20 Miles, Humid Skies, and a Tornado Watch

After yesterday’s storms, rumbling thunder, and relentless rainfall, I woke up early today with one thing on my mind: the weather. I knew I had about 20 miles to walk, and I didn’t want to be caught in dangerous conditions. But let me tell you—trying to understand weather patterns here feels like decoding an ancient language. Even with forecasts, I still don’t fully get it.

My alarm went off at 5am. I lay there, listening to the rain and thunder still lingering outside, and gave myself one more hour. By 6am, I was up, checking forecasts. There was rain predicted at 7, 9, and 12—with the big storm looming after midday. I had already made a decision yesterday: once I decide to go, I don’t second-guess myself. So by 7am, I was on the road.

Honestly, the unpredictability of the weather here is one of the hardest things to handle. But I reminded myself: I’ve been through a lot already—not just on this world run, but on many other journeys, too. Harsh weather, wild terrain, unexpected shifts—I’ve learned to adapt. I’ve found solutions before, and if I needed to, I’d find them again today. Still, I carry the weight of knowing that resources here are limited. If something happened, I wouldn’t want to burden a community where many are already struggling to meet their own needs.

As it turned out, the worry was worse than the walk.

The first 10 miles? Not a single drop of rain—just sticky humidity and still air. The last 10? Light, gentle rain on and off, nothing to worry about. No storms. No hail. No emergencies. Just me and the road. And my leg? Doing much better. Today was a test, and I feel more confident it’s healing. Slowly, yes. But it’s on the right track.

And this injury—though frustrating—has given me something unexpected: time. Not for the first time, but in a different way. Time to reflect. Time to reset. For weeks, I was in a strong outward motion—absorbing, observing, adjusting. And while reflection has always been part of my journey, now I feel the need to look inward more deeply again. This pause isn’t just a break—it’s a chance to reconnect with my mindset and intentions. I don’t know how long it will take to regain the momentum I had in the beginning, but that’s okay. The experience is teaching me something valuable: to flow with change, not resist it.

I reached my hotel in Morrilton around noon. Easy check-in, a warm shower, and some well-deserved rest. It's almost 5pm now, and the predicted storm still hasn’t arrived. The sky is dark, yes, but from the window, you wouldn’t guess we’re under a tornado watch. That’s the unnerving part—it’s all so deceptive. But I’m calm, grounded, and grateful to be inside.

They say concrete buildings are safe enough. Just stay away from the windows. I’ll follow the advice and see what the evening brings. I can’t tell yet if tonight will match Wednesday’s tornado chaos, but I’ll ride it out the same way I’ve handled every challenge so far: with presence, patience, and a good dose of perspective.

Thanks for checking in and walking with me—stormy days and all.

Until tomorrow, Andrea