Step One from the Crowd 🏁
I never thought I would become a runner. For years, I stood by the roadside as a spectator, watching others and wondering how they managed to run so far. Those marathon moments felt more like a celebration than a sport — I admired the energy, persistence, and sparks in the runners’ eyes ✨. But one day, more than a decade ago, something inside me awoke.
After a marathon, I sat on the terrace of a café, sipping coffee ☕ and watching the last runners cross the finish line. Exhausted as they were, they had smiles on their faces I couldn’t forget. Someone next to me said, “Every beginning is small, you just have to take the step.” Those words hit me deeply, as if someone had turned on a light inside me 💡.
That feeling became a few lines that night, which later turned into my motivational poem — my little running compass:
I am Marko Smodič from Ivančna Gorica,
more than forest trails, I love asphalt paths,
over a decade ago, running pulled me in,
from a marathon spectator to a runner, slowly it changed me,
for every training, you must find motivation,
if you can even go for a run, you are privileged,
after the run, my eyes stop on the watch,
curious to see what data it will give me,
if it’s better than last time by just a second,
that’s enough for me to plan the next round.
My first “run” was far from perfect 😅. I stopped multiple times, gasped for air, and doubted myself. But when I sat on a bench by the church ⛪ catching my breath, I felt that small but real pride. That evening I wrote: “Day 1: 2 kilometers. Still standing.” And that gave me strength for the next day.
Asphalt Paths Become My World 🛤️
With every week, my steps felt lighter. Persistence became my quiet companion. The asphalt paths around Ivančna Gorica became my space to escape, to reflect, to breathe life in 🌿.
Speed, looks, gear — none of that mattered anymore. I realized I was running for myself. Every second of improvement was a small victory 🥇. Twice a week, I reminded myself: “This is my foundation,” and I kept that rhythm, even when it rained 🌧️ or when I was tired.
During one run, with cold, fresh air around me, the last lines of my poem came together in my head:
Twice a week is the foundation,
for a recreational runner, a healthy plan,
it doesn’t matter how you look,
running for yourself, you know it well,
this beautiful sport fills your lungs,
each time, with new insights, it fills your heart.
Running brought me more than I expected: mental clarity 🧠, inner peace, better well-being, and a sense that every day could be a new opportunity. It taught me patience, discipline, and acceptance — sometimes, just getting up and going is enough.
Some runs were slow, almost meditative, others more lively. But each was equally important. My legs, my breath, and my thoughts became a well-coordinated team. And when you run alone, you learn to hear things that are often drowned out by the noise of daily life ❤️.
The Circle I Had to Complete 🎯
When I reached ten years of my running journey, I felt ready to take the next step — to sign up for a marathon. The very same marathon where I once stood as a spectator thinking, “This isn’t for me.”
Standing at the start line among hundreds of runners, I held my poem in my pocket. Not to read it, but as a symbol that I had walked (and run) a long path. I felt calm, determined, and somehow at home 🏡.
As I ran through the streets, I repeated the verses in my head. Each one was a memory of moments I doubted myself, moments I progressed, moments I surprised myself. I ran with my heart ❤️🔥.
When I crossed the finish line, I didn’t look at the time. It didn’t matter. I was exactly where I had once wanted to be — not to be first, but to complete my story. My victory had already happened — the moment I became a runner.
Today, I keep running — maybe slower, maybe faster, but always with the same thought: even a single second of improvement ⏱️ is enough to start a new round of life. And every time I step on asphalt, it feels like coming home.