Summary

The author uses running as a metaphor for personal growth and introspection, reflecting on life, creativity, and societal trends while finding inspiration and clarity in the solitude of their morning runs.

Abstract

The author describes their morning running routine as a transformative experience that extends beyond physical fitness. Running serves as a catalyst for mental clarity, self-discovery, and problem-solving. It's a time when the author becomes a "creator" in their own world, contemplating life's questions and envisioning future trends. They ponder the value of social capital in the digital age, the impossibility of replicating icons like Andy Warhol, and the beauty of the world around them. The act of running allows the author to escape the constraints of reality, practice acceptance speeches for imagined awards, and develop stories and ideas without the pressure of immediate execution. Despite the physical and mental demands, the author finds joy in the process and the freedom it brings, with the only exception being Mondays, which are reserved for dreaming.

Opinions

The author believes that running is not just about physical exercise but also a way to clear the mind and engage in deep thought.
They suggest that the next decade may see a resurgence of early 2000s fashion and

LIFE

I Run To Conquer My World

Because sometimes walking is not enough

I run every morning.

Well, except for weekends. And Mondays. I loathe waking up early on Mondays.

I’ve been running for over ten years now. Not exactly for fitness reasons, although justifying a chocolate pudding or a muffin brings me a certain level of satisfaction.

A friend once told me it’s a good way to clear your mind.

Fool.

When I run, a whole world opens up in my head. I do everything, everywhere, all at once, including referencing movies. In this world, I’m not some pathetic emperor or a nominal king.

I’m a fucking creator.

I know all the answers to every possible question.

A great deal of my run is dedicated to figuring out things that bother me. Here’s a portion from the last run.

What will be “it” for the next decade?

The ’00s will return. Fashion, colors, design, Y2K is trending. Watch out for button phones and sharp sunglasses.

Is it possible to become the next Andy Warhol?

No. Warhol was an iconic creation of a very specific time. Unless you own a time machine and have already killed Hitler, saved the Titanic, and tried McDonald’s Szechuan sauce — there’s no chance. But here’s something better. You can be you.

Is social capital more valuable than actual capital?

Yes. Say you have ten million organic followers on Instagram. At least 1/10 of them are active buyers. With little to no budget, you can start any business and invest time in any of your projects. You’ll have a million customers and fans from day one. Welcome to the Black Mirror, where money is less valuable than TikTok dance moves.

I see cars, trees, and people with sleepy, angry faces trudging to work. They’re all part of my world, but we don’t communicate. Personal boundaries, you know.

Sometimes (more often than I should), I receive an Oscar or a Grammy. I run and practice my acceptance speech.

“Thank you, everyone, for your hard work! Remember, don’t fight the power. Fight the idea that power can’t be fought.”

Then the interviews come. I strive to answer tricky questions, throwing away tens of possible responses to find the best one. To inspire. I need to inspire.

I turn around the corner. Headphones plugged into my ears, but the music is off. I just like having them there. Silent headphones create an invisible barrier between my world and the real one.

Yet they allow me to hear car horns.

I run and think of my unfinished ideas. Stories I left behind or carefully placed in a drawer labeled “good one, but maybe next time”. Books, or better yet, movies. It’s a unique pleasure to slowly, scene by scene, watch a new movie in your head. One that probably will never be released.

You are the only audience. VIP. Netflix Ultra Premium, baby.

They say:

You need to stop once in a while, to take a look around. The world is beautiful, and it is definitely worthy of your attention. Not everything is a race.

My running is not about racing. It’s about thinking, observing, digesting. And a little about guilt-free ice cream.

I’ve run on so many terrains. Dusty asphalt of Cairo, paving stones of Rome, hills, and narrow streets of Istanbul, snow, rocks, mud.

The world is great. I just don’t see the reason to stop. I started running because I wanted the rush the world. Now I’m running to keep up with it.

I can finish my run whenever I want. Because I know the next day I’ll resume for another hour or two.

Unless it’s Monday.

On Mondays, I dream.