About six years ago, I moved to the «Militari» neighborhood in Bucharest. Initially inhabited by sub-officers, sergeants, and soldiers. It was built in the 60s. And in 2018, I joined.
When I was 7 or 8 years old, a classmate from primary school told me they were looking for more members for an extracurricular activity. For some reason, I thought it was connected to the circus, so I joined.
I remember the gold-colored plastic medals. My mother and sisters’ presence at my competitions. My older sister studying music while waiting for me in the training room. My younger sister joined the club but ended up liking volleyball more.
Sometimes my hands would hurt when I did the exercises wrong. I never felt tired of training. I just know that I could concentrate so much that I would try the exercises over and over until I got them right.
We didn’t have the money to pay for a personal trainer or a club membership to train professionally. So gymnastics ended for me at 12 years old.
Many years later, I tried cheerleading. I also lifted weights for several years.
In the summer of 2016, I didn’t have the money to pay for a gym subscription. So I figured running wouldn’t cost me money. I started with 1 kilometer. And almost two years later, I reached my personal record of 22km in 2 hours.
I loved running through the streets. And when I moved to the «Militari» neighborhood, I found the right space. One that harbored tons of my thoughts. I ran there for a few years. During the midday summers of 37 degrees, and in the winter afternoons when there was no snow. Maybe at about 5 degrees.
After discovering I had two herniated discs, I lost touch with that place. I learned it had been renovated. But I never went back. Until today.
Julian, a runner with a beautiful story that I will tell someday, suggested we go for a run. To that place.
When we arrived and I saw the reflection of the sunset, the still water that looked like a mirror. I told him I used to throw a few thoughts there. Possibly all of them.
It was built to protect the city against floods. A graceful place for me. I was glad to see Lake Morii again. That place where I would go to deposit my thoughts to avoid feeling anxious.
Or flooded. But what a memory!
Ave Migratoria 