Crossing into Oregon

Today was one of those days I’ll remember forever.

We stayed the night in Marsing, ID, at an RV park about 7 miles north of my start point. The forecast warned of extreme heat—possibly reaching triple digits—so I set my alarm early. Just after 4am, I woke up in the cool RV, got ready, and nudged my crew awake. We were on the road before 5am, and by around 5:10 I stepped out into the fading night sky at yesterday’s finishing point, headtorch on as usual, the horizon just beginning to show hints of light.

Then a car pulled up, and I saw a young man’s face.

“Are you Lance?” I asked.

“Yes I am,” he replied.

“Can I do some running with you today?”

What a surprise! Lance and I had been in touch, but I never imagined he’d drive all the way from an hour north to meet me—just to run in the opposite direction from home. His presence turned this day into something truly special.

We headed straight into the rolling Idaho hills, the sun slowly rising behind us, casting the sky in soft reds and oranges. Every curve and ridge of the hills stood out in that gorgeous morning light. And the run? All uphill at first. But we fell into a rhythm—both in pace and conversation. We shared stories, life perspectives, and kept each other going. It’s amazing how natural it felt, even though I rarely run with others. Today reminded me again how much joy there is in connection through shared movement.

At mile 10, we took a quick stop with the crew, fueled up, and then tackled 5 more miles—this time finally hitting a few downhill sections (after two hours of straight climbing!). I was grateful to share those miles with Lance and felt how much lighter the effort felt with company. At mile 15, we said goodbye with a hug and many thanks. My crew gave him a lift back to his car. Thank you again, Lance—you made today unforgettable.

Not long after, around mile 19, I spotted something in the distance: the sign marking the Oregon state line—my 13th state on this transcontinental run. My eyes welled up. I started crying—happy, proud tears. That sign hit me hard. Another border crossed. Another dream inching closer.

I filmed a quick video, trying to capture what was happening in my heart. The crew arrived soon after, and we took a few more photos. But with 21 more miles to go—and the temperature rising fast—I had to keep going. Every 5–7 miles, I met my crew to refill my hydration bladders. The wind, heat, and constant incline made me unbearably thirsty.

By just after 2pm, I reached Jordan Valley. The thermometer read 98°F (37°C), the streets were empty except for a rodeo arena, a gas station, a hardware store, and a little ice cream and coffee shop. We made our way to our reserved RV site, where I showered, drank endlessly, and finished my Instagram reel.

Then—ice cream! A sweet little celebration for crossing into Oregon.

Now I’m writing this from a camping chair outside the RV park office where the Wi-Fi is strong enough to reach you, shaded from the sun, while my wonderful crew is cooking dinner. Yes, I feel spoiled—and incredibly thankful.

To everyone who has supported me—whether for a moment or since the very beginning—thank you. Your presence carries me further than you know.

Let’s see what Oregon has in store. One day at a time. Mile by mile. See you tomorrow.