You started running,  
hand in hand with your father and mother.  
Then, on your own and smiling,  
you took your first little runs  
through the rooms of your home.  
You fell, but you always got back up.  
Then came the time for competition,  
when your heart began  
to feel its first loves.  
The rhythm of the heart is the rhythm of life.  
Years of technique and champions,  
stopwatches and comparisons.  
As an adult, running became  
your inner sanctuary.  
You run with passion and anger,  
sadness and joy;  
you blend tears with sweat.  
You burn away fat and disappointments,  
stress and humiliations.  
With every breath, your mind regenerates,  
and your soul trains to transform  
pain into energy.  
On the hills, with tightened muscles,  
you open yourself to new dreams and goals,  
while from above, you admire  
the spectacle of the world.  
You carve out time in the evening and morning;  
your steps are like silent, stolen prayers.  
When you feel someone beside you,  
you realize it’s even easier  
to go beyond yourself.  
You haven’t failed; everything is still up for debate!  
When you reach your limit in a race,  
you still seek the hands of your father and mother,  
wishing they could carry you to the finish line.  
And when you cross the finish line,  
having given your all,  
with some parts aching,  
you wish that private joy,  
that serene satisfaction,  
could fill the hearts of the loves  
from the years of competition.

Translation of the poem ‘Correre la Vita,’ published in Runner’s World