FROM KYIV WITH LOVE
Olya Pyrozhenko at the Kyiv Olimpiyskiy National Sports Complex
In February, my grandmother died at the tender age of 101. By her own description, she had a wonderful and happy life, but I’d add that it was marked by enormous hardship, especially her escape from Romania to Germany at the end of World War II.
I felt a strange echo of my grandmother’s escape when Russian troops invaded Ukraine two days after her death, and a colossal refugee throng pushed west, many to Germany. Women huddling their children in blankets, I didn't know whether I was mourning the Ukrainians or my fantasy-speckled memory of my grandmother’s escape from the Soviets.
Since I couldn’t attend her funeral, I drafted her eulogy in my head while running, and a priest read it during the small ceremony in my absence. The lone miles in the dark gave me time to process.
A piece in the Guardian about a couple of sprightly Kyiv marathoners past the conscription age braving the winter temperatures gave me an idea. I launched my Runtastic app, searched for a Kyiv based Adidas Running group like the one in New York, and landed a jackpot. I sent a friend request to a few random names in the community, most of which used Cyrillic letters. Olya Pyrozhenko instantly accepted.
“🕊& ♥️ from🗽,” I wrote in the comment line of her last activity log.
“🇺🇦 🐻hug🐾 from Kyiv,“ she responded.
I smiled at the Ukrainian bear hug. We were friends.
One day, Olya commented on one of my braggy Manhattan skyline pix.
“♥️ I wish I was there.”
“Let’s make that a goal and turn this into reality,” I replied. “Promise.”
“I’m 💀 serious,” she wrote.
A few weeks passed, and we continued to give each other enthusiastic feedback on the App. When I noticed a lull in the action, I grew anxious and left my email. To my relief, Olya responded.
I learned that she was 24 years young and, unsurprisingly, considering her quick-witted remarks, a writer and content manager. Running was still new territory; she’d begun almost accidentally at the gym she used as part of her weight-loss program. Last summer, she stepped on a treadmill for a warm-up.
“I just zoned out for an hour. When I looked down, I saw that I’d run 10 km in 52 minutes. Something clicked. I decided to test my limits.”
Fitness soon snowballed into a full-blown obsession. Olya swapped the treadmill for her neighborhood Obolon or the park along the banks of the Dnieper River. She used the exercise to sort through her complicated emotions and feelings. In February, she overcame her imposter syndrome and signed up for group training at Adidas Runners Kyiv, a pivotal experience.
“The community was the absolute best thing I could have asked for. My competitive spirit caught fire.”
A few days later, the Russian invasion brought her newfound passion to an abrupt halt. Holed up in her apartment, sirens wailing outside, she spiraled into a personal tug-of-war. Railway stations flooded with desperate women, children, and elderly spilling from carriages. Those who left by car returned after being shot at by Russian troops outside the city. After nearby buildings were shelled, tanks tore through her neighborhood, and explosions and shoot-outs closed in, Olya squatted at a friend’s. Together they circled through various scenarios of escape. First, it seemed too difficult, then too dangerous, and now they concluded the window had closed. They were trapped.
“Little by little, alarms, air raids, and explosions deterred me less and less. It’s true that one grows numb to this reality.”
The war theatre had become a part of everyday life, and Olya laced up again.
“Hitting the pavement when war ravages your country is a surreal experience. With the soundtrack of military weapons, it felt like a scene straight out of some messed-up action movie.”
Nevertheless, running proved to be a balm for her anxious psyche. My reaching out from afar had an eye-opening effect on her. She’s set her mind on fulfilling her dream of visiting New York.
“I gave myself far too little space to be young, wild, and unreasonable. No one promised me tomorrow. Now I’m asking myself why to put off life?”
Olya made me see my hometown with new eyes. When I run over the majestic Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridge, I remind myself how lucky I am. I can’t wait to share it.
March 2022
