BEYOND THE SURFACE

It’s 4:13 in the morning. My body wakes me up again, and this time I know there’s no point fighting it. Yesterday’s training session is still echoing inside my muscles: 18 kilometers of intervals and 3,300 meters of swimming – It was a hard session, but I did not foresee these effects. The body is tired, slightly stressed, and determined not to let me sleep any longer. I try to sleep 3 more times, but my body keeps waking me up. Insomnia caused by physical stress is deeper and more challenging than I expected.

So I stop negotiating with it.

Today will be a long day anyway. I’m in London, and later I’ll be heading back home. There’s travel ahead, work ahead, and somewhere in between all of that, a long run that I promised myself I would do. Two hours. At least that’s the plan. But right now, lying in bed, it feels ambitious.

My legs still feel heavy from yesterday. My motivation is somewhere in the middle. And sleeping only a few hours before a long run is never ideal. Still, the decision is made. I wake up.

A Morning That Didn’t Start Strong

The room is quiet. Outside, the city is still asleep. I prepare a quick coffee — instant coffee, the only one available in the room. Not exactly the perfect start for an endurance session, but at 4:37 in the morning I doubt there are many cafés open nearby. I drink it anyway. It helps a little. Indeed, very little. I stretch lightly, trying to wake the body without forcing it too much. Then I prepare the basics: a guava pastry, an energy bar, and a carbohydrate gel. Honestly, I’m not even sure I’ll use them. At this point, I’m not even sure how long I’ll last out there.

Shoes on.
Door closed.
And suddenly I’m outside.

Towards the Thames Again

I head again toward the Thames, the same path I ran yesterday. “Sexy Zebras” on my headseats. But I am sure I will end up with “The XX”. But today the intention is different.

Yesterday was about work.
Today is about listening.

I start with an easy pace. Light, controlled, almost cautious. My body still feels the weight of yesterday’s session, and today I’m not interested in pushing through pain. Today is about finding rhythm. Little by little, something changes. The run begins to feel… possible?

London, When It Sleeps

When I finally reach the river, I notice something unexpected. London is beautiful when it sleeps. Truly beautiful. Not the London of crowds, traffic, and endless movement. Not the London that turns every street into a fast lane once the day begins. This is a different city.

Quiet.
Soft.
Peaceful.

There are still cars passing occasionally. A few early workers moving through the streets. But the noise is gone. The chaos is absent. For a moment, it feels almost like another place. Just last week I was in Luxembourg, and I remember missing that calm this morning. But apparently, you can find something very similar in London — if you’re willing to wake up at five in the morning. At 5:12, this city offers an oasis. And today, it’s exactly what I needed.

What Resilience Means to Me

My legs are still heavy, so I make a decision early. No pressure today. No chasing pace. No looking at the watch every five minutes. No forcing the body to give something it doesn’t have. Today is simply an exercise. A mental one. I listen to my sensations. When I need to stop and stretch, I stop. When I need to slow down, I slow down. There is no battle today. Just movement.  Just breath. Just the quiet rhythm of running beside a river that hasn’t woken up yet. 

Many people describe resilience as pushing harder. As waking up every day stronger than the day before. As falling, standing up, and continuing forward no matter what. And sometimes it is that. But today taught me something slightly different. For me, resilience also means acceptance.

Acceptance of how you feel.
Acceptance of your limits that day.
Acceptance of the emotions that appear when motivation isn’t perfect.

This morning I asked myself simple questions:

Am I tired?
Yes.

Am I fully motivated?
Not really.

Does two hours feel like an eternity right now?
Absolutely.

And yet, acknowledging those feelings didn’t weaken the session. It allowed me to manage it. First came acceptance. Then came emotional regulation. And from there, something interesting happened. The run began to flow.

The city helped. London, quiet and half-asleep, matched exactly what I needed today. Traffic existed — but without the horns. People existed — but without the rush. Movement existed — but without the noise. For a short moment, it felt like a hidden version of the city. A calm pocket inside a place that usually moves at full speed. I know this will disappear in a few hours. Yesterday, by seven in the morning, the city had already transformed into a racing circuit again. And today will be no different. But for now, this calm exists. And I’m grateful for it.

Resilience as a Skill

At 6:37 in the morning, I found myself dictating these thoughts into my device while running slowly along the river. Not because today was heroic. But because it was honest. Resilience lives inside all of us, but it doesn’t appear overnight. It’s something we train — slowly, repeatedly, through years of commitment to ourselves. Sometimes resilience is pushing harder. But sometimes resilience is simply learning how to listen. How to accept. How to adjust. How to continue moving forward without fighting the moment you’re in. Today was one of those days. And as strange as it sounds, it was exactly the session I needed.

Because London, it turns out, is beautiful when it sleeps. And if you don’t believe me, I invite you to discover it for yourself.