Early Starts, Sunflowers, and Angels
Today began at 4:30 a.m., with the hope of leaving by 5:30. I packed up, had my usual cold instant coffee, and knocked on my hosts’ door as agreed the evening before. They’d assured me it was fine to wake them early and even instructed me to knock fuerte so they’d hear. But when 5:15 rolled around, no one stirred. I knocked harder, paused, and waited. Still nothing. Standing there in the dark, already sweating a little, I thought, "Well, so much for my early start."
Finally, after one last determined knock, Jorge came to the door and let me out. I grabbed the fluids I’d prepared the night before from their fridge—starting with cold drinks makes such a difference, though I try not to get too spoiled. I loaded up my buggy, thanked Jorge, and set off into the soft light of dawn. The city streetlights guided my path, and as the sun began to rise, it felt like the perfect way to start the day.
I met two boys early on and shared a bit about my journey with them. Not long after, Mario, a biker, stopped to inquire about my run. Encounters like these are always energizing—they remind me why I’m out here.
Back on Ruta 7, I focused on efficient and safe running. Traffic was the usual mix, though one kind soul in an SUV towing a camper trailer slowed down to hand me an ice-cold bottle of water. Moments like this make the effort feel lighter. I paused occasionally for shade and even ventured into a sunflower field to marvel at the flowers and birds.
Around mile 20, a police car pulled over. They asked for my documents and, after a phone call, informed me I couldn’t continue on Ruta 7. They offered to drive me part of the way. I politely declined, explaining I’d walk along the parallel sandy trail instead. As soon as they left, I returned to Ruta 7.
Six miles later, another police car appeared. This time, it was a different set of officers. They didn’t check my documents but also insisted I couldn’t run on Ruta 7. Mama mia! I stepped onto the grassy shoulder, grumbling internally about how that felt even more dangerous. Expecting them to wait further down the road, I stuck to the grass for a while, but they eventually disappeared.
By noon, the temperature had climbed, and even with a slight breeze, running felt grueling. Frequent cooldown breaks became necessary. With determination, I reached Vicuña Mackenna and took a few pictures at the town’s entrance.
As I ran into town, I realized I didn’t know how to pronounce its name. I asked a friendly woman, Mara, who patiently repeated it until I felt confident saying it. Our conversation, limited by the language barrier, was warm nonetheless. She invited me into a library called Abacadabra and brought me stickers as a gift. Then, she offered me a book. While I can’t read Spanish yet, I accepted it as a sign to learn. The title? Si lo crees, lo creas. (If you believe it, you create it.) Muchas gracias, amiga.
I moved on to find a place to rest and met Ángel, the owner of Hotel Mackenna. He gave me a wonderful room, and despite the language barrier, we had a great conversation. Later, I spoke with his daughter, who lives in Stockholm and Pamela, who works here is incredibly kind and helpful.
Argentina continues to captivate me—hermoso. But being Sunday, the supermarkets were closed, and tomorrow I won’t likely pass another town. I need to stock up on supplies, especially fluids and food, for the long stretch ahead. I’ll carry over 10 liters of water and enough food to get me through.
As always, where there’s a will, there’s a way. Thank you to María, Jorge, Ángel, Pamela, Mara, and all the other angels who’ve crossed my path today. Now, it’s time to work, prepare for tomorrow, and rest.