The Little Things That Warm the Day

Daily miles: 28.14 | Total miles: 6,798.32

I got up at 6:30 a.m., made myself a hot coffee, and started loading up the buggy outside—it was one of those places with stairs, so a little extra effort to get rolling. As I packed, I noticed something wasn’t right: the buggy was leaning slightly to the side. Of course—flat tire. But thankfully, I caught it still at the hotel. I brought the wheel inside, changed the tube in the warmth of the room, and took it as a calm, practical start to the day. It’s always better when these things happen before you're out in the middle of nowhere.

Outside: cold. A real icebox of a morning. But the sky had promise—some sun, streaked with big greyish clouds. A few minutes into the run, I passed The Big Merino, a 15.2-meter concrete sheep statue standing tall on the edge of Goulburn. Impressive? Sure. At the very least, memorable.

Then it was back onto the Hume Highway. My legs weren’t exactly fresh, but they were cooperative. The scenery from the highway was lovely—open and wide, soft hills rolling into the horizon. I’ve gotten used to the roadkill, which sounds strange to say, but it’s true. It’s almost like a catalog of local wildlife. I’ve only seen one live kangaroo and two wallabies so far… but many more that didn’t make it. I always joke that one thing I’ve gained from this world run is the ability to detect roadkill by smell from a surprising distance. A strange, unglamorous skill—but a real one.

A few miles in, I passed some roadwork and got to chat briefly with the crew. I always appreciate those little moments of connection. Then I met Paul and Kim, two traffic controllers—Paul, originally from London, where my world run began. The wind was still a cold, steady presence, but the sun came out more in the afternoon and gave the day a softer glow.

Around mile 27, I finally left the highway and entered Gunning. What a charming little town. You could feel its age—founded in 1821—but also its warmth. There’s a gas station, a couple of bakeries, a butcher, some small shops. I met Craig, the town’s mechanic, at Bailey’s Garage. I always feel a deep connection with mechanics—there’s something honest and grounded about their way of being. Turns out Craig was even featured on the cover of a Hella calendar. Nice one.

I grabbed a takeaway salad from one of the cafés, picked up a can of beans and some milk at the gas station, and treated myself to a cranberry almond cake slice from the bakery. Dinner tonight: salad, beans, and noodles warmed in the microwave. Simple and satisfying.

When I checked into the hotel, Peter welcomed me with kindness—and even knocked a little off the price. These small gestures make such a difference. The room is lovely. Not fancy, but cared for. That’s something I’ve really noticed here in Australia—hotels are often half the price of those in the U.S., and even the older ones have heart. You can feel that someone has arranged things with love. It’s not sterile or standardized. I really appreciate that.

Later I went to the local pub to get some cash from the ATM. That’s where I met Jason and his mates. Jason has one of those rare open spirits—you just feel it right away. I hugged him immediately. Some people just radiate warmth, and it reminds you of how good humans can be.

Now I’m finishing up some work and getting ready for tomorrow. The WiFi here is surprisingly decent, even though from the outside, you wouldn’t expect there to be a signal at all. But there is. Just like this whole day—quietly supportive in the background, full of small things that kept me going.

See you tomorrow. Onward. Andrea