A Tired Mind, A Steady Heart

Daily Miles: ~35 Miles | Total Miles: 5695.88

The day started before the sun, at 4:40am. I had to be ready for the 6am bus just around the corner. Don stood ready with the car, just in case things didn’t go smoothly with taking the buggy onto the bus. And sure enough, there was some hesitation from the driver — but after explaining my journey and destination, she allowed me on, with a supervisor called ahead for my downtown Eugene transfer. I promised them (and myself) that this was the last time — the Pacific is waiting.

As the bus rolled along, the sun slowly rose. I spotted wild turkeys, deer, and countless squirrels — a quiet little morning show on the move. Once in Eugene downtown, I walked back to where I had ended yesterday’s run and prepared myself to start the day’s miles. But I was tired. Really tired. Not just my body — my mind, too. Sleep had been short, and I was starting from a place of low reserves.

The first four miles out of town were already a challenge: sidewalks, stoplights, morning traffic. Every rhythm broken. Every stride interrupted. But I kept reminding myself — this too is part of it. Even the hard miles count. Especially the hard ones.

Eventually the road opened up. Fern Ridge came into view — a beautiful wetlands and marshland area full of birds and wild growth. Somewhere in the stillness, I found a quiet motivation to keep going.

At mile 13, I reached Veneta. Don was there. I sat down — something I rarely do mid-run — and filled my water bladders, ate, and allowed myself a short pause. The break helped. The next 10 miles brought Oregon’s classic beauty: rolling greens, shaded corners, winding curves, and a sense of peace. The shoulders were narrow, the cars frequent, but the landscape gave me enough to keep moving.

Mile 25: there was Don again. This time with a banana shake and cookies, and a much-needed shady spot. We refueled, rested a bit, and laughed about something small. I don’t even remember what — just that it made me smile. And somehow, after that, my legs felt… better. Lighter. The last 10 miles were hot and winding, but I found a rhythm again. Maybe it was the banana shake magic.

At mile 33, we took a left turn off the road — the final stretch led us into a green oasis: trees wrapped in moss, a creek trickling nearby, bright birds darting through the air. Two miles later, we arrived at Whittaker Creek Campground. A peaceful place. No Wi-Fi. Just the basics. Tent pitched. Dinner in the works. No more miles today.

I'm writing this from a parking lot nearby, catching what signal I can. I’m ready for rest. The body is tired. The mind is spent. But the heart is steady. And tomorrow? Tomorrow we run again.

Thanks for being here — and I hope you’ll be with me tomorrow, too.

Let’s go. To the coast. Together.