What I Talk About When I Talk About Business

Kilometer 32, Valencia’s sun shines down directly at me, and my legs no longer respond the same way. I've been training for four months in cold weather and on a treadmill; this wasn't part of the plan. But I keep going. Not because it's easy, but because I've already learned that nothing that really matters ever is.

If you're a literature enthusiast, you may have noticed this article is inspired by “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running,” by Haruki Murakami. It's perhaps the only thing I have in common with him. But after co-founding a company and crossing my first marathon finish line, I understood something he already knew: running teaches you how to build a business, and building a business teaches you how to run.

But before reaching that 32nd kilometer, there were months of preparation.

The Before Marathon: Madrid, 2025

A few months before the Valencia Marathon, I've decided to go running through the streets of Madrid, from Retiro Park to just beyond the colossal Santiago Bernabéu. After several kilometers, I understand something very simple, yet complex to discern: running is very similar to starting a business.

To run a marathon requires three to five months of training, being consistent, having good nutrition, sleeping well, and most importantly, resting to improve on your next session. Let me translate that into business language: Before launching Medu, the company I co-founded five years ago, I spent long work days developing and programming new features to give structure to a project full of challenges and opportunities, an idea transforming into a business. We also did competitor analysis, market research, and many — too many — pitches to secure investment. It was also necessary to have conversations with the team outside of the business, pleasant meals to connect and build team spirit. It was a kind of active rest to reassess what we needed to do in order to take the next big step.

When you run, you need to focus on multiple things: the number of kilometers covered, your mile pace, hydration, your breathing, thoughts, and more. In a business, it is also necessary to focus on many aspects: doing your part in the company's operations, coordinating with other areas to bring coherence within everyone's creations.

Before the launch, we went through a lot of training, many challenges, and — why not say it — a lot of pain too. Nothing worthwhile comes easy; if it did, everyone would do it. That's why 7 out of 10 companies fail before reaching five years. That's why only 0.014% of the population runs a marathon each year. Because it's not easy, but it's worth it.

The Day Marathon: Valencia, Dec. 7, 2025

I wake up early. I'm nervous. I eat something so I don't pass out in the first 15 kilometers. I get ready, do some warm-ups, stretch a little, and mentally prepare for the next four hours of my life.

Mexico City, Jan. 4, 2021

I wake up early. I'm nervous. I eat something so I don't pass out during Medu's launch. I grab my laptop, car keys, and a water bottle, and mentally prepare for what will probably be the next five years of my life.

Valencia

The first kilometers feel good. I drink water at kilometer five, go a little slower so I don't burn out later, I listen to the cheering crowd, I get excited with them. I keep running.

Mexico City

The first hours go well. We chat a bit, refine the final details. We examine the code, the features, and other technical analyses before launch. Before lunchtime, we all encourage each other, I get excited with them. I keep waiting.

Valencia

Kilometer 10 arrives, then 15, 20, and so on. I've spent almost two hours — the first half of the race — listening to music, thinking about how my body and mind feel after running for so long. I prepare for the second half. The heat and sun are a struggle and doubts begin: I've spent four months training in the cold and on a treadmill, I don't know how my body will respond to high temperatures while pushing my muscles into the unknown. There is doubt.

Mexico City

We do one more test, two, three, until we reach five. We keep working, discussing what could be improved. And there's always something: a feature, the user experience, some decision within the platform that could be more intuitive. The product is never really, fully "ready."

But we decide to launch. Voltaire said it in 1772: "The perfect is the enemy of the good." We've been iterating for months. At some point, you have to let go.

Valencia

Kilometer 30. This is where they say the real marathon begins. This point is called “the wall.” The first 30 kilometers are the warm-up; the last 12, the race. And I feel it. Each step forward weighs more than the last. The sun shows no mercy and my body starts holding me accountable for the months of treadmill training. This is different. This is real.

I think about stopping. Just for a moment. Walking a few meters. No one would judge me. But I know that if I stop, it will be harder to start again.

Mexico City

Everything is ready. Finger on the button. But someone suggests one more test. We find small bugs. The instinct is to fix them, postpone, delay the launch. But we know that if we do, tomorrow there will be other bugs, other excuses. There always are.

Valencia

4 hours, 3 minutes. I cross the line and my body doesn't know what to do. I want to cry, scream, hug myself, sit on the ground and never move again. My legs tremble, the sun keeps beating down, but none of that matters anymore. Someone hangs a medal around my neck and I can barely feel it.

I've just accomplished  something I've been chasing since I was 17. Eleven years of wanting to but not daring. Four months of waking up before dawn. And 42.195 kilometers of asking myself, at every single one, if I really could.

I could.

Mexico City

We click. Medu is live. No one says anything. We just stand there, looking at each other, with a mix of relief and terror I don't know how to describe. Months of work, long nights, uncertainty we didn't share so we wouldn't spread the fear, and it all comes down to this moment.

There's no applause. There's no finish line. There's no medal. Just a screen, the hum of the air conditioning, and the silent certainty that something has just begun.

The After Marathon: Madrid, Days Later

The body takes time to recover. Stairs become an enemy. Walking hurts. But there's something I didn't expect: a strange emptiness, like when you finish a series you really liked and don't know what to do next.

People ask me if I'm going to run another marathon. The answer, for now, is no. Not because it wasn't worth it — it was worth every kilometer — but because there are experiences that are meant to be lived once. What I'm left with isn't the medal or the finish time. I'm left with the months of preparation before the race: the discipline of going out on a run when I didn't feel like it, the consistency of adding kilometers even when no one was watching, the certainty that the body can do more than the mind believes. That doesn't need another marathon. That's already mine.

Mexico City, Five Years Later

Medu is still alive. More than alive: a team built of 20 people, 200,000 users, and we work with companies that five years ago seemed unreachable. The product keeps improving. So do we.

I don't know if there will be another Medu in my future. Maybe yes, maybe no. But just like with the marathon, what I'm left with isn't the launch or the metrics. I'm left with the long nights alongside a team that believed in something, with the discipline of continuing to build and improve when no one was watching, with the certainty that you can do more and better than you think.

They say a marathon isn't running with your legs, but with your head, and heart. A business isn't built with just code or capital either. Both are built with a decision that repeats itself every day: keep going, even when you don't feel like it.