The Nice Humans fight the battles that we, the average person, fight. Our villains don't shoot lightning bolts, but they scare and complicate the story. Some fight heartbreak, others debt, and still others laziness. Guillermo fought cancer and came here to write about running. This is his story that begins in a hospital room and ends outside of it.

November 12 – 2004

It's a sunny morning and for the first time since I've been hospitalized at the Clinica de Las Americas, there's no one with me. It's strange because since I started daily treatment with chemo and radiotherapy, a member of my family has always been with me, they haven't left me for a single moment. Even though I know that tomorrow is a crucial day and that the odds in the surgery are against me, I'm calm and confident that the 3% that the doctors have talked about will be enough to survive: the best thing that can happen to me when I want to achieve something is to be told that I can't, that it's impossible, that it's better not to even try.

At this moment I look out the window of my room and see two runners who don't care about the heat or the time, they are happy, sweaty but smiling. And suddenly, memories flood my mind and a deep sadness takes over my heart and mind, because as a child I never ever dreamed of being an engineer, or studying systems, or working in a multinational company, or being the IT director for several countries. The only thing I ever wanted was to run a marathon, and now maybe I will die without having done it. And flooded by the tears I have held back for many years, I promise myself to live, to live to run a marathon.

November 14, 2004.

I did it, I'm ALIVE! After many hours in the operating room and many more in recovery, here I am and I cling to my dream with all my strength.

August 2005.

Nine months have passed, and despite receiving chemotherapy for six of them, I have regained most of the 25 kilos I lost during the illness. I am not an athlete's body, as I am short, with a tendency to gain weight in the abdominal area and short, scrawny legs. I have a lot of trouble eating well because after the resection of the rectum and part of the colon, I have developed an intolerance to many of the foods considered nutritious and the weight I have regained is more fat than muscle. Even so, I am registered for my first 5K race, which I am determined to finish no matter what.

A week after this reflection, my whole body hurts, my legs can't stand, and I feel like a herd of elephants had run over me, but I DID IT! It took me much more than an hour to run those 5K and I may have come in last, or outside the classification limit, but who cares, I DID IT! And when I crossed the finish line, I got the best reward I will ever receive: my girlfriend, hopefully soon my wife, was waiting for me with a smile that I now have engraved in my soul.

January 2015.

I visit a sports doctor for the first time, who after looking at my medical history tells me that it is impossible for me to run my first marathon in Berlin that same year. Although he does not say it, I guess he does not like my history with cancer, nor the fact that I have suffered from chondromalacia in my right knee, nor the fact that I have never run 21K, and much less my dietary limitations. He repeatedly insists that I dedicate myself to learning to run a half marathon this year, and that in 2016 we can evaluate the possibility of participating in a full marathon. Given my refusal to follow his advice, he finally agrees to help me and gives me a preparation program for the next four weeks, which I sense is designed to make me give up.

February to August 2015.

I have managed to fully comply with all the training stipulated in the plan: I train four times a week and finish with a long run every Sunday. I rest strictly on Mondays and Fridays, although I do not fully comply with the strengthening sessions at the gym, because I prefer to run, just run, it is there where I feel free, where I find myself, where I stop existing to merge with everything.

But I am very worried because I cannot stand gels, gummies or any of the foods normally used during a race. The Veleño sandwich will have to do the job!

September 13, 2015.

Today I participated in the Las Flores Marathon and I am happy to have finished 21K with a time of 2:17:52. My goal in Berlin is to finish, hopefully under 5 hours, but, above all, to finish healthy.

Berlin Marathon, September 27, 2015 – 9:30 am

I am in the last corral, I guess the Kenyans and the big runners must be starting. It is a sunny day but the cold is intense and I can hardly stand it. I try to keep warm by doing some movements, but I am afraid of wasting the energy that I know I will need later.

11:20 am

Amidst mountains of clothing, we began to jog slowly toward the starting line.

11:22 am

I cross the line and tears of happiness make me collide with another competitor.

11:28 am

I finish my first mile in exactly 6:00 and I know I'm going too fast, but what does it matter, I'm too happy to reason.

Kilometers 2 to 20

Running in a small group led by members of the Berlin Pensioners' Club helps me to control my pace and emotions. Still, I have time to stop at every orchestra, sing and dance. The ones I like best are the ones where there are only drums. I even have time to take a photo with a children's orchestra wearing World War I helmets. Several of them are in wheelchairs and are an inspiration.

Kilometer 21.

First meeting with my wife and the joy is indescribable. I travel back in time to my first 5K race.

Kilometer 22.

There are two blonde girls having lunch at an outdoor table. I pull up a chair to their table and tell them that I'm really tired, that I need a drink of beer to keep going and that it will be their fault if I don't make it to the finish line. Laughing, they offer me a lager.

Kilometer 38

I am extremely tired and my right knee hurts like crazy, I curse the strengthening sessions I never went to. I run next to the one who I assume is the only fat and slow Kenyan, on his shirt is written perhaps his name or surname: Movaka. He laughs like crazy every time I shout “Move, Movaka”.

Kilometer 41.

A few metres from the Brandenburg Gate I meet my wife again. I kneel down and, placing the wedding ring on her left hand, ask her in several languages ​​to marry me. The people around us laugh with us and cheer us on.

Under the Brandenburg Gate.

I walk through the gate in tears and stop, happy to have reached the finish line. Other runners pat me on the back and tell me to keep running, as we still have 400 metres to go.

Finish line – 42.195 KM – 4:59:56

I cry again. It's Nirvana, it's Valhalla, it's the Promised Land !!!!!!!