this habit, I stayed active. I played basketball at Flamengo, rowed on the Potomac, and raced a Half Ironman in Rio de Janeiro. Running kept me alive, but I always wondered: “Why train like a madman and still smoke this cancer stick?” Allen Carr’s Easy Way to Stop Smoking helped me quit, and my obsession with sports returned.

I’d wake up at 2:50 a.m. on Tuesdays to ride with a peloton along Rio’s streets at 35–40 km/h, followed by 12–16 km of running at Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas. I’d nap, then work at the Human Performance Lab or as a personal trainer. Exhausted, I’d still think: “How long can I sustain this?” Running had become my new addiction.

In October 2022, a leisure trip to Berlin changed everything. One night at Berghain, I impulsively declared I’d move there. Three months later, I was on a one-way flight to the grey, cold metropolis.

I neglected running for a year, exploring Berlin’s nightlife instead. My fitness dropped, a 6:00/km pace felt like a struggle, and I was eating poorly. I’d become a human bat, alive only on the dance floor.

Then came a breakup and the fortune of meeting Renan, a co-worker at ISTO., a Portuguese clothing brand. He embodied the responsible, healthy life I aspired to. Also an ex-professional cyclist, he reignited my connection to endurance sports. I signed up for the 2024 Berlin Marathon, though I barely trained.

I ran one 24 km long run at Tempelhof with my friend on bike, feeding me gels and water. I finished at 4:40/km — far from my Rio half-marathon pace. Race day arrived: 3:14:58. I missed the A-block start for 2025 by 2 seconds. I limped across the finish line with gratitude, but mostly disappointment. I had fallen off the wagon.

One week later, I signed up for the Barcelona Marathon (March 16, 2025) with a new mission: proper training. I adapted my plan every two weeks, aiming to go sub-3 hours. I swapped club nights for long runs in the snow, waking before sunrise. Cold, dark, lonely Berlin mornings were brutal, but running kept depression at bay in a city that glorifies sadness as a coping mechanism.

I met incredible people: early-morning runners, clubbers who also ran, ex-professional athletes cleaning toilets by day. I coached driven athletes, too, finding my tribe of endorphin junkies.

Barcelona marathon day: perfect weather, 16°C, sunny, no wind. I finished in 2:58:00. Training in Berlin’s winter had forged me — stronger, resilient, and ready.

In one month, I return to Berlin for another marathon. I’ve been back on the endorphin wagon for a year and feel stronger than ever. It’s not just about the time on the clock, but the journey, the people, and the resilience running has taught me. Every stride, every cheer, every heartbeat in sync with the city — a celebration of strength, connection, and the joy of moving forward. Let’s get it!