Or the personal recount of my running thoughts.

It is December 31, 2004. The locals here (Portland, OR) are running 11th addition of Purge and Splurge 30M, the length of Forest Park. Some opted for the first ever double-crossing, some went earlier, and the main “event” (very low-key, non-timed) runners touched the tree at the end of the trail at 8:30 am. The group spreads out after about a mile. I have my usual pain in both shins (it goes for an hour and I will be quietly monitoring the pain) so I let everybody pass and stick with Monty, the climber from Mazama. We chat as we go, about running, climbing (my husband is into it over the head), life in general, Russian quirks. It is New Year’s eve, biggest holiday in my log. The weather so far is cooperating; the sun is peaking through clouds. We walk uphill and eat some food. By mile 8 I start feeling better and get moving. I am really enjoying it. The clouds overcast the sky and some rain appears out of nowhere. It’s nice and quiet here, with the trees surrounding the soft trail, some mud sections and the big drops to the left with occasional views at the city. I enter my favorite stage of running – the Zen, when nothing matters, only my breathing and the foot strikes. My mind starts to wonder. It always does.

I go back a couple of weeks to Christmas marathon in Olympia, WA. I took up on it just to see my Maniacs friends. I don’t really belong to road marathons. I strode at 9 min/mile pace with Rick Haase, discussing plans for upcoming year. It was a good run that brought me a PR, breaking 3:45 for the first time and qualifying for Boston, the dream of every road marathoner. I jump in the air; I am happy. OK, it wasn’t a certified course, but I did it. “You Can Do It” – I hear in my head. It’s important to believe in yourself. I do.

Marathon Maniacs. I ran into Tony Phillippi (or tp! how he’s known in this web club) in the beginning of October in my first race here, in Northwest. He is one of the Main Maniacs. All the nutcases belong here, so I joined. It’s nice to belong. It’s nice to be normal. It’s nice to be accepted. I love them. Every single one of them. With all my heart. Annie, can you hear me? Steve, Chris, Robbie and Glenn and *tc…

The rain turns into sleet, and then I see some hail. I still love it. I am thinking – what can possibly happen that would turn off this love?

I go back once again, to Mt. Masochist 50M in VA, to famous David Horton and his miles on the tough course. It was supposed to be my last race for the season. I flew in by midnight and drove 4 hrs to the start location. The run starts. I am sleepy. Tired. Hungry. Cold. Tired. Blistered. Fuzzy. Tired again. I want coffee, hot soup and a fireplace with blanket around my legs. That was the time I asked myself a question – why am I doing it to myself? What’s in it for me? Shouldn’t I be somewhere else, not enduring the pain in the middle of mountains, all alone? The finish line eventually shows – and it’s all clear now. I love it, no matter what. I get to test my endurance, but more importantly - my soul. It strips you to the bear minimum and you discover who you really are. I need that. I need to know who I am. This is a wacky world, and I am loosing myself. I can’t afford it to happen. I need to find out about myself. And if I forget – keep reminding.

Nothing matters. I am hearing my foot strikes and see the snow falling from the sky. It’s New Year’s Eve, for crying out loud, it’s supposed to snow! I glance at the watch – not to miss the clock goes to next year for my home country. I’ve got 40 more minutes.

