I wasn’t a runner.
Not even close.
Then one day my colleague Geert-Jan invited me to join him for a run during our lunch break in central London.
Geert-Jan is one of those runners.
Tall. Relaxed. Smooth stride.
The kind of person who makes running look effortless.
Which should have been my first warning.
Our first run was 5 km.
For many runners that’s just a warm-up.
For me it was… an existential experience.
I had never run 5 km before.
Halfway through I was convinced I might collapse somewhere between two office buildings.
My lungs were protesting.
My legs were negotiating.
And the finish line seemed very far away.
But Geert-Jan kept encouraging me.
“Just keep moving.”
“Easy pace.”
“You’re doing great.”
Eventually we made it back to the office.
Straight to the shower.
Still alive.
Barely.
That lunch break changed something.
Slowly, step by step, running became part of my routine.
And over time something strange happened.
The person who once struggled through 5 km ended up completing:
• several full marathons
• numerous half marathons
• multiple trail runs
Which still sounds slightly crazy when I say it out loud.
But one trick helped me more than anything else.
It’s surprisingly simple.
I started talking to my body.
When I wanted to push further, I would literally say:
“Ok body… today we run 5 km and then we go home.”
Deal?
And somehow the answer was almost always yes. The trick is, we run 5 and then run back 5, so you get a nice 10.
Later the conversations evolved.
“Let’s try 15 km today.”
Sometimes the body resisted.
Sometimes it complained, especially on the last few kilometers the return journey.
But we always made it back home.
No taxis required.
P.S. I say “we” because it now never feels that I run just by myself. I know it may sound strange.
When things got hard, I used a different strategy.
Negotiation.
“Ok… when we reach home, you can have whatever you want.”
Bananas.
Dates.
Pizza.
Chocolate.
Surprisingly effective.
Apparently the body likes rewards.
There’s actually a real science behind it.
Sports psychologists call it interoception — the ability to sense signals coming from inside your body.
Athletes who develop strong interoception tend to regulate effort better and avoid burnout.
In simple terms:
Your body already knows how much it can handle.
Most of us just don’t listen.
Another change I made was how I plan runs.
Instead of thinking in kilometres, I think in time.
If I go for a 4–6 hour run, I simply pack a small backpack with:
• 2 litres of water
• electrolytes
• bananas
• dates
Depending on the terrain, that usually becomes 20–30 or even 40 km.
My favourite runs are actually solo marathons.
Just me.
Nature or a town I am keen to explore i.e. Paris.
And movement.
No music.
No podcasts.
No distractions.
At first that might sound boring.
But something interesting happens when you run without constant input.
Your mind becomes quieter.
Your attention sharpens.
And running becomes almost meditative.
Even sports tech companies are starting to recognise this.
Polar — one of the largest sports watch manufacturers — recently suggested something unexpected:
Cover your smartwatch.
Keep your phone in the backpack.
Run mindfully.
Because constantly checking numbers interrupts your natural rhythm.
I completely agree with that approach.
But none of this works without one thing.
Consistency.
If I stop exercising for two or three weeks, my body quickly reminds me.
Lower back pain.
Neck tension.
Even losing my voice — which is not ideal when your voice is part of your job.
So movement became non-negotiable.
Not punishment.
Maintenance.
Looking back, running taught me something simple.
The biggest progress didn’t come from pushing harder.
It came from learning to listen.
Enjoy the best version of you,
Audrius
