Picture this scene: Weekend. The sun is merciless. 32degrees in the shade. (And shade exists only in memories…)
Ahead of me: 42 kilometers of sweat, hills, and decisions no sane person makes rationally.
Because who in their right mind runs a marathon with 800 meters of elevation gain… in the middle of June?
Me.
A hypnotist.
In the Wide Wild World.
Armed with gels, band-aids, half a liter of optimism, and pockets full of self-hypnosis.
Because if my brain already loves being dramatic, I might as well use it for something good. Let it dramatize — but on my script.
Act One: “This feels longer than I remember…”
At kilometer five, my brain already delivers its first daily comment:
“Ugh, is it possible this is only the beginning?”
I refuse to let it open its metaphorical mouth. I grab a visual anchor — a tree, a rock, someone’s forgotten sock on the trail — anything that can vacuum up my focus.
Quietly, with my inner voice (the one that sounds like a mix of a yogi and an elementary school teacher), I begin:
“My legs are fluid and light.”
It sounds like I’m reading a horoscope for Pisces, but I don’t care.
Because after 5–7 minutes — magic.
The body settles.
I feel blood circulating, muscles loosening, legs gliding as if I have WD-40 instead of ligaments.
(A dog with a backpack looks at me, and I swear he nodded. Maybe he needs a mantra too.)
The Climb & The Drama Queen
At kilometer eight — BAM! A climb.
And it doesn’t end. For the next 12 kilometers. Not a single meter of flat terrain, only sun, rock, and collective uphill crawling.
Just when I think: “Okay, I’ve found my rhythm” — there’s no water.
Aid stations? Every 5 kilometers.
And we all look like freshly baked pastries cooling on a windowsill.
And of course, my brain finds a new hobby — drafting an email to the organizers.
“Dear organizers, do YOU know how many minutes WE must endure without a drop of water IN 30-DEGREE HEAT?!”
I remember the owner of our accommodation, who said completely unfazed before the start:
“Oh, these new organizers… they’re not up to the task.”
And here I am. Crawling, sun beating down, writing an open letter in my head, a petition, and searching for the mountain rescue number.
But then — a slap of reality.
Not physical. Mental.
“Hey, you’re here to lead — not write emails in your head.”
Inhale. Look at the treetops. Sun filtering through. Wind slipping in.
I tell myself:
“This forest cools and refreshes you.”
And — click. The body reacts. Anger evaporates. Focus returns.
The Climax: Kilometer 27 and Inner Drama
The black hole arrives.
The mind screams:
“I want to quit!”
But I… I don’t even have the energy to quit.
It’s a looped course.
“I would quit, but where would I even go? Into the forest? Wait for an Uber under a pine tree?”
I even invent a scene where I explain to other runners why I dropped out.
“You see, the issue isn’t me. The issue is the system…”
I listen to myself and mentally facepalm.
RESET. Visual anchor. New mantra:
“The earth charges and grounds me. Let’s go, Ceki.”
(Ceki, my alter ego with nerves of steel and blister-free socks.)
Finale: When the mind stops, the body begins
At kilometer 32 — an explosion. Not fireworks, but pure inner energy.
I feel the mind finally shut up. For the first time — the body takes over.
No thoughts. No loops. No emails.
Just legs. And rhythm. And me — not believing that this is me.
What did I learn?
Being a hypnotherapist doesn’t just mean working with clients.
It means knowing when your brain is sabotaging you — and when you must lovingly (and with authority) redirect it.
This marathon was a mental bootcamp.
Every hypnosis is self-hypnosis. And if the mind can play out drama — it can also write strength.
You just have to give it a job.
That’s why I’m writing this blog. To show that hypnosis isn’t used only on a couch with pillows and meditative music — but also on a mountain, under the sun, when you’re soaked, angry, and thirsty.
Because if you can guide yourself when everything is chaotic — you can guide anything.
Until the next episode from the Wide Wild World: guard your anchors, choose the inner voice that carries you, and remember — the mind believes whatever you repeat to it.
So repeat something that will make you say at the end:
Let’s go, Ceki! 💥
