Sunday Wandering

Daily miles: 32.12 miles | Total miles: 6701.1

I woke up at 6am, made a coffee, packed up, and hit the road a little after 7am. It was a clear, beautiful, frosty Sunday morning. My fingers felt the bite of the cold, and looking back, maybe the day started slow—heavy legs, heavy thoughts. But I didn’t dwell on it too much. I knew some elevation lay ahead.

There were two route options: the highway or an old road with a steep hill. I chose the hill. When I reached it, a sign read “Reduce speed to conditions.” I smiled to myself—no need to worry, the conditions would naturally slow me down. My pace was already anything but fast.

But hey—it’s Sunday. Nothing better than a good Sunday stroll—or wander, as some call it. I pushed the buggy uphill, and as I gained elevation, step by step, the views got better. It was one of those moments where physical effort, solitude, and beauty all came together. I cried. I didn’t fight it. I felt sad, clear, and present. And I knew I wanted to share this today.

At the top, eyes wet, I took a moment—peed, blew my nose—and noticed the descent was mostly gravel. I let the buggy bounce and enjoyed the downhill flow.

About 11 miles before Bargo, the sun came out and I passed through Picton. I was on the lookout for a café. Suddenly, I stopped—drawn to one where people were sitting outside in the sunshine. I asked to charge my phone and ordered a warm, soothing drink. Then I spotted the scones. They looked really good. So I treated myself to a date scone with cream and jam, and a cappuccino. A proper Sunday treat.

I chatted briefly with some kind folks, which lifted my spirits a bit. Then I ran on—only to witness a gathering of motorcyclists doing burnouts, burning rubber, creating thick smoke and stink. I honestly don’t understand this need to show off. So much noise and chaos.

The final 11 miles brought back a wave of melancholy. It was a quiet kind of sadness that felt right to sit with. Along the way, I passed a woman named Stacy and exchanged a few kind words. I didn’t really engage much with the world today, but that was okay.

Then I passed something that stopped me completely: a reflection walk, lined with benches, each carrying the name of someone who had died—some were children. I was suddenly sobbing, deep and hard. It hit me—had there been an accident here? Likely. The weight of it all washed over me again.

The last stretch was hilly. The sun disappeared behind clouds and a cold wind swept in. I was deeply grateful when I finally reached the motel. I had called ahead and Barry kindly offered me a reduced rate. It was nice to meet him, and even better to settle in—heater on full, a hot shower, food, and now, catching up on things.

Thank you for being with me today. No worries—crying days are good. Otherwise, it's too much to carry alone. Take care, and let’s see what tomorrow brings. Andrea