Welcome to Melbourne

Daily miles: 28.72 | Total miles: 7205.16

My alarm rang at 6:15am. Coffee. Toasted bagel. Packing. The usual rhythm to start the day. I headed out around 7:15am with a quiet nervousness in my chest. City runs always stir something in me—especially the lead-up to running into a metropolis like Melbourne.

I had planned to use the bicycle road running parallel to the highway, a safer and more scenic route. Clouds were hanging low, heavy and grey, but the forecast said no rain—and the weather held its promise. Not even a drop.

I took the first turn off the main road and saw a sign: “Road ahead closed, detour on highway.” Sometimes those signs only apply to cars, and cyclists and pedestrians can still pass through. I chanced it. About a mile in, I reached a solid concrete barrier. No way through. So, I turned around, jogged back through the muddy track, and reluctantly joined the highway. Official signs stated “no pedestrians, no bicycles.” I ran anyway—just 3 miles until I could reconnect with the bike path. An ambulance pulled over, checking on the “baby” in my buggy. I smiled, explained my journey, and reassured them.

Back on the winding cycle path, the run turned more social and joyful. I met so many kind and curious people. First was Gino, an Italian-born cyclist now living in Melbourne. Then Kevin, 72 years old and still running strong. Bruno and Medical, two nurses squeezing in a jog before work. Nola, a woman who had seen me on the highway days ago and recognized me today. And Ari, a young man working in a garden who offered a warm conversation. These moments remind me that humanity is everywhere—on quiet roads, in cities, and on winding trails.

The path led me past construction zones, along creeks and parks, and eventually into the city itself. I entered through an area full of Arabic and Islamic culture, then down Victoria Street with the skyscrapers rising in front of me like a glass-and-steel mirage. As I ran deeper into Melbourne, I felt overwhelmed by the city’s energy. The traffic, the people, the noise, the smells—all hitting me at once after so many days on the quieter roads.

I caught myself thinking: Remember these vibrant, overstimulating city scenes for when you're deep in the plains, where all is sameness and silence for hours. The contrasts of the world never stop surprising me. But there’s also something a little sad about cities—the loneliness you can feel among the crowd. So many people lost in the hustle.

Arriving at my hostel, I settled in quickly. My roommates were welcoming, and Sisi from China kindly helped me with a few things straight away. I felt grateful.

Then came one of the day’s highlights—meeting Michael. A seasoned crew supporter, he has helped other world runners like Tony and Jesper years ago. He brought me the new shoes I had ordered (they’re perfect—light, bouncy, spotless), took me out for a generous dinner, and gave me the most thoughtful gift: a vintage running vest once worn by Jesper Olsen during his world run in 1994. I was truly touched.

Over a rich Nepalese dinner (and a donut for dessert that was so delicious even I, not a donut fan, was amazed), we shared stories of the road, of running, of life. Michael’s motto: “Adventure before dementia.” It made me smile.

Now back at the hostel, full and content, shoes ready for the next chapter—I feel grounded. Grateful. I’ve made it to Melbourne. From here, I head west. Toward new landscapes, new people, new questions.

Thanks for walking (and running) this path with me.

See you tomorrow. Andrea