October 6, 2023 - two days before the start of the #marathon of Lisbon. The flight is at an unprecedented height, fast because of an extra hour on the clock. Public transport from the local airport to our accommodation is optimal, the stairs are impossible with trolleys and backpacks. Once you arrive, plenty of time to explore the beautiful city.

A tourist terrace on the left, a traditional terrace on the right, tropical temperatures that don't lie. Beautiful because of the bright sunlight, and even without being particularly admirable, nice, too. The exhibition where I can pick up my race number (2914) can be reached, among other things, by riding a magisterial monorail. Clearly set up and well organized. Two more nights of sleep before the start.

To save myself, I strolled through the narrow streets and deliberately opted for some extra concentrate to strengthen the internal person. I took enough fluids - alcohol-free - and prepared everything the night before to get off to a fresh start. A final check online does not appear to be an unnecessary luxury; due to the expected retarded temperatures, the start will take place an hour earlier than planned: 07:00. Of course, this means that the alarm goes off at five o'clock and we take the train together to Cascais, where the starting village is set up. The anticipation starts downhill to the station. Athletes appear from every nook and cranny, armed with race numbers, bags, bottles and breakfasts, to stand in the wagons like sardines, eager for patience. Less than an hour later, plenty of time for the redeeming start of my very first international marathon.

It is still dark when we shuffle foot by foot across the line under the starting arch. Screams everywhere for encouragement and with fresh legs, I brave the equally fresh morning air. The lungs are full, like my water bottle, the plan in mind and the eyes fixed on infinity, then it can only be easy. First six kilometers west to round the turning point there. At the first dawn, I am simultaneously called up left and right by members of a club. I make myself a bit wider so as not to lose my socks and I see that one of the enthusiasts includes an orange pawn in her wanderings. Little by little, the peloton is getting started and in the opposite direction, we see dark Africa leading while it is slowly getting lighter - in terms of visibility, isn't it.

After about eight or nine kilometers, we are warm. By twenty degrees, with more than thirty to go. Hands around me go into the air randomly and I look desperately at the reason for this. A drone takes images of the show. The masses react massively. My schedule is solid and up to kilometer 25, enjoying is what the clock is. From beautiful people on the sidelines to surprising sea views, extraordinary bridges, amazing buildings and lots of sporting support from the field of participants and beyond. Good drink, at least one liter per 5K, alternated or diluted with sports drinks. A tablet of caffeine, a bar and a gel and then the amazing heat hits.

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