As a kid, I used to play the violin. It meant hours of practice almost every afternoon, when everything I played made my family and our neighbours cringe.
I could tell by their fake smile when we met in front of the building. They’d ask me “so how is the violin practice going?” as if they didn’t already know it was going terrible.
But every once in a while, the noises I usually made would sound like real music. Call it flow or practice making perfect, but some days the chords just “aligned” to play as they should.
I had the same feeling about running Brasov Marathon last Saturday. A race that I hadn’t been to before on a route that was kind of familiar to me because I had trained on parts of it, but never entirely and definitely never feeling in such a good flow as I did on the race day.