Saying Goodbye to Kansas

I got up early today, ready to leave just after 6 a.m. When I stepped outside, the cold hit me right away — gloves on, jacket zipped, orange vest over the top. Back out to Highway 27 I went, with one clear thought: this is my last full day in Kansas. I wanted to run with that awareness, soak it in, and really appreciate everything this state has shown me.

The first few miles were all about warming up. The land stretched wide and quiet, the air cool, the wind barely noticeable — a rare gift out here. Traffic was light, and aside from a couple of short stops, I kept a steady rhythm, just me and the long, open road through northwest Kansas.

There wasn’t much going on today in terms of events or encounters. But sometimes, that’s the beauty of it — the stillness, the simplicity. I ran mile after mile through a landscape that somehow manages to be both repetitive and deeply profound.

Now, looking back on my time here, I can honestly say Kansas has been unforgettable.

It gave me extremes — heat, cold, wild storms with lightning, powerful winds, and sunshine that made everything glow.

It gave me straight roads that disappeared into the horizon, land so flat and vast it challenged my sense of distance.

It gave me thoughtful, generous people and unexpected moments of connection.

After 30 miles running north, I finally turned west. Just 5 miles later, I arrived in St. Francis and checked into the Homesteader Motel. Two friendly souls welcomed me, and though the owner was at work, they were flexible and trusting. I haven’t even paid yet — I love when things are uncomplicated.

I’ve already been shopping, and now I’m sitting out front in the hot sun, jacket still on because of the wind, trying to catch a sliver of Wi-Fi. And honestly? Life feels really good.

Tomorrow, I’ll cross into Colorado — a new chapter begins.

Thanks for being here, for checking in, for cheering from afar. Let’s keep going — together.

Take care, Andrea