My thoughts float again, back to Vermont 100. I paced my dear friend Nick Palazzo there, for his 10th time at that race. I never thought how much more fulfilling this could be than any runs I had done so far! I had a goal. Read carefully – I had a goal, he didn’t. Nick is my role model. He runs because he loves it. No times matter to him. I wanted to bring him in less than 22 hrs for his anniversary. He doesn’t wear a watch. I got his, but forgot to start it. I crew for the first 68 miles, him and some other NY folks. It’s exciting. I meet old friends and make new ones. Nick looks good going out for a loop before I get him back. Something happens out there. It’s hot, humid, with some thunderstorms. It is July in Vermont. He is bonking and cramping, along with stomach problems. He is the experienced one; he knows it will go away. I do too. Now, after the WS100, I know a lot more about myself and a little more about ultrarunning. I know more about life. I give him what worked for me and keep him moving. I tell him stories – he did the same for me just 3 weeks before. The night falls. I try to keep track of yellow plates on the trees. I am afraid to get us lost. He is cranky and tired; I try to say something nice. “You are such a fantastic person!” This is truth. He is the best. It can’t be otherwise. You just don’t go for all these insane measures out of pure “kick butt” nonsense. I am loving him. He starts running better after 2 hours of slow motion. Wow, he picks up the pace and leaves me in a dust! I have an excuse of being injured and 3 weeks after Western States, but I don’t use it. I gather my strengths, shut down the pain and run alongside. We are clicking miles. The time goal from illusional becomes manageable. Nick loves to chat with aid station people. It’s all about people to him. I drag him out. I have a goal he doesn’t know about. We run. We walk. Some more of it. He is tired again. So am I. I have no idea with this new course how far we are and it looks like we’re circling around the same mountain. I am scared I made the wrong turn. We pass at least 15 people but in the final stretch two pass on us, one of them – Cary Miller from Portland. I ran with him at Capitol Peak in October. What a coincidence. But at this moment all I care about – does anyone know what the hell time is and where is the finish line? I scream. Nick snaps at me. A second later he humbly apologizes. I don’t care. I love him. I want him to make it to the finish. I see the light. It’s a quarter mile straight down, and I let out a sigh – Run, Nick, run fast! He stumbles down; I take side grass and look at the clock. 21:57. We made it! HE did it! Nick is smiling, while I am all chocked up. I had never been happier in my life, not in the last 3 years anyway. I still have tears in my eyes thinking about it.

The time flies. Wow, here is Cary Miller and his two daughters managing an improvised aid station in the middle of Forest park! Got to love people. People are what make this ultra stuff so magnificent. I get a gel and refill my bottles. I’ve been running for 21 miles and I have no idea what time is it. I don’t care. It’s hail that falls from above now. I am wet, and my hands are cold. I run on adrenaline. I feel great. Wait – there is Greg Pressler ahead, he is not supposed to be here, he is a fast dude! He has injured his calf and in pain. I stick around. Hey, who cares about time, it’s all about people, remember? We walk. We jog. We talk. It’s not surprising to me anymore but still amazes how close you get to a stranger on the long run. Greg is my best friend. I’ve never seeing him before in my life. He calls me a Russian Bear. I like the name. I like my running partner. We share stories. How we started.

My mind goes back to that first 5k I ran on Mother’s day in 2001. It felt so new and exhilarating, like nothing before. I tackled distances in a month up to 10k and ran a first half marathon. I don’t remember much of it. I didn’t drink – I didn’t know I am supposed to. I didn’t walk – I didn’t know I am allowed to. 9M mark was the last in my memory, all faded after that. I finished. I knew I can do anything. “You Can Do It” – rings in my ears. How true.

My first marathon behind a year and half later, I come across Van Cortlandt Park and meet a group of runners. They are doing intervals on a track. This is VCTC. The guy comes up to me and invites to join a workout. Just like that. No fees, no memberships. Come and run with us. This is Firdaus Dotiwala. He just finished his first 100M in VT (see the coincidence?). I am curious. I am not laughing. I want to do it. I join the club. It’s nice to belong. They made me feel at home. I have my first coach – Ken Rolston. Tony Thoman, Enid and Dennis, Bill, Wanda, Susan, Larry…they actually tell me I am a runner. I am a runner now! I am a VCTC member. I am proud. More people to meet, more experiences to hear about, more advices to get. I love it. I am running. Running more. Running faster. Running longer.

I just missed 12 am in Russia! I yell with my full lungs “Happy New Year to my family back home!” Greg is laughing. He understands. I am back to the moment. We are almost done here, on the Wildwood trail. I don’t want this run to end. I am having a great time. There will be more I remind myself. Many more.

We touch the tree at the beginning of the trail – it’s the tradition. We ran 30.1 miles today, on New Year’s Eve. Best holiday ever. With rain, snow and cold grey sky, trails and trees, mud and hills – and best friends. Can’t wait to do it again. I don’t have to. It’s that simple – just go out and run…