The Enormousness of the Land

I woke up at 5:20 this morning, quietly moved downstairs, and made myself a cold instant coffee — my usual little ritual before hitting the road. The house was still and peaceful, but soon it was time to say goodbye to Margie and Gene. What a lovely couple. It amazes me how many times I’ve felt completely at home in places I’ve only spent one night. That sense of welcome and warmth is something I’ll carry with me. Thank you both — your kindness is now part of this journey.

Just after 6am, I stepped outside with the buggy and onto Highway 34, which conveniently runs just a few steps from their home. It was a cool start, so I wore my jacket for the first mile to get the blood flowing. The wind was light, the sky beginning to brighten, and my mind slipped naturally into "run mode." The day had such promise — calm weather, soft light, a gentle downhill for parts of the route, and an open landscape that invites you to keep going.

The high plains of eastern Colorado are truly something to behold. How far can the human eye actually see out here? That question stayed with me today. Last night, Angie — Margie and Gene’s daughter — had taken me out to the buttes near Akron, and we looked west toward the setting sun. On the horizon, barely distinguishable but still there, were the silhouettes of the Rocky Mountains — nearly 120 miles away. Can you believe that? The sheer scale of it all… It humbles you, and reminds you how small you are — in the best way.

I put my sunglasses on early today to protect my eyes from the sun and the dry air. The miles came easily. I was relaxed, feeling strong, and simply soaking in the vastness around me. These kinds of runs are beautiful — where effort meets ease, and presence becomes everything. I stopped briefly in Brush to stock up on some protein bars, then carried on toward Fort Morgan.

The shoulder was wide and smooth, the sun steady, the wind almost nonexistent — perfect running conditions. A police car pulled up behind me at one point, just to check in and see if I was okay. These small moments of human connection, even from a distance or in passing, mean so much. It’s a comforting thing, to know someone’s watching out for you.

After passing through Fort Morgan, I reached my hotel, checked in, and got to work on some tasks I needed to wrap up. Later, I came back down to the lobby and had a great conversation with Gary and Derrick — two kind souls with open minds. After a long, quiet day on the road, it felt great to chat, share stories, and exchange a little inspiration.

Now it's time for my favorite go-to dinner: couscous. The evening is calm, my legs are tired in a good way, and I’m grateful — for sunshine, for strangers who become friends, for the land that carries me forward, and for each of you who follow along. Rain is on the forecast for the day after tomorrow, but today was a gift.

Life is good. People are wonderful. And my journey — still unfolding — continues to teach me every single day.

Thank you.